"I heard him." He swung the hammer and the spike plunged deeper. "But I'm not like the others. I had to prove myself, didn't I?" He tossed the hammer aside. "Do I come back tomorrow?

She gazed at him, baffled. "I can't understand why you'd want to."

"Sometimes I like this kind of work. You don't have to think, you just feel."

He had shed his shirt only minutes after he had accepted the hammer from Robinson. His golden skin now gleamed with a patina of sweat and dust, and his chest was moving harshly with his labored breathing. She felt a tingling in the palms of her hands, and she realized with astonishment that she wanted to reach out and touch him to see if the ridged muscles were as hard as they looked. She quickly clenched her hands into fists and stepped back.

He picked up his shirt from the ground beside the track and slipped it on. "Invite me to your bungalow for dinner."

"What for?"

"I want to meet your Patrick Reilly." He started up the track across Sikor Gorge. "I want to see you together."

She started to put another question to him, but his expression had taken on the shuttered look she was beginning to recognize. "You wouldn't get along. You're not at all alike."

"Invite me."

She hesitated and then said formally, "Will you be so kind as to join us for dinner?"

"Delighted. I'll go to the hotel first and wash off this sweat and be at your bungalow at eight." He shot her a shrewd look. "And don't worry, you won't have to be protective of your friend Reilly. I'm no threat to him."

She had a sudden memory of the bulging eyes of the man lying dead in the alley. Ruel MacClaren might not be a threat to her or Patrick, but there was no doubt he could be extremely dangerous when aroused.

"He deserved it." Ruel's gaze was fixed on her face and she had the uncanny impression he had read her thoughts. "I always return what's given to me, Jane."

"Well, then I have nothing to worry about." She smiled with an effort. "Once you're convinced I'm quite well again, you'll be about your own business." She turned to look at him. "By the way, what is your business?"

"At the moment I'm involved in investing." He laughed at her incredulous expression. "Do I look too rough to be a man of commerce? It's true I'm not comfortable with the business world, but I learned a long time ago everything is forgiven royalty."

"Royalty?"

"With enough money a man can make himself a king."

"Is that what you want to be?"

His eyes twinkled. "Well, perhaps I'd be satisfied with being crown prince as long as I had prospects. Isn't that what everyone wants? It's a hell of a lot better than being crushed under someone else's heels,"

She shook her head. "I don't think I'd be comfortable in a life like that. It would be ... strange."

"You'd rather slave on your railroad?"

"It's not always like this. It's been bad here, but sometimes the work is easier."

"And worthwhile?"

She nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes."

"Why?"

"I can't explain." She thought for a moment. "A train is ... freedom. You step on a train and it takes you away and lets you leave all the bad things behind."

"And what if the track leads you somewhere that's worse than what you left behind?"

"Then you get off before you get to that somewhere. It gives you a choice."

"And escape." His gaze narrowed on her face. "What are you trying to escape from, Jane?"

"I've already escaped and I'm never going back," she said quietly.

"And your Patrick helped you make your escape?" She smiled. "Yes, Patrick helped me."

"Another whiskey, Mr. MacClaren?" Patrick asked.

"I don't believe so, thank you."

"I believe I'll have a dollop." Patrick poured the last of the whiskey in the bottle into his glass. "I know they're putting less in these bottles. I think that servant at the club is shortchanging me. You know you can't trust these Indians, MacClaren."

"Has that been your experience?" Ruel asked politely.

"Sula!" Patrick called. "Where is that woman? Jane, run to the kitchen and tell her we need another bottle."

"I took the last one from the kitchen cabinet last night," Jane said.

Patrick scowled. "She's probably been selling the liquor to someone in the bazaar. It was never like this when Li Sung was handling my whiskey. I want you to get him back here where he belongs, Jane."

Jane looked quickly down at her plate. "I told you I needed Li Sung in Narinth."

"This is the Li Sung you mentioned to me?" Ruel asked.

She glanced up to see his gaze narrowed on her face and anger flared through her. It wasn't enough that Patrick was under that merciless scrutiny all evening. Now it seemed it was her turn. "Yes, Li Sung works for us."

"Good man for a chink. Not like these cheating Indians." Patrick rose to his feet and weaved toward the door leading to the veranda. "Be right back, MacClaren. I think I left a full bottle on the table on the veranda."

"Pleasant fellow," Ruel commented as Patrick disappeared from view.

Jane whirled fiercely on him. "Why don't you leave?"

Ruel's brows rose. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"You sat there all through dinner and watched him, taking him apart with—" She stopped and drew a deep breath. "You watched both of us. I didn't like it."

"I like watching you." He smiled slightly. "I thought I knew everything about you, but I'm finding out new things all the time."

"You don't know me at all and you have no business judging Patrick when you know nothing about him."

"You wound me." His blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "And I thought I was being both charming and informative. I'm sure Reilly thought so. Providing he could think at all through that haze of spirits surrounding him. Is he always drunk by the time you come home from laboring on his behalf?"

"It's the heat."

"Indeed?" He rose to his feet and placed his napkin on the table. "Since I seem to have overstayed my welcome, I will take my leave." He bowed slightly. "Thank you for dinner. I trust the presence of this Sula assures 1 you don't have to act as a kitchen skivvy as well as day laborer?"

Her hands clenched into fists beneath the table. "Good night."

Abruptly the mockery vanished from his expression. "For God's sake, go to bed," he said roughly. "You're dead tired and he won't miss you. I'll see you tomorrow on the site."

"You're coming back?"

"Oh, yes, I found it a most interesting experience." He moved toward the door. "It's always intriguing learning new things. That's why I had such an enjoyable dinner."

"And what new things did you learn here tonight?" she asked warily.

He slanted her a glance over his shoulder. "That you're incredibly loyal and genuinely willing to work yourself to exhaustion for that likable sot."

"He's not a sot. I told you—"

"It's the heat," he finished. "I've met any number of men out here who blame their self-indulgence on the weather. The heat makes them thirsty, the monsoons make them depressed, and the sandstorms give them headaches. But I'm not really interested in Patrick Reilly now that I've found out what I want to know about him."