Forbidden Jewel of India

‘You cannot beat me. I am a princess,’ she flashed at him, scrambling to her feet. Apparently his exasperation was all too clear on his face and she had remembered his empty threat to tan her backside.

‘Then behave like one,’ Nick said and bent to check the black’s legs.

‘Is he all right?’ Anusha asked after a minute’s crackling silence.

‘Yes,’ Nick conceded and made himself look at her. The turban was back in place, but she was still ashen and her lips were compressed tightly as though to hold back a sob or to stop herself shouting at him.

‘You were afraid,’ she said, a statement not a question. ‘That is why you are angry with me.’

‘Only a fool is not afraid of a king cobra,’ he said flatly. If a man had accused him of fear, he would have struck him.

‘I was not...I did not mean—’ She broke off and shook her head, impatient with both of them. ‘You did not hesitate for one second. That is what I meant. You were right to be afraid and yet you risked your life and killed it. My father sent a brave man for me.’

The wide grey eyes fixed on him and Nick felt the colour rise over his cheekbones as he fought the need to look away from the painful honesty in her gaze. If he walked across and took her in his arms, she would yield to him, he realised. Not out of wantonness or admiration for his actions, but because something had happened just now that stripped feelings bare and left only what was elemental and basic. Anusha was too brave and too honest to hide those feelings. And too innocent to know what they were, he told himself.

‘Are you certain you are not hurt?’ he asked as though nothing had been said since she asked him about the horse. Anusha nodded, her expression once more veiled and wary, that moment of burning clarity gone. She turned and he watched her closely as she walked across to take Rajat’s reins and stroke his sweaty neck. She moved stiffly, but that was all.

‘You...’ she began, her face against the horse’s shoulder. Then she pushed herself upright and turned to face Nick. ‘You saved my life and I thank you for it.’ The raw emotion was gone, and, as her chin came up and she looked at him, she was every inch a princess for all the dust and her travel-stained clothing.

Her courage doused the fierceness of his anger and the heat in his blood, but Nick could not find it in himself to be gracious. ‘That is my job,’ he said, his voice cool. ‘To deliver you back alive and in one piece to your father.’

‘You will not let me thank you?’ She took the step that brought her toe to toe with him. ‘They kiss to say thank you, the English, do you not?’ With Pavan solid at his back he could not retreat. Anusha put her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe, her body pressed against his. For an endless moment her mouth touched his, warm and soft.

Her lips parted slightly, an invitation he knew she did not understand. Time stood still while he fought the temptation to snatch her to him, plunder that beautiful mouth, lose himself in an innocence that wanted him. Him.

Instinct told him not to hurt her pride or give her a challenge. Hands at his side, he returned the pressure of her mouth, then raised his head. ‘Unmarried young ladies of good family do not kiss men, I fear,’ he said with a smile to take any sting from the words. His body tightened painfully, but he thought he had kept the desire from his face.

‘No?’ Her eyes were wide and very dark and the colour was up under the fine skin of her cheeks and temples. ‘Then I will not do it again.’

‘Good.’ She was destined for marriage, this girl, not a dalliance. While he was briefing Nick for this mission Sir George had confided that he intended to make a good match for his daughter with an eligible Englishman. And he, Nick Herriard, soldier, adventurer, failure as a husband, was most definitely not eligible, even if he would ever be rash enough to give up his heart for another pounding.

He kept his voice light and amused as he turned to his horse. ‘All I can say is that I have the deepest sympathy for the poor man who has to turn you into a young lady.’

‘I am a young lady already.’ Anusha pushed her foot into the stirrup and mounted, although not after a moment or two of undignified hopping about. She was more shaken than she let on. Behind that sharp tongue and fierce courage there was a vulnerability that made him want to protect her from whatever threatened—the maharaja, snakes... Men like himself.

Nick swung into the saddle. ‘You are not an English young lady and that is what he will want you to be.’