The Sandalwood Princess

Wanted her. Tentatively, her hand crept up his coat to rest over his heart, and she leaned back in his arms to gaze into his beautiful, troubled eyes.

“I want you, too,” she whispered. “I—”

“Don’t.”

“But I-”

His mouth crushed the rest, and the words she’d meant to utter melted in the first hot taste of him.

Her hand slid up the fine wool of his coat, past the starched linen neckcloth and up, to curl about his neck. She’d wanted him so long, waited so long for this. His mouth was bruising and his tongue impatiently seeking, yet she wasn’t afraid. She loved him. She wanted all he’d give, and would gladly give all he wanted.

He plundered her mouth, an easy conquest, for the taste of him, wild and sweet, was a tantalising liquor racing through her veins. Happily she surrendered to the warm prison of his body, the hot, hard trap of his arms and the punishment of his restless hands. His mouth moved to her neck, to taste and tease until aching pleasure made her moan. Under his ravaging hands, her body strained eagerly for his. Her hands caught in his hair and pulled his face back to hers. More. She wanted more.

Time vanished, and all the world, leaving only endless yearning and heat. Black and glittering, it churned hotly about them, an eternal, fathomless sea. Only their two souls existed. They were prince and princess of the dark sea, as they had been in the dream. So like the dream. Even the Laughing Princess, lying at her feet...

Amanda’s heart chilled, lurched wildly, and her eyes flew open. She jerked free of his mouth.

“Don’t move,” he said.

She became aware of something cold and hard pressed against her neck. Metal. A pistol. She didn’t move. Only her glance dropped... to the bundle at her feet A thief, a prince, a falcon. A prophecy, perhaps. With a burst of glaring clarity, she understood. And then she realised she’d always known.

“You filthy bastard,” she said softly as she looked up again into his clear blue eyes. Clear and blue and false.

“I see I was not an instant too soon.” His voice was strained, hoarse. “You’ve a devilish way of piercing to the heart of an issue. The trouble is, you’re devilish inconsistent about it.”

“Bloody, thieving swine.”

His mouth curled slightly. “You’ve called me that before, as I recollect. At the time, I wished I could see the expression on your face. Now I rather wish I couldn’t. I wish a great many things, love, but it’s no good.” The cold gun barrel left her neck. “You’d better get down. I’ll be needing the vehicle for a bit, I’m afraid.”

“You’d better shoot me,” she answered. “Go ahead. Murder me. For a piece of wood. I want to watch you do it. I want to carry that image with me into my next life.”

He sighed. “In the first place, I’m a thief, not a murderer. In the second, you know I could never kill you. In any case, I don’t have to. A tap with the handle will do well enough—but I’d rather not hurt you, Amanda.”

“You already have.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “Please get down. I can’t give you a hand, because I can’t trust you now. Just get down.”

She threw him one disdainful glance, then climbed down.

She’d left her reticule on the seat. He tossed it down to her. She let it fall into the road.

“Amanda.”

She kept her face cool and rigid as she gazed up at him. Her throat was aching, but she would not cry. She would not give him one single tear.

“I imagine you’ll be paid a great deal of money,” she said. “You’ve certainly earned it. Risking your life that night in Calcutta was nothing to the hard labour of catering to me five long months. How you must hate me for the trouble I’ve given you. To think – I had the temerity to steal from the legendary Falcon.”

“That was very well done, Amanda. I shall always admire you for it.”

“You hated me for it, because I made a fool of you,” she said. “That was unforgivable, wasn’t it?”

“I did admire you, dear. All the same, one has a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, I understand,” she said very softly. “The Falcon always gets the job done, regardless what it takes. You lied because you had to make me trust you completely. I understand that. But you accomplished that early on. You made a fool of me in a matter of days – weeks at most. Wasn’t that enough? Did you have to make me love you, too?”

She turned her back to the carriage, to him, and stared blindly at the brooding pasture land beyond.

She heard his muttered oath, but she didn’t move. If she moved now, or said another word, she’d break down. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t cry and she wouldn’t beg.

“Follow that path to your right,” he said. “Once you pass the rise, you’ll see a cottage. It’s inhabited. I’ve checked. Someone there will take you home.” A short silence followed, while she remained rigid, unmoving.

“Goodbye, darling,” came the last, choked words.

She closed her eyes tight. Go, damn you.

She heard the curt command to the horses, the light lash of the whip, hoofbeats, and the rattle of wheels. She waited until the sounds had faded far into the distance. Then she dragged her drained body to the nearest boulder, sank down, and burst into tears.

She was still sobbing hysterically when Padji rode up an hour later, leading a second horse. He dismounted, tethered the animals, and hurried to her.

As she took in his appearance, Amanda’s sobs ebbed to astonished hiccups. He’d abandoned his traditional Indian attire for the garb of a groom. In stableman’s dress, he appeared larger and more intimidating than ever. Or perhaps that was on account of the black scowl contorting his round face.

He dropped a bundle of clothing in her lap. “Go into the bushes, and dress quickly,” he said. “We have no time to lose.”

Dazed, she took up the garments. “These are boy’s clothes,” she said.

“Your mount bears a man’s saddle, that we may travel more swiftly,” he said impatiently. “Ah, mistress, do not delay with foolish questions. I might have pursued the fiend myself, for I know the way he will take. Yet I feared he had harmed you. My heart rejoices to find you safe. Now you must gather your courage and do, this once, as Padji commands, or the Princess is lost to us forever.”

Though Amanda obediently rose, desolation had long since overcome her. She shook her head. “Let it be. The statue has done enough harm. I begin to believe it is cursed. It makes us all mad.”

Padji folded his arms over his broad chest. “Is this the daughter of the Great Lioness?” he asked reproachfully. “Does such a goddess speak so pitifully, content to remain weak and helpless like other women?”

“I’m not her daughter, and I’m certainly no goddess. I’m exactly like other women. I’ve let a man rule my mind and heart and—”

“Bah, he is but a pretty fellow who has betrayed you, just as his master betrayed the great rani. She wept, as you do now, yet she exacted her price. Will you abide quietly, O my golden one, when you might avenge her rani, and yourself as well?”

“Are you insane?” Amanda cried. “It’s just a carved wooden figure, and vendettas are not considered good. I don’t want revenge. I don’t even want the Laughing Princess any more. I just want to go home.”

“Very well, mistress. Padji will see to it himself.” He turned and stalked towards his horse.

“No!”

“You cannot prevent me, mistress,” he said stubbornly. “Padji has his own vengeance to seek. Twice the fiend—a man half my size—has tricked me, to my shame. Once he used my mistress’s signal. This time, my beloved’s own voice. My own mixture—a secret worth ten rajahs’ treasures—he stole from me and used to make me sleep. For these offences, he will pay.”

Chapter Nineteen

To accompany Padji was madness, Amanda knew. The Laughing Princess was simply not that important, and an intelligent, mature woman would merely pity these misguided men. To seek revenge was beneath her.

&nb

sp; On the other hand, the Falcon had used her unforgivably. From the start, she’d thrust aside the evidence against him, and blindly believed in Mr. Brentick. He’d known, and deliberately toyed with her feelings, callously exploited her trust. He’d spent five long months seducing her, led her to the brink of ruin—and he never even wanted her. Getting the statue wasn’t enough. He’d wanted personal revenge, and so he’d humiliated her. How he must have laughed at his besotted employer.

Amanda took up the pile of clothes, stomped to the bushes, and quickly changed into the shabby smock and breeches. At least they fit relatively well, and she’d be far more comfortable travelling in this garb than in her narrow-skirted kerseymere frock.

Within hours she discovered the value not only of her attire but of a youth spent riding endlessly through the moorland. Roderick had made a sturdy horsewoman of her. Consequently, the pace Padji set, though wearying, was not beyond her endurance.

At every fork and crossroads, Padji stopped, dismounted, and studied the alternate routes, though he seemed sure of the way to go. Amanda guessed these pauses were more for her and the horses’ benefit than his. In any case, when she questioned him, all she got was some incomprehensible piece of Oriental logic.

Dark had already fallen when they came within sight of a large inn. Padji reined in his horse.

“That is the place, mistress,” he said in Hindustani, though there was no one to overhear. “Large and busy, with many people hurrying about. The man who employs the thief is noble and wealthy. He will not wish to make the exchange in a low place, where thieves and ruffians abound. This abode offers privacy and safety.”