"I know." She found,to her astonishment, that it was true. She had learned more of Kartauk than shehad realized in these past weeks. Though, heaven knows, he was arrogant, he wasnot vain. He possessed an enormous confidence in his artistic abilities, buthis mocking glorification of his other gifts was mere flamboyance. He had beenamazingly patient with her clumsy presence in his domain and far kinder thanshe had thought he would be. She felt a sudden anger at his father, who hadadministered that first hurt that had caused him to hide his kindness beneaththat veil of mockery. "He was wrong to treat you so badly."
"I told you I did notblame him."
But he had been hurt by therejection. "What of your mother?"
He shrugged. "She wasbeautiful and vain and loved the trinkets my father created for her. She wouldnot endanger her position by arguing with him about such a small matter as adiscarded son." He studied her expression. "Why are you upset? It didnot matter. I got on very well. I went to the sultan and persuaded him to giveme a studio in the palace."
"You were only a youngboy. Didn't you miss them?"
He did not answer directly."You can forget anything if you work hard enough."
"Can you?"
"Why do you ask? You knowit's true. No one works harder than you, madam. Are you not weary enough toforget everything when you finally go to your rest?"
"I have no need offorgetting. I'm well satisfied with my lot."
He gazed at her withoutspeaking.
"Why should I notbe?" she asked defiantly. "I have agood life, better thanmost. I have no material wants and a husband I love." She took off theleather apron and tossed it on the worktable. "It's time I went back toIan. I have no time for such nonsensical—" She broke off as she met hisgaze and was suddenly breathless again. "Stop looking at me."
"I enjoy looking atyou." He obediently lowered his gaze to the work in front of him."You're right, it is wise of you to leave. It would be wiser of you to notcome back."
She strode toward the door."Are you starting that folderol again? I thought you'd come to accept mypresence here. Of course I'll return. Thank God, you're not always in such astrange mood. I'm sure you'll be quite yourself tomorrow."
"I'm myself right now.That's why I'm warning you."
"We're getting along verywell. Of late, I've even noticed a certain affinity."
"For God's sake, don'tyou know that that's where the danger lies?" The sudden violence in hisvoice sent a flicker of apprehension through her.
"What do you mean?"she whispered.
"Think about it." Helooked down at the mold. "And don't come back, Margaret."
Margaret. It was the firsttime he had used her given name. Such a little thing, and yet she experiencedan odd shock of intimacy.
"Kartauk." Shemoistened her lips. He, too, had a given name and she wanted to use it, feelits cadence on her lips. "John… "
He stiffened at the table, buthis head did not lift. She felt another surge of panic as she realized shewanted him to raise his head, to look at her as he had a moment before. Sheinstantly rejected the thought, her emotions swinging wildly in the oppositedirection. She wanted him to close her out, to free her as he had a hundredtimes before. He did neither. He sat at the worktable, staring down at the sealshe knew he did not see, holding her, chaining her.
Then he started to lift hishead and she felt her heart lurch. "No!"
The next instant she wasjerking open the door, running down the long, gleaming corridors toward her ownchamber, running toward Ian.
Lust.
Dear God, shewantedhim,desired him in that animal way she only pretended with Ian. She had givenKartauk the response she owed only to her husband.
Betrayal.
The flames curled around theplatform, at last consuming the silk-wrapped body of the maharajah. Thefragrance of burning sandalwood lay heavy on the air as the funeral pyre sethis father's soul free by returning his body to air, fire, water, and earth.
It was almost over, Abdarthought. The sorrowful wailing of the spectators rose, drowning out both thecrackling of the flames and the screams of the bound concubines chosen to joinhis father in death on the pyre.
Pachtal was a trifle pale, hethought as he gazed appraisingly at him through the thick haze of black smoke.Oh, well, it was of no consequence. No one would question such an appropriatephysical response at this time of bereavement.
He dared not smile, but henodded slowly at Pachtal and then turned back to the flames. All was goingwell. He must just be patient.
