"Oh, yes, it's stillthere." He smiled faintly. "But I can control myself." Hestudied her strained expression. "Why didn't you run out of here?"
"Zabrie locked thedoors."
"Interesting. Was itsupposed to make the situation more exciting?"
"No, there's someone hereI don't want to see."
He went still."Who?"
She didn't answer.
"Never mind. It doesn'tmatter." He rose to his feet and moved over to the table by the door,where he was surrounded by the pool of light cast by the oil lamp. She triednot to look at him, but to no avail. Dear heaven, he was as beautifully exoticas a jungle animal and just as free from shame. His brown hair, bound in aqueue, was full of tawny streaks set ablaze by the light. She watched the waythe lamp highlighted the arch of his spine and the tightness of his buttocks,the compactness of the muscles of his shoulders. For the first time she noticedthe white bandage that was tied around his left shoulder.
He picked up the bottle on thetable and poured wine into a goblet. "Would you like a glass?"
"No."
He lifted the glass to hislips. "Who are you afraid of? Is it your lover?"
She didn't answer.
An object lying on the tablecaught his attention, and a faint smile touched his lips as he picked it up."This must have been meant for you."
The object was an extravagantmask of brown, black, and turquoise peacock feathers. "Pretty thing. I'dlike to see you in it." He held up the mask to his own eyes. "Wouldyou care to oblige me?"
The exotic mask covered theentire top of his face, and a spray of sable peacock feathers jutted out oneither side. His blue eyes shimmered through the almond-shaped holes, and theclose fit of the mask enhanced the beautiful molding of his cheekbones. Thetawny feathers of the mask were the identical shade as the triangle of hair onhis chest and surrounding his manhood, and he looked wild, wicked, andcompletely male, a rare, splendid creature from an alien land. "No, I'dlook foolish in it."
"What a shame." Hetossed the mask down and half leaned against the table, his mocking gaze fixedon her face. "Now, who could be pursuing you? A husband? Let's see if Ican guess. An aging husband who can't please you so you're forced to come herefor satisfaction." He lifted the back of his hand melodramatically to hisforehead. "But, alas, the husband follows you and hence—"
"Nonsense. I have nohusband." She frowned. "And if I did, I would not betray him.Promises should be kept."
"Agreed." He sippedthe wine. "Then we're back to the lover." He straightened away fromthe table and moved over to the bed. "What's his name?"
How long had she been in thisroom? she wondered desperately. The air seemed thick and hard to breathe andthe situation unbearably intimate. Surely Zabrie would come for her soon.
He lay down on the bed andsettled himself comfortably against the headboard. "Talk to me. Since itseems we're to be imprisoned together for a while, the least we can do is passthe time as pleasantly as possible."
"I don't have toentertain you."
"Ah, yes, theknife." He smiled as he lifted the wine to his lips. "But I'm strongand quick, and why risk failure when I can be appeased with a littleconversation?" He waved at the chair across the room. "Sit down. Myname is Ruel MacClaren."
"Ruel. That's a strangename."
"Not in Scotland. It's avery old name. Sit down," he repeated. "Aren't you going to returnthe courtesy? What's your name?"
She crossed the room and satdown gingerly on the chair he had indicated. "Jane."
"Jane what?"
She didn't reply.
"You're right, of course.Under the circumstances, last names are a formality that are a bit bizarre, butI find myself wanting to know more about you." His brow creased inconcentration. "Jane… " The frown vanished and he snapped hisfingers. "Jane Barnaby. Patrick Reilly. The railroad."
Her eyes widened in surprise.
He chuckled. "You didn'tthink I'd make the connection? Your accent is neither English nor Scottish and,though Reilly's never brought you to the Officers' Club, there're not that manyAmericans in Kasanpore. You'd be surprised how much gossip is floating abouttown about Reilly and his 'ward.' "
She flinched. "You'rewrong, I'm not surprised."
