A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) (15 page)

Rage stole the last of John’s calm. He unfurled his fingers from the brandy glass and his fist came down on the table. “How the hell did those two connect?”

Marguerite twitched. “I don’t know.”

“She’s not going.”

“I don’t agree,” Vámbéry said. “Not yet, anyway. Calm yourself, Ravenswood. It’s not like you to overreact. First, let’s find out how Suri connected with Maurya.”

“I’ll kill that son of a bitch if he places her in harm’s way. And if I have to chain her to her bed, she’s not going.”

“She won’t back down,” Marguerite said. “Remember, I’ve known her all her life. If she’s gone to this extent to meet her grandmother, you’re a fool to think you’ll dissuade her. With or without Ravi Maurya, she’ll find her family. It’s better if you know exactly where she is, otherwise she’ll do something foolish. That I can promise you.”

John didn’t bother keeping hatred out of his voice. “Is there anything at all you can recollect that might give us a clue as to how Suri got in touch with Ravi Maurya?”

“She told me she inquired through a private agency, but she’d say nothing further.” Marguerite’s voice grew tentative. “Something is very strange there, but I don’t know what. I cannot get it out of her.”

John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing. “Well, try. You be the spy now, Marguerite. You know what to say or do that’ll set her off. Push her as far as you can until she’s so frustrated she tells you out of anger.”

Marguerite tried for a smile but failed. “Frustrating my sister into a temper fit is one thing I do know how to accomplish. Give me a day or two.”

Vámbéry stroked his whiskers, his keen eyes shifting from one person to the next. “Suri will have protection at the wedding. Let her go, Ravenswood. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Chatham regarded his wife. “This is getting worse by the moment. Marguerite, I want you and our son ready to leave as soon as your sister returns. Is that clear?

Marguerite rose and smoothed her skirts with shaking fingers. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me. Harry, I shall see you in our chambers.”

John stood. “If that’s all, I bid you good night. Since I got a good look at the courier’s face, I’ll figure out who he is, and then we can have him watched. Hodson, it’s good to meet you, and welcome to the Queen’s Foreign Service.”

Giving Vámbéry and Chatham a nod, John picked up Shahira’s chain and exited the room. He approached Tanush, who stood sentry at the doors leading to the bedrooms. The guard’s penetrating eyes connected with his, the heavy beard Tanush wore masking the rest of his features.

Agitation, and a need to release something from deep inside, washed the weariness right out of John’s bones. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

He needed…he needed…what? He needed to know how the hell Suri had connected with Ravi Maurya. Now there was more drawing him to her than having her in his bed.

John spoke without slowing his pace. “Collect Miss Thurston, Tanush. Bring her to me.”

C
HAPTER
N
INE

Unable to sleep, Suri sat at her dressing table brushing her hair in slow, even strokes. Having figured out how to get in and out of the mosquito netting without leaving any gaps for the little bloodsuckers to fly through, she’d sent Munia off to the maids’ quarters for the night. What a blessed relief to be rid of the woman for a while. Her constant hovering about had become annoying enough, but Munia’s behavior tonight was the last straw. Come morning, Suri would speak with Marguerite about a different
nauker
.

A soft rapping caught Suri’s ear. By the sound of the knock, that had to be her sister. Good. She could state her dissatisfaction with Munia so that by morning someone else could be in her place. Suri sighed in relief and, rising from the narrow, silk-covered bench, set her brush on the dressing table and hurried to the door.

“Tanush!” Suri popped behind the carved panel, leaving only her head and shoulders exposed to him. She was clad in a dressing gown, for heaven’s sake. “What is it?”

“His Grace has ordered me to bring you to him.”

Her hand came to her throat, as if that could halt her gasp. “Ordered you to do
what
?”

“He instructed me to escort you to his home in secret. I’ll see that you are returned to your chamber before dawn. You must come quickly before someone happens along.”

She stared at the guard as his stunning words sank in. The Duke of Ravenswood had summoned her? To his bed? “Impossible.”

Instead of a verbal response, Tanush locked gazes with her. They stood staring at each other for a long moment—he out in the corridor, she half hidden behind the door. In her dizzying shock, a slow dawning marched through her brain that left her boneless. Where she’d once thought the guard’s eyes held nothing but blank obedience, she now saw something remarkably different. There was a depth in them that went far beyond the man who’d stood sentry at her door, as if he had no other purpose in life but to follow orders. A depth that told her if she spouted anything other than honesty and truth, it would prove fruitless.

She tore her gaze from his and, with the blood draining from her head, rolled her shoulders until she stood with her back against the door. The panel shut in Tanush’s face with a soft snick.

Suri glanced about the room, heat prickling her cheeks. Ravenswood wanted her in
his
bed? The very bed where
he
slept every night? At the thought, she could almost smell his scent on the sheets. She felt her pulse speed up, felt a thrum of hot blood beat a wild rhythm low in her belly. She couldn’t begin to count how many times over the years she had imagined what it might be like being with him. To have his hands and mouth all over her. To have him stretched naked beside her. Stroking her skin. Rising on his knees to straddle her. Penetrating her.

Oh God, he’d done all this over and over to her in her fantasies, but never, in all her imaginings, had her thoughts been about being with him in
his
bed.

If she went to him, if she lay with him, would she leave her scent behind to mingle with his? Would he have the bedding changed as soon as she departed? Or would he linger in it for a long while? She knew what she’d do if it were her bed they made love in…she would wallow in his essence for as long as possible.

Suri had a choice. She could slide her hand to the lock and, in giving it a turn, send Ravenswood her message. Or she could bring to life the pleasures that until now were mere figments of her imagination.

Something tripped inside her, triggering a pulsing energy that sent a raw, naked edge of desire shooting through her.

All at once, the fog in her brain dissipated, and she was clear about what she wanted. The hell with the dictates of society. The hell with what others might think of her if she were found out. She already lived a life of solitude because of their insipid judgments. She’d accepted long ago that she was destined to live a lonely life but, heaven help her, she had never been able to erase the memory of Ravenswood’s wicked kiss which had left her wanting something more than what life had dealt her. This was her one opportunity to slake her desires, to experience him in the flesh instead of merely dreaming about him.

She would allow Tanush to take her to him, and soon Ravenswood would have her in his bed. Soon, they’d be tangled together. Soon, he’d be inside her.

Inside her!

Her nipples tightened and a shiver slid down her spine, joining the heat in her belly. Oh, dear God, how she wanted this!

There’d be a price to pay for what she was about to do, but, however steep, in the end, this one evening would be far better than going through life not knowing the man who’d set her on fire ten years ago and had left her soul parched.

She would become a thief tonight—steal every thread of pleasure they manifested together and weave them into a tapestry of memories to warm her cold tomorrows.

Lifting her shoulders off the door, she turned and opened it. Tanush stood immobile before her. He did not speak, but there was no need. What passed between them went beyond the spoken word—he knew full well that something inside her had shifted, that she’d acquiesced to Ravenswood’s summons.

Indeed, she would go to him. But if she was going to do this, she would damn well do so dressed in exquisite native finery.

“If you’ll give me a moment of privacy, I’d like to change into something more appropriate.”

…

Oh, wouldn’t this be a night to linger in her memory long into her winter years—carried through the streets of Delhi to a lover’s tryst. For that’s what this was, a clandestine rendezvous for the express purpose of making love.

Suri’s feet dangled over Tanush’s arms, danced lightly to the rhythm of his gait through streets not clean enough for her to set her feet upon. Or so he’d said when he’d first lifted her in his arms. Did he think her pure as freshly fallen snow?

I’m not a virgin, Ravenswood.

She swallowed a sigh at the memory of him at her bedside, fencing with words.

Fancy that. Neither am I.

Her skin prickled at the thought of John touching her with his hands. His mouth.

A lover’s tryst. Sweet, forbidden fruit.

She exhaled pleasure. Something shifted in Tanush, this guardian of hers, telling her that he was acutely aware of every nuance her contemplations produced.
Oh dear.

She rested her head against his chest and made another attempt to vanquish the intoxication of what was about to unfold. His heartbeat pounded slow and steady in her ear. His breath fell across her face in even measure. Despite carrying her through the night in this abominably sultry air, he wasn’t even breathing hard. She caught the faint scent of fennel, anise seeds, cardamom, and coconut, a familiar Indian breath freshener. Did every mouth in the whole of India smell so sweet? Here was one tradition she’d carry back to England, the act of leaving a small bowl of this cleansing mixture on the table after each meal.

Her lover’s mouth tasted sweet. The memory seeped through her like melted butter.

John.

Try as she might to concentrate on the extraneous—the lowing of a bullock in the distance, the looming shadows that shaped the night—her mind ran once again to the darkly handsome man waiting for her. The one who had stolen her heart ten years ago and continued to do so every time he swept into her presence.

Tanush glanced down at his burden.

Oh God, he knows precisely what his mission is. She shouldn’t care what he thought, but her cheeks flushed anyway. Who else would know besides Harry and Marguerite? And by Marguerite’s reasoning, they’d be glad of it. Suri, daring to take a lover. Hurrah!

As Tanush jogged through the streets, his firm, long fingers held her, the heat penetrating through the thin silk of her clothing. She’d dug into the finery Ravi Maurya had sent and had retrieved an exquisite sheer yellow silk sari with matching choli and
lehenga
.

Tanush turned a corner and halted in front of a tall wooden gate framed by torch lights. On either side, a high wall extended around the perimeter of a residence.
John’s home.
He’s in there. Waiting. This time is mine. He is mine.
A thrill rumbled through her like an oncoming storm.

The gate swung open, and Tanush carried her inside. The turbaned man who grasped the iron handle gave a slight nod to Tanush. The heavy structure closed behind them with a dull thud. She could’ve been a butterfly, as gently as Tanush set her feet to the flat stones leading to the house.

They stood in a garden redolent with the sweet fragrance of roses laced between the heavy floral scents of India’s night air. Ravenswood keeps roses? English roses? Wouldn’t that be next to impossible in this humidity? She took in a slow breath, exhaled just as slowly, trying to steady her nerves. Oh, blast it, why bother? She came of her own volition, didn’t she? Had dreamed of this man for ten years. Why calm anything?

The house, much smaller than the majestic Chatham residence, but still a
heveli
—a mansion—stood before her, swathed in amber torchlight. Her skin quivered. The raised flesh on her arms had nothing to do with the warm night air. Nothing at all. Tanush’s hand at the small of her back urged her forward. Without notice, the front door swung open. A turbaned butler gave a slight bow and stepped aside.

Suri flinched.

Behind him—hands planted casually in the pockets of black trousers, white shirtsleeves rolled past his wrists, feet clad in soft-soled shoes, hair slightly mussed—stood Ravenswood. Watching her. Even in the soft amber glow of the lamplight, his eyes pierced her flesh, sent cannons bursting inside her head.

She’d have melted at the sight of him were she made of wax. She was in his domain, one he probably knew blindfolded, and she had no idea where she was, couldn’t find her way back to Marguerite’s if she wanted to. She swallowed the dry knot in her throat and remained steadfast. Suddenly, he was bigger than life while she grew smaller by the second. What a gorgeous, lovely man to behold. What a powerful man.

And soon, he would touch her. All over.

Her head spun at the thought.

Was it wicked of her to want to dispense with conversation and race right to his bed, get the first time over with so she could concentrate on getting an intelligible word out? Good Lord, she could barely manage a clear thought, let alone act on it.

Willing her body to remain steadfast, she matched his gaze. How long was he going to stand there, regarding her that way? What a wanton she was. What a careless, brazen wanton of a woman staring back at this tantalizing man without a thought of it all being wrong. Oh, she didn’t care. Not one whit.

As though he’d read her mind, a bare shadow of a smile touched his mouth. He lifted a brow. She turned to thank Tanush. No one was there. Not Tanush nor the butler. There was nothing behind her but the door, and that had been closed right after she’d stepped through it. So where had they gone off to?