The Tiger Prince (21 page)

The message came the next morning in the form of a summons from the palace to appear immediately for an audience with the Maharajah Dulai Savitsar.

An hour later he was ushered into the reception chamber to find the maharajah kneeling on the floor, the toy board on the carpet before him. The maharajah’s small, plump frame was garbed in a brilliant red brocade tunic and white silk trousers, and he bore little resemblance to his son, Abdar. Gray peppered the ruler’s bushy mustache and sleek black hair and, at that moment, there was no trace of Abdar’s blank impassiveness about his father’s demeanor. He was clearly displeased.

“You’re this Ruel MacClaren?” The maharajah didn’t wait for an answer but went on peevishly. “I’m very angry with you. It does not work. There’s something wrong with it.”

The four-foot board at which he was staring was a representation of a jungle with each tree, bush, flower, and animal exquisitely crafted and amazingly lifelike. The central figure on the board was a tiny maharajah wearing a gold tunic and tiny bejeweled crown. Ian had told Ruel that Namir had worked a year creating this elaborate toy and had found it necessary to substitute only a few of the figures to suit Ruel’s requirements.

“You see?” The maharajah pressed the mechanism.

A lion sprang at the tiny crowned figure, appeared to just miss him, but really triggered another mechanism, causing the maharajah to rise in the air and be lost to view behind the foliage of the branches of a tree. This
action in turn triggered another mechanism that caused a figure identical to the first maharajah to spring down on the other side of the tree to stand before a rhinoceros. The rhinoceros charged and the second royal figure rose to be lost to view in the next tree. The motion of attack and evasion continued across the board, using various animals and reptiles with the tiny maharajah always evading the threat until he reached the edge of the board which resembled a high cliff. The final mechanism sent the maharajah hurtling into the air and then stopped, suspended over the abyss.

“Look at that. He just hangs there like an overripe pomegranate,” the maharajah complained. “Everyone knows a maharajah must always triumph against fate. It is most unsatisfying.”

“That’s because you don’t have the other part of the toy.”

The maharajah looked up quickly. “What other part?”

Ruel pointed to the almost invisible slots in the side of the toy. “The second half of the toy slides in here. The maharajah survives the fall from the cliff and lands before a tiger, then springs into another tree and then lands on the back of a magnificent white elephant, where he is safe at last.”

The maharajah’s eyes brightened. “An elephant?”

“A white elephant. What other animal is worthy to bear a maharajah?”

“That’s what I told my High Adviser, but they cannot find a real one for me. They keep making excuses.” He frowned with dissatisfaction at the figure hanging over the cliff. “I must have the other part of the toy. What kind of man are you to give me only half a gift?”

“But an extraordinary gift, one worthy of Your Majesty’s cleverness. I saw it in the shop and knew instantly it was fit only for a man of your taste and intelligence.”

“But I need the other part.”

“I’m searching for it now. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced it.”

The maharajah’s gaze narrowed on Ruel’s face. “And
what would it take to help you find it?” He sighed. “I suppose you wish me to give you a present in return? Everyone wants something from me. What do you want me to give you?”

“Sell, not give. You own a small island in the Indian Ocean called Cinnidar I wish to purchase. I’ll give you forty thousand pounds for it.”

“Cinnidar? I do not recall …” He impatiently waved a plump, dimpled hand. “It cannot be very important if I don’t remember the place. I will ask my adviser if you offer a fair price. Meanwhile, you will continue to look for the other half of the toy?”

“Diligently. May I call on you tomorrow with word of my progress?”

“Yes, yes.” The maharajah turned back to the jungle board, pressed the button to reset the mechanism, and watched enraptured as the lion rose in the air. “Tomorrow.”

Hallelujah, Ruel thought jubilantly as he walked down the palace steps. It was only the first step but a damn big one. All the prospects looked bright. Even the rain that had been pouring down when he entered the palace had temporarily stopped. The murky sky would no doubt soon open up again, but it was still a good sign.

“The hotel, sahib?” the bearer asked as he climbed into the ricksha.

“Yes.” Then on impulse he said, “No.” He was brimming with hope he wanted to share but suddenly he knew it was not with Ian he wanted to share it. “Take me to the bungalow of Sahib Reilly.”

The cobra wove back and forth, his onyx eyes fixed malevolently on the dog excitedly darting back and forth directly in front of him.

Dear God, don’t let him strike, Jane prayed as she edged inside the stable door. She carefully set the bowl of scraps she’d brought for Sam on the floor and reached for the knife in her boot.

The snake was coiled in the middle of the stable directly
in front of Bedelia’s stall. If he didn’t strike at the yapping dog dancing in front of him, he might turn on the mare.

“For God’s sake, hush, Sam,” she breathed.

The idiotic dog paid no attention to her, of course. His barking grew more shrill as the snake suddenly arched to a height of nearly four feet.

The blasted cobra must be at least ten feet long. If he launched that length at Sam, the dog would never be able to evade him. She glanced impatiently down at the knife in her hand and tossed it aside. A dagger would be no good as a weapon against the snake. To use it she would have to be too close. That pitchfork propped against the wall would be much more effective.

She froze as the snake’s head swiveled in her direction. Her heart was thundering so hard it seemed louder than the uproar Sam was making. Though she was beyond the cobra’s reach, fear still iced through her as she was pinned by those beady eyes.

Sam bounced to one side and the cobra’s head swung toward him.

Jane’s hand closed on the handle of the pitchfork.

“Back, Sam!” she cried desperately. “For heaven’s sake, stop teasing him.” She moved slowly in a circle until she was behind the snake.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She pulled her gaze from the cobra to see Ruel standing in the doorway. His skin was death-pale and gleaming with sweat. “Get away from him.”

“Be quiet!” Jane said sharply, her gaze shifting back to the snake. “And stand perfectly still. If you scare him, he might strike at Sam.”

“I don’t give a damn about Sam,” he said hoarsely. “Get away from that goddamn snake before he kills you.”

Jane ignored him and took a step closer. Four yards from the cobra. Three yards.

Ruel muttered an obscenity. “All right, I’ll get that crazy hound.” He took a step toward the dog. “Just get out of here!”

The cobra caught the motion and reared higher, hissing.

“Don’t move,” Jane whispered. Ruel froze.

The snake was confused, his attention divided between Sam and Ruel. He had forgotten about her. If she were quick, she might be able to—

She dashed forward, holding the pitchfork out in front of her. She caught the snake’s body between the tines and slung it across the stable. His long body struck the wall. Stunned, he fell writhing to the floor.

Sam immediately darted after it.

“No!” she screamed.

Ruel cursed steadily as he ran after the dog and scooped him up only a scant foot away from the serpent.

“Hold him!” Jane pushed Ruel aside and brought the wooden handle of the pitchfork down on the snake’s puffed head with all her strength. She struck again and again and again….

She stopped, breathless, as she realized the snake was no longer moving. “I … think he’s … dead.”

Ruel didn’t answer.

She poked at the snake with the pitchfork. No response. “It’s safe to let Sam down now.” She turned to look at Ruel, “He was a big one, wasn’t he? I don’t remember ever seeing one that size around here. They’re usually much— Let me go!”

Ruel’s hands were grasping her shoulders. “Damn you.” He shook her, his eyes blazing in his white face. “Damn you!”

“Get your hands off me or you’ll get this pitchfork in your belly,” she said fiercely.

“Do you think I care? You and your damn pitchfork and your goddamn snake.” He shook her again. “I could—” His hands fell away from her, and he staggered toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, startled by the sudden abandonment.

“To throw up.” Ruel’s voice was muffled as he dashed outside.

She gazed after him in astonishment. She had been terribly frightened too, but Ruel’s extreme response was completely unexpected. She impulsively started after him and then stopped. Li Sung hated to be seen in moments of weakness, and Ruel would probably be even more resentful. While she was still shaking with her own fear she didn’t feel up to handling his bad temper. She turned back to Sam, who was sniffing at the dead snake. “All right, you troublemaker, let’s get rid of him.”

When she left the stable a few minutes later, Ruel was scooping water from the horse trough onto his face. His slicker lay on the ground beside him and his damp shirt clung to his torso. His face was still pale as he lifted his head to look at her. “Sorry,” he said curtly. “I don’t like snakes.”

“Neither do I.” She shrugged. “But I got used to them. I grew up in tents, and it wasn’t unusual for one to come visiting.”

“Why in the hell didn’t you do what I said?” he asked harshly. “You could have been—”

“Sam,” she interrupted. “The snake would have killed him.”

“And that’s worth risking your life for?”

“He belongs to me,” she said simply. “You have to take care of what belongs to you.”

He stared at her. “Christ.”

She bristled. “It’s none of your business. Sam’s not very smart, but he’s—”

“He’s an asinine hound.” He added grimly, “And a fitting animal for you. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you charging that cobra with a pitchfork. I wanted to strangle you.” His hands balled into fists. “God, I was scared.”

She hadn’t expected him to admit it. “So was I.”

“But snakes don’t make you freeze and break into a sweat.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I didn’t cut such a brave figure, did I? Hell, I was a sniveling coward. All I wanted to do was to turn tail and run away.”

“But you didn’t run away,” she said quietly. “You told me to go. You were going to help Sam.”

“Because there wasn’t any other way to get you out of that damn place. I saw you there and I—” He broke off and drew a shaky breath. “Jesus, I hated every second of it.”

She had never seen Ruel at a disadvantage, and this evidence of weakness filled her with curiosity. “Why are you so afraid of snakes?”

“We’re all afraid of something.” He picked up his slicker from the ground and pulled it over his head. Then as he saw her still watching him he shrugged. “I suppose I owe you an explanation for being such a damn coward.” He was silent a moment and then admitted, “I was bitten once.”

Her eyes widened. “By a cobra?”

“No, this was years ago at Glenclaren. An adder. I used to sleep in the hills sometimes.” He spoke quickly, jerkily, as if he wanted to get through it. “I told you about my pet fox. I used to take him with me. It got lonely sometimes. I woke up one night with a stinging in my left leg and found the adder snuggled under my blanket. I killed him with a rock.” His lips tightened. “But I found my fox dead a few yards away. The damn snake had killed him before he decided to crawl in bed with me.”

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“I took off my shirt and tore a strip off to bind my leg and went to find help.” He lifted his shoulders. “I was never a lucky lad. My mother had decided to go to the village for the night. Ian found me unconscious the next morning and got help for me.”

“Not before?” she asked, horrified. “Why didn’t someone else—”

He ignored the question. “End of tale. I was on my feet in short order and none the worse.”

Except he had lost a pet he loved and incurred a horror of snakes that would last him a lifetime.

His expression altered, closed. He said lightly, “You can see why I approved Kartauk rendering Abdar as a serpent on his golden door. I can’t imagine a greater insult.” He turned toward the ricksha waiting on the
road beside the bungalow. “I believe it’s time I made my way back to the hotel. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with any more of my reminiscences.”

“I wasn’t bored,” she said slowly. “It made me sad.”

“Really? I can’t understand why.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, yes, it must be the fox. Your heart is bleeding for my furry friend?”

“No.” But she had an idea his heart had bled that night. Not that he would admit to such weakness.

“Then it must be for me,” he said mockingly. “Tell me, do you want to take me under your wing as you have Kartauk?”

She stiffened as she realized how much of her resistance toward him had melted during the past moments. How stupid of her. Ruel was no more defenseless than that cobra she had dealt with in the stable. She hurriedly changed the subject. “Why did you come here? Is there something wrong?”

An indefinable expression crossed his face. “I just decided to drop by.”

His answer surprised her. Ruel and she were hardly on terms that would invite such a casual visit. “How was your interview with the maharajah?”

“Good.” All mockery completely disappeared as a sudden brilliant smile lit his face. “No, very good.”

“You think you’ll get your Cinnidar?”

He nodded. “I’m damn close.” He glanced at Sam. “Keep that dog in the bungalow no matter what your precious Patrick says. You don’t want another snake to pay him a visit. There are too many cracks in that stable floor.”

“I’d already decided to do that.”

“That’s right. You don’t need any advice from me, do you?” He took off his hat and bowed.

He was walking toward the ricksha when a sudden thought occurred to her.

“Ruel, how old were you when you were bitten by the snake?”