"Tell him that I am in the same place. He will know. Thank you, lady. Please, do not forget. My need is great." Then Leela bowed, hoisted her son in her arms, and left.
* * *
Laura was curled in a chair in the shadowed sitting room when her husband returned a little later.
"It's dark in here." Ian struck a match and lit one of the lamps. "Dinner won't be for a couple of hours. David wanted to spend some time with his company. Though he got excused from duty for today and tomorrow, he doesn't like to neglect his men.''
After hanging his topi by the door, Ian kissed Laura on the forehead. "You look tired. Were you overwhelmed by army wives? I should have overruled David and stayed with you."
Laura surveyed her husband. His time with his brother must have been rewarding, for he looked relaxed again. "The parade of visitors started with Mrs. Baskin," she said flatly, "who wanted to know what you were like in bed."
Ian stepped back as if she'd slapped him. "Sorry you had to face that," he said after regaining his composure. "Even for Blanche Baskin, it's an unusually crude remark. Blanche isn't really a bad sort, though shocking people is her greatest pleasure in life. After her, other visitors must have seemed like models of propriety."
"Quite. Especially the Indian woman who was here a few minutes ago. Leela, her name was. I gather that she's an old and dear friend of yours." Laura's eyes narrowed. "She had a little boy with her, perhaps eighteen months old, and half European if I'm any judge. Leela asked that you call on her. I gather that it's a matter of some urgency. She said that she still lives in the same place, and that you would know where."
As Laura spoke, the atmosphere between them solidified, twanging with tension. "I see." Ian's face was as opaque as granite. "I'll call on her now. Her cottage isn't far."
"Very thoughtful of you," Laura said, making no attempt to keep the edge from her tone.
Ian picked up his topi. "Laura...," he said hesitantly, then stopped, as if not sure what to say next.
"Don't waste time here. I'm sure that Leela is anxiously awaiting your visit." Laura got to her feet and stalked to their bedroom, closing the door with elaborate care.
With her husband was safely out of earshot, she lifted a pillow from the chair and hurled it across the room, where it knocked a startled lizard from the wall. Ian might have been a stickler about not committing adultery with army wives, but little Leela was proof that he was a man, with a man's needs. At least, Laura thought savagely, he had been. Given what had happened to him in prison, she didn't have to worry about him bedding his old mistress during his evening's visit.
Shock at the wickedness of her thought extinguished Laura's anger, leaving only hurt behind. She pushed aside the mosquito netting and curled up on the bed, reminding herself that even if Leela had been Ian's mistress, it had been long before he had met Laura. But reason did nothing to assuage her sense of betrayal.
When she had agreed to marry Ian, she had anticipated that there would be problems that she couldn't imagine. Now one had surfaced.
Shaking, she hugged one of the pillows to her stomach. It was deeply disturbing to learn that having a limited marriage did not make her immune to jealousy.
* * *
When Ian returned from Leela's bungalow, he was braced for Laura's wrath, but she was sitting quietly at the desk in their bedroom, transcribing from Pyotr's Bible to her own journal. She had bathed and changed and looked serenely lovely in the lamplight. He wondered how long that would last; she had seemed ready to chop him into crocodile bait when he left.
She glanced up when he entered the room, her expression unreadable. "Is... everything under control?"
"Yes." He took off his coat and removed his cravat. "In case you're wondering, the boy isn't mine."
After a long silence, Laura said, "I assume that you're at least a little sorry that he isn't."
Ian's stomach muscles clenched at how accurately she had divined his ambivalence. He had been disconcerted to hear about Leela's visit, but he had also felt a sudden, furtive hope that he might have an unplanned child to compensate for the ones he would not have in the future. "A little," he admitted warily, "even though it would have been a great complication."
His wife took his answer in stride. "But Leela was your mistress, wasn't she? Or was that my fevered imagination?"
Ian sighed and turned a straight chair around so that he could straddle it, crossing his arms on the back. "She was, for about two years. I ended the arrangement amicably a couple of months before going to Bokhara. There was a remote chance that she had been with child by me but didn't know before I left. When I saw her tonight, though, she was quite definite that the child isn't mine. He's only fifteen months—not old enough."
"Then who is the boy's father?"
"A good friend of mine, an officer named Jock Coburn. After I ended things with Leela, he made an arrangement with her."
"Is she in difficult straits because he has abandoned her?"
"Jock would not have neglected his own child and its mother." Ian ran his fingers through his hair. "Unfortunately, he died. I didn't know till Leela told me tonight. He drowned when moving his company across a river during the monsoons. That was before the baby was born and he hadn't yet made arrangements for Leela's support. After his death, she lived on her savings. I'd given her a bit of a nest egg and Jock had been generous. But now she's destitute and she doesn't want to be a kept woman anymore."
Laura nodded. "I imagine it's a rather insecure existence. Leela came to you hoping for financial aid?"
"She didn't know who else to turn to. She's not from Cambay, so she has no family near, and what she has elsewhere is very poor. That's why she was sold in the first place."
"Sold?" Laura said sharply.
He grimaced. "I'm afraid so. At least she was fortunate in her master, an elderly merchant who treated her well. After he died, she went into business for herself. Now that she has a child, though, she wants a different kind of life."
Laura's eyes narrowed, and Ian wondered if her temper was building toward an explosion. But she said only, "What are you going to do for her?"
"What makes you think I didn't turn down her request?"
"You would never deny help to someone for whom you felt responsible," Laura said expressionlessly. "Nor would I think better of you if you did."
Once again his wife was perceptive. Ian said, "I'll arrange an annuity for Leela. It won't cost much to keep her in comfort. I'll also pay school fees. With a decent education, the boy should be able to find a good position in the government."
"That seems very fair."
There was an uneasy silence, broken when a bell rang in the distance. Laura said, "Does that mean dinner is ready?"
"In about ten minutes. I'd better change."
Laura stood and went to the door so he would have the bedroom to himself, but before leaving she said, "Why did Leela ask to see me? The matter could have been handled without my knowing. Was she trying to make trouble?"
"She's not a troublemaker. I think she was simply curious and wanted to see my wife." Ian gave a wry smile. "Leela complimented me on my taste. She said you were a fine lady. Since she knew that Jock was the boy's father, I think it didn't occur to her that you might draw a different conclusion."
Laura's glance was ironic, but she didn't dispute the point. Her hand was on the doorknob when Ian decided to take advantage of her improved mood. "Why were you so angry earlier? I never claimed to have lived a life of unimpeachable virtue."
"There's a difference between knowing something in the abstract and being faced with it in the particular, especially when 'the particular' is beautiful and has a baby in tow," Laura said dryly. "I suppose the incident made me realize how little I know about your earlier life. I'm sorry I was unreasonable, but I'm not really a reasonable woman. I merely pretend well." She gave him a fleeting smile, then slipped from the room.
Ian watched her go with a frown. On the whole, he had gotten off e
asily. Most wives would have weeping hysterics if confronted by a husband's former mistress.
But the incident had created a chill between them. He had a nagging feeling that he hadn't heard the last of the matter.
* * *
After a leisurely dinner with David, Ian and Laura retired and went right to bed. At first Laura lay on the far edge of the mattress. Ian guessed that she was still unhappy about Leela. He hoped that she wouldn't make a habit of staying away; he rested much better with his wife in his arms.
Fortunately, night eradicated the barriers that had been erected during the day. Ian woke later to find that Laura had inched over and wrapped herself around him like a vine. To his bemusement, this was not one of the close-but-nonsexual embraces they usually shared, for one of his wife's hands had come to rest on his genitals. With only a thin layer of fabric between them, the warmth of her palm was very pleasant, though nothing like what he would have felt if he had been unimpaired.
He felt a violent spasm of bitterness at the unfairness of fate, but swiftly he brought it under control. Bitterness was old news. Carefully he moved her hand to his chest.
There was a certain black humor in the situation. Awake, Laura might be a virgin and frightened of physical passion, but in her sleep she was staking him out as her territory with unerring wifely possessiveness. In a way, her gesture was rather endearing. He was certainly hers. Not only had they exchanged wedding vows, but he was no use to any other woman.
Bitterness again. It dissipated when a more cheerful thought struck him. Since Laura had been the one to breach the tacit physical limits between them, he was entitled to bend the rules a bit himself. Gently he laid a hand on her breast. It was deliciously soft and full, even more so than he had guessed. She had packed away the elaborate silk negligee of her wedding night and was wearing a simple muslin nightgown instead. He could feel the pebbled texture of her nipple through the light fabric when he stroked it with the ball of his thumb.
As her nipple hardened, he sighed and removed his hand, not wanting to waken her. Without words Laura had made it clear that touching with sexual overtones was off-limits. He wondered if they would ever know the casual physical ease that was usual between lovers—simple things like not worrying where hands were when they embraced, and undressing in front of each other.
He would like to see her naked, even though he was incapable of taking full advantage of that state. But because he didn't want to pressure Laura into anything that would make her uncomfortable, they might never fully relax with each other. Some women married and bore children without once letting their husbands catch a glimpse of bare flesh.
Nonetheless, before settling to sleep again, Ian caressed her other breast. There was bittersweet pleasure in feeling the lovely curves. At least bittersweet was an improvement over bitter.
Chapter 14
The young servant made a last adjustment to one of Laura's ringlets. "There, memsahib," she said cheerfully. "You look very fine."
Being a bachelor establishment, David's bungalow was not well supplied with mirrors, so Laura had to cross the room to see how she looked in a small glass that was better suited for shaving than a lady's toilette. The maid, Premula, had done a fine job of styling her hair. Laura complimented the girl, then stood on tiptoe to see how her ball gown looked.
When she saw her image, she inhaled with wonder. She had never owned such an elegant garment in her life, and the shimmering blue silk was spectacular. A little too spectacular—she hadn't realized the lace-edged neckline was so low.
Uneasily she looked down at herself. An embarrassing amount of bare flesh was showing, but the basic problem was less the style of the dress than the way she was built.
Now that it was too late, she remembered why she had always chosen more conservative styles. Her natural figure tended toward the hourglass shape that men fancied, and her tight-laced corset and gown emphasized it to an absurd degree.
Nervously Laura touched the elaborate ringlets. "You really think I look all right?"
"You shall be the toast of the ball, memsahib," Premula said reassuringly. "Now, if you have no more need of me, I must go to my own lady." The maid bowed and left. She had been sent by Blanche Baskin with a note saying that Blanche didn't expect a gentleman's house to have a decent lady's maid.
It was a generous gesture. Perhaps Ian was right that the colonel's wife wasn't a bad sort in spite of her appalling frankness.
Laura frowned as she thought of her husband. During their three days in Cambay, she'd scarcely seen him alone. Though the affair of Leela was closed, there was still a certain tension between them. Or perhaps the problem was that they were surrounded by people and it was taking all of Ian's energy to cope with the strain. Laura would be glad when they resumed their journey in another day and a half.
The bedroom door opened and Laura turned to see Ian enter. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my," she breathed. "There's something about a man in uniform."
Ian smiled a little at her expression. "Does a uniform make that much difference on a scarecrow?''
"You look," she said honestly, "absolutely magnificent."
Though Ian was no longer an officer, David had convinced him that full-dress uniform should be worn for a regimental ball in his honor. It was also the easiest choice, since all of Ian's possessions had been given to David after his presumed death. Not having any other formal evening wear, Ian had agreed to the uniform, though without enthusiasm.
Laura was glad that he had, for in his scarlet-coated, black-faced and gold-laced regimentals, Ian was a sight to turn any woman's head. She guessed that the derzi had taken in the seams because the coat did an impeccable job of displaying her husband's broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was still too thin, but in a splendidly lean and panther-ish way. His eye patch added exactly the right dashing accent.
"You look rather magnificent yourself," he said, his expression warm with admiration. He handed her a velvet-covered jewelry box. "This is for you, since I didn't give you a wedding present. You might want to wear these tonight."
No woman was immune to the allure of jewels, and Laura opened the box eagerly. Then her mouth dropped open and once more she said feebly, "Oh, my."
Resting on the white silk lining was a gorgeous sapphire necklace and matching earrings.
"You said you were wearing blue, so I thought these stones would go well. Allow me?" Ian lifted the necklace and fastened it around her throat. "Someday I'll give you topazes, to match your eyes."
Laura turned to look at herself in the mirror and inhaled sharply. The gems shimmered with blue fire, fit for a princess. For a moment she saw not herself but Tatyana, garbed in silk and sapphires for an imperial ball.
The memory sent goosefeet running down Laura's spine. She swallowed hard. "I don't think I ever realized quite how much I resemble my mother."
Ian rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. "If so, she was a very beautiful woman."
"She was, though I don't look that much like her." Laura turned and kissed her husband. "Thank you, Ian. This is the most splendid gift I've ever received." She replaced her simple gold earbobs with the sapphire earrings, which dangled halfway to her shoulders and flashed with cool light at every movement of her head. "Now I can outface any catty female in India."
He smiled and offered his arm. Together they went into the sitting room, where David waited. He also looked remarkably handsome in uniform, though not quite as impressive as Ian. Give him a few more years and a few more lines in his face, and perhaps he could come close to matching his older brother.
David's eyes widened when he saw his sister-in-law. "Good heavens, Laura, you are absolutely stunning."
She blushed a little, because her ability to sense male desire confirmed just how sincere his admiration was. But David's regard didn't worry her, for he was the sort of man for whom it would be literally unthinkable to make an improper advance to his brother's wife.
In fact, Laura realized with rising deligh
t, at tonight's ball she could be gay and giddy without worrying about the consequences. With Ian as her husband, she was safe from the unwanted attentions of other men for the first time in her life.
She took David's arm with her free hand. "Shall we go? With two such handsome escorts, I'll be the most envied woman in Cambay. And I'm going to have a wonderful time tonight."
As they left, Ian wished dourly that he was equally sure of how the evening would go.
* * *
The Cambay Club had originally been founded as a center for sporting activities, but over time it had become the focus of social activity for the entire British community. It occupied a lofty two-story building surrounded by gardens, with one whole wing given over to a ballroom. Waltz music wafted through the warm night air as they went up the front steps to the veranda.
As they entered the club, David said, "Ian, you'll be swamped with people all night. Shall I take Laura in charge? I can perform introductions, fend off lovestruck subalterns, procure refreshments, and generally look out for her."
Ian glanced at his wife. "If you don't mind, Laura, that would simplify matters. I don't want to neglect you, but I do have two years of social obligations to take care of tonight."
"Fine," Laura said agreeably. "David will take good care of me." She stood on her toes and gave her husband a quick kiss. Under her breath, she said, "This will soon be over, doushenka. Meanwhile, try to enjoy the occasion. You have a lot of friends who care a great deal about you."
There was strain in his face, but he managed a wry smile. "You see too much, Larishka."
She chuckled at hearing one of the pet names that Russians were so fond of using. Then they entered the ballroom and there was no more time for private conversation. Brilliant with lamps and tropical flowers, the ballroom was said to be the grandest in northern India. The company was equally grand, with women decked in colorful evening gowns and men in equally colorful uniforms from all of the regiments stationed at Cambay.