The Tiger Prince by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page B

Kali’s only distinction,” Ruel said. “The diety Abdar admires so much is also the goddess of destruction.”
    Jane Barnaby wasn’t what he had thought she would be.
    Ruel leaned back against the rock and pulled his felt hat forward to shade his eyes as he gazed down at the crew laboring on the track in the valley below. From Abdar’s description, he had pictured a strident, Junoesque virago, but Jane Barnaby was none of those things. Small and fine-boned, she appeared almost childlikein the baggy denim trousers, loose blue chambray shirt, and brown suede boots she always wore. A tan straw coolie hat shaded her head from the merciless rays of the sun as she moved down the row of track, stopping now and then to examine a fitting or speak sharply to a worker who was carelessly hammering a tie. Today her every step, every slightest movement, was charged with energy and vitality, but it was not always so. Often at the end of the day, when the workers had been dismissed and she thought no one present to witness her weakness, Ruel had seen her lean her forehead on the saddle of her mare, Bedelia, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion before gathering enough strength to mount her horse for the long ride back to Kasanpore.
    Jane stopped, her gaze zeroing in on a wiry Indian whose pace in pounding the steel into the ground was almost leisurely. Ruel grinned as he saw her shoulders square and jaw tighten. He recognized those signs of annoyance and determination as he now recognized every gesture and motion she made. It was odd how quickly he had learned to read the woman. He had thought the surveillance would bore him, but instead he found himself caught, intrigued, and often amused.
    She strode down the track toward the Indian and stopped before him. Ruel couldn’t hear her words, but he could tell by the scowl on the Indian’s face that the spate blistered. She turned and walked away and the Indian gazed after her, an ugly expression twisting his features. However, he kept his place, and it was not because of the brawny overseer, Robinson, who watched from the side of the road. He knew about the knife sheathed in Jane Barnaby’s left boot.
    And so did Ruel.
    After a moment the Indian picked up his huge hammer and started pounding the spike with slightly more enthusiasm.
    “Why don’t you give it up?”
    Ruel glanced over his shoulder to see Ian climbing the hill from the grove where he had tied his horse beside Ruel’s. “Why should I? She’s the key to Kartauk.”
    “You’ve been watching her for four days and she’s done nothing but work like a galley slave.” Ian crouched down beside Ruel. “Can’t you see Abdar was lying to you? She couldn’t be Kartauk’s mistress. Just look at her, the lass isn’t much more than a child.”
    “Appearances are almost always deceiving. Remind me to tell you about a whore I once had in Singapore. Mei Lei had the face of a baby angel and the delightfully corrupt talents of Delilah.” His gaze returned to the woman below. “What did you find out from Colonel Pickering about Reilly?”
    “Not much. Reilly’s uneducated but good-natured enough and drinks like a sot. He had a fairly good reputation in Yorkshire, and after he finished building a line between Dover and Salisbury, he entered a bid for this job.”
    “And the woman?”
    Ian shrugged. “No one ever sees her. She never goes to the club with him. Reilly keeps her pretty much to himself.”
    “And their relationship?”
    Ian looked uncomfortable. “There are rumors … but no one knows for sure.” His gaze shifted down to Jane in the valley below. “I believe it’s all nonsense and she is Reilly’s ward.”
    “Because you want to believe it.”
    Ian tilted his head as he looked back at Ruel. “And you don’t. Why not?”
    Ruel realized to his surprise that Ian was right. He wanted Jane Barnaby to be the promiscuous harlot Abdar had described, and the reason lay in the odd fascination she held for him. It