[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

a day.
Finally she locked up, turned out her lamp, and went to the
conservatory for a little relaxation before she went to bed. As she
had anticipated, Gupta had left a pitcher of iced lemonade there for
her. The fountain sang in the corner, and as soon as she sat down in
her chair, the punkah stirred up a delicious breeze. She could not
imagine a more perfect evening-except that Peter was at the Exeter
Club instead of being here.
She had-she freely admitted it now-been tempted to cast a little
magic of attraction Peter's way. But she had resisted that
temptation, and now she was glad. If she had given in, she would
never know if what was happening between them was due to nature or
the intervention of magic.
She allowed the memory of his face, out there on the boat, to linger
in her thoughts; the far-seeing eyes that never hid what he was
feeling from her anymore, the firm jaw, the way the sunlight touched
his hair. When had she first realized what he meant to her? And how
had she failed to notice it for so long?
Charan leaped into her lap, and offered her an apple gravely. She
took it and thanked him; he should have been sleepy-eyed at this time
of night, but he was unusually alert.
In fact, all of the pets were alert, even Mala, who was always asleep
by now. Rhadi flew down to perch on the back of her chair, and Rajah
paraded slowly back and forth in front of the fountain, his tail
fanned. Sia and Singhe were nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't
unusual. They were probably in the cellar, hunting mice.
Nisha was gone as well as the mongooses, but that only meant she was
hunting early tonight. No one had to let her out in this weather;
there was a platform just under the peaked roof of the conservatory
that extended outside the glass. One pane had been left out and
replaced with a hatch, which when open, gave Nisha and Mala a means
to get outside to hunt. Just as Maya noticed that the eagle-owl was
not in the conservatory, she heard a thud on the platform, and a
moment later, the owl waddled ponderously into the light, then
dropped down onto the dead tree and began to clean her talons
meticulously.
Even in the dim light, Maya saw that the owl's talons were
considerably bloodied; whatever she'd been hunting, it wasn't rats.
"Have you been eating the neighbor's cats?" she asked sternly.
Nisha looked down at her and gave a hoot that held so much derision
it could not have been an accident, as if to say, "Surely you know
that I wouldn't trouble myself with their scrawny moggies!"
Maya had to laugh at her tone. "I beg your pardon, dear. I should
have known better."
Owls didn't snort, couldn't snort, but the sound Nisha produced was
as close to a snort as a beak could manage, and she went back to the
important task of talon sanitation.
Rhadi took that moment to lean forward and say distinctly into her
ear, "Good Peter!"
"Very good Peter," she agreed. "Do you all like Peter?"
Rhadi chuckled, Charan made a contented little noise, and Rajah bowed
his head. Neither Nisha nor Mala made any sounds, but both roused
their feathers and fluffed up the tiny feathers around their beaks, a
sign of supreme contentment. "Good Peter!" Rhadi repeated, then
leaned closer and whispered something in Urdu which was highly
improper-if delightful to contemplate, in one's very private
thoughts-and made Maya blush hotly even though there was no one about
to hear the parrot except the other animals.
"Where did you learn that?" she demanded.
Rhadi only laughed and flew up to his favorite perch beside Mala. The
two birds, who in any other circumstances than this would have been
predator and prey, actually preened each others' heads before
settling in for the night.
Rajah dropped his fan, and hopped up onto the rocks beside the
fountain pool, also ready at last to sleep. They all seemed more
relaxed; perhaps they had only been waiting for Nisha to return and
all of the "family" to be within the bounds of the house. Even Nisha
looked decidedly relaxed.
"Well, if you are all going to sleep, I ought to as well," she said
aloud. Charan looked up at her, and jumped down out of her lap onto
the floor, walking toward the door a few paces, then looking back at
her over his shoulder.
"All right, I'm coming!" she laughed, and followed him.
Deep in the heart of her sanctuary, Shivani frowned, though not at
her wounded dacoit, who lay insensible on a blanket at her feet. He
could not help his condition, inconvenient as it was. Her servants
were trained, highly skilled, indeed, the pick of the warriors that
her temple had to offer. But they could not guard against deadly
force on silent wings coming down out of a night sky. Especially when
such a formidable foe was completely unexpected.
The dacoit was a pitiful sight, if Shivani were inclined to pity. He
had lost one eye to a gouging claw, and his scalp was furrowed from
eyebrow to crown with great talon gashes. It was a wonder that he was
not dead; he should have been dead, and would have been, had the
talon that took his eye gotten all the way to his brain. At the
moment, he was only semiconscious; Shivani had given him enough opium
to drop a water buffalo to take away his pain. He moaned in delirium
despite it, and might not survive the night. He had lost a great deal
of blood, and she would not take him to an English hospital, nor
would he wish her to. Her body servant had bandaged him as best she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]