Silk and Secrets(6)

The fragile foreign glass was a fitting symbol of the British presence in Asia. A foreigner could die a thousand ways here: of disease, from fierce heat or cold or thirst, at the hands of robbers or an angry mob. Ross had risked all those things many times before, but now he owed it to his parents to have more care for his life.

As his anger faded, he released the breath he had been holding. In truth, having just left England, he had little desire to return so soon. And no matter how hard he worked to fulfill his obligations to his family, ultimately he would fail because of the foolish, headstrong marriage he had made when only twenty-one years old. As long as Juliet lived, he would be unable to produce an heir to carry on the Carlisle name.

Yet in spite of everything, he could not wish her dead merely so he could take a second wife and perform his joyless duty. A pity that his older brother had fathered only girls.

Ross had failed his wife and failed his family. Perhaps, he thought wearily, he might find some absolution by doing what Jean Cameron was asking of him. There were only two real drawbacks to his going to Bokhara. If he died, it would be very hard on his parents; and if his father died during the extra months he was away from England, it would be very hard on Ross. But by now he was an expert at living with guilt.

He turned and leaned back against the window frame, arms crossed on his chest. "You're a ruthless woman, Jean," he said with rueful resignation. "You know that I can't refuse when you ask like that."

For a moment she shut her eyes to disguise sudden tears of relief. "It's no credit to my sense of honor that I'm willing to take whatever advantage I can," she said in a shaky voice. "But I would not ask this of you if I thought it would cost you your life."

"I wish I shared your optimism," he said dryly. "I was fortunate to visit Bokhara once and live to tell the tale. Going a second time is definitely pushing my luck."

"You will come back safely," she said, refusing to let his words tarnish her hope. "Not only that, I have a strong feeling that this mission will benefit not just Ian, but you as well."

He raised his brows sardonically. "If you recall, it was just such a feeling that led you to believe that Juliet and I were made for each other, though everyone else was doubtful. If you had not given permission, we could not have married and a great deal of grief would have been avoided. I'm not blaming you for doing what Juliet and I both wanted, but forgive me if I am not convinced of the reliability of maternal intuition."

Her gaze slid away from his. "I still don't understand what went wrong," she said in a small voice. "You and Juliet seemed so right for each other. Even now, in my heart I cannot feel that it was wrong for you to marry."

"God preserve us from the ghosties, ghoulies, long-legged things that go thump in the night, and unscrupulous Scotswomen with imperfect intuition," Ross said, misquoting the old Scottish prayer, but his tone was affectionate. If he had a child, he would doubtless be as ruthless as Jean in trying to protect it. He crossed the room and put one hand on her shoulder. "I swear I'll do my best to learn what happened to Ian, and if possible, bring him home."

He did not say aloud that the greatest success he could imagine would be returning with Ian's bones.





Chapter 2





Northeastern Persia

April 1841



Ross lifted the waterskin from behind his saddle and sipped a small mouthful, just enough to cut the dust in his mouth, then slung it back in place. The high plateau of northeastern Persia was cold, dry, and desolate, though it was paradise compared to the Kara Kum desert, which they should reach in another day.

In spite of Ross's best efforts at speed, over three months had passed since Jean Cameron had persuaded him to go to Bokhara. There had been a maddening fortnight in Constantinople while he prepared for the journey.

He'd already been well-supplied with everything he might need, from compasses and a spyglass to gift items like Arabic translations of Robinson Crusoe, and routine travel documents like passports had been no problem. The delays had lain in getting letters of introduction from influential Ottoman officials. Ambassador Canning had been very helpful with that, even though he thoroughly disapproved of Ross's mission.

The fruits of their labors were now sewn into Ross's coat. He had letters from the sultan of the Ottoman Empire and the reis effendi, who was the minister of state for foreign affairs. Probably even more valuable were the introductions from the Sheik Islam, who was the highest Muslim mullah, or priest, in Constantinople. The letters were directed to a variety of influential men, including the amir and mullahs of Bokhara.

Ross had enough experience of this part of the world to realize that such letters could save his life. But he was still impatient about the time required to acquire them.