Laura refolded her uncle's notes and smoothed the creases with her thumbnail. "I see why Pyotr wrote in his prison journal that he had come to regret his cleverness at devising this scheme. Tens of thousands of people will die if the Afghans invade and the other states rise up to join them. How could a kindly man like my uncle think this up in the first place?"
"The simple answer is that it was his job to protect and extend Russian influence." Ian sighed. "But the true reason is that it's dangerously easy for a man to get caught up in the excitement of the work. The British call this secret warfare the Great Game. Pyotr said the Russian term is 'the tournament of shadows.' In both cases, the metaphor is sport. Be the quickest, the cleverest, the most dangerous, and win the game."
"And God only knows how many innocent people might die as a result," she said bitterly, thinking of all of the Indian villagers she had known who wanted only to be left in peace to live their lives. "What do we do now, Ian?"
"That's simple," he said. "We obey Pyotr's last wish, and make sure that this is one fire that is never kindled."
Chapter 30
When Meera went to her mistress that morning, there had been no need to ask if the attempt to establish a more intimate relationship with her husband had been successful. One look at the memsahib's glowing face gave her the answer.
After arranging for the rose petals to be removed and delivering a note from the memsahib to the maharani, Meera was at liberty, so she decided to walk a bit. It was pure coincidence that she chose to do so near the section of the palace where male servants were quartered.
She was a little piqued that Zafir, the great scoundrel, had not yet sought her out after returning to Manpur. Considering how much thought she had put into the question of whether or not to accept his proposal, it was disagreeable to think that the Pathan might not be terribly interested in her answer.
She had prepared a number of sharp comments for use in the event that she happened to see him. Yet when their paths did cross, the dazzling smile he gave her drove all criticism from her mind. "Little dove, you are a sight for weary eyes."
Rallying, she retorted, "Your eyes don't look weary. You look like a bright-eyed fox that is eyeing a fowl for dinner."
"Exactly! The fowl in this case being a dove." He looked hopeful. "Shall I have you for dinner?"
Heat rose in Meera's face. She had certainly opened herself up for that. "I shall be nobody's dinner. I was going for a walk since the memsahib will not need me for several hours."
"Then I shall accompany you and guard against foxes."
Which was exactly what Meera had hoped for. It wasn't until they were well away from the palace that Zafir said, "Have you considered what I asked you, Meera?"
She glanced up, surprised. "I think that is the first time you have ever used my name."
"Rather than Meera or even little dove," he said gravely, "I would prefer to call you wife."
Mesmerized by the intensity of feeling that she saw in his clear gray eyes, Meera said, "Then I shall call you husband."
Zafir whooped. Catching her around the waist, he lifted her into the air and swung her around three times. By the time a laughing Meera was returned to the ground, she was convinced that her answer did matter.
"A pity I don't have my rifle," he said regretfully. "A proper Pathan celebrates by shooting into the air, but I shall do the happy fire another time. Perhaps when we are wed."
Trying without success to look severe, she straightened the scarf that covered her hair. "Speaking of wedding, I think we should wait until Falkirk Sahib and my lady reach Bombay."
He pulled her close and kissed her. "Must we wait so long?"
"Yes," she said rather breathlessly after surfacing from his kiss. "The sahib and memsahib have done much for me. To leave her now would be ungrateful."
He kissed her again and this time his hand covered her breast. "We can wait for the wedding, but do we have to wait?"
Catching his meaning, she cuffed his wandering hand. "Yes, we do, you wicked creature. Not until we're married."
Undisturbed by her refusal, he laughed and picked a crimson flower from a bed by the path. "A prudent woman—exactly what a man wants in his wife." He tucked the blossom over her ear.
"You are always so good-natured," she said curiously. "Isn't there anything I could say or do that would give you offense?"
He grinned. "I would have been offended if you had refused me. Come, let us walk in the royal section of the gardens."
Meera had not been paying attention to where they were walking, but now she saw how close they were to the restricted area. "This is only for the royal family and their chief courtiers. Won't we get in trouble if we're found here?"