Veils of Silk(24)

Idly he wondered why she was so set against marriage. She didn't seem to despise men. Most likely she'd suffered a broken heart. If so, perhaps she would be willing to accept a husband when she recovered.

He hoped so; he disapproved of such a waste of womanly warmth and charm. He also felt a responsibility for Pyotr's niece. He didn't like thinking of her living the gray life of a governess in another woman's house.

But it wouldn't come to that. Ian might be less than a man physically, but there was nothing wrong with his judgment. Laura was the sort of woman who would always attract men eager to love and protect her. She, at least, would not need to spend the rest of her life alone.





Chapter 7





Laura had dressed in her custom-made riding clothing for the trek to the machan. After the major inspected her tan divided skirt and high boots, he gave a nod of approval. "A practical outfit. A pity more Englishwomen don't do the same."

"The divided skirt was my father's suggestion," she explained as she hooked a canteen to her belt and donned her topi. "So much time is spent on horseback in India that he thought it would be better if I rode astride except on the most formal social occasions, which means hardly ever. And he flatly forbade me to wear a corset in the hot weather. He claimed that corsets were responsible for the fact that so many Anglo-Indian women are in delicate health. They can't breathe."

"He sounds like a man of rare good sense. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to meet him."

Laura was sorry, too. The thought produced one of the waves of disabling sorrow that swept through her several times a day. She fell in beside Ian and they began their hike to the water hole.

The path wound among the village fields, then through light forest interspersed with grassy meadows. The sunshine and lovely countryside lifted her spirits. Though she would never stop missing her stepfather, neither would she allow herself to be drowned by despair.

Ian saw more with one eye than most people did with two. As they walked he wordlessly drew her attention to things she would otherwise not have noticed. In fact, his awareness of their surroundings was a product of all his senses, not only sight. It was he who heard the almost inaudible wingbeats of a brilliantly colored sunbird that hovered like a hummingbird by a flowering shrub.

Later he pushed aside some grasses to reveal a cluster of white flowers. The blossoms looked unremarkable, but when he picked a sprig and handed it to Laura, she found that they had a sweetly haunting fragrance.

Not all of his discoveries were so innocuous. After twenty minutes of walking, he halted and threw up one hand to block Laura's progress while he studied the forest to the left. Then he beckoned her into a protected spot among the arching aerial roots of a banyan tree, directing her gaze toward a tree about a hundred yards away.

Obediently she shaded her eyes with one hand and peered upward, wondering what she was supposed to see. Her jaw dropped when she recognized the creature lounging among the dappled shadows.

A leopard. The great cat's spots were near-perfect camouflage as it sprawled lazily along a branch, paws and tail drooping with the boneless ease of a child's rag toy.

When the rasping voice of a leopard sounded right next to Laura, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She gave a strangled gasp and whipped her head around, fearing to find that a leopard had dropped onto her companion.

To her amazement, she discovered that Ian was making the sounds. Bemused, she glanced back at the real leopard, wondering how it would react.

Slumber disturbed, the cat's head shot up and its ears cocked forward. After a moment of intense listening, it flowed silently down the tree trunk and vanished in the grass.

Nervously Laura watched the rippling stalks that indicated that the panther was coming to investigate what it clearly thought was a rival. She didn't believe that Ian would allow either of them to be eaten—but apart from cocking the hammer of his rifle, he seemed remarkably unconcerned by the fact that a dangerous predator was stalking them.

After a taut minute had passed, the leopard emerged from the high grass a dozen feet away from Laura and Ian. Whiskers twitching and body low, it hesitated and swung its head back and forth, sniffing curiously as it tried to locate its fellow.

When its gaze reached Ian and Laura, the furry face took on an expression of near-human shock. The leopard's reaction was so comical that Laura almost laughed aloud. The beast looked like a vicar enraged by the discovery of a frog in the baptismal font.

Hackles rising, the cat spat furiously at the man who had the impudence to speak like a leopard. Then the beast whirled and bounded away with fluid, heartstopping grace. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Laura discovered that she was holding her breath, so she exhaled shakily. "What was that all about?"