Ian shook his head, incapable of answering.
David frowned as he studied his older brother's drawn face. "Where are you staying?"
"Nowhere. I just got back." Ian's voice cracked for a moment. "I went directly to Colonel Whitman's."
There was a moment's silence. Then David said flatly, "I see. Come with me. My bungalow is nearby. The man who shares it is away for a couple of months, so there's plenty of room."
Mutely Ian turned his horse and rode after his brother. Just a few minutes more. He could manage that long. Just a few minutes more.
Chapter 3
Confused, Ian rolled over and blinked dazedly when he awoke. Then he remembered. Cambay. The disastrous meeting with Georgina. Finally, thank God, David.
When they reached the bungalow, his brother had suggested that Ian rest and guided him to one of the bedrooms. Ian hadn't even bothered to undress before sprawling facedown on the bed. Within seconds he had fallen into exhausted unconsciousness.
Slanting rays of ruddy late-afternoon sunshine sifted through the shutters, but what day was it? Perhaps he had slept for a full twenty-four hours, as when he had arrived at Juliet's fortress after the wild flight across the Kara-Kum Desert. On both occasions, his rest had been more like coma than sleep.
He was still groggy with fatigue but doubted that he would sleep any more, for the black mists still tormented him. Gravely he considered the image. Mists sounded too benign; the shadows were more like snarling black dogs that circled around him, obscuring his mind, snapping and slavering as they waited for the kill. Wolves, perhaps?
Deciding that it would have been wiser to stick with mists, he got shakily to his feet and walked to the washstand. The mirror over the basin showed a filthy, bewhiskered visage that was enough to frighten anyone. Certainly it had frightened Georgina.
Mouth tight, he turned away and opened the door to the bungalow's main room. David sat at the desk, writing a letter.
Ian asked, "How long was I asleep?"
His brother looked up. "Less than two hours. I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow morning."
No wonder Ian didn't feel rested.
David continued, "How about a bath? Then we can dine and you can tell me what's happened during the last two years."
The suggestion was a good one, for after shaving, bathing, and changing to fresh clothing, Ian felt as close to human as he was likely to get. By mutual agreement, neither of the brothers asked questions until they had eaten. Or rather, until David had eaten; Ian consumed only a few mouthfuls, then used his fork to push the remaining food around his plate.
When David finished, he signaled for the table to be cleared. "Care for some brandy?"
Ian considered the decanter. "I think I will, though it's probably a mistake—after two years in Islamic countries where there was no alcohol, a drink might put me flat on my back."
David filled two glasses and pushed one down the gleaming table. "Apart from exchanging to the 46th, not much has happened to me in the last couple of years. But how did you escape from Bokhara? It was reported that you were imprisoned shortly after arriving in the city, then executed about a year later.''
Ian shrugged. "The report was half right—I was imprisoned but not executed—not quite. After a year and a half in the filthiest hole imaginable, I was rescued by Juliet and her long-lost husband. We escaped to Persia, and here I am."
David's brandy glass halted in midair halfway to his mouth. Incredulous, he said, "Our sister Juliet? And Ross Carlisle?"
After Ian had sketched in the details, David gave a soft whistle of amazement. "You were damned lucky."
"Indeed." Ian selected a mango and began carving it into slivers with the razor-sharp Persian dagger his sister had given him. "I remind myself of that all the time."
"So Juliet and Ross are together again," David said thoughtfully. "Why the devil did she run off in the first place? I never understood that. I know that Juliet has more than her share of Cameron impulsiveness, but leaving Ross after six months of marriage seemed like pure insanity."
"She never told me why she left, but Ross is satisfied with her explanation. That's all that counts." Ian halted for a moment as he remembered the vivid closeness he had seen between his sister and her husband. He was happy for them, but the memory made his own situation seem all the bleaker.
Disgusted with his self-pity, he continued, "They'll be arriving back in England soon. Not only has Juliet turned into an adoring and more-or-less dutiful wife, she is well on her way to providing Ross with an heir.''
David grinned. "Trust Juliet not to waste any time."
"Georgina didn't either."