Tiger Prince

Betrayal.

The flames curled around the platform, at last consuming the silk-wrapped body of the maharajah. The fragrance of burning sandalwood lay heavy on the air as the funeral pyre set his father's soul free by returning his body to air, fire, water, and earth.

It was almost over, Abdar thought. The sorrowful wailing of the spectators rose, drowning out both the crackling of the flames and the screams of the bound concubines chosen to join his father in death on the pyre.

Pachtal was a trifle pale, he thought as he gazed appraisingly at him through the thick haze of black smoke. Oh, well, it was of no consequence. No one would question such an appropriate physical response at this time of bereavement.

He dared not smile, but he nodded slowly at Pachtal and then turned back to the flames. All was going well. He must just be patient.

Kasanpore custom decreed three months of mournmg before he could mount the throne.

Three more months before he could turn his attention to Ci

Perhaps.

But was it not the right of Kali's true son to destroy custom and create his own laws?

"You're very quiet tonight," Ian said as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips. "Tired, Margaret?"

"Perhaps a little." She forced herself to smile as she settled herself more comfortably on the stool by his big chair. "But it will pass."

"What's Kartauk creating these days. Another statue?"

"No, a seal for his majesty, King Ruel of Ci

Ian chuckled. "I don't agree. It will amuse Ruel, and he needs something to lighten his humor. He's been working like a galley slave lately."

"He enjoys it." She looked away from him into the fire. "But it could be you're right about me being overtired. As a matter of fact, I've decided to end this foolishness of working with Kartauk. It takes too much of my time."

"No," Ian said quietly. "I won't have it."

She lifted her head, startled. "What?"

"If you're doing too much, spend less time with me. I won't have you cheated of your pleasure."

"Pleasure? When Kartauk isn't having me fetch and carry, he sets me to making unimportant trinkets or ignores me entirely. What pleasure could I derive from that?"

"Enough to make your step lighter and your smile brighter when you come back to me."

"Truly?" If what Ian said was fact, then her decision to abandon her plan was wiser than she had thought. How blind she had been not to realize the subtle changes that had taken place within her in the past weeks.

"You need such distractions." Ian smiled wearily. "God knows, I give you nothing to lift your spirits."

"You lift my spirit just by being with you."

"You lie." Ian smiled. "But it's a kind lie. I give you nothing but worry and hardship."

"Oh no." She lifted his hand to her cheek. It was thi

His hand gently stroked her hair. "Well, I recognize it and I won't have you cheated any more than you are already. You'll go back to Kartauk's studio tomorrow morning and fashion me a seal like the one he's making for Ruel. It will make me feel quite grand to affix a seal to my letters to Glenclaren."

"No, I don't want—"

"I don't need you," he interrupted gently. "Don't you see that, Margaret?"

She could see it and the knowledge filled her with fear. He was growing further away from her every day. "If you love me, you will—" She stopped. She would not burden him with guilt when he carried so many other burdens. Besides, appeals would do no good at this point. He needed a motivation stronger than she could furnish him.

The child.

Was she giving herself excuses for the sin of adultery? she wondered desperately. At first she'd had no doubts as to the purity of her motives, but now she could not be sure. It could have been lust guiding her toward Kartauk all along. "I don't want to go back," she whispered.

"Of course you do. If you won't do it for yourself, go to please me." He smiled teasingly. "I need that seal for Glenclaren."

And he needed a child for Glenclaren, a child to keep him alive. Even if being with Kartauk gave her a lustful pleasure, wouldn't she be forgiven if she could save Ian? Oh, she did not know.

"Margaret?"

"Very well." She buried her face in the soft cashmere of the throw across his lap. "You'll have your seal."

Dear God, but what would she have when this was over?

Margaret hesitated outside the door of the studio, then quickly opened it and sailed into the room. "Good morning, Kartauk. How are you today? I know I'm a little late, but I had to—"

He was coming toward her, and his expression . . .

She didn't want to acknowledge what was revealed in that expression. She lowered her eyes to the gleaming white mosaic floor. He had stopped before her and she could see his broad, strong feet encased in brown leather sandals, smell the familiar scent of wax, wood, and plaster of Paris. She moistened her lips. "I suppose you're going to lecture me on coming back here. It will do you no good. I thought long and hard about it. Ian is going on' about my needing distraction, and I decided there was no reason why I shouldn't when he—"

"Hush." His voice was thick, almost guttural. "I don't want to hear his name." His hands tangled in her hair and he jerked her head back to look into her eyes. "You should not have come back."

"I told you, I wasn't going to, but . . ." She couldn't take her gaze from his face. He was staring at her with the same consuming intensity she had seen on his face when he looked at one of his statues. "But Ian wanted—" She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "A seal."

"The hell he did."

Then his lips were on hers, hard, warm, brutal with need. He was pulling the pins from her hair, muttering words in a language she didn't understand as his lips moved from her mouth to her cheeks to her throat in hot, bruising caresses. She could feel the soft, silky texture of his beard as it brushed her flesh, and his big hands were now on her shoulders, kneading, learning, then on her throat, the swell of her breasts . . . She was wrong, they were not caresses. It was like being devoured, absorbed. He pulled her into the hollow of his hips, and she felt the shocking hardness of his arousal against her softness. Shocking and yet right. Mother of heaven, there must be something evil in her heart for this to feel so right.

Her hair was tumbling about her shoulders in wild disarray; his fingers were combing through it. He lifted his head. "You want me." His words came fiercely. "Me."

"Aye." Nothing seemed more clear at the moment. "Aye, Kartauk."

His arms crushed her back to him, robbed her of breath. Desire. Lust. Safety. How could she feel so safe while tottering on this precipice? It was going to happen. She had thought she was prepared, but now she was trembling, frightened as a child taking its first step. "What do I do?" she gasped. "Help me. Do you want me to do the things you told me to do with Ian?"

He stiffened against her, his hands halting in midmotion in the thickness of her hair. "I told you not to—" A shudder ran through him. "Christ, I wish you hadn't said that." He pushed her away from him.