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But Herriard had seen her. He stepped away from the wall, his eyes glinting in the reflected torchlight, and reached for the bundle.
‘I can manage. No, not that way, I must say goodbye to my uncle, to the Lady Paravi—’
‘And risk being seen? They know what we are doing and they have other things to think about just now. Come on.’ He pushed her in front of him through the door, back into the palace. He seemed to know the way as well as she, pulled her into alcoves as servants ran past, knew when to stop and slide into the shadows to avoid a distracted sentry, his attention on someone shouting on the battlements.
A slender figure stepped out right in front of them and she stopped so abruptly that Herriard ran into her and gripped both her arms above the elbow to steady himself. His body was hard and immovable against her back and his voice was a soft rumble. Suddenly she was glad of his size. When he released her it was as though a bulwark had been removed.
‘Ajit, are the horses ready?’
‘Yes, sahib,’ the man said and she recognised the major’s servant. He must have run up the steep road from the base court for he was panting. ‘Pavan and Rajat and a good mare for the lady. The lower gate is still open for soldiers taking up positions outside the walls, but we must hurry or we will be noticed.’
They ran, skidding on the black stones worn smooth by the passage of elephants and horses and men over hundreds of years, hugged the walls that loomed over them, slowed at every one of the gates where the road changed direction, all the better to confuse attackers if they got within the outer defences.
One more gate, Anusha thought, as she bounced painfully off a ring set in the wall. There was a cry ahead, a thud and Herriard stopped, bent over Ajit’s sprawled figure.
‘Collarbone, sahib,’ the man gasped. ‘Broken. I am sorry.’ He sat up and she saw his right shoulder sloped down at an unnatural angle. In the torchlight his face was grey.
‘You must stay.’ Herriard helped him to his feet and propped him up against the wall. ‘Go back up and see the court physician. He is to be trusted. Tell him to let his Highness know we are safe away.’
‘Sahib, take my bundle, too—there are weapons.’
‘I will. You take care, Ajit, my friend, I will see you in Calcutta.’
Herriard picked up the fallen bundle, took Anusha’s arm and dragged her on. ‘How good a rider are you?’ he demanded as they slowed for the final gate before the lower court. He stopped, watchful, the shadows of the vicious spikes set at the height of an elephant’s forehead lying in bars across his face.
‘Excellent. Of course.’ She looked up at the rows of handprints at the side of the gate, left by the women who had gone through it to become sati on their husbands’ funeral pyres. She shuddered and the Englishman felt it and followed her gaze.
‘Another good reason for not marrying a maharaja twice your age,’ he observed as he took her elbow and steered her into the courtyard.
‘Do not touch me!’
He ignored her until they were past the bustle of the elephant lines and into the straw-strewn stables, virtually empty now the cavalry had ridden out. Then he stopped, jerking her against him. He would say it was so he could keep his voice low, but she knew it was a show of dominance.
‘Listen to me, Miss Laurens. Hard as it may be for you to believe, your beauty does not inflame me with lust and, even if it did, I am not fool enough to waste time dallying with you when a small war is about to break out around our heads.’
He released her and began to strap the blanket rolls behind the saddles of the three horses that still stood in the stalls: a handsome, raking grey, a smaller, well-muscled black and a bay with the brand of her uncle’s stud. ‘Take this.’ He thrust the bay’s reins into her hand. ‘When I need to touch you, I will touch you, and when I do you had better be prepared to obey me because it will be an emergency. I promised your father I would get you back to him, but I did not promise him not to tan your backside in the process.’
‘You...swine,’ Anusha hissed.
Herriard shrugged. ‘If I am, then I am the swine who is going to keep you alive. And, while we are on the subject of touching, I should point out that you are the one who sneaked into the bathhouse and touched me when I was naked. Your hands were cold and your technique could do with some work.’ He led out the other two horses and tied the black’s reins on its neck—the blanket rolls were strapped to its back. ‘Here, I’ll give you a leg up.’
