Ch 22

A little man with a balding pate chased Erik up the stairs.

"Senor, lo siento, su—"

"No hablo espanol. Habla frances?"

The man made a gesture with his hands showing that he spoke very little French. For the life of him, Erik couldn't figure out why the man assumed he knew Spanish.

"What about English?"

"Eh! You speak many nice tongue. Nice tongue!"

Erik nodded, his patience wearing thin. He could understand English better than he could speak it. After being in India for several weeks he had hoped to gain better knowledge of the dialect but everywhere he went someone spoke a different language. He had even noticed times when Corinna and Ursula struggled to understand one another.

"You pictures." The man made another hand gesture showing something long, which Erik knew referred to his portfolio.

"Yes, my pictures."

"They go smash."

"What?"

"I dunno, man man."

Erik shifted his weight. "What do you mean 'they go smash'? They were crushed?"

"Crushed?"

"Smashed. Ruined. Destroyed."

"Yes, yes, yes."

Erik sighed. "Where is my port—where are my pictures?"

"Room," the little man said. He pointed at the door behind Erik.

"Everything is in there?"

The man nodded. "Big box too. Owe much money."

The man stuck his hand out.

"What?" Erik asked.

"Money."

Erik waved his hand. "I don't understand what you mean. Find someone who speaks French and send him up here."

"French?"

Before Erik could shout at the messenger, Corinna and Ursula's door swung open. Ursula glared at Erik before she turned and yelled for Corinna.

Once the man saw Ursula he began rambling something which Erik could only assume concerned the portfolio and missing luggage. They both pointed at him while arguing with one another. After several moments Ursula waved her arms and shooed the bald man away. She yelled for Corinna again, shouted something at Erik, and shut the door. The little man said something in Hindi and threw his arms in the air before he stomped down the stairs and around the corner to his office.

Erik stood in the hallway unsure of what had just happened. Leaning against the wall he closed his eyes and sighed. Of course his portfolio was destroyed. Everything was destroyed. He was far beyond irritation. There was no choice but to smile and laugh at the situation. At least he knew where his belongings were now.

The door opened again and Corinna appeared. In the background Ursula was still yelling. He pushed off the wall.

"You didn't go to lunch?"

"The man came to tell you that your drawings were crushed beneath a trunk," Corinna said the moment she saw Erik. "The concierge wants money."

"Excuse me?"

"For telling you that it was destroyed."

He shifted his weight. "Who destroyed it?"

"Probably the concierge," she said with a chuckle. She cleared her throat and looked away in an attempt to keep the smile from her face.

"I am not paying anyone to tell me they ruined my work," he snapped. He wanted desperately to curse but chose not to in front of a lady. "I spent three weeks on those plans."

Corinna shrugged. "Welcome to India." She turned back toward him and pushed a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. "How bad is it?"

"I have no idea. I haven't had a chance to return to my room," Erik sighed. He looked at her again and noticed she had changed clothes. The blue sari she had worn earlier in the day had been exchanged for an orange one with white and blue flowers embroidered in the fabric. "Why did you come back to your room? I thought you were having lunch with Lilian and her friends."

Corinna shrugged again. She glanced behind her and muttered something to Ursula, who said Erik's name and made a sound of disgust. "I wasn't hungry."

Corinna turned to the side and averted her eyes. Erik looked her over quickly while she wasn't looking. Her complexion, though dark, appeared somewhat sallow. She looked tired, particularly around the eyes.

His heart sank. "Would you rather have tea tomorrow?"

His words caught her by surprise and she turned to face him again. "It doesn't matter."

"If you're not feeling well…" Erik paused and switched his gaze to a knot in the wood of the doorframe. He prayed to God she would still meet him in an hour. With each passing moment his misery increased. The scratches on his wrist had started to burn now and he was acutely aware of his injuries.

He had tried to kill someone. With his bare hands he had tried to choke a man.

"You don't look like you're feeling well," Corinna commented. "Your face is bone white."

Erik touched his cheek.

"Goodness, what happened to your arm?" Corinna exclaimed.

Erik attempted to pull his sleeve down. "It's nothing."

"Is that from the tigers?"

Her words made him chuckle. "I believe if a tiger had scratched me, I would no longer have an arm."

"Or a face. You have another on your jaw. Come inside a moment and sit down. You shouldn't touch anything here. Cats are feral, not pets. It would be like trying to pet a squirrel in Paris or London."

Erik nodded, deciding not to correct her assumption. He allowed her to take his arm like a little mother leading an injured child. She sat him down and scurried about saying she needed a bandage and some towels.

"Really, you're making a fuss over nothing," Erik said as he watched her open and close dresser drawers.

"You don't want the abrasions to become infected. Especially the one right here," she said as she tapped her own jaw line. "It will leave a terrible scar."

Erik nodded. He glanced in the full length mirror across the room and saw a thin red line stretching from his ear to the middle of his jaw. It didn't appear nearly as bad as she made it out to be, but he didn't complain.

He wondered if she was thinking of the scars on his back when she spoke.

"Are you comfortable?" Corinna asked.

"Yes, really, I'm fine, Corinna."

"What happened with the tiger hunt?"

"They shot one. The other two escaped."

"Escaped? So your warning shot worked?"

"Yes, I expect it did."

Ursula said something to Corinna before she turned her back.

Corinna ignored whatever her companion said. She placed a towel on the desk behind him and searched the room again. "Soap," she said to herself. She snapped her fingers and went to the trunk she and Ursula shared.

Erik sat back and crossed one leg over the other. It felt good to have someone concerned over his well-being. While he watched Corinna pour water into a small wooden bowl he couldn't help but think she would make a perfect doting little wife. He could see her with a brood of little boys and girls at her feet. Any man would be fortunate to ask her father for her hand.

The longer he sat and stared at her the more he dreaded revealing his years in Persia. She was a good girl, a sweet girl. She had taken it as a sincere compliment when he had told her that even if there were a dozen young women aboard the ship she would still be in the top twelve.

She's innocent, he thought to himself. She's five years younger and a world away from me. She's pure. She's…perfect.

Erik looked away. He focused his gaze on a shabby woven rug beneath his feet. He could tell her about Persia. He could tell her everything and destroy what he was most fond of: her unsullied disposition. He could ravage her beautiful mind, rape her of her good thoughts within minutes. He could soothe himself, sate himself if he destroyed something precious of hers.

She would fear him. She would be terrified to discover that the shepherd sent to guard the lamb was actually a wolf with a bloody maw. The thought made him shudder. He didn't want her to know him, not like this.

Corinna sat across from Erik and gently unbuttoned his shirt sleeve. She rolled it up to the middle of his forearm and dipped a small white rag into the soapy water.

"This will sting," she warned him.

Erik nodded. He wanted the sting, the discomfort, the pain. He couldn't hurt Corinna. Not like this. Not by ruining her trust.

For three years he had been trusted to break spirits and end lives. He didn't want to demolish anything more.

The cool rag touched his neck and startled him. Erik sat very still. The water was tepid, the gentle drag of soft cotton languid. It evoked something he hadn't expected from the cleaning of a mere cut.

Erik swallowed hard and attempted to stare at anything other than Corinna. He feared looking at her face, at her body hidden only by a long sheet carefully wrapped around her shoulders, breasts, hips…thighs.

He was aroused. The innocent caress had opened a lecherous door he wanted to slam shut again. His eyes began to close and he envisioned the warm, damp washcloth as her tongue skimming along his jaw line, down his throat, down to…

God strike me dead, he thought. Her father would be livid if he knew the man escorting his daughter to India was thinking of the places she could run her lips and tongue along his body.

Erik let out an involuntary gasp of disgust at his vile thoughts. He couldn't think of her in that way. He couldn't think of her at all. At least not until her father returned to India. Once he no longer had to protect her virtue…

I care for her. I'm not in love with her. Erik held his breath. He wasn't sure what he was other than on the brink of a cataclysmic disaster. If she noticed the interest emerging within his trousers she would be completely horrified at his lack of self control.

He couldn't think of her. Not even something small, like her thumb, which he could imagine sucking on, or her ear, which he suddenly wanted to nibble, or her shoulder that he wanted to slowly kiss.

Erik drew in a breath. He had always been good at imagining. It had made the nights following banquets with the sultan all the more lonely and miserable. Weekly he had seen the most beautiful, most voluptuous women moving their hips in ways that he was certain he would go to hell for watching. He could imagine what pleasures their lackadaisical movements would make against silk sheets and pillows. It had always been a passing thought.

The lurid visions drowning out all clarity made him ache.

"Is the water too cold?" Corinna asked as she pulled her hand back.

Erik shook his head. Their eyes met briefly and he wasn't sure if she knew what he was thinking or if she thought he was behaving strangely. Erik looked around the room to quell the sudden urge which needed to be neglected. It was impossible. The curtain rods, the bed posts, were too suggestive, the bed too inviting, the mirror too revealing.

He cleared his throat when he felt he could look at her without fear of rekindling the forbidden flame.

"I should see what damage has been done to my work," Erik replied. He pushed his chair out and started to stand.

"But your arm," Corinna protested.

"I'll have a look at it," he replied.

Corinna looked away. "Do you still want to go to tea?"

"Perhaps we should plan on dinner instead."

She nodded yet refused to lift her eyes. Erik exhaled. He had hurt her feelings. After she had put aside his treatment of her the previous night, he again discarded her once she had tended his wounds.

"Rest awhile. The heat is unbearable," Erik said. He stepped forward but resisted the urge to touch her hand. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"What were you going to tell me?" Corinna asked before he turned to leave.

Erik lowered his eyes. "It was nothing."