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false lover—layer upon layer the tale had unfolded, like the petals of a lotus. Even at the end, Amanda had felt there must be more.
    The robbery brought more. It had seemed another piece, another unfolding petal, opening and drawing Amanda towards the dark centre of its heart... dark, like the passage last night, and dangerous.
    She winced, recollecting the strong fingers relentlessly prying hers loose from the figure. Of course the thief must be strong. The masculine form she’d watched through the palanquin shutters had seemed so slender next to Padii’s bulk, yet the robber had felled the muscular servant with a single, well-aimed blow. When he’d fled before the pursuing bearers, the thief had moved with cat grace, leaping lightly into the shadows. Then, out of the shadows he’d leapt upon her, and she had felt his taut, merciless strength.
    Why had he not knocked her unconscious as well? Surely that would have been simpler than wrestling with her for a piece of wood. Moreover, he would have ensured her silence — and oblivion.
    Smoke and the scent of agarwood ... rough muslin and the crushing trap of hard muscle ... a long body pressed to her back… and the confusion, black and hot. Amanda shuddered at the recollection. Turning from the hypnotic sea, she found an intent, blue-eyed gaze upon her.
    The man looked away to the ocean.
    In his hair gleamed the golden light of the sun and in his eyes the glistening sea. Amanda smiled. The rani’s description of her English lover would aptly describe a considerable portion of the British male population. In any case, this man’s eyes were not the shifting, unreliable colour of the sea, but deep, deep blue. Even at a distance of several yards, Amanda had not mistaken that. He wore no hat, and the ocean breeze tumbled and tossed his thick, dark gold hair.
    His profile ought to have been sculpted, she thought with critical appraisal: the high forehead and clear ridge of brow, the aquiline nose, the firm, well-shaped jaw. She sensed a slight movement then, and hastily withdrew her gaze.
    He was undoubtedly handsome, but that was no excuse for staring at him as though she was a cobra intent upon her next meal. Furthermore, any man so splendidly attractive must surely be vain, accepting as his due the admiring gazes of scores of stunning women, which Amanda most assuredly was not. Not to mention it was silly at her age... Lud, she must be overtired.
    Without sparing him another glance, Amanda made her way back to her cabin.
    ***
    Bloody hell. Over a million square miles of subcontinent, vessels swarming up and down the coasts, and the curst Indian was aboard this ship.
    Not until early afternoon, when the Evelina had sailed out into the Bay of Bengal, had word trickled down from crew to passengers about the cook’s replacement. Not until very late in the day had Philip discovered who the new cook was.
    Philip had, wisely, he’d thought, kept within the cabin until they’d sailed well beyond reach of Calcutta. He knew the rani’s spies must be mingling among the crowds at the docks. He knew better than to let them catch a glimpse of him in daylight
    Escaping the cramped cabin at last, he’d come above for a preliminary scout of the deck. He’d scarcely taken in his surroundings when his gaze lit upon a turbaned giant, standing by the ship’s bell. The massive brown being gravely listened to a mate, who explained the six four-hour watches and pointed out the inadvisability of tardiness in producing the daily ration of grog. The few words the giant spoke merely confirmed his identity. Philip never mistook a voice.
    Luckily, he’d been staring at the Indian’s broad back, and Padji hadn’t seen him. Philip had slipped away to the stern to weigh his options. He considered stealing a lifeboat, but instantly discarded that notion. He couldn’t leave Jessup behind, and he certainly couldn’t take him along. They were trapped.
    Philip glanced about him. The woman had