Veils of Silk (21 page)

He smiled. "My first lesson will be on how to recognize a suitable target."

She sighed. Her husband had the expression men always wore when they were telling you what to do for your own good. However, she was good at evasive maneuvers; surely she could avoid a shooting lesson for the time it would take them to get to Bombay. She looked around for something interesting enough to justify a change of topic.

Ian had chosen this remote, seldom-traveled road because of the spectacular scenery. At the moment they were in a narrow, forested valley flanked by towering stone bluffs. Laura's idle gaze followed the path of a kite, a common Indian bird of prey. As it approached the base of one of the cliffs, she expected it to sheer off, but instead it abruptly vanished. "That's odd," she said. "A kite flew right into that cliff."

Ian's gaze followed her pointing finger. "Perhaps there's a cave there," he suggested.

"Could we stop and explore?" Laura asked hopefully.

After a short pause, he said, "If you like. It shouldn't be hard to get up there." He turned his horse from the road and began working his way through the light undergrowth, the packhorse behind and Laura bringing up the rear.

A few minutes later they were at the foot of the cliff. Laura scanned the sheer face, then pointed. "The kite vanished over there, in the clump of boulders below the darker rock."

After they had ridden the last few hundred yards, Ian swung from his horse and tethered it. Face set, he said, "If you keep an eye on the horses, I'll see what I can find."

Laura bit her lip as an unwelcome thought struck her. "We can skip this, Ian. Having spent a couple of years in a prison, you probably don't share my enthusiasm for caves."

"For God's sake, Laura, I'm not so incapacitated that I can't make myself enter a cave," he snapped.

It was the first time Ian had been short-tempered with her, and Laura guessed that his anger confirmed exactly how difficult it would be for him to go underground. Yet though she could understand, his words still stung.

Her reaction must have shown, for Ian's voice softened. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have barked at you. You're quite right—caves used to interest me, but now I loathe them. But it's better to face fear than run away from it."

"You really are hard on yourself, aren't you?"

"Scottish Calvinists usually are." Expression harsh, he spent a moment staring at the tumbled boulders. He seemed to be drawing in on himself, marshaling his strength. She guessed that his ability to make himself do what must be done had kept him alive.

He set off on his search and was lost from sight. A few minutes later the kite erupted into the air with an indignant shriek, the limp body of some small creature in its claws. Ian called out, "The kite has shown the way. There's a cave, all right, and it might be sizable. At least, the entrance is large enough for a person to enter." He emerged from between the rocks. "Of course if a man can enter, so can bats, leopards, hyenas, snakes, and so forth."

Laura made a face. "Wouldn't there be signs of that?"

"There are no signs of larger beasts—the snakes and bats I can't vouch for. Just a moment while I get a couple of lanterns." He went to the packhorse and rummaged through their store of camping equipment. Because of fan's dislike of sleeping in the dark, they were well supplied with lamps and oil.

Laura was disconcerted when he pulled his revolver from his holster and offered it to her, butt first. "Remember how I just said that you never can tell when you might need a weapon? It's wise to be armed when going into an unknown cave that might be inhabited by hungry or angry animals."

"Even when you're just a few feet away?"

"Even when I'm just a few feet away," he repeated. "Danger can come from nowhere in an instant, and there is no substitute for being prepared."

She put her hands behind her back and stared at the revolver with acute dislike. "If you insist I go armed, give me the shotgun. That doesn't require much aiming and a face full of buckshot should discourage even a hyena."

"Fair enough, if you don't mind carrying the extra weight." He loaded the shotgun and handed it to Laura.

Carrying the weapon gingerly in her left hand, she followed Ian through the rocks to the cave entrance, which was about a yard across and almost six feet high. There was a small open space in front of the dark cleft, but all around were massive boulders. "It's interesting how well hidden the entrance is," she said. "Unless one is exactly in this spot, it's invisible. If I hadn't seen that kite, we'd never had known there was anything here."

"Interesting indeed," Ian murmured, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wonder if it is entirely an accident." Without further comment, he ducked his head and disappeared into the passage. A minute later, he gave a soft whistle of astonishment, the sound echoing from the walls of a substantial chamber.

Eagerly Laura followed, shotgun in her left hand and lamp in her right. The entry way was a dozen feet long and curved to the left with a surprising amount of uniformity. The bend blocked natural light, and when she emerged into the chamber the only illumination was from their lanterns. But that was enough to reveal a sight that made her gasp in blank astonishment.

It wasn't a cave that they had found. It was a temple.

Enthralled, Laura turned in a slow circle. The chamber was perhaps twenty feet wide and twice as long, with a ceiling that arched well over their heads. A double row of pillars carved into lacy filigree ran the length of the temple. The far end was shadowy, but she could make out the contours of a statue that was larger than life size. Every inch of the walls was covered with paintings that showed vivid color even in the lamplight. "Magnificent," she breathed. "How old do you think this is?"

"A thousand years? Two thousand? Your guess is as good as mine. Probably hasn't been used in centuries, but it certainly is in splendid condition." Lamp lifted high, Ian began walking the length of the chamber. "This might have been a natural cave to begin with, but a huge amount of work went into expanding the space and smoothing the walls."

"Do you think we'll find a fabulous ruby in the navel of a solid gold statue?"

"I doubt it. The really wealthy temples are famous places of pilgrimage, while this shrine must have been used by a fairly small group of people. Used, then abandoned, but not before the worshippers concealed the entrance. At least that's my guess." Ian studied the painting of a man wrestling with a serpent. "Even if there were valuables here, I wouldn't touch them. Bad luck to steal from a temple, even an abandoned one."

"You're right, of course," she said repentantly. "But this is still a wonderful adventure. Do you recognize what deity the temple is dedicated to?"

Ian raised his lamp and gestured toward the statue, which depicted a majestic being who danced within a ring of fire.

"Siva in his aspect of Nataraja, the Lord of the Dance. He symbolizes the endless cycle of life—creation, preservation, destruction, then rebirth."

Laura stared at the image, fascinated. Limbs supple and face serene, the four-armed god stood perfectly balanced on one foot, his other leg eternally poised for the next step of the dance. Even without Ian's explanation, she would have found the sight deeply affecting. The temple and statue were more than beautiful; they also inspired the reverent awe that Laura associated with Christian churches.

As she began walking toward the statue, she discovered a doorway tucked behind one of the pillars on her right. Curious, she stepped through and found herself in a much smaller chapel. Instead of more paintings, the walls were entirely covered with carving. Groups of human figures were interspersed with bands of abstract design to create a dazzling richness of form.

It took a moment for Laura to see beyond the general effect to the details, but when she did, shock ran through her like a lightning bolt. Her shotgun dropped from nerveless fingers, hitting the stone floor with a metallic clatter. Barely managing to hang onto the lamp, she gasped, "Merciful heaven!"

For the exquisitely carved figures were engaged in what were usually called lewd acts. In the wavering lamplight, they appeared to writhe as if they were alive, and their actions left nothing—absolutely nothing—to the imagination.

Hearing the fall of the shotgun, Ian called sharply, "Laura, is something wrong?"

She tried to answer but no sound came out of her choked throat. A moment later Ian whipped through the door of the chapel, revolver in hand. Then he stopped dead, his gaze going from Laura to the walls, then back again. "Damnation."

Laura swallowed hard and turned to him. "D… do people really behave like that?" She gestured toward one group of figures.

"I've never heard of a real man who could stand on his head while making love to three women simultaneously," Ian said dryly. He uncocked his revolver and holstered it, then came over and put his arm around Laura's shoulders. "Are you feeling faint? You look white as a sheet."

She hid her face against him, feeling hot and humiliated and a little dizzy. But the figures drew her mesmerized gaze again. "Are… are male organs really that large?"

He followed her gaze. "Definitely exaggerated," he said with even more dryness. "Come on—I'd better get you outside before you faint."

With Ian's firm hand on her arm, Laura made her way out to the small open area in front of the cave. The blaze of sunshine blinded her and she swayed unsteadily.

Ian caught her arms and lowered her into the shade of a boulder. "Put your head down," he said, kneeling beside her.

Laura bent forward and buried her face in her hands. The dizziness receded, but closing her eyes did not eliminate the vivid images from her mind. One couple had particularly caught her attention. They stood upright, the man supporting the woman as she wrapped her legs around his. Their naked loins were pressed together, and his hand rested on her round buttock. Utterly obscene, of course—yet their faces had shown such joy.

But there was no joy in Laura. The experience proved that she was as depraved as she had always suspected, for blood throbbed hotly in secret places of her body for which she had no name. Grimly she fought the shameful, pleasurable sensations, until she was able to raise her gaze and say with creditable calm, "I'm fine. Sorry to act like such a ninny."