King of the Khyber RiflesI can't get enough of you, she whispered in King's ear. She was Yasmini, the sloe-eyed dancing beauty who had drawn King back into the hills of India in the shadow of the towering Himalayas. Now they were alone in a cave together and she drew him farther into the dark. It was not in Yasmini's scheme of things to leave things to chance: no novice at the art of love, she made it an art reborn . . . |
