“We’ll be along straightaway,” Saxon assured him. “Let me speak to her in private and see if she has anything she would like to take along.”
He knew the irony of that statement would also be lost on Ashiana.
With one last bow, Bennett finally deprived himself of her company and ordered his men to ready the boats.
Saxon crossed the sand toward Ashiana. Bennett’s uniform coat swamped her, covering her from neck to calves, the epaulets drooping halfway down her shoulders. It brought out the azure of her eyes…and made her look very small and vulnerable.
“Tell me what that man said,” she whispered. “Will they return us to the mainland?”
“They can’t,” Saxon replied in low Hindi. “If we want to get off this sand heap, we have to accompany them to their destination: England.”
She blinked up at him as if he had just announced they were to sail to the moon. “England? I cannot go to England!”
“I’m afraid you don’t have any choice. They’ve been ordered back by the King and they don’t have time to ferry us about.”
“I will stay here, then.”
“You are not staying here.” He took her elbow, his fingers sinking into the thick navy-blue wool of her sleeve. “It’s not safe.”
“I can manage perfectly well on my own. You know that I can! I do not need to be rescued.” She pulled free from his touch. “I will wait for another ship.”
Saxon vividly imagined what a shipload of sailors with less honor than Bennett and his men might do if they came upon her stranded alone. “I will not leave you behind, Ashiana.”
She blinked, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. “There is no need to pretend that you care about me. You have made it clear that you do not.”
“I’m only being practical.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, her or himself. “If I leave you here and you make it back to the mainland, you’ll go straight to the Ajmir. When you tell them you’ve failed, they’ll send another assassin after me. One who can finish the job.”
Her eyes flashed defiance. “I am either going to the mainland or I am staying here.”
“You’re coming with me—”
“You cannot keep me prisoner!”
“I disagree, Your Royal Highness. It’s the perfect solution. It will keep you from putting me in danger while keeping you out of danger. Safer for both of us.”
“I am not going to England—”
“If I have to carry you again, I will. And if I don’t do it, I’m sure that Navy nabob will.” He jerked a thumb in Bennett’s direction. “He’s the proper officer and a gentleman type. He would never leave a helpless female stranded on an island.”
“I am not a helpless female!” Fresh tears slipped from Ashiana’s eyes. Her fingertips dug into the gold-embroidered cuffs of Bennett’s coat. “If you make me go to England, I will…I will despise you even more than I do now!”
“Have you anything you wish to take along?” he asked tightly, hating the way her tears made him feel. “Such as—”
“I shall find Nicobar.” She turned and stepped away from him.
Saxon caught her by the sleeve and turned her back around. “That was not what I meant and you know it. We can’t take a bloody tiger on a Navy ship.”
Gasping, she glared at him. “I cannot leave him behind! He was quite fine on your ship—”
“This is a small warship with ten times the men and not an inch to spare. They don’t have cargo holds. Nicobar is not going.”
Anger and hurt blazed in her eyes. “You are hateful!”
“Just like all the English,” he retorted.
“No, only you! Some Englishmen seem quite nice.”
He ignored the reference to Bennett and the jealousy that cut through him. “Ashiana, we’re leaving. Where the devil are the sapphires? This is your last chance to tell me the truth—”
“The sapphires are gone.” Her eyes turned to ice.
Saxon sighed in frustration. He had no proof that the jewels were still here, but he also didn’t trust that she was being honest with him about it. “Someday, I’m going to come back and find them, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You will never find them, because they are lost at—oof!”
Without warning, he scooped her into his arms. “It’s time to go.”
“Put me down! I do not need to be—”
He silenced her outrage by tucking her head against his shoulder and holding her so close that she couldn’t free a hand to slap him. He stalked across the beach toward the waiting boats, and knew it wasn’t concern that she would run that had made him pick her up.
It was the desire to send a territorial message to every man watching.
“Is the lady unwell?” Bennett asked with concern as Saxon approached.
“The lady is overcome with joy that we are leaving.”
He hoped none of the men could overhear the Hindi curses Ashiana was muttering against his throat.
London
From the deck of the Crusader, the city had looked impossibly huge, a shadowy sprawl of buildings that extended as far as Ashiana could see. Down in the streets, among the inhabitants, every step she took on English soil felt strange and overwhelming, even with Andrew Bennett’s reassuring presence beside her.
Saxon had left the ship just as soon as they anchored, saying he would return with a coach shortly. He’d been gone for two hours now. She didn’t know whether she should feel relieved or upset about that. She was too tense at the moment to feel anything but nervous and numb by turns.
After waiting over an hour for Saxon’s return, Andrew had taken her for a short walk, escorting her to an eating establishment where he bought her a hot drink called choc-o-lat. They walked back to the dock at a leisurely pace, while she tried to take in her new surroundings.
She shivered from the cold, astonished at the odd white flecks, like pristine motes of dust, that floated down out of the sky in the last rays of sunset. She tried to catch one of the white crystals on her finger, but it melted the instant it landed on her skin.
Andrew laughed. “I told you about snow, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. Made of water, light as air, cold as ice. I thought you might have been making it up to tease me.” Ashiana’s English had improved greatly during her long months on the Crusader.
“I can get you another blanket when we get back to the ship.”
“No, thank you. I am fine, really.” She gave the captain a tremulous smile. She was already wrapped in his big blue coat and a wool blanket. He had offered his hat as well, but it had slid down to her nose and she had handed it back with regret. “Is it always this cold in England?”
He gave her a sympathetic look. “This is barely an autumn nip in the air, my lady. It’s only November. The real winter weather won’t set in until next month.”
Ashiana absorbed that information with dismay and returned her attention to the streets around them, her heart thudding. For five months at sea, she had had precious little to do but prepare for this day. She had applied herself to the two pursuits she thought might do her some good: mastering English and learning about England.
But nothing that Andrew and his crew had told her could have prepared her for her first sight of London.
Nothing.
The city seemed so big that just imagining how many people must live here made her dizzy. Every detail that greeted her eyes seemed odd, from the flat little stones that covered the narrow streets (“Cobbles,” Andrew explained), to the way the buildings were made of rocks and bricks and wood, cramped one upon another, each layer overhanging the one below.
Many of them had huge, gaudy signs, painted with pictures and letters in bright colors, suspended from elaborate metal brackets. From the deck of the ship, she had also seen tall spikes here and there, soaring above even the highest roofs, all the way to the horizon (“Church steeples,” Andrew said).
More surprising still was the jostling crowd of p
eople that thronged the streets, even as the day’s light faded: brawny laborers, Navy sailors with their now-familiar uniforms, lavishly dressed men wearing white false hair and large hats.
And the noise! By Hanuman’s tail, how could the English stand such noise? As if the clatter of booted feet and hooves and carriage wheels on those hard cobbles wasn’t enough, people shouted at one another, and at the carriages, which raced past without regard for the safety of those on foot.
Raucous laughter and conversation spilled out of certain of the buildings (“Taverns,” Andrew explained). Then there were the men pushing carts, piled high with fish or shoes or strange-looking red fruit (“Apples,” Andrew laughed), each ringing a bell and yelling about his wares. Small, very loud boys darted through the crowd, crying out the news of the day and waving large pieces of paper with writing on them (“Penny-post newspapers,” Andrew said).
But what struck Ashiana as strangest of all were the women.
She could hardly believe her eyes upon seeing that women and girls of all ages mixed quite freely with the men. None veiled their faces, and only a few had male escorts. Many ladies went around with other women in pairs or small groups. Some were even alone. More amazing still, she saw men and women greeting one another, talking together, touching. In public!
Some of the women wore expensive-looking garments, while others appeared to be poor, their children clinging to their stained skirts. Still others wore garish garb: a great deal of face paint and revealing gowns that exposed too much of their breasts. Ashiana asked why these women looked so different, but Andrew’s cheeks reddened and he muttered that he wasn’t sure.
After a second, she guessed: courtesans! She could hardly believe they would be so brazen as to walk the streets, rather than keeping to their pleasure pavilions.
All in all, the scene looked like a riot. In her land, calm and dignified deportment was the rule, among all classes, and most especially in public. Andrew had explained to her that etiquette was quite important in England—but it seemed no one else had been informed.
Ashiana huddled into the scratchy wool blanket, wrapping it closer around her, feeling as alone and out of place as a tiny machali fish swimming through a strange, cold sea.
When they reached the Crusader, Andrew took her elbow to help her up the steep gangway. “I know London must appear overwhelming at first, my lady, but I think you will get along quite well. Your English is excellent.”
“You are very nice.”
“It’s true. You’ve only a light accent left, and it’s charming.”
They reached the main deck and he escorted her toward the rail, where they watched for Saxon in the crush of people below. Ashiana tried to let Andrew’s confidence make her feel better. It had been months since she had spoken Hindi. At times over the past few weeks, she had even found herself dreaming in English.
“Andrew, I want to thank you again for giving up your cabin for me. And for taking so much time to teach me English.” She turned toward him. “It was generous of you.”
“It was nothing. A pleasure to be of service. I hope the voyage was not too uncomfortable for you.”
“No, not at all.”
Ashiana kept her voice light. She didn’t want to hurt Andrew’s feelings by revealing just how wretched she’d been these past months. Or the real reason she was grateful for his cabin: it had made it easier to avoid Saxon.
The two of them had seen little of each other, except at supper each day, and then only in the company of the ship’s officers. They had scarcely spoken a dozen civil words to one another.
She couldn’t help feeling awkward in his presence, after the way she had revealed her feelings for him on their—the, she amended—island, only to have him show he felt nothing for her in return. Saxon could not forgive her for being a spy, for deceiving him and taking his sapphire, no matter how valid her reasons had been. He had been aloof and distant the entire voyage.
Once, she had believed he truly cared about her, as much as she cared about him. But never again would she allow herself to be so naïve and vulnerable. To reveal her heart to him. To foolishly wish for something between them that could never be.
Avoiding him was the best way to accomplish that.
Andrew paced beside her. “If D’Avenant doesn’t return for you, my lady, you are welcome to stay at my family home.”
“I am sure that will not be necessary.” Ashiana felt regret at having to decline his offer. Andrew was a polite, pleasant companion. She did not relish the idea of staying at Saxon’s home, of spending time in his company again. But he was giving her no choice in the matter.
Andrew tapped his boot impatiently. “I can’t believe D’Avenant would have this much difficulty locating a coach. Perhaps we should wait inside.”
Ashiana was about to agree when one of the boxy horse-drawn vehicles pulled up at the foot of the gangway below. The door in its side opened and Saxon stepped out, still wearing his borrowed Navy uniform.
Ashiana turned to Andrew. “I suppose this is farewell, Captain.” Her throat felt dry as she steeled herself to face whatever lay ahead. “I thank you again for your generosity.”
He took her hand, bowed, and darted a glance toward Saxon, who was still on the dock, speaking with the coach driver.
Andrew kissed her fingers. “It has been a sincere pleasure, Lady Ashiana. And I do hope this is not farewell. I’ll be in town a short while before the Crusader gets her orders. May I…” He glanced again toward Saxon, who was now at the bottom of the gangway. “May I see you while you’re in London?”
“Yes, I would like that.” Ashiana smiled, pleased at the thought of having at least one friend in this strange place. “But I do not know where it is I am going.”
“Everyone knows the D’Avenant family. I don’t think I’ll have trouble locating you. I do wish—” Andrew fell silent suddenly.
“You do wish what?” Saxon’s deep voice came from behind Ashiana.
“I do wish…the lady good luck in locating her parents,” Andrew finished.
“I’m sure.”
Ashiana heard cool sarcasm in Saxon’s tone. She turned around, bestowing an irritated look on him. He had not been at all pleasant to Andrew the entire voyage. From the very beginning, she had sensed a growing dislike between the two men that she couldn’t understand. Perhaps Saxon simply disliked all Navy officers.
Whatever his reason, he didn’t have to be rude to the man who had rescued them. “Andrew was just saying that he would like to visit while I am in London, and I—”
“I’m not sure that will be possible.”
To Ashiana’s annoyance, Saxon didn’t even deign to glance down at her. He kept his level gaze on Andrew, over the top of her head. She caught the scent of liquor on his breath and her temper flared. That was why he had left her waiting in the cold? Because he had gone drinking?
For him to be so inconsiderate showed just how little she meant to him. “I must at least return his coat. I would give it back now, but I’ll freeze without it.”
“We’ll have it sent.”
She could not understand why he was being disagreeable about something so minor. “I wouldn’t have needed to borrow it in the first place if you hadn’t—” She cut herself off. Arguing with this stubborn, impossible male would get her nowhere. She turned and smiled at Andrew. “I’m afraid this is farewell for now, Captain. I must say, you are one of the nicest Englishmen I have ever met.”
She heard Saxon mutter something under his breath behind her.
Andrew took her hand again, though this time he did not kiss it. “I’m certain your parents will be very happy to have you back, Lady Ashiana. And proud. It’s been a pleasure to see you blossom these past months. You’ve truly become an English lady.”
Ashiana’s smile melted away like the snow that dusted her cheeks. “No, I…I could never be that.”
In the puzzled silence that followed her declaration, Saxon thrust out his hand toward the capta
in. “Bennett.”
“D’Avenant.”
“Thank you.”
“Certainly.”
From Ashiana’s perspective, their handshake looked as bruising as it was brief.
Saxon gestured that she should precede him down the gangway. She had time for only one last, fleeting smile back at Andrew before Saxon’s broad shoulders blocked the Navy captain from view. Turning, she started down the inclined plank.
She felt Saxon’s hand at the small of her back, and she inhaled a quick breath through parted lips. It was the first time they’d touched in months.
It was a simple, innocent gesture, but her reaction was anything but. The heat of his hand seemed to burn through the layers of wool and cotton she wore, sending a shimmer of awareness through her entire body.
She tried to ignore her sensual response to his touch—and the tangle of emotions it provoked inside her. She focused instead on the cold breeze, on the coach that loomed in the waning light.
Questions suddenly rained down on her, about what might await her in the land of the Ajmir’s enemies…this place that had been home to the mother she had never known.
Sitting in the darkness on his side of the jouncing coach, Saxon stared out the window, scarcely aware of the longed-for English smells of fall leaves and chimney smoke and the fresh November bite in the air. The familiar, mundane, achingly sweet sights and sounds of home were lost on him.
All he could think about was that he hadn’t been this close to Ashiana since they’d left India.
It had felt so damned good to touch her again, even for a moment, when he’d impulsively placed his hand against her back to escort her down the gangway. That brief contact had filled his senses with her warmth, her scent, her softness. Even through the thick layers of her clothes, his fingers had felt the delicate curve of her spine, the gentle flair of her hip.
At the moment, she sat huddled in the folds of her wool blanket on the other side of the coach, watching the lights of London pass by, her eyes wide. She remained oblivious to him—just as she had for the past five months—but he couldn’t help noticing every detail of the way she looked: the dark fringe of her lashes, the rosiness of her cheeks from the cold, the untamed tendrils of hair that framed her face.
One Night with a Scoundrel Page 26
