However long that might take.
He forced himself to concentrate on the people in the theatre rather than the worry and dread chasing circles through his mind. Max might find The Merchant of Venice fun, but to Saxon the first act seemed interminable.
Halfway through the second, Ashiana suddenly slumped forward in her chair.
“Oh!” the duchess gasped.
Cursing, Saxon caught her and lifted her into his lap, his heart slamming against his ribs. He hadn’t heard a shot, the hiss of a blade, an arrow, anything. “What happened? Did something hit you? Are you all right?”
She shook her head groggily, pushing at his hands as he tried to check for wounds. “I am not hurt. I just felt dizzy.”
“Oh, dear,” the duchess whispered. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. It was thoughtless of me to cajole you into coming with us when you aren’t feeling well.
Saxon kept running his hands over her neck, her arms, checking for any sort of injury, even a pinprick. “You’re sure nothing struck you?”
“No,” she insisted, trying to wriggle out of his lap. “Now please let me return to my seat. I will be fine.”
“The devil you will.” Saxon stood up, lifting her in his arms. “Sorry to cut the evening short, Mother, but I’m taking her home.”
“Perhaps that would be best,” the duchess agreed. “Have Cook make her some nice hot soup.”
“Max and I will stay with Mother and see that she keeps out of trouble,” Julian offered.
“Good. I’ll trust both of you to keep a sharp eye on everything.” Saxon turned and started for the steps at the rear of the box. “See you all back at the house.”
“There’s no need to carry me,” Ashiana protested. “I just felt a little light-headed. I’ll be fine—”
“Yes, I’m going to make certain of it.” Saxon carried her down the steps, along the adjoining corridor, and into the theatre foyer, ignoring both Ashiana’s objections and the curious looks of the footmen who opened doors for him along the way. He paused only long enough to collect their cloaks, wrapping Ashiana in both her cape and his own before he picked her up again.
“This is entirely unnecessary.” Her attempts to wriggle out of his arms were foiled by the thick layers of fabric. “You are the most impossible, tyrannical, un…un…”
Saxon grinned wryly as her English failed her and she had to resort to Hindi epithets, with a few Portuguese curses thrown in for good measure. He stepped outside and called for one of the two family coaches. The streets surrounding the Drury Lane bustled with footmen and drivers and Londoners out for their evening stroll. The cold night air stole Ashiana’s voice just for a moment, but she found it again quickly enough.
“I know why you are doing this,” she accused. “You just want to keep me from meeting Andrew later!”
“Bennett and his big gold medal have nothing to do with it. You’re not well and I’m taking you home.”
“There is no need to pretend that you actually care about me. I have never meant anything to you but another…another notch on your bedpost!”
He looked down at her in amazement, seeing her hurt and anger clearly illuminated by the oil lamps that lit the street. “Where the devil did you hear that expression?”
She was struggling so fiercely to get free of him that he finally gave in and set her on her feet, but he kept one arm around her waist.
“I have heard that and more,” she declared hotly. “In the shops. At tea. English ladies do nothing but gossip when they are among themselves. They talk of everything—just as in the harem. And it did not take many days in London to learn of your reputation!”
“And what, precisely, is that?” he asked lightly.
“Do not make a joke of it. You know what I mean. All your women. You have helped yourself quite glut…glut-ton-oz—”
“Gluttonously?”
“Yes, gluttonously! I learned that word yesterday and I think it applies perfectly to you! You have helped yourself quite gluttonously to the bedroom pleasures of any number of women. And none of your mistresses ever lasts more than a few weeks. The ladies of London are whispering that I will be gone by the new year.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I mean no more to you than all those others. I have merely been another dalliance.”
Saxon’s humor vanished. “Ashiana, that’s not true.” He took her face carefully between his hands. “It is not true—”
“It is! You’ve only ever thought of me as your mistress—or your enemy.” She shoved his hands away and stepped back, wiping at the tears that wet her cheeks. “It is so accursed unfair that you care nothing for me when you are all I can think about! The only man I have ever wanted! The only man I have ever loved!”
She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the words, too late, her expression wide-eyed with mortification.
Before Saxon could say anything, Ashiana swayed, her knees buckling as she fainted. He caught her before she could fall in the cobbled street, lifting her gently into his arms.
As the coach sped through the London streets toward home, Saxon held Ashiana snug against his chest, trying to warm her with a fur throw and his body heat. She was still unconscious, but her pulse beat strongly in the slender column of her throat. He stroked her cheek, brushing away her tears and a few tendrils of dark hair that had escaped her elaborate coiffure.
Somehow—before he’d had any chance to understand it, let alone fight it—this fierce lady had come to mean everything to him. He found himself willing to do anything, make any sacrifice, to ensure that she was safe and well and happy. Until a few moments ago, he had believed that meant giving her up, returning her to her family and her betrothed.
But after what she had just revealed, those intentions had scattered like snowflakes in a strong wind.
Her lashes fluttered and she tried to sit up.
“Easy,” Saxon murmured. “You’re all right. You fainted.”
At the sound of his voice, she squeezed her eyes shut. “I-I do not suppose I…fainted in the theater and…dreamed the rest?”
“No.” He tried to keep the amusement and pleasure out of his voice. “The rest was real.”
She opened one eye, squinting at him. “I should not have said what I…I mean…I did not—”
“You didn’t mean it?”
“No—I mean, yes. I…” She opened both eyes and glared at him. “Oh, gods have mercy. this is so unfair!”
“That I am all you can think about?”
“No. Yes!” She tried to turn her head away, but in doing so only nuzzled his arm. “Why do you always have to do this to me?”
“What is it I always do to you, Ashiana?”
His finger traced the delicate line of her jaw, gently turning her face back to his. In the wavering light of the coach lamps, he could see the uncertainty swirling in her blue eyes.
“Confuse me,” she whispered. “Drive me mad. Make it impossible for me to hate you.” She buried her face against his coat, escaping his gaze. “Provoke me into speaking the truth when that is the last thing I should be doing.”
“The truth?” he asked in a low, gentle voice. “That I am the only man you have ever loved?”
Her heart was beating so hard, he could feel it even through the fur and the cloaks.
“Yes.”
When she looked up at him again, the last of the ice had melted from her gaze.
“I simply do not seem to have any choice in the matter,” she said forlornly. “I fell in love with you months ago, on the Valor, when you tried to convince me that you are made entirely of stone and steel—”
“With a little sea water mixed in,” he reminded her.
“Yes.” The memory made her smile. “But your warning was too late, because I already knew that you are not all stone and steel. You are a man of honor and intelligence who cares deeply about his family.” Her gaze traced over his features, her blue eyes warming to a deep azure. “I should have known that was why you were looking
for the sapphires—to protect someone. Protecting the people in your care is the reason why you do everything you do, no matter the cost or risk to yourself. You suffered so much to save your brother’s life.”
“I would do it all again, to see him as he is now.”
“You see? There it is. You think nothing of risking everything to make others safe. You almost died saving Max…just as you almost died saving me when the Valor was destroyed. Men who do that sort of thing,” she added softly, “are called heroes.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m not that noble and selfless.” Emotion choked up in his throat. “Ashiana, on our island…my despicable behavior…” He shook his head. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t stand the thought that everything between us had been a deception. In some stupid way, I was trying to prove that you truly belonged to me. But I behaved like a beast. When I hurt you—”
“You did not hurt me, Saxon, not physically. You would never do that. It was your coldness when you walked away that hurt.”
He clenched his jaw, feeling utterly vile for the way he had treated her that day. “I’m sorry, my lady. I was not seeking vengeance or trying to leave you in tears. When you called me my darling, I thought it was just one more lie. I refused to believe that you meant it. So I walked away, like a selfish blackguard. Can you forgive me?”
She arched one ebony brow. “What is a blackguard?”
“A man who goes tromping about without considering anyone but himself. A cad, a lout, a clod—”
“Ah, those are good words to know.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Yes, I forgive you, Saxon. I think I understand now.” Tilting her head, she studied him. “You were hurt, we were both so hurt, by all the lies. As for being a beast…” She reached up to run her fingertips over his beard-stubbled cheek. “Your life has been filled with enemies and violence for so many years. You had to become stern and harsh to survive. So yes, you do growl and stomp more often than you should. But there is an entirely different side to you…one that most people never even suspect.” She brushed a tangle of his hair back from his face. “Kind and affectionate and caring. I think I may be the only person you ever allow to see the true gentleness in your soul.”
Unexpected dampness blurred his vision. She didn’t require that he drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness; she was giving it to him, simply and freely—offering him all her sweet tenderness, all the softness and caring he needed so desperately. Her generosity left him speechless.
She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “When I said that I love you, I meant that I love all that you are. The stern commander, the strong hero, and the scoundrel. I know your heart, Saxon. And I love you just as you are.”
Her words made fire and softness steal through him. His voice turned hoarse. “Meree mahila veer, my daring lady…may I have permission to kiss you?” he asked in Hindi.
“Permission granted,” she replied in Hindi, “mere pyaar, my love.”
He claimed her mouth so gently, so tenderly, she opened like a flower touched by the sun. Warmth and wanting flowed from him to her and back again tenfold. Her lips parted and he felt a sweep of desire take him, unlike any he had known before, at once fierce and hesitant, commanding and yielding.
His tongue delved lightly, teasingly, tasting and remembering and rediscovering the unique sweetness that was Ashiana. She was fire and spice, petal-softness and exquisite mystery, as rare and precious as the scent she wore. His arms closed around her, drawing her closer, and he lost himself in their kiss, emotion taking over as he had never allowed it to do before. He did not want to let her go.
Not now, not in three days, not ever.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, she breathed his name on a sigh. “Saxon.”
His pleasure deepened at hearing her say his name that way for the first time in months. He dusted kisses along the delicate line of her jaw, his lips finding that sensitive spot just at the curve of her throat.
Moaning, she shifted in his embrace, trying to wriggle free of the fur and the capes. “I am covered up in far too much fabric.”
“We will have to remedy that.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “When I bundled you so thoroughly, I was only thinking of keeping you warm. But now that other possibilities have presented themselves…”
“What sort of possibilities?” she whispered, her mouth seeking his once more.
He kissed her lightly this time, his lips brushing hers with a feathery touch, then another after another, until she was shivering in his arms.
“Chills?” he teased.
She sighed. “Oh, yes.”
“I seem to be a complete failure at warming you up.”
She managed to push free of the fur. “I am very…warm. But we are in a moving coach,” she pointed out between kisses. “On busy…public streets. Isn’t it…rather improper that…we should be doing…”
“This?”
He kissed her deeply, long and slow, lowering her back down over his lap, lingering over her like the sun over water, all the hotter for being reflected back by the shimmering currents. When he finally raised his head, her eyes glowed with sea-deep color and unmistakable passion. The emotions in her gaze as she looked up at him echoed what she had said, as clearly as if she were again speaking the words aloud.
I love you.
The truth, the trust, the power she was placing in his hands with that look made him ache, made words spill out of him on a ragged breath. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Ashiana. God help me, I have missed holding you. I have missed hearing you laugh until you can’t catch your breath. I have missed you teasing me. And this new perfume you’re wearing…” He nuzzled her throat, groaning. “…is a beguiling concoction that robs me of all reason.”
“I had no idea.” She sounded thoroughly pleased by his admission. “You have been so grumbly and moody these past two weeks. Especially when Andrew is around. You looked like you might throw a dagger at him when I mentioned I would be having supper with his family tonight.”
Saxon raised his head, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Bennett doesn’t understand the situation. It’s dangerous for you to go out anywhere.”
“But why?”
“I explained why.”
“No, you didn’t. You said only that Captain Greyslake had arrived in London, and that he might mean to harm your family.”
“That’s the truth.”
“But why would Greyslake want to harm me?”
“Because he thinks you are connected to me.”
A heartbeat passed. Another.
“And am I?” she whispered.
“Are you what?”
“Connected?”
Their gazes held. He cleared his throat. “You’re a guest in my family home.”
She lowered her lashes. “I see.”
Saxon grimaced. God, woman, don’t do this to me. Not now. I don’t even have words for what you are to me. I can’t define it. All I know is that I finally have you back, and you’re so sweet and so perfect in my arms…and I don’t want to lose you.
“It’s the truth, Ashiana,” he said gently.
“It’s only part of the truth. You have never explained why Captain Greyslake hates you and wants to harm your family. You simply expect me to accept your orders, without question.”
Saxon sighed in exasperation. How the devil had they gotten onto this subject when he had had something vastly more pleasurable in mind? “Why is it so important to you to spend time with Andrew Bennett anyway?”
“Because he is one of the only friends I have here in London.”
Saxon froze. “Has it been so terrible?”
“Yes.”
The pain that edged that one word struck him like a cannon shot to the chest. He suddenly felt like he was falling into a void of darkness, like the day his ship went down and he swam through the smoke-blackened waters, desperate to reach her.
He didn’t want to let her go—but she couldn’t wait to leave England. If
he tried to keep her here with him, she would hate it. Eventually she might hate him.
“All right.” He shifted her so that she wasn’t so temptingly arrayed across his lap, settling her beside him on the seat, wrapping the fur around her. “You deserve a full explanation about Greyslake. But first you need some food and some rest. I don’t want you fainting on me again.”
She nodded in silent acceptance of his gruff command, resting her head on his shoulder.
He tightened his arm around her, staring out at the passing town houses. He had promised to take Ashiana home to the islands, but he had thought…
Once she had fulfilled her duty, once she had seen the sapphires safely reunited and returned, he had thought she would…
Hell, he wasn’t sure what he’d thought. But it wasn’t that she would still be so determined to leave England—and him—forever.
Sitting on the rug before the blazing hearth in her room, dressed in her deep-green velvet gown, two woolen blankets, and the fur throw from the coach, Ashiana at last began to feel warm. She had thawed almost completely by the time Saxon returned with a silver tray piled with food. He locked the door behind him before he came over and set the tray on the floor beside her. Picking up a pewter mug of steaming liquid, he placed it in her hands. “Eat.”
She sniffed the fragrant liquid. “What is it?”
“Leek soup. Hot, filling, and entirely suitable for a person who does not eat meat.”
Ashiana took a swallow and sighed in relief at the heat it spread through her.
“I neglected to tell you,” he continued as he sat beside her on the floor, “that a few days ago, I met with the survivors from the Valor who arrived aboard the Phoenix. The Admiralty agreed to release all of them to return to service in the East India Company, thank God—including Mr. Wyatt, who is safe and sound and as irascible as ever.”
“Oh! I’m so glad he’s all right.”
“So am I.” Saxon grinned. “I offered him and the rest of my men positions on other D’Avenant family ships…except for the Valor’s cook, who will be arriving here at the house by tomorrow, to make meals especially for you during your stay in London.”
One Night with a Scoundrel Page 31
