by Imogene Nix
“There is little change. Mrs. Ellington and I are worried. When we make landfall tomorrow she will be transferred immediately to the infirmary.”
“Yes, that would be the best thing. Where will you stay? Surely not somewhere by yourself?”
His tone was sharp, and she started before silently remonstrating with herself. Perhaps she imagined the bite in his words?
“Mrs. Ellington said she knows of a young woman who will accompany me to Spence’s Hotel. I will stay there until I can find more suitable lodgings.”
The hatch opened, and bright light flooded the interior. She cupped a hand above her brow and glanced at him. He frowned, and she leaned out.
“You do not think that is appropriate?” she asked.
“Indeed, in the short term. Spence’s at least will be comfortable, but if you would like, I can make enquiries to see what lodging is available. You will want a house, I imagine?”
At her nod, he continued.
“That will mean staff. Once we arrive I will ask my own people to investigate and find appropriate people.”
“I do not wish to impose.”
Relying on someone else wasn’t something she was used to, but now that she had taken the time to think about what he’d said before, his offer made sense. She needed someone she could lean on. Someone who could guide her in the short term and was available to help her set up a household.
“It is no imposition at all.”
He smiled, and she relaxed as he led her to the small seating area the men had set up for the passengers of the Zephyr.
He waited while she sat before joining her. “I suppose it will seem odd leaving the Zephyr after all this time?”
“Yes. We have been aboard for over four months. The journey was long and quite tumultuous at the beginning. And I have a hankering to be on dry land again.”
Now that she was outside, just talking, the reality that they would soon be in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers, was overwhelming. Her sister was so ill, and the prospect of an extended stay in the infirmary crashed down on Elspeth. Her stomach jostled a little, like the flutter of a sail in the breeze.
Her lips trembled, and she hunted in her pocket for her handkerchief. “Oh dear!”
“Miss Forster, you are most unsettled.” He leaned closer, and she turned away, unwilling for him to see the welling of tears.
“I’m... I’m well.” The wobble of her voice was betraying, and he reached out, touching her arm lightly.
“Most people now make a full recovery from malaria. The infirmary really is the best place for her though. She will receive the very best care.”
He spoke soothingly, and the tears ran faster, her stomach knotting. Such an assurance is beyond his ability to deliver. The thought made it seem more difficult to bear. What if…
“It isn’t just that… I’ll be alone. With no one I know. I’ve never...”
He slid his hand down to her wrist.
“In all my life, I’ve never really been alone. There have been friends. Family. Now... Once I leave this boat, I don’t...” The words broke off on a sob.
“You won’t be alone, Miss Forster.” He reached up and swiped at her tears with gentle thumbs as she turned toward him.
Her consciousness told her he was too close, but the ache in her heart needed this embrace. Needed the touch. Anything that might soothe away the sudden and uncharacteristic panic that nearly overwhelmed her.
When he lowered his mouth to hers, it felt right. His lips were soft. He toyed and sipped, and an ache—warm and needy—grew inside her belly. She felt the touch of his tongue pressing at the seam of her lips.
Elspeth had been kissed before, but not with such all-consuming passion. They had been mere shadows of the emotions that surged deep within. She opened to him as his arms slid around her, enfolded her, and she gave up to the overwhelming pleasure that speared her center.
His mouth ranged over hers, the kiss deepened, making her body burn, while her hands ceased their fluttering to move up to his shoulders, which were broad and solid.
When he pulled away, she felt the loss. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
Elspeth blinked. “What for?” The words escaped without thought, and he smiled before barking a laugh.
Then he pulled back and she remembered who he was, where they were, and the impropriety of their actions.
“Oh! Oh dear!” She blushed deeply, the red tide heating her skin as she turned away, resting her shaking hands on the railing. “You must think me excessively forward, Major.” Her words sounded stilted to her ears, and he chuckled again before the sound died away.
“I think you are exceptionally alluring. But never forward.” His voice was deep and brooding.
Unable to stop her reaction, she turned back to him. “No one has...” She stopped and bit her lip. She was being very fast.
“Then they are fools, if they cannot see the treasure before them.” His harsh tone intrigued.
She wanted—needed—to know more and opened her mouth to seek clarification when she heard the call, “Miss Forster, can you come, please?”
The interruption broke the connection between them, and she stood and stepped away.
“If you’ll excuse me?” Then she scurried across the deck toward Mrs. Ellington.
* * * *
Through the dim, pre-morning light, he could see the city of Calcutta rising on the horizon. Here and there the masts of boats moored in the natural harbor moved with the light breeze.
Aeddan gripped the rails as he had every morning since boarding the vessel. Sleep had become a precious commodity, jarred by the increasingly frequent and highly erotic dreams he endured on a nightly basis, thanks to Miss Elspeth Forster.
“The woman has no clue.” The small breeze stole his words.
“Major, no woman ever had a clue.”
He smiled at Grundy’s heartfelt comment. Army men, such as he, were staunch bachelors mostly. Entanglements of the marrying kind weren’t for him yet, not until it was time to settle down and sell out of his commission. Then he’d take a wife and raise a family per tradition. Although, if he were honest with himself, this so-called tradition was little more than a screen that he, and many like him, hid behind.
Since meeting Miss Forster he’d wrestled with his conscience on more than one occasion about that.
She obviously wasn’t a woman of loose morals. It was clear in the way she conducted herself. His own background caused him more than a few fraught moments. But now wasn’t the time for dalliances, he firmly reminded himself.
She was interested and wanted to learn more about passion. The way she reacted was more than a simple indicator of that, even if she didn’t realize it. God knew he was tempted to show her all—the ever-present erection in his trousers had become quite an embarrassment—but that would mean crossing a line. One he’d never before considered. She was gently born. A lady in all but name. For him to take advantage of her… That would be unconscionable.
“No, it would be worse than that,” he muttered.
“Sir?” Grundy called out to him, but Aeddan simply shook his head.
“I will have to return home soon and take a wife. My father is aging.”
There lay the truth. He had a responsibility to his family, to the line that stretched back generations. His wife must be well-bred and able to produce an heir. It was his responsibility to carry on the family name and safeguard the assets his forebears had amassed. How I wish that fact to perdition. Yet, Elspeth was all that and more.
Both he and Grundy knew his days of gallivanting were coming to an end. He’d promised Lytton one more mission. Then he would have to return to England, make his bow to his father, and do his duty. Never before had it felt like chains weighing him down, than at this moment.
The concept of the meek misses in white chilled him to his bones, and if he were to return home unwed, that was the future he had to look forward to. The thought of producing an heir with an in
sipid wife made him break out in a cold sweat.
“Major, you can’t be serious? You’d give this excitement up for a woman?”
Aeddan bit back his reaction to Grundy’s words. He hadn’t ever wanted to. Not before. Somewhere, in the most deeply hidden recesses of his mind though, he thought that perhaps the fire and passion in Miss Elspeth Forster just might suit him. She was well-educated, thoughtful. Strong-willed. Beautiful. Accomplished.
She’d make an excellent wife for him. He gripped the side of the ship firmly, feeling the bite of wood in his palms.
He shied away, flicking the thought aside with a smooth movement of his hand. “Come, Grundy, I will have to marry soon. You know my situation.”
Grundy frowned, his leathery countenance creasing further. “If any of the hoity-toity misses from the upper-class circles ’ere are anything to go by, you’ll be bored in a week.”
He smiled. “Indeed, I probably would. But I’m not after just anyone.” No. Just anyone won’t do for me. The woman he married would have to be someone who could live with him in harmony. Someone with fire and passion.
The sound of footsteps had him turning. Miss Forster was making her way to the bow of the ship.
“Good morning, Major Fitzsimmons. Private Grundy.” Her gown this morning was green and gold silk, fitting her like a glove, and for a moment, he wished he could touch her, just to remind himself of the warmth and suppleness of her skin.
She looked tired, and he wanted to hold out his hand and capture her in his arms. Calm the fears that upset her equilibrium. He itched to support her at a time when he knew she was stretched thin.
It was wholly unlike him.
“Captain Elliott assures me we should make landfall soon.” She turned forward, as if determined to make the most of the situation.
“Your sister, she is better this morning?”
Her gloveless fingers, clutching the rail, became whiter. “No. She is a trifle worse. Mrs. Ellington shooed me out of the cabin for a spell while she prepares my sister. She assures me that by taking the air, I will increase my chances of avoiding the illness.” The distraction in her voice spoke volumes.
“Once she is in the infirmary, the physicians will have her stabilized within days, I’m sure. Mrs. Ellington will stay with Miss Isabelle, won’t she? Nurse her?”
“She will. Until Isabelle is recovered sufficiently, then we’ll send her home.” Her tone became remote, as if unsure of why he was enquiring.
“Good. Then Grundy will accompany your sister and Mrs. Ellington to the hospital, and I will accompany you to the hotel.”
She stilled, her fingers releasing the rails. “Major, you are under no obligation to—”
“No, I am not. But I want to.” He heard Grundy’s attempt at covering a snort of laughter. He turned, casting a harsh eye on his man. “Grundy, go see if Mrs. Ellington requires anything and check with the captain as to the transportation of the luggage.”
Grundy frowned before muttering under his breath and retreating.
“Thank you.”
He turned back at her words and noted Elspeth surveying him.
She frowned. “I wanted to thank you properly, without an audience.”
This time she instigated the touch of her lips, and he accepted it, slipping his arms around her body. Her mouth opened to him like a flower, and he plunged within. Tasting and sipping while she shyly returned the caress.
When her tongue touched his, he stiffened, his whole body tense. His head spun, and he wanted to pull back so he could ask her what she wanted. Damn it, he already knew what he would prefer, but throwing her to the deck was out of the question. The knowledge that the action was forbidden didn’t make dealing with the intolerable ache of arousal any easier though.
When Elspeth pulled back Aeddan was nearly ready to throw her over his shoulder, but he locked the muscles of his legs and watched as she backed away. The small grin on her face faded as her eyes fluttered open.
“Oh dear. I do beg your pardon.” She radiated the heat of a crimson blush.
“No. Don’t apologize for the gift you have just accorded me.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. “But I...”
“You kissed me. And I enjoyed it. Never apologize for wanting to share such pleasure with me.” A spark lit in her eyes, and Aeddan slid his hand over her cheek. “If you were sure, and we had time, I would show you more.”
Her eyes dilated at his words, and he knew the desire was shared on both sides. A roaring sense of triumph filled him.
“Once in Calcutta, I would like to...”
“Don’t promise me something that you cannot deliver, Major Fitzsimmons. I don’t cope with unfulfilled obligations at all well.”
Her back straightened, and she stepped away, her face stony. With that, her face settled into a mask of resolution.
“Major? This must never happen again.” This time her pale face was set before she whirled and left him.
The confusion at what had passed left him floundering. Wondering who had pledged exactly what, and how he’d gained an opportunity and squandered it.
Chapter 5
Disembarking from the Zephyr was quicker than Elspeth had planned. She had met with the captain to make sure he had his orders and ensured that Isabelle was on her way to the infirmary. Then she refused to leave until all her baggage—and Isabelle’s—was safely gathered onto a cart and the driver given explicit instructions for delivery. But the major had facilitated the acquisition of a carriage, joining her in the confined vehicle. It had parted the sea of people milling around. The squabs were deep, and she settled back as they left the noisy, crowded wharf.
Unable to resist, Elspeth pushed the curtains aside and took in the view. The sights were almost overwhelming. The exotic fabrics and fashions, cattle moving slowly down the roads. Her gaze darted to-and-fro as they rumbled through the sprawling city of Calcutta. Sounds intruded, the lowing of cattle, the yap of dogs, and the cries of men, women, and children. Soon they gave way to the hubbub of traffic whistles and cries as they moved into a more anglicized section of the city.
“So many cows. I can’t believe they come and go at will,” she said.
“Cattle are considered sacred here. No one interferes with them. There are also more structured levels of society. See those?” The major indicated people hanging back, their clothing faded and ill-fitting. Stains were evident on clothes, and children looked ragged. “They are the untouchables. The lowest of castes.” The major reclined back in his seat.
“So much to learn. But I will.” Elspeth contained the urge to crane through the window with excitement, while deep inside she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could handle. What if this whole adventure goes wrong? What if Isabelle doesn’t recover? She tried to banish the thoughts, but they remained, gnawing at the edges of her mind.
A stinging pain caught her attention, and she realized she’d been chewing on her lip.
They’d come here on the pretext of learning more about their suppliers, but the added attraction of learning about passion had pushed her into agreeing.
Right now she felt lost in the general mass of the city.
Isabelle would be residing in the infirmary, and Elspeth had the most confusing feelings for Major Fitzsimmons. She acknowledged that she was attracted to him. But on his part she detected nothing more than the hope of a dalliance. Would it be enough?
His voice intruded on her thoughts. “If you look ahead, you will see the river from here.”
She cast a glance in the direction he indicated. The brown river wound like a ribbon, following them on their travel.
Here and there buildings lined the streets. White monuments to the British régime, with large, arched windows marched in militaristic lines down the avenue. “The buildings are oddly decorated. They look English with the columns, yet the arches on the doors and windows...”
Major Fitzsimmons smiled. “That’s the eastern influence. Did you not learn
about that in the schoolroom?”
Elspeth blushed. “I was educated at home for the first few years, then sent to an academy where I learned the finer arts. When I returned home, I undertook to expand my knowledge of running the shipping lines. I had no time to investigate architecture and foreign lands.”
“Forgive me. I just thought learning of the empire was part of the system of education.”
She heard amusement color his tone and nearly gave in to the need to smile back.
Elspeth flicked an invisible piece of lint from her dress while she fought to control her reaction. Then she returned to studying the movements outside. Other carriages passed, and enquiring gazes met hers. The ladies either smiled or turned away in a haughty manner. It’s just like being at home. She concealed the tiny laugh that rose with difficulty, her gloved fingers covering her lips. She didn’t dare turn around to see if he, the major, was watching her.
The carriage pulled up outside an imposing stone building. A large Georgian square of white blocks, but gaily decorated with canopies of green. As the conveyance stopped under the portico, a doorman hurried to pull down the step and open the door for her. “Major! It’s so good to see you again.” The man scurried to help her from the conveyance while addressing Aeddan.
With great care, Elspeth stepped down onto the carpet and brushed her skirts to remove any wrinkles then straightened to her full height. Major Fitzsimmons took her arm, and together they made their way up the steps to the front door.
Once the wood and glass panels opened, they entered and she couldn’t contain the gasp of amazement. “Why… It’s breathtaking!”
“Yes. They do love their decoration here. Come, let us see you settled into your rooms, then I will leave you. I have business to attend to today.”
Elspeth straightened up. “Major, thank you for your assistance today. I don’t know how I would have managed.”
He smiled for an instant, but it turned to a frown as she pulled away. “It was nothing.”
Unwilling to impose on him further—after all, he’d just informed her he had other tasks to complete—she gifted him with an imperious nod of her head. “Good day, Major.” Good manners would dictate that he’d accept her dismissal.
