The Lady's Desire

by Audrey Abbott

  In his dreams, William welcomed a warm and willing Anne into his bed. As she moved beside him, she wrapped her soft arms around him and whispered, “Love me, William. Love me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When the bright morning sun once more flooded the library, Anne opened her eyes and smiled. She hugged herself as a feeling of security and serenity enveloped her. An empty brandy glass greeted her from the table next to the now vacant wing chair.

  Seeing the glass, Anne knew that William had been there, watching over her, protecting her.

  She understood with a certainty that he loved her. She knew with a certainty that she loved him.

  But what made her love William? Why did this man matter so much to her? Why could she not forget him? Certainly his rugged good looks and roguish smile and physical strength. Yes . . . She blushed when she considered those fine manly qualities.

  But she also considered all of the particular sensibilities that they shared. A love of music, books, horses, and family. William spoke with respect and affection about his parents, his siblings, his childhood.

  And William enjoyed the company of children. She had observed how William would engage the little ones, Indian and English, in games and sport. He would sometimes pick them up and swing them onto his shoulders, and prance them around the flagpole. She smiled as she recalled their bright laughter. And their happy shouts of “More! More!”

  Yes. She believed that William would be an adoring father.

  Lord Westmeare only wanted a son to carry on his name . . . not on his shoulders. A son to increase his wealth . . . to preserve the family line.

  Anne shuddered when she remembered her husband’s behavior on their wedding night. How he recoiled from her . . .

  In bitter sweet contrast, she recalled how William invited her embrace, relished her kisses, savored her touch.

  Anne no longer feared her husband. She felt now only grief and regret. She believed that Albert Grenville was an unhappy and bitter man . . . and there seemed little she could do to alter that reality.

  Anne mourned her present life and what she might never possess. A champion and a companion for life. Could William be that man? Perhaps. Yet it was probably too late now for that.

  Or was it? What did their future hold?

  Today she would return to her own house. Perhaps today could be the start of a new future.

  A new beginning for love.

  Perhaps . . .

  Chapter 64

  Now the British must plan for their next step. Between the knowledge gleaned from earlier cavalry expeditions, Captain Ferguson’s intimate details from his previous contact with the sultan and his family, combined with the disclosures of the captured mercenaries, the British had a foundation on which to make some important decisions. A network of British spies traversed the countryside, returning by night under the cloak of darkness. Each one carried another piece of the puzzle. Amit, Rishi’s brother, was one of those spies.

  It was decided to move the women and children to a safer place such as Calcutta. In fact, some of the women had already departed. As soon as possible, Lady Anne Westmeare would be on her way to Calcutta as well. William Ferguson intended to lead that party. He would do his duty and see Lady Anne delivered safely to Calcutta. And that would be the end.

  He made his way across the compound. At the entrance to the infirmary, he paused to glance up at the sky. In the southeast, a slender crescent moon hung suspended. A field of stars, tiny pinpoints of light, spilled across the heavens. This part of the compound lay quiet. Just William and the night and his thoughts of Anne. And too many unanswered questions.

  Whatever should occur, William resolved to keep Anne safe from harm. But he knew in his heart, that their road together was impossible. He had never declared his love to her. And how could he expect Anne to abandon her wedding vows to be with him. That was too much to expect from a vicar’s daughter.

  As he had done on the deck of the Adamant, William removed his mother’s wedding ring from the small pouch that he carried inside his uniform. In his left hand, the ring glowed softly in the pale light of the waning moon. With his right hand, William gripped the hilt of his sword as he offered a silent vow.

  Dearest Anne, whatever happens in the days, weeks, months, years to come, I shall love ye, lass, as long as I have breath.

  Perhaps someday he could utter those words to Anne in person. Perhaps. God willing . . .

  Chapter 65

  The doctor had ordered William to report to the infirmary every day to inspect his wounded hands and to berate him for his actions. “Ye could have permanently injured yourself, William! What were ye thinking?”

  William never had an answer for the physician, but sat stoically each time while the medical officer methodically unwrapped his hands and examined each bruised and swollen digit. Tonight was no different.

  “I do miss Lady Anne,” the doctor said as if he could read William’s thoughts. “She is recovering from her ordeal. I look forward to her return to the infirmary.”

  William shook his head. “I doubt that Lady Anne will be returning, Doctor. I believe that she will soon be joining one of the convoys to Calcutta. As soon as ye provide her with a medical release.”

  “I see.” The doctor frowned. “And then? After she and the other members of the convoys arrive in Calcutta?”

  “Well, they will either stay there or take ship back to England. This corner of India is becoming too dangerous. In either case, we may never see any of them again.”

  A strange silence descended over the infirmary. Neither man spoke. An indescribable melancholy seeped into William’s soul as he heard his own words resonate in the room. Never see them again. Never see Anne again.

  “Pity,” Campbell said, shaking his head. “Lady Anne was amazingly efficient and she simply brought delight and cheer to this dreary place.” He paused and peered at William through his bright spectacles. “You know, I don’t believe there is a man on this post who is not at least slightly in love with her.”

  William did not look up.

  Restoring the last bandage, the doctor continued, “I, for one, shall truly miss her.”

  With a nod, William silently acknowledged the doctor’s words. He considered that Campbell probably already understood the depth of his feelings for Anne.

  William rose and their eyes met as the physician firmly accepted William’s outstretched hand. William thanked the doctor and then walked out of the surgery and into the heat of the Indian night.

  Aye. He also would miss Lady Anne. His heart’s rapid beat pulsed in his chest. He loved Anne. He wanted her. Of that he was certain. But she was another man’s wife. She could never be his. This was the anguish he must learn to live with. Somehow . . .

  Without conscious thought, William’s footsteps carried him toward the chapel archway. He moved into the shadows of the sanctuary and with slow steps made his way to the altar. He sank to his knees.

  Love so amazing, so divine,

  Demands my soul, my life, my all.

  The words to the old hymn still resonated in his heart. Anne’s voice, sweet and gentle, echoed in his memory. Anne . . .

  He clasped his hands and bowed his head in humble supplication. He poured out his heart and declared his love for Anne and his dread of the possible dangers that lay ahead. William pleaded that God would grant him the strength and valor to face those threats.

  Little did William know that in the days and weeks to follow, he would need every ounce of courage to endure the terror and torment that was yet to come.

  That night, the angels heard William’s prayer, folded their wings, and wept.

  Chapter 66

  Three nights later, before the next convoy was to depart, William busied himself in the stables. The long journey to Calcutta
would be fraught with hazards and he must make certain that the horses were sound and the equipment ready for the journey ahead.

  A deep feeling of foreboding settled over him like a shroud. He could not shake its black weight. He hoped that physical labor would relieve some of his anxiety. He curried and fed the horses, mucked out their stalls, and inspected the reins, stirrups, saddles, and iron shoes for any defects. Usually orderlies handled these routine tasks, but tonight a restless energy drove William to undertake them himself.

  As always, it was hot. He was not in uniform, but wore only breeches and a linen shirt. He paused to wipe the sweat that gathered on his brow. He tried to concentrate on the chores, but his mind quietly summoned a vision of Anne. There was no escaping that persistent need to bring her features into view.

  Tomorrow he would lead a group of soldiers and women on the long trek to Calcutta and safety. After delivering the women, he would return to the danger that was fomenting around Fort Paanchdurga.

  Anne had returned to her own bungalow and resumed her normal routine. And soon she would be included in another party of evacuees. After arriving in Calcutta, she would either remain there or be sent by her husband back to England. And he would in all probability never see her again. Anne would be safe. But he would never see her again. Never see her again. Those four ominous words echoed in his brain.

  The setting sun illuminated the interior of the stable as a somber William completed his tasks. A shadow appeared and pierced the lighted entranceway, stretching across the rough floor to his feet. It was the shadow of a woman. William looked up. He recognized that shadow.

  Anne.

  He took a quick step toward her as the fading light delineated her familiar, slender figure. She wore a lavender blue gown and an anxious smile. To his surprise, she hastened toward him, but then hesitated a few feet away. William stifled an intense desire that simmered through his body. A mindless urge to take her in his arms and devour her overwhelmed his common sense.

  “William, I needed to see you.” Anne spoke in a hushed voice as she gazed around the stable. “Are we alone?”

  “Anne.” He spoke, his voice a little ragged. “Ye should not be here.”

  “I know. But I do not care.” Her words spilled from her lips. “William, I had to seek you out. I just came from the Officers’ House. You were not at super tonight.” William’s response was a slight shrug and a reluctant smile.

  “So I searched for you at the chapel. But you were not there. Then I thought of the stables.” Anne smiled up at her hero. “And here you are.”

  Anne stepped further into the shadows of the interior. “William, I have something to tell you. I will be part of tomorrow’s evacuation.”

  Hearing her words, William’s pulse intensified. “Dr. Campbell gave ye his seal of approval, lass? Ye are well enough to travel?”

  “Yes. He did. And I am. Earlier today, Dr. Campbell performed a complete physical. Zilphia Crocker witnessed the examination. He says that I am quite recovered and that I am strong enough to make the journey.”

  “That is good to hear, lass.” William gazed at her with a questioning look. “Ye are certain?”

  Anne nodded. “Yes.” She took a deep breath and continued, “Bridget will accompany me. Celia and Gabriel will follow later. At this moment, Celia and Bridget are busy packing my bags. The larger trunks will be shipped afterwards to Calcutta. If necessary.”

  Anne’s thoughts turned inward. She did not know what the future held. She tried to dispel any notions of the dangers that might lie ahead. She embraced only one conviction. “But William, I do not want to leave India. I do not want to leave this place.” Anne stretched out her hand. Her lip trembled. “William, I do not want to leave . . . you.”

  In three strides, William was beside her. She sank into his arms and their eager lips found each other. Waves of heated bliss beat against her heart. Their future was uncertain, but of one thing she was positive. Her love for William. She ached for the sound of his voice. She craved his touch. She yearned for the sight of his warm hazel eyes smiling down at her.

  The shock of her kiss staggered William. He held her close as he whispered in her ear, “Anne. I must confess. I love ye, lass.”

  He covered her face with kisses as he murmured, “Oh, God. I do love ye so.” He might never take a vow with her at an altar, but he committed himself to loving Anne unconditionally. He would never stop loving her. Until the moment he died, he would love her.

  He held Anne securely in his arms. Her tawny hair framed her lovely face. Her lips parted with a sigh as he brushed her mouth, her neck, her bare shoulders. The bodice of her gown revealed the sweet swelling of her breasts. Eagerly, his lips moved there, lightly lingering until she moaned, “William. Oh, William.”

  He felt her skin heat as his fingers traced the contours of her figure. He could not get enough of her touch, her scent, her voice whispering his name over and over within the quiet sanctuary of the stables.

  William loved to hear his name on her lips. He could not remember wanting anything or anyone more in his life. Chills burned down his spine. Fleeting images of an Irish widow, a Spanish maid, an English courtesan floated through his brain, but they swiftly faded as the sweet reality of Anne absorbed every fiber of his conscious self. He could not let her go.

  Anne placed a hand over his heart and William was suddenly and unexpectedly mindful of a time he had loved Anne before. Long ago. In another life. But how could that be?

  Reincarnation? Although such rebirth was not a tenet of Christianity, it was a belief held by many sects in India. Had he known Anne in a previous life? Had he loved her in a different time? He was filled with the haunting memory of an extraordinary and unforgettable love.

  Where or when, he did not know. But he had held this woman in his arms before. He had kissed this woman before. He had loved her before. Another time. Another place. His feelings for Anne were so intense, yet so very natural.

  Through their lingering intimate embrace, they became aware of coarse male voices approaching the stables. William pulled Anne further back into the dimness of an empty stall. Anne gripped his arms. She held her breath.

  The voices passed and faded away.

  William offered her a reassuring smile. He tasted again the soft ripeness of her lips. Felt her beating heart. Sensed the weight of her breasts crushed against his thin shirt. God, Anne was so verra desirable. He groaned with the need of her. What would it take to lower her onto the fresh straw of this stall and follow her there and . . .

  Not much. William’s thoughts moved where his body should not go.

  Anne discerned the ardent look in his eyes. She understood his desires. At this moment, she would follow William wherever he led. The sweetest, most fragile thread bound them together. But bound together they were. She never wanted this moment to end. Right or wrong. But there was no right or wrong.

  There was only William.

  William gazed into those exquisite cornflower blue eyes. He would remember the raw passion reflected there for the rest of his life. Anne. His sweet, brave Anne.

  They clung to each other overwhelmed by their mindless and too long denied need for each other’s touch. Between passionate, lingering kisses, they murmured words of love and devotion.

  “Anne. I must tell ye. I love ye, lass. I have no right to your affections, but that is the truth of it.”

  Anne did not know what the future held, but she remembered her father’s promise that in the end all would be well just as she would always remember William’s embrace.

  But gradually, a sense of correctness and a sheer force of will reached out and surrounded them. The force whispered. Not here. Not now. Not yet.

  Sensing that shared restraint, they parted.

  They stood close, their bodies barely touching, but with their fi
ngers entwined. A gentle silence filled the stable. Seconds became minutes. Then Anne turned and still holding William’s hand, made her reluctant way toward the stable’s entrance.

  There within the shadows they spoke their farewells. William whispered a final endearment as his fingers slipped through hers. He watched as Anne walked away and disappeared into the gloaming.

  He had tasted heaven. And now he was letting it go.

  His love for Anne was timeless. No matter what happened in the months or years to come.

  Always and forever . . . Anne.

  ~ ~ ~

  As Anne made her way across the compound, her heart sang. Their future was unsure, but of one thing she was certain. She could not imagine a future without William. She had found her champion, her companion for life. And she would never, ever forget William’s parting words:

  “Anne, I will love ye, lass, as long as I have breath.”

  To be continued in Book Two entitled

  The Lady’s Prayer