by Cheryl Holt
It had been a simple choice. She didn’t think she was like other women, didn’t believe she was overly attracted to men or could suffer passionate feelings for them.
Rowena was the perfect example of such a female. She’d lived at the convent for five years, having been locked away against her will when she was fifteen. She never stopped obsessing about amour, wondering what sort of husband she might have had if her parents hadn’t been so cruel and impossible.
Faith had never fretted over such wicked issues, so she’d assumed she was different. But now, having seen Mr. Hubbard, she was overcome by urges she hadn’t known a woman could experience.
“You can’t breathe a word to anyone,” she said to Rowena.
“Who would I tell? Mr. Robertson and Mr. Hubbard are the only ones here who speak English besides you.”
“Not a word to either of them! Swear you won’t.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“This afternoon, after we were settled in our rooms, the maid directed me to a bathing pool, and I went to take a bath.”
“So did I, and it was the most exotic, spectacular moment of my life.”
“I must have been sent to the wrong pool, because Mr. Hubbard was there.”
“Bathing?”
“He’d just finished. He was standing at the balustrade and staring out to sea.”
Rowena scowled, then gasped. “Are you claiming he was…was…”
“He wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
“Not a stitch?”
“Not a stitch.”
“Oh, my.” Rowena grinned. “You lucky dog.”
“Lucky! I’m embarrassed to the core of my being.”
“Did he realize you saw him?”
“Yes! He turned around, and there I was.”
Faith blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, growing so hot with mortification that she was surprised she didn’t ignite.
“It doesn’t appear he minded,” Rowena said. “He was certainly blasé at supper.”
“What should I do?”
“Nothing, I guess. What can you do?”
“I feel like I should…be struck blind or something.”
“For looking at him?”
“Yes.”
“He was right in front of you. Were you supposed to not look?”
“Yes, I shouldn’t have looked.”
Rowena’s expression became sly. “Did you enjoy it?”
“What? Looking at him?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
Rowena laughed. “You liar. You’re positively undone. Tell me this. Were you able to manage a peek at his male rod?”
“Rowena!”
“Well, were you? I’ve always been curious about the blasted thing. It’s not as if they were carved onto any of the statues we saw in Rome. I’ve never understood why it has to be such a grand secret. I wish I’d caught a glimpse of one before I was forced to take the veil.”
“Would you be serious?”
“I am being serious. I’d like to see one.”
Faith shook her head with exasperation.
Rowena was brash and unrepentant. She said what she thought and never cared if she blurted out outrageous comments. She liked to shock people and loved to put their noses out of joint, especially the fussy, grumpy older nuns who’d never been kind to her.
As an adolescent, she’d been a hellacious flirt, which was why her parents had shuffled her off to the convent before she got herself into trouble. That and the fact that they’d paid for her sister’s wedding and dowry and couldn’t afford it for a second daughter.
“At supper”—Faith was desperate to have Rowena empathize—“he ignored me.”
“Then you should ignore him too. He’s being a gentleman, letting you save some of your dignity.”
“Mr. Hubbard? A gentleman?”
“Yes. I find him fascinating. Don’t you?”
Faith bit her tongue. She’d wanted to reveal how he’d followed her to her bedchamber, how he’d blustered in and pressed her to the bedpost.
It had been scandalous and thrilling, but she didn’t confide as much to Rowena. She couldn’t imagine what indiscreet remarks the girl might utter in reply.
“And listen to this.” Faith switched topics. “This villa isn’t theirs.”
“I know. Mr. Robertson explained it to me. They were on a ship and thrown overboard by pirates. They washed up here.”
“Yes, Mr. Hubbard said the same.”
“When you consider their terrifying ordeal, it makes our difficulties seem paltry, doesn’t it?”
“I’m worried about them and what sort of men they are deep down.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is their tale true? What if they’re criminals or bandits or worse?”
“What would be worse than a bandit? Besides, I don’t believe Mr. Robertson could tell a lie with a straight face. It would be completely beyond him.”
“But they simply moved in and took over. What kind of person does that?”
“One who doesn’t have any other option.” Rowena gazed around at the marble verandah, the palms swaying in the evening breeze, the moon shining up above. “If I’d stumbled on this place, I’d have snatched it up in an instant.”
“You would not have.”
“You’re wrong about that, Faithful. Oh, and by the way, Mr. Robertson told me we don’t have to leave tomorrow. He won’t let Mr. Hubbard kick us out, and he claims Mr. Hubbard was just grumbling and barking, which apparently is his usual habit.”
“It certainly is,” Faith agreed.
“We can stay as long as we like.”
“That’s a relief. I guess.”
“Now then, you’ll have to excuse me.”
“Why?”
“I have to check on the girls and say goodnight. Then I’m off to enjoy a game of chess with Mr. Robertson.”
“You hate chess,” Faith reminded her.
“I hated it when I was forced to play with deaf, grouchy Sister Lucretia. I’m betting, with Mr. Robertson, I’ll like it very much.”
She hurried off, and Faith called, “Rowena!”
Her tone was scolding, and Rowena whipped around. “What, Faith?”
“You shouldn’t spend time alone with him.”
“Well, that’s the difference between you and me. I never obey the rules and you don’t know how to break them. We’re a long way from home, so maybe you should start.”
“Just because we’re on our own and away from what’s familiar, it doesn’t provide license for us to abandon our morals.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m ready to have some fun for a change.”
She sauntered off, and Faith might have called to her again, but she didn’t.
She wasn’t Rowena’s mother. She wasn’t her guardian or her chaperone. With how their convent was structured, all nuns were equal in status except for a few of the older women at the top.
She was Rowena’s friend though, and Rowena was prone to wild conduct. It was why her parents had locked her away. Shouldn’t Faith try to keep her on the straight and narrow? As she’d mentioned, they were a long way from Scotland, and there were too many chances to misbehave.
When Mother Superior had still been alive and traveling with them, Rowena had been meek and biddable. But Mother was deceased, Faith was in charge, and she supposed disaster would strike before she ever saw it coming.
She sighed and strolled out to the end of the verandah to lean on the balustrade. The sky was clear, the stars a brilliant swath of white across the heavens.
Far out on the horizon, she noticed a lantern on a passing ship. She wondered where it was going, if there were passengers on board heading to England. Would she ever see her home country again? She was beginning to suspect she might not, but she wasn’t yet ready to succumb to despair.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she glanced over to find Mr. Hubbard was approaching. To her disg
ust, her pulse raced.
He was more handsome than ever, his hair brushing his shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling like diamonds. He was barefoot, dressed in his flowing trousers, but as a small nod to her prudish sensibilities, he’d donned a vest. It didn’t cover much though and was open at the front, exposing too much chest.
He was smoking a cheroot, drinking an alcoholic beverage, and he strutted right up to her, standing much too close, a hip balanced on the rail.
“It’s a magnificent spot, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yes, quite magnificent.”
She was unnerved by his proximity, and she moved away, anxious to put some space between them, but he moved too, so she couldn’t impose the distance she’d intended to establish. She moved again, and he did too, so she gave up trying.
It appeared he was testing her, deliberately working to fluster her, but with all she’d been through the past few months, it would take more than a man standing too near to rattle her.
“Did you see the ship’s lantern on the horizon?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Were you wondering where it’s headed?”
“I was wondering exactly that when you walked up.”
“I love to watch the ships sail by.”
“Do you ever wish you were on them?”
“Never.”
“Really? You’re not dying to go home?”
He scoffed. “No. There’s nothing for me in England. I’d much rather stay here.”
“In Africa?”
“Well, at the villa.”
“Aren’t you afraid the owner might show up and toss you out?”
“I worry about it occasionally, but not seriously. The prior inhabitants fled, remember? The place was supposedly too haunted for them.”
“How long have you been here?”
He shrugged. “Four or five months, I guess. I’ve lost track of time.”
“Have you seen any ghosts?”
“Nary a one.”
“If you did, would it send you fleeing?”
“No. The only one who could get me to leave would be a new owner arriving with a bill of sale.” A smile curved his seductive mouth. “Even then, I might refuse to depart. Maybe I’d fight him for it.”
Surreptitiously she peeked at his muscled physique and figured he’d likely win any brawl he started.
“You’re from London,” she said.
“Yes, but these days it seems very far away.”
“How did you occupy yourself there?”
“Not with any venture you’d consider worthwhile.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m a ne’er-do-well. I admit it.”
“Meaning what?”
“I gamble and carouse and generally make a nuisance of myself.”
“What brought you to Africa?” she asked.
“I signed on with an expedition to explore the Nile.”
“How exotically fascinating. Did you explore it?”
“We managed a good portion, but for the most part, it was a perpetual string of disasters. When it was over, and I escaped Cairo in one piece, I was glad to see the last of it.”
“And now you’re here.”
“Yes.”
“For how long, do you imagine?”
“I have no idea, but if it turns out to be forever, that would be fine with me.”
“You have no one waiting for you at home? No wife or sweetheart?”
“I have a sister, Amelia, but she’s newly married and she doesn’t need me interfering.”
“What about your parents?”
“Deceased when I was a boy.”
“No other kin?”
He grinned. “None that will claim me.”
At the remark, she snorted with amusement. She was much too intrigued by him and was curious as to what sorts of mischief he’d perpetrated over the years to have made his relatives wash their hands of him.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Where are you from?”
“A small town in Sussex. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
“What about your family?”
“My mother died when I was little. My father is a successful merchant engaged in trade.”
“No siblings?”
“No, much to my father’s disappointment. He’s getting on in age though, and he recently decided to rectify the situation by marrying again. His wife birthed him twins.”
“Dare I hope it was sons?” he facetiously inquired.
“No such luck,” she said. “Two more daughters.”
“Ooh, a crushing blow.”
“My father certainly felt it was.”
Faith still hadn’t come to terms with her father’s marriage. He was sixty, and her stepmother, Alice, was currently nineteen—a year younger than Rowena.
Faith hadn’t known he was considering matrimony and had only learned of it after the wedding ceremony, when she’d received an announcement from them. But then it was typical behavior for her father. He’d hated having a daughter and he and Faith had never been close, especially after she’d entered the convent.
Alice was very beautiful, but she was silly and flighty and immature, her most crushing negative trait being that she was stupid as an ox. How did her father stand it?
“What drove you to the convent?” he asked.
She scowled. “Nothing drove me. I chose to go.”
“You’re so pretty,” he said, flummoxing her. “Why would you deliberately lock yourself away?”
He thought she was pretty! How thrilling! How absolutely inappropriate that he would comment!
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she was shocked to hear herself admit.
“How long have you been there?”
“Eight years.”
“What about now? Does it still seem like a good idea?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, I’m delighted for you.”
His grin widened, and he gazed at her as if he suspected she was lying, as if he suspected she wasn’t happy. And she was happy! Mostly.
It was just that, every once in awhile, she questioned whether she shouldn’t have listened a bit less to her nanny and a bit more to her father. When she’d informed him of her plan, he’d been livid, and the more he’d scolded the more recalcitrant she’d become.
They weren’t even Catholics. Her nanny had been, but not her father or herself. Yet with the right amount of money offered, the convent would take any available candidate.
Faith had had her own funds, and when her father had refused to pay the costs of joining, Faith had paid her own way. It was a fact that vexed her.
Sometimes, she speculated over what else she might have done with that money. Sometimes, she ruminated over how she might have used it instead, the husband she might have had, the children she might have raised. But she didn’t contemplate it often or intently. She just occasionally…wondered.
“What does your father think of your being a nun?”
“He was quite set against it.”
“Why?”
“He viewed it as being preposterous. We’re not even Catholic.”
“Yet you jumped at the chance.” He shook his head. “You’re sounding stranger by the moment.”
“If I’d stayed at home, I would have been married off to my cousin, Lambert.”
“A fate worse than death?”
“Nearly.”
“So you put yourself out of his reach.”
“I guess you could look at it like that.”
She turned away and strolled down the verandah, wishing he wouldn’t follow.
She never discussed her father or Lambert or how they’d pressured her. Lambert had ingratiated himself to her father, had wormed his way into the family business and made himself indispensible. He’d been the son her father had always wanted, but his conduct was so mercenary.
His branch of the family was penni
less and scattered, and he’d had no prospects. She believed that he’d assessed his predicament, then honed in on her, figuring he could inherit everything if she was his wife.
Yet there was a sneaky facet to his personality that only she had ever seemed to note. Her father certainly never had. He treated Lambert as if he walked on water and had never understood why she hadn’t eagerly agreed to be his bride.
She didn’t like to reflect on her childhood or her father. She’d been a quiet, lonely girl, reared by servants, mostly her nanny, and with very little interaction with her sole parent.
Mr. Hubbard was dredging it all up, and with his pestering her, she couldn’t keep it stuffed down deep inside where it belonged.
She stopped by the stairs that led to the beach. If she’d been a braver sort of female, she’d have ventured down, would have kicked off her shoes and stockings and waded in the waves. But that was probably more adventure than she knew how to experience.
He came up behind her, standing too close again. His thigh brushed hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from his body, could smell his hair and skin. All of it had the most disturbing effect on her anatomy.
She yearned to rub herself against him, to run her hands over all that exposed flesh. She expected it would be very hot, very smooth, and the fact that she was pondering such a detail was blatant evidence that she’d tipped off her rocker.
She should have jabbed him with her elbow, should have forced him back, but she didn’t. Though it was mad, she liked him just where he was.
“Shall we go down and walk on the beach?” he asked as if reading her mind. “We could strip off some of our clothes and splash in the waves.”
“I don’t think so. It’s awfully dark down there.”
“We can bring a lantern.”
“I’d better not.”
“You don’t have to be afraid. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but all the same, I’ll stay right here.”
“You don’t have to leave in the morning,” he said.
“Rowena told me. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Ralston. He pleaded your case. I was fully ready to kick you out.”
“You were not.”
“I was. I’m the worst wretch in the world.”
