by Louise Allen
He strode to the door, calling for Ajit as he went. He would move heaven and earth to find her. Anusha was his, whether she realised it or not.
*
Sunrise. Anusha shifted in the saddle and looked back over her shoulder for the twentieth time, or so it seemed. The road behind the cavalcade of Bengali traders to which she had attached herself was clear. But of course it would be and she was fearful for no reason. Nick would have come home drunk, as he had threatened, no one would notice anything amiss until Nadia came with her morning tea and then there would be confusion and questions and it would take an age before they worked out that she had not slipped out for a morning ride, but had fled.
‘You are sorry to be leaving Calcutta, my young friend?’ One of the merchants who had given permission for her to join the party brought his horse alongside. ‘You leave your sweetheart behind perhaps, eh?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, keeping her voice gruff. The tail of her turban was pulled across her nose and mouth, as if to protect her from the dust of the road and the tight long-tailed jacket flattened her breasts and covered the curves of buttocks and thighs. If she did not get too friendly with anyone she had a reasonable chance of staying undetected, she hoped.
‘That is a fine horse,’ the man continued, apparently settling down for a long chat. ‘It would not be for sale, I suppose?’
‘No, I am sorry, but it belongs to my master who sends me on this errand.’ Hoofbeats behind. Anusha twisted round as a troop of cavalry swept past, leaving the traders cursing in their wake and her heart thudding so hard that for a moment she thought she would be sick.
The dust cloud swirled in the early light and then settled, along with her pulse. ‘You must have left in haste to have no provisions for the journey,’ the trader went on. ‘If your master has not given you enough money for a pack mule, you can put your supplies in my wagon if you wish.’ He waved aside her thanks. ‘We help each other on the road, or where would we all be? At the mercy of dacoits, that is where! Barrackpore is a good place to get supplies and we will be there for the noon meal.’
He talked on, quite content, it seemed, to have no response from her beyond a nod, or a grunt of agreement. Anusha felt her head begin to droop and pulled herself upright. There would be time to sleep tonight and at least the weariness might keep her unconscious long enough to give some respite from this heartache.
Why did I have to fall in love with him? I should have known it was impossible. There was the nagging worry that her presence in the palace might be a problem for her uncle, although her father had said that Altaphur was thoroughly chastened for the moment and skulking behind his frontiers. Might he still try to kidnap her if he knew she was back? If necessary, she would marry some prince of her uncle’s choosing, Anusha vowed. Then she could not be a pawn to threaten Kalatwah or cause her father and the Company a problem.
If she could not have Nick, it really did not matter who she was with. It was strange that a breaking heart was physically painful. She had never believed that before…
‘Wake up, young friend!’ A hand on her shoulder roused her. ‘You are swaying in the saddle. And here come more riders in a hurry—what is there in the air today that everyone must rush and cover innocent travellers in dust?’
Disorientated, she reacted slowly and the riders were in amongst them before she could gather her wits.
‘Sahib, there is Rajat!’ Ajit.
She wrenched the reins, turned towards the fields and the tangle of jungle beyond, but Rajat was reluctant, neighing for his stable mate, as Pavan, his rider tall in the saddle, swept through the ox carts and horses towards her.
‘Anusha!’
Hemmed in by a camel behind, she turned at bay. How has he found me so fast? What can I do now?
‘Leave this young man alone! He travels with our protection,’ the burly Bengali trader shouted and forced his horse, with courage she could appreciate despite her anguish, between Pavan and Anusha’s mount.
‘If you think this is a young man, my friend, you have need of spectacles,’ Nick said without looking at the man. ‘Anusha, why did you leave?’
‘You are a woman and this is your sweetheart?’ the Bengali demanded, looking from one to the other, amazement on his round, honest face.
‘Yes,’ she said. Nick was looking implacable—she did not trust him not to use force if her protector persisted and the poor man did not deserve that. ‘Please do not agitate yourself. We had a…disagreement. I will go aside with him and discuss it.’
‘Do you want us to wait?’ The other traders had begun to gather around them, hands were resting on knife hilts.
‘No. I thank you for your help.’ It was hopeless: Nick would never allow her to leave. She would just have to convince him with words that they could not marry. ‘Goodbye, my friends. Travel safely and with profit.’ She turned Rajit’s head and fell in between Nick and Ajit, who was mounted, she saw, on her father’s favourite hunter.
‘You should have let me go,’ she said. Nick looked dreadful: his chin was stubbled, his eyes were bloodshot and his brow was furrowed as though he had a crashing headache. I thought I would never see you again.
‘I will ride ahead, sahib,’ Ajit said and spurred towards the road.
‘Go back to Calcutta,’ Nick called. ‘Tell Laurens sahib that she is safe.’
Ajit raised a hand in acknowledgment and cantered off.
‘Why the devil did you do it?’ Nick turned in the saddle and searched her face. ‘Your father is beside himself with worry.’
‘I am sorry. You came because of him, then?’ Not for me.
‘I came for both of us! You were going to marry me, I thought you were reconciled to that. I thought you were happy.’
‘I was. But I cannot marry a lord.’
‘I am not—’
‘You will be. You will be a marquis and I am no wife for you. You know that; we talked about what a wife of a lord must be, and a marquis is a very important lord, almost a prince.’
‘Anusha, I do not want to be a marquis.’ He sounded so violently miserable that she wanted to take him in her arms and kiss him.
‘Papa said you could not do anything about it. That you would be one and that he knew you would do your duty, and I know he is right, for you would not do anything dishonourable.’
‘Anusha… Damn it, I can’t talk to you on horseback like this. Look, let us sit down there.’
There was a small shrine set on the edge of the fields, its stone platform so like the one where they had spent that first night that Anusha caught her breath. Silent, she let him lead the way, then slid down from the saddle and sat on the edge of the platform, her knees drawn up, arms tight around them as if somehow she could contain the misery.
Nick stood in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps he did not trust himself not to touch her. ‘I know I cannot avoid it. If I outlive my father, then it is my destiny to inherit.’
She nodded. Destiny—fate—she believed in that. It was her fate to love this man. And to lose him.
‘But I cannot do it without you, Anusha. No—’ he held up a hand to stop her protest ‘—I know what I said. I know how hard it will be for you, that I have no right to ask it of you, but I will fight anyone who tries to insult you, override anyone who tries to bar you from any privilege due to a marchioness. I cannot do it without you.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘But I know nothing! Why do you need me?’ He needs me? Anusha hardly dared breathe.
‘Because I love you,’ he said, his eyes intense on her face. ‘Because I do not think I can live without you.’ She gasped, dizzy with disbelief and hope, as Nick pressed on, like a man fighting against odds to express himself.
‘No, let me explain. I did not realise, I had no idea what love for a woman felt like. Who have I ever loved in my life except for Mary and George, my surrogate parents? It was not until we were searching, questioning everyone along the northern gates and I was so…so
afraid, that I realised what it was, why I felt as if half of my being had been torn away.’ His voice, usually so strong, so certain, shook with the emotion that gripped him.
‘I know you do not love me, Anusha. I realise that you agreed to marry me because it was the only way out of your problems.’ He turned on his heel and took a step away from her, looking out over the field as though he could not bear to see her rejection on her face, as though he left her free to tell him that she did not want him.
When, speechless, she did not answer, he went on doggedly, baring his heart and soul to her to be torn apart. ‘But we have friendship and desire, surely? That is a start. We do not have to go to England now. My father is alive and well, by all accounts, and he will not want me back any more than I want to go. It may be years before we must return. Time for you to become accustomed, perhaps to grow to love me a little.’
Anusha slid down from the wall and crossed the dusty earth until she was standing by his side. ‘You love me?’
‘Yes.’ He was still looking into the distance. ‘I am sorry, I do not want to make you feel you have to stay, to marry me, because of how I feel. I won’t ask more of you than you feel able to give. It is just that I—’
‘I love you, Nicholas.’ Unable to bear his pain any longer, Anusha took his hand and he looked down at her, green eyes blazing. It must be true, she thought, almost dizzy with joy. It is not a dream. I can feel him, here, skin to skin, pulse to pulse. ‘I love you too, so much that it felt as though I was cutting out my heart when I left you. I thought that to leave you was the only honourable thing to do, because you had never wanted to marry me in the first place. Oh!’
He pulled her to him so fast that she lost her footing, was lifted and kissed until she was dizzy and then hugged so close that she could hardly breathe. ‘Nick!’
‘My love?’ He set her on her feet again, but did not let go of her. ‘Was I squashing you?’
‘Yes, but I do not mind. Nick, tell me truthfully—will marrying me make things more difficult for you when you inherit this title?’
‘Honestly? I do not know,’ he said, tracing his index finger down her nose, along the line of her lips, as though he had never really seen them before. ‘Will there be bigots and snobs who are too stupid to see your quality and your intelligence? Perhaps, but I will not let them rule my life and by the time it comes to it, you will be able to out-marchioness any lady you might meet.’
‘Is that what I will be, a marchioness?’ It was an unwieldy word on her tongue, almost as bad as the reality of the role would be.
‘Indeed. And everyone, except members of the royal family, dukes and duchesses and marquises and other marchionesses, must bow or curtsy to you. That does not eliminate many people, so you will become very top-lofty, my lady.’
‘Top-lofty? That is better than totty-headed, I think.’ Anusha pulled his head down for another kiss and pretended not to notice a group of camel herders staring, wide-eyed, at the sight of a sahib kissing a youth by the roadside. ‘Mmm. I thought I would never be able to do that again, never feel your arms around me, never taste you on my tongue.’
Nick appeared bereft of speech, something so unusual that she felt herself begin to gabble out of sheer happy nerves. ‘You must have an heir now, as soon as possible.’
That made him smile and he turned his arm around her shoulders and began to walk back to the horses. ‘Are you proposing that we go home and begin dealing with the matter at once?’
‘Perhaps.’ She cut him a glancing look and saw his lips twitch. ‘Yes?’
‘No, wicked woman. We wait until we are married, which is only seventeen days now, so you will have to behave.’
‘So will you. Nick, do you remember that first night together at the shrine? Is it not a good omen that we find that we love each other at another shrine?’
‘A very good omen. I think we should leave an offering. I have an oil flask in my saddle bags. Have you your knife? There is a flowering bush over there.’
Together they poured the sweet oil over the Shiva
lingam and placed a spray of flowers at its base. ‘I found a branch with fruit and flowers,’ Anusha said, leaning against Nick, her head on his shoulder, their fingers entwined. Were there tears in his eyes? There were in hers. ‘For the future.’
*
‘This is your house?’ Seventeen days later Anusha stared, delighted, at the sprawling white bungalow with its low sweeping roofs and the wide, shaded verandas all around it.
‘It is our country house, Mrs Herriard. I thought you might not mind travelling all day after the wedding if there was peace and quiet and privacy at the end of it.’
‘It is beautiful.’ Grooms ran out of the compound to take the horses as she slid down from the saddle of the chestnut mare that was Nick’s wedding gift.
‘I wanted to find some height, and a view, and this was the best spot I could find within a day’s ride of Calcutta. I come here when I can.’ He pointed. ‘See, there is the Hooghly over there, but the hills make it healthier and less humid, even in the summer.
‘Come, let me show you your new home.’ He bent and, before she could protest, swept her up in his arms and strode up the front steps. ‘This is an English wedding custom: the bridegroom carries his bride over the threshold.’
‘I like it.’ Anusha buried her face against his neck, then wriggled to get free when she found herself being carried straight past a row of servants, all bowing a welcome over their joined hands. ‘Namaste!’ she called as her new husband simply kept walking whilst offering the same greeting. ‘Nick, put me down!’
‘Of course.’ He shouldered open a door and set her on her feet in a room that seemed to take up the entire width of the back of the house.
White muslin curtains blew in a breeze that was cooled by the dampened mats hung in front of each opening. A marble pool had been set into the floor in front of the wide double windows and, as well as a big European bed, there was a wooden-framed Indian one swinging from chains attached to the ceiling beams.
‘A proper bed,’ Anusha exclaimed.
‘I was hoping it would be a most improper one,’ Nick said. ‘Shall we bathe?’
‘In the pool? Oh, yes.’ She remembered all the lessons of the zanana. ‘I shall undress you, husband.’
Nick had sat down on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. He raised one eyebrow, but stood and opened his arms. ‘If you wish. And then I will return the favour.’
‘Oh, no, I must disrobe for you.’ He was in Indian dress and she began by untucking the end of his turban and coiling it neatly into her hands.
‘There are rules?’ He shrugged out of his coat as she finished with the buttons and she folded it across a chair. Like him she was wearing tight trousers and a long jacket and had ridden astride, but today their clothes were cut from luxurious silks and brocades to mark the wedding journey.
‘Of course.’ Anusha pulled Nick’s shirt from the waistband of his trousers and over his head so his hair fell across his face and he had to shake it back.
Has he any idea how magnificent he looks? Anusha ran her hands over the flat planes of his chest, teased the tight knots of his nipples with the pressure of her palms, then drew her fingers down the hard muscles and over the flat stomach to the drawstrings of his trousers. Under her hands she felt his skin tighten and smiled.
‘What is it?’ She could smell the faint musk of aroused male, the tang of sweat from their journey, the spice of his skin.
‘Do you remember, in the bathhouse?’
‘I recall a rather incompetent attendant with cold hands and very little technique.’ He sounded amused, but his breath caught when she pushed the trousers over his hips and let her hands run down his flanks. His erection sprang free and Anusha closed her eyes as she caressed it with both hands in one long stroke before pressing him back.
‘My lord should lie down.’ For a moment she thought he would simply seize her, but Nick took a deep breath and did as
she bade him. Reclining on the swinging bed in arrogant unconcern for his aroused nudity, he took her breath away.
‘I am sorry I was so clumsy in the bathhouse,’ Anusha
apologised. ‘I had come out of curiosity and then I touched you and I was undone.’
‘I think I was undone the moment I laid eyes on you,’ Nick murmured.
‘Truly?’ She took off her turban and freed her hair, swinging her head so it fell free over her shoulders. ‘I should not be wearing these clothes,’ she added, suddenly aware that this was not how she should appear before her new husband.
‘I could not agree more,’ Nick said with a wicked chuckle that had her blushing and laughing as she shed her few garments. It was impossible to do so with the erotic expertise she knew she should display, but he did not appear displeased with what he saw. But then, Nick had seen her naked before, she thought, suddenly feeling more confident.
‘My lord will bathe now?’
‘My lord and his lady will bathe.’ Nick got up, swept her into his arms—he appeared to enjoy doing that, Anusha thought with a smile—and walked down the steps into the pool. It was deep enough to cover him to the chest when he sat down, laughing at her struggles as the cool water washed over her hot skin.
His laughter died away as he looked into her eyes and she gazed back, drowning in the green depths and the love she saw there. Her love, her English gentleman, her noble man. It was her last coherent thought before he took her mouth and his hands began to move, sure and subtle, weaving magic out of water and oils as he caressed her and bathed her.
‘I should be washing you,’ Anusha protested when she had the strength and was floating, languorous and yet tingling with arousal.
‘I am at your disposal.’ Nick laid his arms along the marble surround and slid down until his head rested on the edge and his hair drifted around him, gold silk on the surface of the water.
