by Jane Ashford
“But it is my story,” Kawena objected. “I can explain it better than anyone else.”
“I’m not going to tell him your story,” James replied.
“What?” She fixed him with wide dark eyes.
It was always so distracting when she did that. It feels as if I could fall into those eyes and never come out, James thought. Her steady—warm?—inquiring gaze scattered thoughts like petals in a stiff breeze. He gathered his. “If I go in accusing some navy man of theft, this fellow will clam up, and I won’t—”
“Does your navy care nothing for justice?” Kawena asked.
“It does,” James told her. “But a straight-out accusation makes the matter more complicated. A case for investigation and tribunals. He’d have to report it, and then there’d be an absolute boatload of forms, and word would get out into the ranks. My former crew would hear about it.”
Kawena considered this. “And the thief would hide.”
“If there is a…” James broke off at her frown. “Yes. We can report it after we get your jewels back. We’ll have the evidence then, anyhow. The navy will pay attention.”
She remained reluctant. “I suppose you know best how to deal with them.”
“I do,” James said. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
It was a weighted word. This time, James did lose himself in that fathomless gaze. Its combination of interest and hope was a heady mixture. He could see her uncertainty, her resistance, and then resignation. Finally, Kawena gave a small nod. It was a tiny gesture, barely noticeable, but it filled James with a fierce desire to deserve her trust. She was so lovely, and so courageous, and so alone.
A stifled gurgle of laughter broke the spell. James turned to find Ariel biting her bottom lip, her hazel eyes dancing. His brother’s head was cocked, as if he’d heard some curious sound that he couldn’t quite identify. They were both looking at him.
Suddenly self-conscious, James picked up his wineglass and took a decorous sip. He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t be gone above a day or two,” he announced. “Where can I hire a decent horse, Alan?”
His brother replied, and the moment passed, and James put it from his mind.
* * *
Lord James departed very early the following morning, striding down the lane toward Oxford to hire a mount. Kawena watched him go from her bedroom window, a tall, handsome figure, moving with purpose and lanky grace. How she wished she was going with him! Over the months of her voyage, she’d become accustomed to managing for herself, to taking action when there was a task to be done. And so, she chafed at the idea that her quest depended on him now. But she had no way of finding the crew of the Charis without him. She’d had to concede that.
Also, she would miss him. Over the last few days, as they’d talked and sometimes walked together, her tug of attraction had strengthened. He had the most…alluring sort of half smile, with one quirked eyebrow and light dancing in his eyes. And surprising hands. Roughened by years at sea, they had yet proved capable of fashioning intricate little creatures from folded paper. He’d learned it from an Asian sailor, he said, when a great typhoon trapped their ships in port for two weeks. A sigh escaped Kawena. You couldn’t help but imagine the delicacy of that touch transferring into…other areas. She’d found herself wondering, all too often, what it would feel like. They understood each other, too, shared the same reactions, or so it seemed to her. His absence would leave a large void in her days.
He moved out of sight around the bend; Kawena turned from the window. Catching sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, she marveled at her situation. Somehow, she had come to trust the man she’d planned to expose as a villain. Perhaps more than trust. And it had happened so quickly. Barely a week ago, she was waving a pistol in his face, full of righteous anger. Now, she was relying on his aid, regretting his departure. Was she a fool?
Moving closer to the mirror to wind her long dark braids into the knot that English fashions required, she examined the possibility. Why had she changed? Did she have good reasons? It was partly the man himself. His behavior had changed her opinion. His initial reluctance to become involved in her affairs weighed as heavily as his eventual capitulation. He was no smooth-tongued rogue. And then, it was partly his family, too. Ariel and Lord Alan—particularly Ariel—had been so kind to her and so open. Their obvious respect and love for Lord James spoke for his quality. Yes, these were people who deserved trust. She was not mistaken in that.
Downstairs, Kawena found Ariel at the breakfast table. Lord Alan, as usual, had already departed for his laboratory. Lord James’s empty place was a melancholy reminder.
“It’s market day in Oxford,” said Ariel as she came in. “I thought we would go and look at the stalls. If you like.”
Kawena nodded agreement. She was hardly likely to refuse any request from her generous hostess, and she remained eager to learn all she could about England while she was here.
They set out at midmorning, each with a basket over her arm. The July day was bright with a few high clouds scudding across the blue sky and a wind that made Kawena glad of her cloak, though sorry it was borrowed. “There has been so little rain since I have been here,” Kawena remarked. “My father says…said that England is a gray, wet country where the sky drips like Niobe’s rock.”
Ariel laughed. “Like what?”
“Niobe was an ancient Greek. I think. Who cried all the time.”
“Why?” her companion wondered.
“I don’t remember. Father had so many stories; I get them confused.” If she’d known he would be taken from her so soon, she would have tried harder to remember them, Kawena thought. The familiar wave of sadness washed over her. It was less now than at the beginning, when she’d come running in response to the shouting and discovered her father lying still and cold. But it was still a sharp ache.
“Well, this is the finest time of year,” Ariel said. “If you’d come in November, you’d have had more than your fill of rain.”
Ariel led her beyond the college buildings to a square filled with market stalls and bustling with townsfolk examining the wares. They joined the streams of shoppers and strolled up one row and down another, surrounded by color, scent, and the din of sharp bargaining. “There are so many things in England,” Kawena commented.
“What do you mean?” Ariel asked.
Kawena gestured at the stalls. “Ribbons and thimbles and teapots and tools and furniture. All these ‘made’ things. Everywhere.”
Ariel looked around as if noticing the merchandise in a new way. “You aren’t used to so many.”
“No.” She smiled. “There wouldn’t be room for all this at home. You English are so busy—inventing and building and making. I used to be amazed at all the cargos filling ships’ holds, but they were nothing to this.”
“You say ‘you English,’” her hostess replied. “But you’re part English.”
“By blood, I am,” Kawena agreed. “But by feeling…” She shook her head. “Perhaps if I’d visited as a child, it would be different.”
“Many Englishmen who are posted abroad send their children back here to school. So they’ll know the country.”
“I can see why they would.”
“Does it make you sad?” Ariel asked, gazing at her from under the brim of her bonnet.
Kawena thought about it. She was certainly sad about her father’s death, and her connection to this country had always been through him. But mostly she was thoughtful. Her long journey had shown her so many fascinating things and ideas. “No,” she said. “It’s an adventure, seeing a new part of the world.”
“I can well imagine.”
Ariel bought a few small things, useful and frivolous. They shared a small apple pie still warm from the oven and stopped to watch a pair of jugglers keep a dizzying array of objects in the air. The sun was well past
the zenith when they started back to the house.
“This was very agreeable,” said Kawena as they walked. “Thank you.”
“No need for thanks,” her hostess replied. “It was a pleasure to have a friend along.”
In perfect harmony with each other, they left the streets of Oxford behind and entered the lane that led to the house. Halfway there, Kawena’s eye was caught by movement on the left, and she turned to see a dappled gray horse running across the field. The grace of its gait stopped her in her tracks. “Oh, it looks like it’s floating over the grass!”
Ariel paused as well. “She’s lovely, isn’t she? She’s our neighbor Mr. Fletcher’s pride and joy.”
The horse came closer. Kawena stepped toward the fence, entranced by the creature’s beauty. “We have no horses at home. I’d seen pictures, but it’s only since I’ve been here that I’ve been close to them. It’s strange that so large an animal can be not at all frightening.”
The gray approached the fence. She seemed to examine Kawena with one liquid brown eye.
“She likes you,” Ariel said. “She’s never come so close for me.”
“Is it all right to touch…?”
“She’s quite gentle, I think.”
Kawena stepped nearer and set a hand on the horse’s forehead. Her caress was accepted with regal complacence.
“It’s too bad we don’t have an apple for her,” Ariel remarked.
“They like apples?”
“Very much.”
Moved by a sudden whim, the horse tossed her head and trotted off. Kawena watched her go with regret and admiration. “Do you ride horses?” she asked Ariel as they resumed their walk.
“I can,” was the reply. “I’m no expert. I never rode much, growing up.”
Kawena’s gaze followed the gray as she pranced across the turf. A little kick of the animal’s heels looked like pure joy in movement. “It must be like flying over the ground!”
“Particularly when you’re thrown off,” Ariel joked.
Kawena acknowledged it with a smile. “It’s a wonder that such noble creatures allow themselves to be ridden.” Her eyes turned back to the horse.
“You should try it. Alan could… Or James. I’m sure he’d be glad to take you riding.”
Kawena found this idea quite attractive. Then she realized that it would involve hiring mounts, another call on her hosts’ purse. “I’m content just to watch,” she assured her.
But Ariel wasn’t listening. “We’d have to find you a habit. I don’t have one.”
“Habit?”
“A riding habit.”
“I don’t understand. Do you mean, to make a habit of riding?”
“No. The dress one wears to ride is called a habit,” Ariel told her.
“Why?” Kawena frowned. “Isn’t ‘habit’ a thing one does often?”
“Yes.” Ariel looked perplexed. “That is odd, isn’t it? I never thought of it before.” Her frown deepened as they reached the house and went inside. “And nuns wear ‘habits,’ don’t they? Monks, too. But they’re not at all the same. Very odd. I shall ask Alan how that came to be.”
Kawena had noticed that this was Ariel’s solution to all intractable puzzles. “Does he know everything?” she asked, daring to tease a little.
After a moment’s surprise, Ariel laughed. “He used to think so. Now that he knows better, I allow him to inform me.” She set down her basket and untied the strings of her bonnet.
“That’s very kind of you,” Kawena said, following suit.
“Well, he does enjoy it so. I like to indulge him.”
They laughed together, and Kawena felt more at ease than she had in a long, long time.
* * *
Two days later, James walked down the lane toward his brother’s house. His dip into the world of Royal Navy paper pushers made it seem as if he’d been away much longer. Men such as the official he’d been sent to see hated to part with any crumb of information, just on principle, and it next to killed them when matters didn’t line up with their forms and procedures. And so the meeting had taken far longer than it needed to, except that apparently a ridiculous amount of time was required. He should have learned that over years of haggling for stores and new weaponry for his ship, James thought. The fellow had finally given in, as they most often did, and come across with the information James wanted. He felt that his naval career hadn’t benefited from the exchange, but it hadn’t been ruined either. He’d no doubt been marked down as mildly annoying, but also as someone who could get admirals to plead his case. Neither was uncommon enough to sink him.
Told that Ariel and Kawena were sitting in the parlor off the garden, James left his hat with the maid and walked down the corridor, anticipation rising. His thoughts, and even a glorious dream, had been full of Kawena as he pursued her interests in town. He was eager to see her again, share his success, see that regal turn of her head that made his breath catch.
He paused silently in the doorway to take in the lovely picture the two women made, side by side on the sofa. A man would be hard put to find a prettier pair of females—Ariel in warm hues of cream and peach, and Kawena wearing a white dress that accentuated her honey-toned skin, her hair like a raven’s wing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Even more than beauty, she seemed to crackle with vitality.
Though he made no sound, after a moment Kawena turned and saw him. She smiled, and James nearly stumbled as he stepped forward to give them his news. “I got a list of addresses. I’ll have to go down to Portsmouth to find most of them.”
“Where is Portsmouth?” Kawena asked.
“On the south coast. It’s our largest naval center, and a number of my old crew members are hanging about there, waiting to join a new ship.”
She nodded, looking satisfied. “We can leave tomorrow,” she said.
James was startled. “Not ‘we.’ I shall go alone.”
“No! I won’t be left behind again.”
“But it will be easier if I—”
“Not easier for me! I will go with you to question these men. It is my right.” She sat very straight and frowned at him.
“That won’t work.” James was a bit tired from the ride, and thus impatient with silly obstacles. “No sailor would talk in front of you. And anyway, I won’t be lumbered with a chaperone—”
“A what?”
“A lady to bear you company.”
Kawena made an impatient gesture. “What lady? I traveled around the world by myself.” This was not quite true. She’d had her father’s old friend to help her. But she saw no need to mention that. She had Lord James now, didn’t she?
James shuddered to think of all the terrible things that might have happened to her on that voyage. Indeed, it was amazing that she’d made it safely. “You don’t understand,” he said. “A man and woman, unrelated, cannot travel together.”
“Why?”
“It’s improper.”
“Why?”
“Well…” He didn’t see why she had to belabor the obvious. “To stay at inns and be alone on the road…”
“Do you intend to attack me in the inn’s bedchamber?” Kawena asked in an overly reasonable voice.
“What? No! Of course not.”
She shrugged. “We have no problem then.”
James tried to keep his tone as even as hers. “It’s not me. It’s a matter of what others will think, and say…”
“Who cares?” She gazed at him as if he was the one being unreasonable.
James became aware of Ariel’s interested gaze. She was just watching them, back and forth, as if they were playing a game of lawn tennis, making no effort to explain the realities of life to Kawena. He turned to appeal to her. “You know very well what I mean. Tell her it’s impossible.”
Ariel looked torn. Finall
y, she nodded. “I know what it’s like to be scorned, Kawena. My mother was an actress, and some hold it against me still. The proprieties are very important to many people.”
“English people,” replied Kawena. “I am not English. I don’t intend to be English.”
“Still, you may not want to give the appearance—”
“I am not an appearance. I am as I am. These ‘people’ may take it or leave it.” Kawena crossed her arms and stared at the two of them, obdurate.
Ariel gave James a helpless glance.
“If you leave me behind, I shall simply follow you,” Kawena added. “I still have my coat and trousers. I know how to get a ride on a wagon.” She had no idea how she would make such a journey with no money at all. But, again, no need to mention that.
“You are a very annoying woman,” said James. And she was, partly. But he was struck by the way she sat there—chin up, very straight, fierce as a young hawk. He had to admire her assurance and fire. And it would be…interesting to spend days of travel alone with her. If she cared nothing for how it looked, should he?
“Not if you remember that I am not an Englishwoman,” she answered. “Then it is all perfectly logical. I am different.”
“And a master of understatement,” James murmured.
“I must behave as I think best. I have my own honor.”
What did that mean, exactly? Unbidden, several sorts of behavior that would change a tiresome journey into a delicious ramble flashed through James’s imagination. Not that she had suggested…or that he ever would… James ordered his brain to cease and desist. “Are you certain you won’t be guided by…by Ariel? You have no notion how prickly—”
“No. I left my home and traveled thousands of miles for this. I will not sit here and wait. I will find the thief.” Her journey had been fueled by anger and determination; they hadn’t disappeared in this comfortable house.
She made it sound as if the hunt would be easy. James knew better. But he gave up the argument. “Very well.”
Kawena nodded as if there had never been a doubt. “We will leave first thing in the morning.”
