Surrender to Love

by Rosemary Rogers

  Lord Charles, who was considered quite an eligible catch by London’s matchmaking mamas and had been glad of an excuse to flee from them for a while, found himself frankly intrigued by this exceptional young woman who swung so lightly in his arms. Exceptional—yes, she was that, and more. A treasure he would never have expected to find here in this small crown colony of all places. Different—with a certain air of poised self-assurance that was lacking in most young women of her age and protected background. And spirited too; he had already sensed that under the ladylike exterior. He had owned a little mare once, whose glossy coat reminded him of Miss Alexandra Howard’s hair. All docility and sugar-and-spice until, if her rider wasn’t careful enough to keep a firm rein, she might suddenly decide she wanted her head. The resemblance was there too in the way this young woman held her head; in her slate-dark gypsy eyes, and the very slight flare of her delicately formed nostrils. She was a rare find indeed, and a real prize for any man lucky enough to take her before anyone else did—and tame her.

  Lord Charles masked his thoughts with an engaging grin as he said: “What man could possibly mind talking about himself? Although I must warn you that once you get me started you might have to promise me the dance after this one and a few more afterwards as well—unless I succeed in boring you too quickly! And as for exciting adventures, I find myself forced to admit that I have not been fortunate enough yet... If you are really interested in hearing tales of that kind, you should ask my newly-discovered and very distant cousin whom I had traveled all the way to the North American continent to find, and finally did so in one of the former Spanish colonies there. I believe, though, they broke away from Spain and transferred their allegiance to Mexico several years ago. Am I confusing you?”

  “No, at least not yet!” Alexa said with a shake of her head and a dimpled smile. “But you have succeeded in fascinating me, for I have always longed to find out more about the Americas.”

  “Well then...on condition that you promise to interrupt me as soon as I begin to bore you...” Lord Charles continued in the same light tone he had adopted earlier. “I hardly know where to begin, without sounding like a geography tutor, you know. But this ex-province of Spain is called California, and I found the style of living there different from anything I have experienced in Europe—or anywhere else, for that matter. It is a mixture of wildness and freedom and feudalism—a huge, vast land that has hardly been mapped yet; where the great landowners think nothing of owning hundreds and thousands of acres; can you imagine that? My cousin’s father was a sea captain from Boston in the United States of America who happened to anchor in one of the California ports to trade for hides and tallow. There he met a pretty Spanish girl of gentle birth—an heiress, I believe—whose family was and still is ranked among the richest and most influential in that part of the world. Why, I was feted and entertained there in the most lavish and generous style imaginable! It’s a lush and promising land with all the extremes of climate you could possibly imagine, from snow-capped mountains to burning desert and ocean. In fact, I might have been tempted to stay there myself except that there are also great, furious bears that stand tall enough to dwarf a man, and predatory mountain lions—not to mention fierce Indian tribes. Not being the kind to thrive on danger and adventure like my cousin, I must confess that I decided to settle for Europe and the tameness of civilization instead; and the only adventures I can relate, therefore, are secondhand. I hope I have not made you despise me!”

  “Of course not!” Alexa responded quickly. She flashed him a smile before saying lightly: “I daresay adventures are all very well to read about and hear about, but to actually live in constant peril must be a very different thing and not what one could call exciting at all. I hope this distant cousin of yours lives in a safe part of California, for his sake.”

  “Oh, I managed to persuade Nicholas to come to England with me, and you’ll meet him later on, I’m sure. He’s taking a promenade with the Governor and is involved in some deep discussion with him. But I should warn you, I suppose, that he is not an easy man to understand! He is somewhat of a cynic, and has a rather abrupt manner, besides being completely indifferent to what anyone may think of him. In fact, I can hardly wait to see what London society makes of him!” Lord Charles gave a rather boyish chuckle before continuing: “What a great lark that should be! Although you must not think he is some half-civilized colonial from my rather forbidding description, Miss Howard. Nicholas can adopt a polished air when he chooses to, and he has traveled in Europe before. But when we were in London together this time...” Lord Charles broke off suddenly, realizing he had monopolized the entire conversation, and that the dance was almost over, before he could ask Miss Howard if she would be his partner for the light buffet supper that would be served later. “I say, I really am sorry for going on and on,” he exclaimed ruefully, and shook his head at Alexa with a smile. “It must be your fault, Miss Howard, for being such a good listener.”

  Miss Alexandra Howard, who, he learned, preferred to be called “Alexa” by her friends, had begun to interest Lord Charles more and more as the evening progressed. According to his mother’s friend Mrs. Mackenzie, she was accounted an excellent shot and an accomplished horsewoman; and actually enjoyed reading books, in addition to being fluent in at least five languages. And yet, she was certainly no bluestocking either. So far, he had not managed to discover any flaws in her—a fact surprising in itself, the Viscount (who considered himself quite blasé when it came to women) could not help thinking.

  Lord Charles did not have to pretend that he was delighted when Miss Howard accepted his escort for the brief intermission, during which a cold supper was served for the benefit of those who wished to avail themselves of the enormous variety of dishes arranged on long, damask covered tables that had been set up against one wall. All the more so because he saw an opportunity at last to remove her from under the eagle eye of that forbidding looking aunt of hers, and from the assiduous attentions of all the other men who flocked about her.

  Small groupings of tables and chairs had been arranged on one of the wide, covered galleries that overlooked the lush gardens, with pretty colored lanterns hung everywhere to add to the beauty of the warm, perfumed night and create an atmosphere of intimacy as well. Softly treading servants dressed in the scarlet and white livery of Queen’s House carried silver trays bearing tall-stemmed glasses filled with chilled champagne and white wine among the throng of guests, and it seemed as though no sooner was a glass drained than another was being proffered by one of the ever-present servants. Alexa had been allowed to drink an occasional glass of wine or dry sherry at home after she had passed her sixteenth birthday, but she had never taken a drink in public before, and now she wondered—did she dare? She had inspected the buffet because she thought Lord Charles, having missed dinner, might be hungry; but although the thought of food did not tempt her in the least, Alexa could not help looking quite longingly at the sparkling glasses of champagne that were constantly being offered to her. What if she were to take one?

  As if he had read her thoughts Lord Charles said suddenly: “Have you ever tried champagne, Miss Howard? No? But then of course you must—especially on the occasion of your eighteenth birthday.” Without waiting for a reply he took two glasses off one of the trays, his eyes twinkling down at Alexa as he lowered his voice to say: “And if you are worried that you might not be approved of, allow me to tell you that ladies in the very highest social circles in London—and all over Europe, for that matter—sip the bubbly, as it is called; and it is quite acceptable. You could say, if you were questioned, that you could not refuse to respond to the toast I proposed without appearing rude, couldn’t you?” And then, teasingly, “Well, are you game? Please say you are.”

  Accepting the glass he handed her, Alexa could not help but laugh at the rather audacious way he had teased her into it. “And the toast, Lord Charles? Just in case I am asked?”

  “The only toast that no loyal British subjec
t could refuse, naturally. To the Queen—and her forthcoming marriage!”

  A lady could not drain her glass off in one swallow, but she could take rather large sips once she had begun to acquire a taste for champagne, couldn’t she?

  “Do you think you like champagne?” Lord Charles had prompted after Alexa had taken a few sips of that first glass.

  “I like its dryness! I remember reading one of Papa’s books once that was all about wines and different vintages and where the best wines come from. It’s the effervescence—all those little bubbles—that take getting used to at first, I suppose; although I daresay that with enough practice one would no longer notice.”

  By the time she had drained a second glass of champagne and found herself holding a third, Alexa wondered, with a sudden return to caution, how Lord Charles had managed to maneuver her out through the French doors and onto the gallery. She must be careful or she would spoil everything, and Aunt Harriet would be disgusted with her.

  Alexa had turned to place her back against the polished wooden railing, and in her white and gold ball gown she seemed to be framed by the pattern of trees and lawns and a dark night sky studded with a profusion of glittering stars. How much Lord Charles wanted to seize her in his arms and kiss her, knowing that of course he did not dare try to do so, at least not yet. He must be careful not to startle her or scare her off; and there was that aunt of hers to be reckoned with as well.

  There was an unaccustomed stammer in his voice when Lord Charles said: “There is a slight possibility...Miss Howard, I am very much aware of the fact that we have only known each other a few hours, and I am only too well aware of manners and convention, believe me. But I have so enjoyed conversing with you and, well, what I mean to say is that if our ship should happen to be delayed in Colombo for a few days, I would deem it an honor to be permitted to call on you. You did mention that you would be staying with Sir John Travers at his residence here, did you not? I would naturally request his permission first, and your aunt’s as well; but if you would have no objections to our meeting again, I would like that above all things!”

  “At least you had enough sense to come back inside before your absence could be remarked upon. It would never do, my girl, to let yourself become conspicuous!”

  Harriet, fanning herself vigorously, had given Alexa a very thorough scrutiny when she had returned to sit demurely at her aunt’s side again while the young Viscount took himself off to procure her a dish of fresh fruit and cream. At least, Harriet had thought then, she did not look as if she had been kissed; and her ball gown still looked uncrumpled and had no stains from food or drink upon it. She grumbled. “But what on earth made you suddenly decide you were hungry at this late stage in the evening, just when the dancing is about to begin again?”

  Alexa gave Harriet a mischievous smile. “Two and a half glasses of champagne, I’m afraid! I really do not feel at all hungry after that enormous dinner; but I remember listening to the boys talk, and they all agreed that it was most unwise to drink on an empty stomach.” Catching Harriet’s expression she added quickly: “Please don’t think that I am in the least intoxicated, Aunt Harry, even if this was the first time I have tried champagne. I understand that it is quite de rigueur nowadays for ladies even in the highest circles, and that even the Queen does so occasionally. So you see there’s no need for you to look at me that way or to scold; for I might just as well get used to it and learn to hold my liquor, as the boys upcountry would say.”

  “Hold your liquor indeed!” Harriet snapped. “And if you keep talking of those harebrained young officers you used to ride and hunt with as ‘the boys’ you could very well be misunderstood by someone who does not know you. Champagne! Nasty, fizzy stuff—I never did acquire a liking for it. Tell me the truth now, because I won’t have you making a fool of yourself when the evening’s gone so well until now. Do you feel at all dizzy? Does your face feel abnormally hot? You look quite flushed...”

  “Oh please, Aunt Harriet!” Alexa could not help the note of impatience in her voice. “I have told you the truth; and you have been reminding me all evening that I am a grown-up young woman now and not a child. I do not feel dizzy and if my face appears flushed...” She broke off when Harriet nudged her ankle with her foot; and looking up saw Lord Charles return, followed by two servants.

  “Hah! I’d like to see you put away all that, my girl!” Harriet whispered from behind her fan in a grim undertone. Her look was dour, for she would have liked to say much more to her headstrong niece on the subject of drinking; especially champagne, which was said to have a very insidious effect.

  There appeared two small gilt-edged tables and a large silver platter holding every imaginable kind of fruit, together with pitchers of thick cream. But even as the servants began to arrange everything before her, Alexa’s eyes had already gone beyond them and past the smile on Lord Charles’s face to rivet, without reason, upon the man who walked at his side. She had thought the Viscount Deering tall, but this man was taller yet by at least four inches and had broader shoulders. His formal evening attire fitted him so closely that it had obviously been made for him—long, tightly fitting trousers (Aunt Harriet called them “unmentionables”) that matched the black double-breasted jacket cut short in front to display a richly embroidered satin brocade waistcoat fashioned of varying shades of reds and golds and dark green; a strangely glowing dark green that seemed to match exactly his dark-lashed eyes. Animal eyes, Alexa thought inconsequentially. Like some she had seen glowing out at her from the dark in the sudden flare of a campfire. And there was something dangerous and almost barbaric about him that she could sense without quite understanding why or how at first: that sun browned face that was as dark as that of any native, with curly black sideburns sweeping down rakishly from temple to jaw line and serving only to emphasize the harsh planes of his face. Even though he wore an air of easy assurance and civilization he was—in some strangely indefinable way— different. Like a primitive tribal warlord of ancient times who had chosen to masquerade in modern clothing; at least, for as long as it suited him.

  Alexa discovered almost immediately that she did not like him, and that she especially hated the insolent way in which he looked her over without seeming to. She could almost feel his eyes on her mouth, her bosom, her... And now, unfortunately, she could not help the flush that colored her cheekbones while she thought angrily that the man was obviously a cad, and she was amazed that Lord Charles would associate with such a person.

  It was all Alexa could do to keep up an appearance at least of being poised and unconcerned while the Viscount Deering proceeded to introduce her and her aunt to his several-times-removed cousin Nicholas. De la Guerra. Puzzlingly, a Spanish surname, although it was the mother who had been Spanish, according to Lord Charles. Not that it mattered to her—she only knew what her senses felt and wondered why her hands suddenly felt so cold and clammy, while she wished at the same time that he would walk away instead of continuing to watch her—for all the world like a leopard eying its prey.

  “The Misses Howard live on a large coffee plantation in the central, mountainous part of Ceylon where it gets quite cool at certain times of the year, so I understand.”

  “But I suppose that Colombo, in spite of the heat and humidity, must have its compensations. Do you visit here often, Miss Howard?”

  Suddenly, Alexa found herself clenching her hands under the folds of her skirt, her first stirrings of disquiet growing into ugly suspicion that kept expanding and expanding. His voice, with an edge of cynicism underlining each overtly polite word... She had the feeling she had heard it before. That... Oh, please God, no!

  “No!” Alexa said the word aloud without meaning to, and far too abruptly, judging from the Viscount’s rather startled glance. “That is—” she amended quickly “—we do not visit Colombo often at all. Do we, Aunt Harriet? This time it was only because... Of course it is so kind of the Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie...”

  What on earth was wro
ng with the girl? Harriet thought irritably. She had behaved so well and with such poise all evening; and now, all of a sudden, she had begun to stutter like a schoolgirl. It had to be the champagne she had indulged in.

  “We arrived only yesterday,” Harriet interposed smoothly before Alexa could say another word. “And it is really such a long and tiring journey—especially since we had to be up well before dawn. My poor niece was so worn out by the time we arrived that I had to send her directly to bed.”

  “Why, we arrived only yesterday too!” Lord Charles exclaimed.

  “However, since Colombo Roadstead is best approached in daylight we were forced to drop anchor some distance out to sea. Quite frustrating, in a way, since we were close enough to see the lights and even to make out which belonged to the Governor’s mansion, with the aid of a glass. In fact, if either of you ladies had happened to be wakeful enough to take a moonlight stroll last night I am certain you would have noticed our riding lights.”

  As she listened to that slightly drawling voice Alexa had begun to feel slightly nauseated. How...oh, but how unspeakably low and vile he was! He wanted her to know that he recognized her, of course. Like the predatory jungle feline he had reminded her of from the first, he wanted her to suffer the torture of anticipation while he continued to play his cruel game with her. Perhaps he hoped to see her crumble before him, losing her poise, her pride and her courage.

  “I am afraid that both my niece and I must have been already sound asleep by the time the moon was up.” Thank God for Aunt Harry! “In fact Alexa slept so late into the day that she missed both breakfast and lunch before I decided to wake her,” Harriet continued.