Dark Angel (33 page)

Elena colored, then laughed. She glanced down at Emily, who was looking about the cabin with curiosity, then murmured to Caroline. "We have not solved all our problems, but we have—how do you say it?—reached an accommodation."

"I'm so glad," Caroline said. She glanced at Adam, but he was talking to the captain and didn't seem to see her.

When they moved to the table, Caroline found herself seated between Emily and Sherry. "Had to intercede with the captain," Sherry whispered as he took his place beside her. "Good thing I have a title to wave in his face, or you'd be sitting by him instead."

Caroline smiled. Earlier in the day, she and Sherry had had time to catch up on the past years. Sherry had told her that his father had died two years ago. He was now Lord Sheriton, though he insisted that he still preferred to be called Sherry. Being a viscount was a plaguey nuisance, he said, though Caroline thought the responsibility had probably helped him grow up.

Over dinner Sherry entertained her with accounts of his adventures abroad, frequently assisted by Andy and Jack. The conversation was freer, with people talking back and forth across the table, but otherwise Caroline might have imagined herself in London. Uniformed stewards waited at table with a stiff formality that rivaled that of the starchiest footmen. The food, fresh for the most part because they had just left port, was elaborately dressed: fillet of sole with caper sauce, chicken vol-au-vent, stewed mushrooms, larded capon. It was all a little too rich for Caroline's taste, but the variety was certainly novel.

Caroline began to enjoy herself, lulled by the wine and the laughter and the admiration. She and Elena were the only ladies on board and came in for a good deal of attention. Elena's nervousness seemed to have vanished. She was seated between Captain Brixton and a wounded major going home on leave. Both of them appeared captivated by her and they were vying for her attention.

Caroline felt Adam's gaze upon her several times during the meal, but whenever she looked at him he was turned away. Then, in the midst of the third course, the whole table began to discuss news from England. One of the junior officers mentioned the latest gossip about the estrangement between the Prince Regent and his wife. Lieutenant Forbes, who seemed uncomfortable with such talk, turned the conversation to the parliamentary debate over the East India Company's new charter. "You were in India for a time, weren't you, Durward?" he asked.

Caroline glanced at Adam. She knew instinctively that he would prefer not to discuss India. Adam was looking at Forbes, his face a polite mask. "I spent two years there," he said.

"I say, did you?" Jack turned toward Adam. "Were you with the army?"

Adam smiled at the young man. "Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. I was a private secretary. Plumb was in the army."

Hawkins grunted and swallowed the last of his wine. "I can think of things to call it besides exciting."

"I've thought about going out to India," Forbes said. "But my wife won't hear of it. She worries about violence from the natives."

Caroline set down her fork, a chill of anger sweeping through her. Forbes didn't know Adam was half Indian, of course. Not that that was any excuse. She looked at Adam again. He was leaning back in his chair, an impassive expression on his face, but his fingers were clenched round the stem of his wine glass.

"The Hindus do have some rum notions," said the major who was seated by Elena. "I was just reading a perfectly atrcious story about a pair of officers who ran afoul of the natives. The officers were out shooting and happened upon some monkeys near a Hindu temple. They began to fire, naturally thinking the monkeys were fair game. But the priests in the temple attacked the officers so violently that the officers flung themselves in the Ganges and tried to swim to safety. They both drowned. Shocking, isn't it?"

"Depends on your perspective," Hawkins said. "I expect the priests thought it shocking to have their temple defiled."

The major looked at him in surprise. "They might have been a little more understanding. The officers were only after some sport."

"A good English education, that what the natives need," Captain Brixton said. "There's a fortune to be made in India if we can convince the natives of the value of English ways."

"And English goods." Adam's tone was dry, but Caroline heard the edge in his voice.

"Exactly," Brixton agreed, as if it was a matter of course.

"But is education enough, sir?" Forbes asked, an intent frown on his face. "If it comes to violence, the educated natives might well side with the savages."

"I'd hardly call them savages," Sherry said. "I understand some of the Hindus are very advanced."

"Yes," said Andy, a gleam in his eyes, "after all, they did write the
Kama Sutra."

"They're not Englishmen," the major said firmly. "No amount of education can change that."

"What do you think, Durward?" Forbes asked. "You've lived among the natives."

Adam's face was still expressionless, but his eyes had darkened. Caroline felt the tension coiled tight within him. "You'll have to forgive me," he said in a level voice. "Being a native myself, I'm really not qualified to answer that question." He stood and looked at Captain Brixton. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I think I'll take the air."

The click of the door shutting behind Adam echoed in the suddenly silent room. "I say," Forbes exclaimed, "I had no idea he was of mixed blood."

"I'm afraid it happens all too often," said the major. "There aren't enough Englishwomen on the subcontinent."

Captain Brixton shook his head. "He looks perfectly English. Of course his skin
is
rather dark."

Caroline felt an intense desire to scream at the lot of them. She met Hawkins's gaze across the table. His eyes told her he shared her anger but there was little either of them could do about it. Slowly, conversation was resumed about the table. Emily, who had sat by quietly, tugged at Caroline's sleeve. "How did Adam's blood get mixed?" she whispered.

"I'll tell you later," Caroline promised.

"I'm sorry," Sherry murmured on Caroline's other side, "I don't think anyone meant to give offense."

Caroline did not trust herself to speak. That the offense had been unintended did not make it any less harsh. If it were not for Emily she would have left the table and gone after Adam. Instead she was forced to sit by helplessly while the third course dishes were removed and dessert was brought in. She nodded and smiled at Sherry and served Emily, but did not really listen to either of them. Her father's words when he told her why Adam could not serve in the East India Company echoed in her head. It might have been him speaking just now. Or her brother.

Caroline took a bite of lemon ice and felt her face grow hot with shame. She remembered the look in Adam's eyes whenever she played with children who did not quite accept him. Until now she hadn't fully understood what that look meant. Suddenly the need to heal those old scars seemed infinitely more important than anything that had happened between them later.

At last the meal came to an end. Emily fell asleep almost immediately when they returned to their cabin, tired out by the excitement and the large quantities of food. Caroline hesitated, looking down at her sleeping daughter. Suppose Emily woke while she was gone? But Emily hadn't had a nightmare since they had arrived in Lisbon. And the need to talk to Adam was overwhelming. Caroline wrapped a shawl round her shoulders and made her way to the companionway, praying Adam would still be on deck.

A welcome blast of cold, moist air greeted her as she emerged onto the quarterdeck. The officer on watch nodded to her. Caroline nodded back, then turned and felt a great wave of relief as she caught sight of a man standing at the back of the deck, his hands braced on the rail, silhouetted against the smoky black of the sky. His back was to her, but the set of his shoulders and the angle of his head was unmistakably Adam. Caroline hurried toward him, her kid shoes slipping on the damp boards of the deck.

Adam heard the footsteps, knew they belonged to a woman, and told himself it must be Elena. After the constraint between him and Caroline these past days, not to mention the way she had flirted with Sheriton at dinner, the last thing he expected was that she would seek him out. He stood very still, afraid to look round because he could already taste the bitterness of disappointment. Then she was beside him and he had to look and there was Caroline, her eyes warm, her mouth curved in a smile. Adam's heart lurched into his throat.

"I'm sorry," Caroline said, holding her shawl close against the breeze.

Adam forced himself to breathe. "Sorry?"

"For the things that were said at dinner. It was unforgivable of them."

Adam shrugged, though he still felt the anger sharp within him. "It's not the first time it's happened," he said. "I should have kept a better rein on my temper. But there are times when tolerance has its limits."

"Thank God," Caroline said with feeling. "I only wish you'd spoken more harshly."

Adam grinned. "Bloodthirsty all of a sudden, aren't you?"

"How can you laugh about it?" Caroline demanded.

"How can I do anything else?" Adam said;

Caroline looked away, her eyes troubled. They stood in silence for a time, looking at the foaming wake of the ship and the silver streaks of moonlight on the water. No more than six inches separated them, but they did not touch. Adam longed to put his arm round her but he didn't dare. All round them the ship was alive with sound. The voices of the crew blended with the hum of the wind in the rigging, but the roar of the sea rose above all else and lent the illusion of privacy.

"Adam." Caroline spoke suddenly, her eyes still on the water. Adam heard her draw in her breath as if searching for the right words. "I want us to be friends again."

It was a peace offering, yet Adam stifled a groan. He'd stopped wanting them to be friends ten years ago when he'd realized how much more he wanted from her and how desperately he wanted it. He recalled that moment in his lodgings when he had seen her eyes cloud with memory. The same sharp pain lanced through him. The weight of ignoring all that lay between them was too great.

Caroline looked up at him. In the moonlight she seemed fragile and ethereal and heartbreakingly out of reach. Translucent pearls glistened about her throat. Gossamer fine lace fell about the neck of her gown. Adam had a sudden longing to rip the pearls from her neck and tear the gown from her body and turn her back into the Caro who would always belong to him.

"The past won't go away," he warned.

"I know." Caroline's gaze was clear and steady. "But tonight I feel as if I don't mind remembering."

The breath was driven from Adam's lungs. He could do nothing but look at her, unable to believe she had actually said it. Caroline looked back at him. Then, very deliberately, she laid her hand over his where it rested on the rail. His skin burned hot beneath her touch and his senses swam. His heart began to beat again in slow, painful strokes. Somehow he managed to lift his hand from the rail and draw her against him.

She smelled of soap and camphor and lavender. The metal comb she wore in her hair pressed against his cheek. Adam pulled her closer. Caroline reached up to clasp his fingers. A simple gesture, no more was possible when they could be observed by any of the crew. Yet standing in this half embrace Adam felt closer to her than he had when he had entered her with his body.

"I suffered the torments of the damned watching you with Sheriton at dinner," he admitted, turning his face into her hair.

Caroline drew back enough to look up at him in surprise. "Sherry's a friend, but it's nothing like what's between us."

Her eyes willed him to understand. And he did. She wasn't talking about the few nights they had spent together but about the bond that had been formed long before they reached adulthood, the bond that would endure whoever's bed either of them shared. "I know," he said. "Or I should know. But whenever I see you with another man—"

Adam looked out over the turbulent water. "It's the demon I've struggled with all my life. When you smiled at the other boys in the village, I wanted to knock their teeth in. When you started going to dances, I lay awake at night seeing you in other men's arms. And then there was Jared." The familiar jealousy tightened Adam's throat. "I couldn't bear the thought of him touching you. Even now I can't stand the fact that you loved him. Loved him enough to risk your life to join him. To risk Emily's life—"

"Adam, no," Caroline said quickly.

Adam turned back to her and saw the urgency in her eyes. "It wasn't love," she said. "It was guilt."

The roaring of the ocean suddenly seemed deafening. Adam stared at her, hearing the words but unable to make sense of them.

"I couldn't let him die alone, you must see that," Caroline insisted. "But God help me, I don't think I ever loved Jared. Oh, I was dazzled by him but even that died years ago. Don't look at me like that, Adam, do you think I'd lie about this?"

"You gave yourself to me to save him," Adam reminded her, his voice harsh with the memory.

Anger flared in Caroline's eyes. "Do you really believe that?" she demanded.

No, Adam realized, he didn't. Not after what had passed between them. And yet—"You married Jared," he said, going back to her first betrayal.

"And you told me it was just infatuation. You were right, though I was too proud to admit it. Not until—" Caroline drew a breath. "Not until we'd been married two years and I learned he was keeping a mistress. After that I couldn't go on pretending I loved him. I couldn't even share his bed."

Adam was struggling to recast the past nine years in this new light. He scarcely heard her last words. But they echoed insistently in his head. And then suddenly he understood, before Caroline did, what she had said.

Caroline looked up at Adam in puzzlement. He looked sick in mind and body. But she had only said she had never loved Jared and— Understanding came in a sickening flood. A cry of protest rose up in her throat. "Adam—" she began, but her words died under the pressure of his gaze.