Anna started to grin foolishly.
Last night she had behaved like a hussy, acting the wanton with a man who possessed neither her hand nor, officially, her heart—yet she couldn’t regret it.
He had stripped her notions of right and wrong, of proper behavior and gentility, from her along with her clothes—and she had reveled in the doing.
A dull pang of guilt smote her as she realized that the lovemaking she had shared with Paul had been a poor thing compared with the glorious passion that had exploded to life when she lay with Julian.
She had loved Paul, of course. One corner of her heart would always be reserved especially for him. But the awful weight of her grief had suddenly, almost magically lifted overnight, leaving the rest of her heart free again, to be bestowed where she chose.
On Julian? At the thought of loving and being loved by Julian her heart speeded up.
The prospect was exciting, dangerous, and breathtakingly alluring.
Did he love her? Oh, she hoped so. How she hoped so!
Did she love him? If she didn’t, then she teetered dangerously on the brink of it. It would take only a word, a smile, a gesture, to make her fall fathoms deep.
Her foolish grin widened. If anyone should see her, she thought, they would think her the veriest fool, lying alone in bed grinning from ear to ear at nothing at all. But she couldn’t seem to stop. Didn’t want to stop.
Happiness was a recent stranger to her, but its return felt glorious. Like the sun bursting through the clouds after a storm, it shone just that much more brightly for having been absent.
Kicking the covers aside, Anna bounced out of bed and made haste to get ready to meet the day.
Some quarter of an hour later, in a dress of smoky lavender half-mourning that did wonderful things for her eyes, she left her bedchamber and headed downstairs. Her heart was beating foolishly, and a little smile played on her mouth. Her eyes were sparkling, and her step was light. In anticipation of encountering Julian at any moment, her cheeks were already warmly pink.
How would he look at her? What would he say?
He wasn’t in the house. Anna searched through all the likely rooms and even looked in the garden to be certain, then sighed. Of course he wasn’t about. It was nearer noon than daybreak, and he would be overseeing the field clearings that he had approved over her objections.
She must be in love. The idea of his overriding her wishes, which had rankled just the day before, didn’t even annoy her this morning. If he wanted her fields cleared, why, it was perfectly all right with her.
From the garden she could hear Chelsea laughing as she played with Kirti. A delicious smell floated in from the outside cookhouse, where bread for the week was being baked. A boy worked the punjab fan in the parlor, circulating a breeze that made the whole house deliciously cool.
Had there ever been such a perfect day?
Raja Singha approached from the rear of the house with his customary stately tread. From his turban to his sandals, he looked the picture of unassailable dignity. Anna was suddenly struck with an urge to hug him, but managed to fight it back.
“Have you seen Mr. Chase?” she asked as he drew near.
“I believe the sahib and his friend have gone on a journey, memsahib.”
Anna frowned. “A journey? Where?”
“As to that, I could not say. But Jama in the stables tells me the horses are gone, and some of the sahib’s clothes are missing.”
“Oh.” Anna pondered for a moment. “Did he— ah—leave a message?”
“No message, memsahib. Not with me.”
“I see.” Anna said, as the special brightness began to seep from the day.
XXX
F
ive days later, Julian slipped out a rear window of a sprawling white-tiled residence on the outskirts of Anuradhapura. It was in the small hours between midnight and dawn, and over everything lay the hush of a city at rest. Inside the house, the only sound was the sighing of many sleepers. The Khansamah had fifteen wives, and they all dreamed on pallets within.
“Did you get ’em?” Jim, waiting inside the walled garden, hurried forward as soon as Julian’s leg appeared over the sill.
“Shhh.” Julian jumped lightly to the ground, motioning Jim away from the house. “I got ’em.”
“You did? You did!” Jim stopped dead, his face transformed by a wide grin. “By God, Julie, you’re a wonder! You weren’t in there half an hour, and all we knew was that the emeralds were in the women’s room!”
“Would you come on? I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy being chased down the street by a sword-wielding Hindu and his servants.”
Thus recalled to a sense of place, Jim followed Julian over the garden wall. Not until they were well away from the city could Julian be persuaded to stop.
“Would you look at the bloody things?” Jim said at last in exasperation when they reined in their horses and dismounted for a brief rest.
Dawn was breaking as Julian opened the pouch and spilled the gems into his hand. They were all there, except for the bracelet. A creeping tendril of light touched the gems, making them glow brilliantly green. Julian ran them between his fingers, feeling the stones and their gold setting carefully.
“Nothin’?” Jim asked.
Julian shook his head. Putting the emeralds in his pocket, he turned his attention to the pouch. He hefted it; it felt empty. It would help if he knew what kind of proof he was looking for.
Then his questing fingers encountered a stiffness in an inside seam.
“Do you have a knife?” he asked hoarsely.
Wordlessly Jim extracted a knife from a bundle tied behind his saddle and handed it to Julian.
Feeling preternaturally calm, Julian slit the seam, then ran his fingers along the opening. When he withdrew them, a small, much-folded scrap of paper lay in his hand.
“What is it?” Jim demanded.
Julian was beyond speech. Forcing his hands steady by sheer force of will, he unfolded the paper.
There, written in a spidery hand for all the world to see, were the words he’d been waiting all his life to read.
“Lord Ridley was my father,” he said slowly, looking up from the paper at last to focus on the impatient Jim. “And my granny was right: my parents were married.”
Jim let out a whoop and clapped Julian on the back. Julian said little as he restored the emeralds and the marriage lines to the pouch, then remounted and rode on toward Srinagar.
The fantasy he had cherished all his life had come true. He was Lord Ridley, rightful owner of Gordon Hall and all that went with it. He was a rich man, a nobleman.
Why didn’t he feel overjoyed?
Anna. If he returned to Srinagar and announced his new status, and then she accepted his marriage proposal, he would never know if she loved him for himself. Lord Ridley was a very different prospect from Julian Chase, half-breed gypsy. She’d be a fool not to take him.
So along with the title, and the riches, and the legitimacy he had always craved, he could have Anna too. He would, in effect, be claiming everything that had ever belonged to his brothers. He would have triumphed over them at last.
But he didn’t want Anna to be what amounted to a spoil of war. He wanted her to love him.
Riding toward Srinagar with the newly risen sun painting the road before him a shimmering gold, Julian vowed to do his utmost to make sure she did.
XXXI
H
e was gone for a week. During that time, Anna’s hurt turned to anger, and finally to all-out rage. How dare he disappear without so much as a word after what they had shared? Did it mean so little to him?
That was the thought that stabbed at her. If he could leave her so casually, after a night such as they had spent, then it could mean only one thing: however much their lovemaking had meant to her, it had been no more than one in many such nights to him.
In his mind, his lovers were probably as interchangeable as his linen.
Gritting her teeth at her own stupidity—had she really thought to give Julian Chase the lion’s share of her heart, while relegating dear, loyal Paul to a small corner?—Anna threw the lavender dress on the floor of her wardrobe and went back to the long-sleeved, high-necked crow’s dresses of full mourning. Indeed, she felt guilty at the idea that she had been ready to don brighter colors, to step forward into a new life. Paul had been a man in a million, a far better man than she deserved, yet she had been ready to relegate his memory to the past in favor of a bold, unprincipled rogue whose sole redeeming characteristic was that he knew how to please a woman in bed.
What kind of female was she, to let such a thing sway her so? The vicar’s daughter, for all her genteel upbringing, was at heart certainly no lady!
“Are you sickening for something?” Ruby asked, surprised when Anna snapped at her for the umpteenth time during the course of the week.
Guiltily Anna realized that she had been behaving with poor humor toward everyone in the household. Certainly Ruby’s insistence on admiring aloud every halfway eligible man she knew was annoying, but always before Anna had managed to take it in stride. The difference was that, just at the moment, she couldn’t bear to hear anyone sing any man’s—and particularly Julian Chase’s—praises. Even hearing the blackguard’s name made her want to scream.
“I must be,” she answered Ruby with real contrition. “Forgive me, please. I promise I’ll do the same for you someday when you get out of sorts.”
Ruby eyed her shrewdly. “You wouldn’t be missing a certain black-haired gent, now, would you?”
Anna stiffened, stretching herself to her full height, which was something less than considerable.
“No, I would not,” she responded icily. Leaving Ruby to hide a knowing smile, she stalked out to join Chelsea and Kirti in the garden. What she needed was a little fresh air.
Charles called twice during the week, and on both occasions Anna greeted him more warmly than had lately been her wont. She was chagrined to admit that her recently sundered infatuation for Julian had blinded her to this man’s very real worth. Charles was solid, steady, and if he wasn’t particularly exciting that was all to the good. Anna had had enough masculine-generated excitement lately to last the rest of her life.
On his second visit, he took her for a ride in his buggy. The swift rush of air past her face and the briskly changing scenery lifted her spirits. The sky overhead was a dazzling shade of blue laced with fluffy ribbons of white clouds, Charles’s horse was fresh and swift, and birds and monkeys chattered gaily in the trees.
So what if her unprincipled cad of a brother-in-law had been gone from Srinagar for longer than he ever had been before? She didn’t need him. She didn’t want him. She would be positively glad to learn that he was never coming back.
“There, now, you’ve got some color back in your cheeks. You’ve been looking so pale these last few days that I’ve been worried about you.”
Anna smiled at Charles. Really, with his upright military bearing and even features, he was a handsome man. How had she let Julian’s devilish attraction blind her to one whose charm might not be as flashy but was certainly far more sincere?
“You shouldn’t worry about me. But it is kind of you to be concerned.”
He looked at her then, swiftly, his hazel eyes narrowed. “It’s very easy to be kind to you.”
“You’re a nice man, Charles.”
“I’m glad you think so. But I don’t know about ’nice.’ Sounds rather boring.”
Anna shook her head. “Not boring. Safe.”
“Do you want to be safe, Anna?” The question was a throwaway, almost too casual. Anna deliberately let the nuances pass her by.
“I suppose everyone wants to be safe,” she replied lightly.
“Anna.” To her surprise and dismay he reined in his horse. When the buggy had rocked to a stop he turned to her. “I had not meant to speak of this for a while yet, but it’s been a year now that you’ve been alone, and I—I’m lonely too. Chelsea needs a father, and my children need a mother. And you need to be taken care of. You’re very young and would no doubt like other children—”
“Charles—” Anna tried to interrupt, only to be stopped herself by an upheld hand.
He smiled a little crookedly at her. “Let me speak my piece or I’ll never get it said. I suppose I’m doing this badly. What I’m getting at, of course, if that I’d be more than honored if you would consider marrying me.”
“Oh, Charles.” There was an ache in her voice. Wouldn’t life be simple if she could love this good man? If she could give her life and Chelsea’s into his hands in the sure knowledge that they both would be cared for and cherished? But she knew even as she wished things were otherwise that she must refuse. She liked Charles, respected him, enjoyed his company. But she did not love him. Not in the sweet, gentle fashion in which she had cared for Paul, or with the explosive passion that she tried her best not to feel for Julian. Whoever said half a loaf was better than none was wrong, at least when it came to men. If she could not have the man she wanted, then she was better off with no man at all.
He sighed. “I see you mean to refuse me. Well, I expected it. It’s too soon, I know. But perhaps in time …?”
He looked so hopeful that Anna had not the heart to deny him.
“Perhaps,” she said gently.
“I’ll say no more, then. For now.”
Charles, gentleman that he was, smiled gamely at her, lifted his hands, and clucked to the horse. And true to his word, he said no more on the subject for the remainder of the ride, but was instead as pleasant and undemanding a companion as he had been before.
When they arrived back at the Big House, Charles accompanied Anna inside as a matter of course. Without having to be asked, Raja Singha materialized with a tray of tea, which Charles was pleased to take with Anna in the parlor. They chatted desultorily about commonplaces. Anna was grateful to discover that Charles apparently did not mean to let his unanswered proposal stand in the way of their normal easy friendship. They finished at last, and Charles stood up to take his leave. Smiling at some quip he’d made, Anna rose, too, to see him to the door. The movement brought her so close to him that her skirt brushed the shiny calves of his boots. Looking down at the delicate black silk of her gown where it billowed against the smooth leather, Charles appeared suddenly shaken. He drew in a breath, turned toward her, and took her hands in both of his.