“Don’t you dare threaten me!” Like Julian, Anna abandoned all pretense of civility. She sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes flashing at him.
“Oh, I’ll dare a lot more than a mere threat. Put me to the test and see.”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Then you’ve got the sense of a peahen.” His hands clenched for a moment over the footrail of the bed, then, as if he had just become aware of the gesture, were forcibly relaxed. “The carriage will be ready at six. And so shall I expect you to be.”
“Expect all you like. I won’t be,” Anna threw after him as he turned and headed toward the door.
“On your own head be it, then,” he said, and walked on out the door.
XXXIX
D
ownstairs the clock chimed six. Anna, stubbornly ensconced in her bedchamber, heard the faint reverberations that marked the hour with nervous anticipation. At any moment she expected to hear Julian stomping along the corridor to fetch her, although she had absolutely no intention of permitting herself to be fetched.
She was not disappointed, His booted footsteps were quick, decisive, and impossible to mistake. Anna tensed as they paused outside her door, then smiled grimly as she watched the knob turn beneath his hand. What kind of fool did he think she was? Of course the door was securely locked.
Ruby, the coward, had refused to support her when, as Ruby put it, “all ’ell breaks loose,” so Anna was alone. Her back was very straight, her palms damp as she stared at the door. She’d been too nervous to remain in bed—and really, what was the point as Julian would not be able to get in to see her?—so she stood with her back to the window, her hands clasped in an unconsciously prayerful attitude between her breasts. Earlier she had exchanged her bedjacket for a sprigged cotton wrapper, which was caught beneath her breasts by a wide blue sash. Her hair was tied back at the nape with a simple blue ribbon. Satin slippers protected her feet. It was the attire of a lady who meant to spend the evening in her bedchamber, which was precisely what Anna meant to do.
The knob turned once more, futilely, and was followed by an imperative knock.
“Anna?”
“Go away!” She was proud of her voice. It was firm and cool.
“If you don’t open this door, right now, I’ll kick it down.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
Anna frowned. The door was of stout oak, the lock solid and strong. Surely he couldn’t knock it down—could he?
Before she could consider the matter further, the panel shivered as something crashed against it. The noise made Anna cringe. It would bring everyone in the house running.
She wanted no more witnesses to the war between herself and Julian!
“All right, I’m coming!” she cried as the panel shivered beneath his weight again. Quickly she crossed to the door, turned the key in the lock, and swung the door wide. Julian stood on the opposite side, dazzlingly handsome in the stark black and white of conventional evening wear, a scowl on his face, Anna scowled right back at him.
“Memsahib?” Raja Singha materialized in the hallway, his eyes sliding from Anna to Julian and back again without any readable expression. “Have you need of me, memsahib?”
For no more than a single moment Anna was tempted. But she did not wish to cause trouble for Raja Singha, and if he challenged Julian, trouble there would certainly be.
“No, I’m fine, Raja Singha,” she answered as pleasantly as she could. “Thank you.”
Under Raja Singha’s watchful gaze, she could not quarrel with Julian in the hall. Biting her tongue, Anna stood back to let him in. Julian brushed by her without a word, and she shut the door behind him.
The enemy had successfully stormed the castle; this particular battle was as good as lost. The idea of Julian triumphant put a militant spark in Anna’s eye. It intensified to a full-scale martial gleam when she turned back to him to discover that he was already at her wardrobe, withdrawing the green dress.
“I told you I’m not going!” The words were forceful, but she was careful to keep her voice down.
“Oh, yes, you are. Come here.”
When she still remained stubbornly by the door, her arms crossed defiantly over her breasts, he strode across the room to catch her by the arm. To her horror, he reached for the bow-tied sash to her wrapper, evidently meaning to strip her where she stood!
“Don’t you dare!” Panicked, she slapped at his hands, which were tugging at the ends of her sash. He paused, his fingers tangled in the loosened bow, and looked up to meet her eyes.
“You had your chance.” His voice was implacable. “Now get undressed. We’ll be late as it is.”
“I can’t—with you here.”
“You can and will. Or I’ll do it for you.” He tugged at the bow again, which finally came free. Her wrapper gaped, revealing her thin nightdress, and Anna quickly pulled it shut again.
“No!” She stepped quickly out of his reach, both hands holding her wrapper together over her bosom. The prospect of being forcibly stripped by him was worse than humiliating. Better to dress herself as he wished and preserve some dignity than to have him force her to his will. The swine!
“You win, all right? I’ll come with you. If you’ll leave, I’ll get dressed.” Her words were icy.
He actually laughed, but the sound was devoid of mirth. “Oh, no, my fine lady. You had your chance. I don’t trust you not to do something like climb out the window. You’ll get dressed with me in here—or I’ll dress you myself.”
“I hate you!”
“Very likely. Well?”
Anna knew when she was beaten. Fuming, she retreated behind the screen in the corner. As she removed her wrapper and nightdress, he tossed garments at her: a filmy white chemise landed on top of the screen, to be followed in rapid succession by two petticoats, stockings, and garters. It was demeaning to think of him pawing through her underwear, but he seemed to know just what a lady wore beneath her dress. Of course he would, the womanizing rogue!
Anna pulled the chemise over her head, then hastily stepped into first one petticoat and then the other. She didn’t trust him not to come barreling around the corner of the screen at any moment.
When her stockings were on, and she had tied her garters, she stood for a moment, biting her lip in indecision. Then she reached for her wrapper, slipped it on, and stepped from behind the screen.
Julian was lounging in the slipper chair that ordinarily sat before her dressing table. His booted feet were crossed at the ankles, his heels propped on her unmade bed. His black evening jacket had fallen open to reveal a black-and-gray striped waistcoat; his legs looked long and powerful, stretched out in their black breeches and shiny black boots. Above snowy linen and an impeccably tied cravat—really, she had never seen him so nattily turned out, although she would bite her tongue before she would tell him so!—his bronzed face with its expression of sardonic amusement was maddeningly handsome. As he surveyed her, brows lifted, Anna haughtily tilted her chin at him and proceeded to her wardrobe to extract what she needed from one of the small drawers in its bottom. Then she turned back to glare at him, the necessary addition to her attire wadded in her hands.
“If you’ll leave, and send Ruby or one of the maids to me, I’ll be ready in five minutes. I give you my word.”
He made a derisive sound, dropped his feet to the floor, and stood up.
“I didn’t know you wore a corset.” His eyes were on the garment bundled in her hand. “You never have before.”
Really, the man knew too much about the intimate details of female attire for common decency! Cheeks burning, Anna snatched up the green gown and marched back behind the screen.
“Would you please call Ruby?”
“And leave you to skulk in here for hours? Oh, no. If you need help, I’ll do it. I think you’ll find that I’m quite competent at acting the lady’s maid.”
“I don’t want your help!”
“I’ve even assisted more than one—uh—lady into her corset.”
“Well, you won’t assist me!”
But she might as well have been talking to herself. As Anna had feared, Julian came around the screen as casually as he might have strolled into the parlor. She had already removed her wrapper, and for a moment he merely studied her as she stood there in her flimsy undergarments, the unmentionable corset pressed to her bosom serving as a most ineffective shield from his gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and for a moment Anna feared she was about to be the recipient of some coarse comment that would be branded in her mind for life.
“Turn around,” was all he said. When she was slow to obey, he pulled the corset from her hands and turned her about himself, his hands on her shoulders. To her humiliation, he fitted it around her middle with an ease that could have been born of nothing short of experience, nestling the whale-boned edge up under her breasts with surprising deftness for so masculine a man. Or perhaps his very masculinity should have made his skill less surprising. No doubt he had performed much the same service for a legion of lovers before now!
“So why the corset?” he asked conversationally as he adjusted the strings.
“Because the dress needs it! I noticed when I tried it on before.”
“Too snug in the waist, eh? I had it cut to the measurements of one of your crow’s dresses—must be all the curry you’ve been eating at supper. Better watch it, sweetheart, or you’ll get fat.”
He was grinning, Anna could tell by the amusement lacing his voice. Her teeth gritted, but before she could respond he gave such a jerk on the strings that she gasped.
“Grab something and hang on.”
Humiliated, she barely had time to obey, gripping the windowsill tightly with both hands as he yanked at the lacings. Anna caught her breath, the circumference of the corset contracted violently—and then he was tying the ends into a firm knot before stepping back, mission completed.
Anna could barely breathe. She rarely wore a corset anyway, and certainly she had never worn one tied so tightly. Blackly she suspected the grinning devil of cinching her in as hard as he could on purpose—but she would suffocate before she would plead with him to make it looser.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked blandly, his eyes sweeping her from head to foot.
He
had
done it on purpose!
“What could be the matter?” she asked with forced sweetness, when what she really wanted to do was kick him in his leather-booted shin. “As you say, you’re an accomplished lady’s maid. Would you please hand me my dress?”
His brows rose, but he obligingly tossed her the green dress. Anna pulled it over her head, then presented her back to him.
“Do me up,” she said. She had herself well under control by this time, and it had occurred to her that she might be able to turn the tables on Mr. Julian Chase with a vengeance. So he would force her to attend the Noack woman’s party, would he? He’d see who would live to regret that!
As Julian deftly fastened the hooks at the back of her dress, Anna began to smile.
“Is something funny?” He gave her a narrow-eyed look as he followed her from behind the screen. Silk skirts rustling, Anna stopped before the dressing table to brush and pin up her hair. She looked lovely, she had to admit: the green dress lent her a shimmering beauty that made her resemble something out of a fairy tale. Looming behind her, Julian’s dark-visaged handsomeness was a startling contrast: rather than Prince Charming, he reminded her of a brooding Hades, come to claim the virginal Persephone as his bride. The allusion sent a shiver through her, and for a moment the brush she was wielding faltered in mid-stroke. Then she recovered, consciously untangling her hair with slow, sensual strokes. Through the mirror, she could see the gradual darkening of his eyes as she at last twisted the silvery mass into a soft coil and pinned it atop her head. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression almost brooding, as he watched her screw a pair of dangling opalescent earbobs into her ears.
“You look beautiful,” he said, taking a step forward to rest his hands on her milky bare shoulders. His eyes met hers in the mirror. Anna felt a momentary rush of heat at the hard warmth of his hands on her skin—and immediately forced it back.
If he thought he could order her about, manhandle her, bend her to his will, and then have her melt into his arms, he was sadly wrong.
Tonight she meant to teach him a sorely needed lesson. In fact, she could hardly wait to begin!
“Shall we go?” she said coolly, slipping out from under his hands and turning toward the door.
With a spurt of satisfaction, she saw that he was frowning as he followed her.
If she had anything to say about it, he would have far more to frown about before they concluded this night!
XL
A
ntoinette Noack lived in an English-style stone plantation house some forty-five minutes by buggy from Srinagar. Her much-older husband had made a fortune in cinnamon before obligingly dying and leaving his wife everything he owned. Everyone had expected her to sell up and return to England, but so far she hadn’t. It was whispered that she stayed because in England she was naught but a barmaid’s daughter, while in Ceylon she was accorded the respect due a lady.
Whatever the reason, her plantation, Spice Hill, was the best producer of cinnamon on the island. She was rich as a nabob, pleasing of appearance with her smooth, dark brown hair, plump bosom, and corseted waist, and well-mannered enough to pass as well-bred.
In fact, the lady was quite a catch for any gentleman hopeful of improving his lot in life by combining his worldly goods with those of a wife. That fact should not have lessened the warmth of Anna’s smile as Antoinette hurried to greet her, but it did. Or maybe it was the warmth of Julian’s smile at his hostess that chilled her own.
“My dear Anna, I’m so pleased that you could join us! I certainly would have understood if you had not quite recovered from your dreadful ordeal—but I see you have, and in splendid looks, too! That’s a gorgeous dress!”
“Thank you.”
Antoinette was already turning to Julian, who greeted her with a slow smile guaranteed to raise the temperature of any female over ten and under ninety. It certainly raised Anna’s temperature, although certainly not in the way he had intended. Her back stiffened, and the smile she summoned for Antoinette froze.