With a loop trap, he snagged a female goat, dragging the obstinate bleating creature through the jungle to the garden’s edge. Alexandra was on her knees, weeding.
The goat’s cries caused her to raise her golden head. She clapped her hands. “Nicholas, you astonish me with your cleverness. How perfect to have a nanny goat to milk and to make cheese and puddings.”
He never tired of her exclamations. She made him feel like an emperor—and over a silly goat.
He was free of the awkwardness that comes of the mismatching of two people who are not suited to be together. As with Lady Susannah Tomkins.
He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. He had promised his father he would marry Lady Susannah Tomkins. If his father were alive, he’d have to honor his wishes.
Alexandra took the tether from him, her hands warm upon his. He jerked back.
She blinked. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” he said, harsher than necessary.
She tied the goat in the shade of a Poinciana tree. Flower petals had fallen, creating a thick bright orange carpet on the earth, and like a painting, framed a magnificent backdrop for Alexandra. So happy with her simple gift, she cooed to the beast, calming the animal with her words. Like she did with him.
Nicholas exhaled, so many contrasts between Alexandra and his fiancée. Lady Susannah would be horrified with such an offering. Nicholas’ nerves grew taut. He clenched his jaws. To be yoked to a shallow woman satisfied with nothing less than jewels, furs, and the finest of clothes, left a sour taste in his mouth.
“I like your idea of trying different plantings. I think your experimentation will give us a greater yield, Nicholas. I can’t wait to see the results.”
Alexandra’s enthusiasm was infectious. She took joy in what he found important, embracing the simplest things and making every occurrence of every day worth remembering.
Next to Alexandra, Lady Susannah’s negative traits magnified. Would Lady Susannah talk about crop rotation? No. She’d yawn, look him up and down with disdain, and then nag him to accompany her to the next ball, tea or entertainment.
He had seen Lady Susannah’s sharp tongue toward her servants, giving criticism and instruction rather than praise, even taking a riding crop to a groom who had not helped her dismount quickly enough.
On one occasion, he had business to attend for his father, and was therefore unable to escort her to an opera. How she loved to play the martyr, insisting he reward her tenfold. From his sister and friends, he had learned of Lady Susannah’s, constant checking of his whereabouts, and then venting to others, making him look like a fool. He had chosen to be oblivious to all of this…until now.
Nicholas’s mind spun, torn between wanting to stay here and continue the pleasant life he and Alexandra enjoyed together, or return to England and take up the mantle his father commanded—if the opportunity ever came to get off the island.
Alexandra’s lineage was nebulous, unproven and would be impossible to verify, a result of Lady Ursula, covering her crime well. His father, if alive, would demand an authentic pedigree.
“If we are going to the top of that mountain, we better make the rest of our daylight.”
“Is that so?” She laughed and patted the goat as it dunked its head into the bucket for a drink. “I suppose we have worked hard enough that we can spare some time off.”
Nicholas slung the Brown Bess and powder horn over his shoulder, and then picked up a machete. The animal path lay dubious and uncertain through thick jungle, leading them through another bamboo forest. Beneath the lush canopy of gleaming leaves, reached snatches of sunlight and sky. They ducked beneath a myriad of roots of an ancient banyan tree and arrived at an open clearing where large spherical fruits hung.
“A calabash tree, Nicholas. My father brought these gourds to England. We can scrape and dry out the fruits, making vessels that will make excellent transports for water when we explore.”
He marked trees with his machete for the return trip. After an hour, he climbed to the top of an escarpment buffeted by winds and free of vegetation. To the south, lay the blue sea, like a huge left-handed glove worn by a Medieval knight, the thumb split from the hand. The eastern portion from which they inhabited, undulated with palms and rich verdant green, descending to a white sand beach. Contrasting to the west, or leeward side, were rolling meadows. The northern division was steeped with wretched sharp cliffs that fell straight to the sea.
“Everywhere we are surrounded by water and confirms we are on an island.” Nowhere was the landscape so breathtaking. To be on top of the world. He turned around to see her reaction. She was just as taken as he was. He stretched his hand to hers.
When she clasped her palm to his, a current of awareness shot through him with a sweet wash of sensation, like a thousand springs in bloom. A sweetness he had no business feeling, though it brought him a gentle peace. He didn’t remember pulling her up beside him. Suddenly, she was standing right next to him and the softness of her arm pressed against his.
“I’m king of this island,” he roared over the echoing valley, jolting a pair of flapping egrets from their nests.
“I’m queen of this island,” she shouted after him. “And since you are the only male resident, I’ll allow you the title of king.”
He made an exaggerated bow. “I thank you for your generosity. Still, a compromise is in order. We will rule together, Lady Sutherland, guardians of all we survey.”
“On one condition,” she said seriously. “That we call this land, Alexandra Island. I’ve never had anything named after me.”
“Then we shall call it Alexandra Island.” He’d agree to anything she wanted.
“Isn’t it lovely, Nicholas?”
His gaze focused on her. How could he even concentrate? “Very.”
He tried to think of a woman of his acquaintance who would hike to the top of a mountain and never complain, finding every day a new adventure. None.
Her chest heaving from the exertion, she scanned the horizon. “There is so much to discover.”
Wishing swept through him as he studied her profile. Under no circumstances would he be less than mystified by her eyes, dark ringed with golden lights, mesmerizing, ever-changing from emerald to deep pools of turquoise and fringed with long lashes. Her nose was straight and perfect, and her lips always seemed to hold a hint of a smile.
The way her chin curved, so delicate, made him want to run the pad of his thumb along the angle to see if her bronzed skin, felt as soft as it looked. Her golden braid, reached to her hips. How many times had he resisted the urge to unplait the golden mass? Every time he gazed upon her, tenderness wrapped around him in ever-strengthening layers. He had a fondness for Alexandra, but he suspected she did not for him.
The sting pierced him, but he tried not to let it show. Never, not once had he caught her glancing his way in other than a sisterly fashion. She would be busy doing her everyday chores, chatting up a storm, yet did not notice him the way he desired.
Not that it wasn’t his fault. He had been clear about their relationship. Yet, to be alone with her day after day was taxing his reserve. To him, she was far above the price of rubies and he was totally captivated.
Chapter 9
Nicholas set aside the drilled calabash and washed his hands in the water bucket. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled the savory scent of roasted meat.
“What would I do without you?” she said, waiting in the doorway.
She had that way about her, like she expected lightning to play upon the waves when he did something. Hell, he’d hurl back the Thames to its source if she wanted it.
He scratched a wooden chair across the plank floor as he first seated her, and then himself, maintaining an unstated degree of civilization. Thick wild pork roast slices smothered in gravy with wild sugar yams were heaped on his plate. He helped himself to pink guava slices reminiscent of strawberries and pears combined.
Nicholas ate his fill and massaged his s
tomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a great meal.”
“Would you like some salt beef from the cask aboard the Santanas?” she teased him.
Nick eyed her ruefully. “You have a cruel streak. One sight of that muck they gave us would render me stiff as a lifeless rat.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I am sure your family had the finest of meals, prepared by the best of chefs, Nicholas.”
The way she said his name tugged at his heart. He liked everything about her—the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth when she concentrated, the care she took with everything, including the way she had sewn his torn shirt with confident stitches.
She rose from the table and moved toward a shelf. He drank in the sight of her. He didn’t know why she opened a place inside of him, a deep and vulnerable room he had not known was there.
She picked up a bowl and placed it on the table before him. Her long golden braid entwined with jasmine flowers lay over her breast, and she emanated a breathtakingly beautiful image of breeding and serenity.
“This is a surprise I made just for you since you have had to do without all the luxuries of home in England. Let’s see if this competes with one of your cooks. I used vanilla bean and goat milk to make a pudding.”
Nicholas dipped his spoon into the creamy mixture layered with honeyed bananas. He groaned, savoring the sweet concoction. “This side of heaven.” He scraped his bowl clean and when she bent to take his plates, he stayed her hand. “Let’s pretend we are not in a hurry and enjoy some leisure. Get the chess set out and I’ll teach you how to play.”
He helped her clear the dishes away, and then set-up the board. “I’ll go easy on you for the first couple of times until you get the gist of the rules. I was champion at Oxford. I am ruthless.”
She bit her lip. “Sounds complicated and formidable. I don’t know if I’ll make much of a sparring partner. I’ll have to pay close attention. And never defeated?”
“Except for my brother, Anthony. No one in England has bested him.” For the next several minutes, he described the moves and the importance of each piece. Noting Alexandra’s furrowed brow, he wondered if he was explaining the rules too quickly, but let it go because he had plenty of time to teach her. “Tell me about yourself, Alexandra.”
She gave a dainty little shrug. “There’s nothing remarkable to tell.”
Dappled light from the setting sun clung to her, crowning her in an aura of gold. “Enlighten me.” He wanted to know everything about her.
“Nothing extraordinary. A normal life where everyone scratched out a living by working hard and making ends meet.”
He moved his chess piece forward. He had decided a long time ago wealth did not equate to the goodness inside a person. Having money and privilege did not make someone better than those without. Alexandra’s strange history added to her charm and humility.
“You haven’t told me what we are playing for. If I win, I want to go to the shore tomorrow…and cement our agreement that we call this place, Alexandra Island.”
He contained a snort. “Fair enough. If I win, you’ll serve me breakfast in my hammock.”
She countered by moving her rook. “When I get rescued, I’ll return to my village on the south shores of England.”
His throat constricted making it hard to breathe. To think she’d be far from London and even further from Belvoir…from him. He tucked that raw notion in the back of his mind. No ships had been seen and rescue was questionable. “Tell me about your village.”
She warmed to the topic. “To the south, fierce winds sweep across a moorland that stretches across barren granite. Wild ponies forage upon the heather that turns from a deep golden in winter to an endless variety of crimson, pinks and purple in the summer. To the north, a river flows into a deep blue harbor where my father kept his ship, and behind are hills of infinite green where sheep and cattle graze. I often walk the crags overlooking the sea. There the earth rises to heaven, life lingers like a last caress, and holds a breath of melody. The cliffs are my favorite place to go when I’m upset and want to think things through.”
Her hand fluttered over her heart.
“Go travel ‘mid the hills! The summer’s hand
Hath shaken pleasant freshness o’er them all.
Go, travel ‘mid the hills! There, tuneful streams—”
Nicolas finished for her.
“‘Are touching myriad stops, invisible;
And winds, and leaves, and birds, and your own thoughts,
Not the least glad in wordless chorus crowd.’”
“You are a fan of Milton.” She smiled.
“A Sea-Side Meditation. I had to memorize the poem in my youth.”
She gave a heavy sigh. “Molly was a healer. She gardened and grew medicinal herbs. People relied more on her healing skills than the local physician. Samuel retired from the sea, happy to live on his profits from the merchantman and pension due him from his earlier years, serving in His Majesty’s Navy.”
When Nicholas drew back surprised with that fact, she added, “Aboard the HMS Victory.
“Samuel and Molly loved each other very much. Often, I’d see knowing looks between them when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. Samuel told wonderful yarns. In our house, there was always love and laughter.”
He saw how Alexandra suffered tremendous guilt from Molly’s death, struggled underneath her smiling veneer. A tendril of her hair lifted as she looked off in the distance, remembering. How he wished he could wipe that sadness from her.
Best to keep the moment light-hearted. “What else can you share with me?”
“The people in my village were shopkeepers, farmers or fishermen, there was a miller, and blacksmith, much like many other villages in coastal areas of England. “Of course. Growing up in a small community there wasn’t much for entertainment.”
“There must have been some going’s on. My tenant’s homes were always a din of activity,” Nicholas said.
She fiddled with a vase, focusing on a bouquet of bright yellow hibiscus. He was swimming in a sea of awe. Men drowned in seas like that.
“Well…there was the butcher who cheated people by selling inferior meat and keeping his thumb on the scales.”
“Why do I have the impression there was retribution?”
She moved her castle. “I painted red dots on the butcher’s chickens and told him they had the pox.”
Nicholas laughed and moved his bishop, taking her pawn, thoroughly enjoying himself. In retaliation, she took his knight.
“Excellent,” he said.
“Are you complimenting my move or my retribution?”
“So, you believe in mischiefs?”
“You mean as a…concept?”
“No. Entirely in practice.”
“You want the short answer or the long one?”
She made another move and he frowned. “You may not want to make that move. It will free me to take your king.”
She shrugged. “You said this was a learning venture, did you not? Let’s see where it goes.”
“Suit yourself. The game will end early and I’ll require a plate of bananas, papaya and bread on my hammock as soon as the sun rises.”
“The subject is mischief, is it not?” She continued her story, keeping a little pantomime with her hands. “To dazzle the village children, I drilled a hole in an apple and put a beetle in it. I would wave my hands over the apple, divining my great power. The beetle moved the apple, lending credence to my potent magic.” She kept a straight face and then broke out in sheer merriment.
“Then there were the cantankerous sisters.”
There was nothing more contagious than her laughter. It didn’t even have to matter what they were laughing about. “Cantankerous?”
“Well, that wasn’t their name. There real name was Cornett like a horn blower and both none too bright. I mentioned them before.”
“When you compared my behavior to a nine-year old,” he said drily.
The pleasant fragrance of wood smoke drifted in the cottage from the beehive oven. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, watching her, enjoying his domestic surroundings. He caught her staring at his lips. She colored and looked away. His whole being was filled with wanting. It would be so easy.
“Samuel called them the village dragons. Molly warned me away, saying a ‘a goat’s business is not the sheep’s concern.’”
Alexandra clapped her hands on the table and leaned toward him, her face alive and animated. “Miss Gertrude tried to take you into her confidence, but beware, she had a tongue like a rapier. In truth, both ladies were such grand practitioners of their craft that you could furnish them with some solid tales, and in no time, the gossip spread like fire through a haymow, reaching everyone in the community.”
He liked how she made funny voices, mimicking the village shrews, a natural storyteller. “I’m sure you provided them with plenty of fodder.”
She rose while he made his move, groped for the tinderbox on the upper shelf. “I told the Cornett sisters’ the grocer had a special on pigeon’s milk and to drink it would restore their youth and vigor. Can you imagine the look on the grocer’s face when they asked him for pigeon’s milk?”
Alexandra scraped flint against steel. Click. Click. Click. The spark took hold on the candle wick, producing a solid flame. The shadows retreated to the corners of the room, lapping there like a diminishing tide. She dropped the tinderbox and made another move that was against his earlier instruction. She’d never learn the game at this rate. She was so enthused talking about the villagers that she didn’t realize how distracted she had become. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she would lose. “So, the Cornett sisters were the recipients of your deeds?”
Only You: Duke of Rutland Series III Page 9