Green Eyes

by Karen Robards

  “He’s not much like your late husband, is he? Oh, forgive me if the topic causes you pain, but after all you’ve been widowed nearly a year and so surely are well on the road to recovery. Mr. Chase is some years the elder of the two, is he not? How is it that he is not Lord Ridley?”

  Mrs. Noack leaned forward, greedy in her quest for information, so that the froth of lace outlining her bosom was in dire danger of being dipped in her cup of steaming tea. Her café-au-lait silk gown was far too elaborate for a mere neighborly call, but, as Anna understood perfectly well, the dress was intended as bait. And Julian was the fish it was intended to lure. Anna took a sip of her own tea, feeling mildly desperate. Her ability to prevaricate was not such that she could sustain such a conversation for long. But there was nothing for it but to answer as best she could.

  “He is Paul’s half-brother, and the title descended through their father,” she parried, hoping to imply without actually saying so that Julian was a product of an earlier marriage on the part of Paul’s mother. However much she currently disliked him, it wouldn’t do to pin the label of bastard on Julian. Besides, the resulting gossip would reflect badly, not just on Julian but on herself and Chelsea as well. After all, was he not living in their house as one of the family?

  “How old is Mr. Chase?”

  The direct question caught Anna off guard. It came as something of a shock to her to realize that she didn’t know.

  “Ah—he’s—um-you know, it’s very silly of me, but I have the most dreadful time keeping my own age straight, much less anyone else’s. Julian must be—um…”

  “I’m thirty-five,” a deep voice supplied from behind her. Thankful to be rescued, Anna turned to find Julian, still in his dusty travel clothes with his hat in his hand, coming around the end of the sofa. He smiled charmingly at Mrs. Noack, who simpered and held out a hand to him.

  “Mrs. Noack, this is Julian Chase. Julian, Antoinette Noack.”

  Julian shook hands briefly, then acknowledged the other introductions with a word and a charming smile. Finally he turned back to Anna. “That you don’t know my age wounds me. Next you’ll be telling me that you don’t remember my birth date.”

  Anna smiled sourly at this sally. “Won’t you sit down and join us?” If her voice lacked enthusiasm, it was, she told herself, because his clothes were filthy and she didn’t like him much anyway. It certainly was not because Antoinette and Eleanor were eyeing him with as much delight as two mice might a piece of cheese.

  “Thank you, I will. That is, if you ladies don’t object to me in all my dirt?” A lifted eyebrow accompanied this query. Anna’s silence was overridden by enthusiastic disclaimers from the others. With a single sidelong look at Anna—he was laughing at her, she was willing to swear—he pulled a chair up beside the sofa and proceeded to charm the ladies effortlessly. Anna was not sure precisely how it came about, but soon Eleanor had claimed Anna’s own place on the sofa. Anna had only stood for a moment to offer more tea to Helen and Charles.

  “Your brother-in-law will soon find himself leg-shackled if he doesn’t watch out,” Charles said jovially as Anna refilled his cup. Helen tapped him smartly on the arm.

  “You gentlemen think that we females have nothing on our minds but marriage,” she reproved him as Anna refilled her cup, too, before bowing to the inevitable and taking Eleanor’s vacated seat. Then Helen turned to Anna. “Tell me, how is it that Mr. Chase is not a Traverne? I know he is Paul’s brother, but I don’t understand the precise nature of the relationship.”

  Anna felt her heart sink. She was going to have to lie; there was no help for it. And lying was something she absolutely hated to do.…

  “Anna, will you be a sweetheart and refill my cup? Forgive me for interrupting your conversation, but my throat is positively parched.” Across the room Julian lifted his cup.

  “Of course.” Anna got to her feet with rather more alacrity than the request called for. She was so thankful to be rescued that she could not refrain from smiling at him as she poured his tea. He grinned back at her, his eyes midnight blue and devilish. For a moment it was as if they shared a delicious secret. Then Antoinette said something to Julian, and the spell was broken. But, like his confidences the night of Chelsea’s nightmare, that moment of communion touched a chord in Anna. For that brief time it was almost as if they were friends.

  Her friendly feelings for Julian dissipated rapidly over the course of the next two weeks. The stream of callers was never ending. Most annoying of all were Eleanor Chasen and Antoinette Noack, who, hot on the trail of an eligible male, called almost every day. What really irked Anna was that Julian was making not the slightest effort to discourage the attentions of either of the ladies. In fact, he seemed to enjoy watching them make fools of themselves over him.

  One afternoon, after a particularly blatant display, the annoyance finally got the best of her.

  “You’re hanging out for a rich wife!” she accused after Antoinette had taken her long-overdue leave.

  “Am I?”

  Julian was in the hall, having just seen the comely caller into her carriage, when Anna, seething over the treacly exchange she had just been forced to witness, confronted him. The look he gave her was inscrutable. Indeed, lately Anna had found him inscrutable, polite but distant. The rogue who had admitted to being caigy and accused her of the same had vanished, to be replaced by a cool, if civil, stranger.

  Anna, as distrustful of him in this mood as she had been when he hadn’t troubled to keep his hands off her, tried to convince herself that his changed attitude was a gift from the gods and she should be thankful for it. At least she was no longer in danger of being bowled over by his charm. But her annoyance at his obvious enjoyment of Srinagar’s single lady callers was such that she could no longer keep her tongue between her teeth.

  Just why his behavior should disgruntle her so was something she preferred not to face. She told herself that it was only because he, whom she knew for a thief and a fraud, was taking blatant advantage of guests under her roof. Any other motive for her anger she flatly refused to consider.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself! At least Mrs. Noack is a reasonable age, but Eleanor Chasen is only eighteen years old!”

  In the face of this attack Julian’s eyebrows rose, his expression unreadable as he studied Anna’s indignant face. His voice had a light tone that merely fed the fire of Anna’s anger.

  “But Miss Chasen is very lovely, you must agree. With that curly hair and those almond eyes, to say nothing of her shape, she doesn’t need to be wealthy to have a man pay attention to her. As for the fair Antoinette, far be it from me to cast aspersions on a lady’s character. I will only say, and I am being so frank because you’re a widow yourself, that the lady is definitely ripe for the plucking.”

  Anna’s eyes widened at this unlooked-for frankness. Then her mouth clamped tightly shut, and she glared at him.

  “There’s no need to be vulgar.” There was enough dignity in her voice to depress the most pretentious. Unfortunately, it seemed to be wasted on him. Those blue-black eyes smiled at her, and then his mouth followed suit. The cad wasn’t even bothering to suppress his amusement!

  “I’m not being vulgar, I’m being honest. The lady needs a man, and unlike some she’s not ashamed to admit it. Most women who’ve been married and widowed, being of flesh and blood themselves, prefer a flesh-and-blood man to memories. A memory is not a satisfying thing to take to bed, as, after a year without sex, I’m sure you’ve discovered.”

  Anna’s mouth fell open. “How dare you speak so to me!” she cried.

  “Offended by a little plain speaking, are you?” he asked dulcetly. “Then next time perhaps you should think twice before you question my motives. Whatever my plans are, they’re certainly no concern of yours—my dear little sister.”

  “I am not your sister,” Anna said through her teeth. “Nor your sister-in-law. Even if you are Paul’s half-brother—which I beg leave to tell you that I s
trongly doubt—I refuse to acknowledge a connection with such a dyed-in-the-wool scoundrel!”

  “Do you indeed, milady Green Eyes?” he returned mildly. But the despised name reminded Anna of her own misdeeds, and she felt immediately self-conscious. He took in her discomfiture with every evidence of enjoyment, then suddenly smiled down at her.

  For all her dudgeon, Anna was not impervious to the sheer charm of that smile. The midnight-blue eyes held a disarming sparkle, as if inviting her to join in the joke, and his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. They were so close that he seemed to loom over her. Her neck hurt from looking up at him. His gypsy black hair was disordered, his skin swarthier than ever since its exposure to the Sinhalese sun, and his dress—shirtsleeves and breeches, without so much as a cravat—was so careless as to invite reproach. But despite all these defects, there was no denying that he was a magnetically handsome man. As soon as it appeared, Anna resolutely banished the thought, but it lodged somewhere in the back of her mind like a particularly tenacious burr.

  “Why don’t you relax that ramrod-stiff spine and enjoy life a little?” he asked unexpectedly, reaching around her to trail his fingers along the bone he maligned. Drawing in a quick, startled breath, Anna stepped out of reach. He made no move to come after her, but stood with hands on hips, regarding her with his head cocked to one side.

  “While we’re exchanging these personal observations, don’t you think it’s about time you threw out those hideous crow’s dresses. I, for one, am sick of looking at them, and it can’t do your little girl any good to be constantly reminded that her papa’s dead. For God’s sake put on something pretty and get on with your life.”

  “My husband has been dead less than a year!”

  “He’s dead. You’re not,” Julian replied, the smile quite vanished from his face. “Hell, why didn’t you just jump in the grave with him and be done with it? Actually, if you think about it, the real thing might have been preferable to the living death you’ve imposed on yourself all these months.”

  “You don’t know anything about it!” Anna cried, stung. “I loved Paul—”

  “Thank God I don’t,” he interrupted ruthlessly. “I wouldn’t want to know anything about the kind of love that condemns a pretty young woman to a life as cold and barren as her husband’s grave!”

  Before Anna could begin to fashion a reply, he brushed past her without so much as a word of excuse or apology and headed toward the stairs.

  Turning without volition, she watched him go. His hair needed trimming, she noticed absently, but his shoulders in the thin white shirt were breathtakingly wide, his hips in their black breeches narrow in comparison, his legs long and powerful, and his bottom—Anna blushed to notice such a thing—as he took the stairs two at a time was taut and muscular.

  All in all, a heart-stoppingly attractive man, if a female cared for sheer raw masculinity. Fortunately, Anna didn’t. She much preferred a sensitive, courtly gentleman such as Paul had been.

  She did. She really did!

  And no matter what Julian said, she had no intention of leaving off her mourning clothes. If Julian Chase thought she looked like a crow in the high-necked, long-sleeved dresses, then that was to the good! She didn’t want him to think her pretty! She didn’t want him to think about her at all.

  But, a little voice whispered in her mind, was it possible that the unrelieved black really might be a constant reminder to Chelsea?

  Anna shook off the possibility. She was doing the proper-nay, the heartfelt-thing, in mourning her husband, and in mourning she would remain!

  Julian Chase be hanged!

  Still, for no reason other than a sudden curiosity to discover where he was going, she trailed him to the back of the house, when, some time later, she heard him walking down the hall. Stopping just inside the rear gallery, she watched him stride along the path to the fenced garden, where Chelsea greeted him with whoops of joy. Kirti, who had been tossing a ball for the child to catch, was immediately supplanted as playmate by “Uncle Julie.” From Kirti’s indulgent expression and Chelsea’s lack of inhibition in the presence of her uncle, Anna was left to conclude that this was a familiar occurrence.

  “The little one is fond of the sahib.” The voice, coming out of nowhere when Anna had thought herself alone, made her jump. She looked around to discover Raja Singha behind her, thoughtfully watching the trio in the garden.

  “Yes,” Anna managed to say, feeling absurdly disconcerted. Raja Singha always gave the impression that he knew far more than he was supposed to. It was foolish, Anna knew, but she almost felt that he could read her mind. And just when it had been occupied with thoughts that she herself would rather not acknowledge!

  “It is good for her to have a man in the Big House again.” Raja Singha’s eyes slid from the laughing trio to Anna.

  “Yes,” Anna agreed, and unbidden came the thought that the same might be said for herself. However angry Julian Chase made her, she had to admit that since he had arrived on her doorstep she had started feeling alive again.

  Before she could ponder that any further, Chelsea spied her mother on the gallery.

  “Mama, come and play!” she called.

  “Oh, no, I…” Anna began, flustered at the mere idea.

  “Please!” Chelsea beseeched, while Julian, the ball held negligently in his hands, grinned at her.

  He thought she would refuse to play because he was there! Chin up, Anna marched down the steps and into the garden, where Chelsea greeted her with a squeal and an excited hug.

  “Now we can play keep away from Mama, Uncle Julie.” Chelsea danced off. Julian, laughing, obediently tossed the ball to the child.

  “You’re supposed to try to catch it,” Chelsea reproved her mother, who’d done nothing but watch as the ball dropped into the little girl’s hands.

  “Sorry,” Anna apologized, and after that made an effort to enter the spirit of the game.

  A quarter of an hour later, laughing and winded, she collapsed in the shade of a spreading bo tree.

  “Mama, don’t stop!” Chelsea protested, tugging at her mother’s hand in a vain attempt to get her back on her feet.

  “Chicken, I need a rest,” Anna said, and flopped backward so that she was lying flat to illustrate her exhaustion.

  “Let your mama be.” Kirti, who had watched the antics with an indulgent smile, touched Chelsea on the shoulder. “She is tired. You and I, we will make a flower chain for her. You must find the nicest blossoms, and I will help you weave it.”

  “Would you like that, Mama?”

  Anna nodded and sat up. Chelsea darted away, Kirti following at a more sedate pace. Julian, who’d been retrieving the ball, which had ended their game by getting lost in a particularly dense section of undergrowth, came to drop down beside Anna.

  “I’m glad to know you’re not a coward.” He was sitting cross-legged, leaning toward her with a slanting smile. His eyes were dark blue in the brightness of the afternoon. He looked very handsome and surprisingly young with his hair tousled and his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal bronzed and brawny forearms.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Uncle Julie.” She made a mocking point of using Chelsea’s incongruously feminine pet name for him.

  He grinned, acknowledging a hit. “No, you’re not, are you? You never have been. You look like you’re made of spun sugar, but you’ve got unexpected bottom. I like that in a female.”

  Anna eyed him. “I’d be flattered, if I didn’t suspect there was an insult in there somewhere.”

  He laughed. “It’s a compliment, I promise.” Just as Anna had earlier, he stretched out on his back, his hands linked under his head. For a moment he stared pensively up into the interlacing branches above them. Then his eyes slid back to Anna.

  “Tell me something: how did you come to be married to Paul?”

  Anna was surprised by the question. “We’d known each other all our lives. It seemed natural to marry.”

  “Weren’t you rath
er young at the time?”

  “We were eighteen. My father had just died, and the vicarage was to go to his successor. And Paul’s father had decided to send him away on a Grand Tour. Paul didn’t want to go.”

  “So he married you instead.” There was a touch of dryness to Julian’s voice that immediately put Anna on the defensive.

  “We were very happy!”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  Nettled, she sought to turn the tables on him. “Since we’re exchanging life histories, perhaps you’d like to continue where you left off the other night. After you ran away from the navy.”

  “What I did next would shock you.” He rolled onto his side, lifting himself up on an elbow.

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “All right.” Idly he picked a blade of grass and chewed on the end. “I was raised a gypsy, you know. My grandmother brought me up. She was a grand old woman, very protective of me. She swore to her dying day that my mother would not have lain with a man out of wedlock, which meant that my parents must have been married for me to have been conceived. Mistaken or not, as a boy I accepted her word for it. I thought that those of the tribe who called me ’Anglo bastard’ meant the bastard part only in the most general terms. The gypsies despise children of mixed blood just as much as the Anglos do, and I was always being taunted about my parentage. Granny told me to be proud, that I was noble and the ones who tormented me no better than dogs. I had no idea that I was really illegitimate. You can imagine my shock when my uncle took me to Gordon Hall and I found out that, not only did my father not have any idea that I even existed, but that my mother had been his mistress, not his wife. He had a wife, and a legitimate son on whom he doted, and it was clear that he wanted only to be rid of me.”

  “He was a terrible old man!” Anna said.

  “He was, wasn’t he?” Julian smiled at her. “Anyway, after my granny died, there was no place for me with the Rachminovs. And no place for me with my father and his family. So when I escaped the clutches of the navy, I made my way to London. Much to my dismay, I discovered that I fared almost as badly there as I had in the service of His Majesty. Except that I was free.”