Green Eyes

by Karen Robards

  Glancing at her, he seemed to hesitate.

  “Go on,” Anna encouraged, fascinated.

  He chewed on his blade of grass. “I was clever and quick with my hands, and, the most essential point of all, starving: I became a thief. At first I stole food, and then I picked pockets. I even tried my hand at rolling drunks, which, by the way, is how I met Jim. But I’d seen too much violence in the navy to have the stomach for that lay, so I switched to breaking into rich men’s houses.”

  His eyes flickered to Anna’s face, and he seemed to be trying to judge just how shocked she was. After a moment he continued. “By day I worked as footman for a certain countess whose name I won’t mention. At night I robbed her friends. Eventually the countess and I parted company, and I invested the money I had accumulated in a gambling hell. It did well, and I ended up owning half a dozen.” He smiled wryly. “Then my father died, I tried to retrieve the emeralds that my mother had supposedly taken from her family to serve as her dowry, and the rest you know. Sheer folly.”

  There was a great deal he was leaving out, she knew. Although he had glossed over it, the pain he had felt at his father’s rejection had been evident. Just as she had the night when he had first revealed some small bit of his past to her, Anna felt a flash of sorrow for the young boy he had been. It must have hurt dreadfully to feel that he had no place in the world, and no one who wanted him.

  “There you go, feeling sorry for me again.” Julian sat up and flicked her nose with the blade of grass. “You’ve a soft heart, Green Eyes. It’s liable to get you into trouble.”

  “It must have been hard, to see Graham and Paul—your brothers—growing up with things you never had.” Such as their father’s love, Anna thought, although she didn’t say it.

  “Believe me, it quite broke my heart. Would you like to kiss me to make it all better?” His tone was flippant, perhaps to conceal the fact that she had touched on a very real truth.

  Then he leaned forward, eyes closed and lips puckered as if for a kiss. He looked so ridiculous that Anna had to laugh. She pulled a handful of grass and threw it at him, then jumped to her feet before he could retaliate.

  “What, no kiss?” he mourned, rising easily to stand beside her. He looked down at her, his expression teasing, but whatever he might have meant to say or do was lost as Chelsea ran up to them waving her wreath of flowers.

  “For you, Mama.”

  “Thank you, chicken.” Anna accepted the gift and placed it on her head. Chelsea giggled and caught her mother’s hand. After that, all chance for any further private discourse with Julian was lost.

  XX

  Several weeks previously Hillmore had taken up residence in the overseer’s cottage, which had needed much restoration as it had been empty for years. At first he had met with Anna daily to discuss his plans for Srinagar and his progress in dealing with the myriad problems that arose as the remaking of the plantation got under way. But after a fortnight passed in which he failed to call on her even once, Anna finally was driven to send for him. He appeared in the dining room, hat in hand, after the family had finished eating. Julian, who hated the curry that was almost always the main portion of the evening meal, had already excused himself. Jim never took his meals with them, preferring to eat alone in his room, and Chelsea and Kirti had eaten earlier in the nursery, so only Anna and Ruby, who lingered chatting over a cup of tea, were present when Raja Singha ushered Hillmore in. He stood just inside the doorway, looking faintly uneasy, while Raja Singha announced his presence. Then, as Raja Singha disappeared, duty done, he stepped forward.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Traverne. Mrs. Fisher.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Hillmore. Won’t you join us in a cup of tea?” Anna smiled at the overseer, who looked only slightly less uncomfortable than before as he shook his head.

  “Thank you, ma’am, but no.”

  The reason for his unease was simple, Anna knew: Ceylon was a class-conscious society. The Hindus, the Muslims, the Tamils, even the Veddahs, all had their own rules about caste, which were strictly adhered to. The English community, while not as rigid as the natives, nevertheless drew invisible lines among such of their countrymen as overseers, governesses, tutors, and the gentry. Hillmore might take a cup of tea in the parlor on the occasion of his first visit to Srinagar, but to sit down at table with the lady of the house was too familiar. Anna, understanding, stood up.

  “Excuse me, Ruby.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’ll just finish off my tea, then go along upstairs. That weasel Jim bet me a monkey ’e could beat me at whist.” Ruby smiled wickedly.

  “I mean to take ’im up on it. A little extra blunt never comes amiss, after all.”

  “Don’t fleece him too badly,” Anna teased, trying to ignore the little voice that whispered that Ruby, like Chelsea, whom Julian had apparently completely enslaved, was going over to the enemy. And this despite all Ruby’s protestations of dislike for the intruders in their midst! She and Jim bickered like children, but Anna had noticed that she spent more than a few of her evenings playing with Julian’s henchman at games of chance. Actually, to be fair, Anna supposed Jim and Ruby had a great deal in common, seeing that they were both Cockney born and bred, and wise in the ways of London’s streets in a fashion that Anna could only guess at. Of course it was natural that Ruby, who was in the awkward position of being a step above servant class but not quite one of them either in the eyes of the local gentry, should be lonely sometimes. Still, Ruby was her only ally, and it was galling to watch her being won over by a handsome face and charming smile on one hand, and a deft hand for cards on the other.

  There was no time for further reflection on the subject. Anna dismissed the disgruntling thought, then led the way to the parlor with Hillmore following.

  “Will you have a chair, Mr. Hillmore?”

  Raja Singha, efficient as always, had already lit the lamps. Gesturing to a chair, Anna made her way to the sofa and sat down. Hillmore sat, too, and looked at her inquiringly.

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Traverne?”

  Anna smiled, hoping to put the man at his ease. Clearly he’d been remiss in not having briefed her of late, but if he’d been working so hard that he hadn’t felt he could spare half an hour at the end of the day for a chat with his employer, then far be it from her to berate him. She wanted a hardworking overseer, and she had hoped and expected that one day he would get to the point where he was running the show without discussing any but the most major decisions with her. Only she had not expected that day to come quite so quickly.

  “I just wondered how things are going, Mr. Hillmore.”

  He looked relieved. “Very well, ma’am. I’m having the acreage cleared that we spoke about, and I’ve ordered the orange pekoe plants—”

  “Just a minute, Mr. Hillmore.” Anna’s voice was suddenly sharp. “The last time we spoke I thought we agreed to think about that for a while before we took any action. I hope you haven’t gone ahead without my approval.”

  Hillmore frowned. “As to that, Mrs. Traverne, Mr. Chase gave his approval. I—it didn’t occur to me that the two of you might not be in accord.”

  This disclosure left Anna speechless for a brace of seconds.

  “Have you been reporting to Mr. Chase this past fortnight?” she asked, careful not to let her indignation show. After all, it was not the overseer’s fault that the arrogant, impossible intruder had usurped her authority. But that Julian Chase should dare interfere— Anna felt her indignation boil over into good, old-fashioned wrath. Srinagar was not his!

  “Yes, ma’am. When he’s been available, of course.” Hillmore sounded unhappy. “He—I—he said I shouldn’t be bothering you with problems with the estate, that while he was here he meant to take as many burdens as he could off your shoulders.”

  “Oh, did he?” Despite Anna’s best efforts, there was an acidic edge to her words. Before the constraints she was placing on her temper could give way, she got to her feet. Hillmore rose too,
turning his hat in his hands.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Traverne, if I’ve done wrong, but I thought—”

  “That’s quite all right, Mr. Hillmore. There has been a misunderstanding about exactly who is in charge here at Srinagar, but it is in no way your fault. And of course my—brother-in-law—meant only to spare me. Nevertheless in future I would like to be kept informed. Shall we agree to meet two evenings a week, in the office? Will that be satisfactory with you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And like I said, I’m sorry for the problem.”

  Anna smiled. She was getting good at smiling when she absolutely, positively didn’t feel like it.

  “Don’t give it another thought, Mr. Hillmore. As you’ve already started clearing the fields for the orange pekoe, of course you must proceed. But we’ll discuss it more—next Tuesday, shall we say? At seven, in the office.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Hillmore, realizing that he was being dismissed, looked relieved. Anna called Raja Singha to see him out.

  When the overseer was gone, the anger she had been holding at bay erupted.

  “I’ll kill him!” she muttered under her breath. Raja Singha, passing, paused. “Memsahib?”

  “Nothing, Raja Singha,” Anna assured him hastily, and was relieved when he seemed to accept that and went on about his duties. Really, although she knew he was totally loyal to herself and Chelsea, at times Raja Singha could be almost spooky.

  But that was neither here nor there. Anna straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and went in search of Julian Chase.

  XXI

  The door to his bedchamber was closed. Anna tapped smartly on the heavy teak panel. No answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no answer. So she did something that ordinarily she would not have considered: she opened the door and stuck her head in.

  The room was empty. The oil lamps were lit, reflecting in cozy pools off the freshly whitewashed walls. The green silk curtains were drawn, shutting out the night. The half-tester bed with its elaborate hangings in the same shade of green as the curtains was turned down, ready for its occupant-to-be. Of course, the maids would have done that, and closed the curtains, as they did for each resident of the house every night. Of Julian there was no sign.

  The room was orderly, with only a pair of dusty boots left beside the bed to mar its neatness. The doors of the huge mahogany wardrobe were firmly shut. The shaving stand was wiped clear of any soap residue, and the giltwood chair in the corner was free of discarded clothes. Grudgingly Anna had to admit that she couldn’t fault Julian on his personal habits. From the appearance of his room he was as fastidious as she was, which she would not have expected.

  Her nostrils caught a faint whiff of something: cigar smoke? She sniffed, then sniffed again.

  “Is anyone in here?” she called, taking a step inside. Her eyes told her that the answer was no, but she thought she could almost feel his presence.

  Still, when he answered she jumped.

  “Anna? Is that you?”

  The muffled reply came from another room. Of course, the dressing room. Although she hadn’t noticed it before, as it was partially hidden behind the wardrobe, the door was slightly ajar. Good! She wanted to say her piece while she was still angry.

  Anna closed the bedroom door behind her with a snap and marched across the room, her posture militant, to fling the door of the dressing room back on its hinges.

  She froze, mouth falling open, eyes widening with shock.

  Julian Chase stood before her, as naked as the day he was born, clearly on the verge of stepping into a steaming bath!

  “Dear God!” Anna squeaked, as the full enormity of what she was seeing struck her, and screwed shut her eyes. “How dare you tell me to come in? You-”

  “I didn’t,” Julian interrupted placidly. There was a splash followed by the sound of water sloshing. Clearly he had lowered himself into the tub.

  “You most certainly did! You said …” Anna’s voice trailed off as she recalled exactly what he had said. To give the devil his due, he had not precisely told her to come in. On the other hand, he certainly had not told her not to!

  “I said, ’Is that you?’ ”

  Just because he was right did not make Anna feel any more charitable toward him.

  “Any gentleman—”

  “Ahh, but I’m not a gentleman. I thought we had agreed on that.”

  Anna ignored him. “… would have given warning that he was not decent. You—”

  “But then, I hardly expected you to come barging into my dressing room, did I? And for God’s sake, either open your eyes or go away. You look idiotic standing there like that. You’re no green girl. You surely saw your husband naked, and basically we’re all alike. Just small variations of size and shape, you know.”

  Unbidden came the thought that, in the case of Paul and this man, the differences were large, not small. Then Anna felt herself flushing at her own wayward thoughts. Julian was physically a far bigger man than Paul had been. Of course his …But she refused to carry the comparison to its obvious conclusion. Even to think about a man’s appendage was shaming. While as for dwelling on its size … !

  “Now why are you blushing?” He sounded as if he were hugely enjoying her discomfiture. Anna realized she was being laughed at, and the knowledge gave her the courage to open her eyes.

  As she gave him a wary glance, she saw that his vital parts were modestly obscured by the water. If she tried very hard, of course, she might be able to see his—his limbs through the translucent surface, but she had no intention of trying. Anyway, suds would soon provide more coverage; he was working a cake of soap between his hands, raising a thick white froth of foamy lather.

  “You mean you’re not going to run away? My dear sister-in-law, you shock me.” The look he gave her was mocking. The blue-black eyes laughed at her, although his mouth never smiled. The muscles on his arms rippled as he worked the soap; Anna was momentarily distracted by how very large and corded those muscles were. Although his lower arms were in the water from elbow to wrist, his upper arms bulged with every movement of his hands. Her eyes slid up to his shoulders, which appeared so wide when he was dressed. Naked, they were even wider, thick and solid-looking above a broad chest that was, as Anna had noted on the night of Chelsea’s nightmare, covered with a thick wedge of black hair.

  Anna was conscious of a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to touch that wet pelt, to see whether it felt coarse or silky against her fingertips, to discover for herself whether it could possibly be as springy as it looked.

  When she realized what was happening to her, and that she was staring as if mesmerized at his bare chest, she jerked her eyes away. Her cheeks flushed hotly, and she realized that they must be bright scarlet.

  If he had not smiled then, a nasty, knowing smile, she would have fled.

  “Look all you want,” he said, completing her mortification. “I don’t mind.”

  Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. It was all she could do not to clap her hands over them. He lounged back in the tub, idly rubbing the bar of soap over his chest, and. grinned at her.

  “You could join me, if you like,” he suggested softly, his eyes never leaving her. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Whether it branded her as a coward or not Anna didn’t care. She knew suddenly that she had to get away, that very instant. The allure of the naked man in the tub was so strong that she felt it like a physical ache inside her.

  Surely she was not tempted to do as he invited and join him? The very thought was horrifying.

  But it was also, a tiny voice inside her whispered, the most disturbingly erotic notion she’d ever had in her life.

  “I have something important to discuss with you. When you’re finished here, please come down to the office. We can talk there.” She started to turn on her heel.

  “When I finish here I’m going to bed,” he said, stopping her. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, then wished she hadn’t. He was soa
ping one hard-muscled leg; his knee and part of a powerful, hair-roughened thigh were clearly visible above the water.

  “It’s very important,” she managed to say firmly, tearing her eyes away from what he was doing with an effort. Really, what was wrong with her? Paul had been modest, but she had seen him in his bath. Never, ever, had the sight made her throat go dry, or her heart speed up, or her mind reel with lascivious pictures of forbidden pleasures. But then, of course, Paul had been her husband and a gentleman. And Julian Chase was certainly neither!

  “If it’s truly important you can wait for me in my bedroom. Otherwise, it’ll have to keep till morning.”

  He sounded unconcerned. Anna bit her lip, careful to keep her eyes averted from any part of him below his black-stubbled chin, and decided.

  “I’ll wait then. But please hurry. And …” How to phrase a request that he be decently covered when he emerged? She couldn’t think of a dignified way to put it.

  “And?”

  “Never mind,” Anna said crossly, giving up. “Just hurry.”

  She turned her back on him and walked into the bedroom, where she perched on the very edge of the giltwood chair and tried not to picture what he must be doing in the dressing room.

  When he emerged, some ten minutes later, Anna was relieved to see that he had at least had the decency to don a dressing gown. More elegant than the clothes he wore by day, it was of dark brown silk corded in gold. It covered him almost to his ankles. Of course, a large vee of black-haired chest was left on view, as were his ankles and bare feet, but still, considering, Anna felt fortunate. She had been half afraid that he would walk in here as bare as a babe.

  “Now what was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?” He carried a lit cigar, which he stuck in his mouth. Anna realized that one like it had been tamped out on a dish beside the bath, although the situation had so befuddled her that she had barely noticed. Funny, she had never seen him smoke before. Perhaps it was something he did only at night.