Green Eyes

by Karen Robards

  If she could not appear in her customary mourning, then she would not appear at all. And so she told Ruby when, on the morning of the second day, the other woman came to inform her that a seamstress was belowstairs to start work on her new wardrobe. Courtesy, of course, of Julian.

  “I have no intention of ordering new clothes,” Anna snapped. “And so you can tell that—” She broke off, thinking, then smiled. “On second thought, you may send her up. I will order something, after all.”

  Ruby regarded her thoughtfully, but if she had some inkling as to what was in Anna’s mind she didn’t argue. “I’d have a care what I was about were I you, lovey,” was all she said.

  Anna, defiant, ordered half a dozen new dresses made to her measurements—every single one in widow’s black.

  She would soon teach Julian Chase not to threaten her!

  Until the dresses were delivered—the woman promised them for five days hence—she would keep to her room. Then she would appear as before, and if Julian dared to lay so much as a finger on her, she would claw out his eyes.

  In the meantime, visitors descended upon Srinagar in such numbers that Anna was glad to be keeping to her room. The only fly in her ointment of satisfaction lay in imagining how pleased some of the female callers—she couldn’t call them ladies—must be to have a chance to have Julian to themselves. Of course, he was probably away from the house a great deal of the time, but she had no doubt that his particular favorites—such as Antoinette Noack—would manage to track him down. Doubtless they would pretend a great interest in the cultivation of tea for just that purpose!

  Along with the callers came invitations to dinner parties, musicals, literary evenings, and various other entertainments, addressed not only to Anna but to Julian as well. Although the plantations were spread out, they were not so far-flung as to make socializing impossible, and Anna’s neighbors were a sociable group. Before Paul had taken ill, they had attended parties several times a month. She had been to a few small gatherings since her return to Ceylon.

  But Anna declined all of the invitations. Her excuse was that she did not feel recovered enough to attend. The reality was far more complex: she was too confused about how she really felt toward Julian to want to be forced into interacting with him in a public setting, especially if everyone was whispering about his disposal of her mourning! And for the time being, of course, she had nothing suitable to wear.

  Then Julian, the high-handed swine, took it upon himself to accept an invitation for both of them.

  “What do you mean, he sent a note around to Antoinette Noack telling her that we would love to attend her supper party? He can speak for himself, of course, but I have no intention of going, and so you may tell him!”

  “Not me, lovey,” Ruby said. “You tell him.”

  “Well, I will.”

  Anna fetched writing paper and ink from the table by her bed and proceeded to scribble a note to Julian. Summoning Raja Singha, she asked him to please see that Julian received it as soon as he entered the house. Then, with a satisfied smile, she got into her nightdress and climbed into bed.

  She was feeling far too poorly to attend a party.

  Two hours later, Anna was propped comfortably on a mound of pillows in her bed, although it was still only mid-afternoon. She had a pile of scrap material beside her and was engaged in sewing a doll wardrobe as a surprise birthday gift for Chelsea, who would soon be six. Anna was working on a cunning little lace dress, and Ruby, who had drawn up a slipper chair to her bedside, was putting the hem in the matching cloak, when an all too familiar step echoed along the hall.

  “Uh-oh. Here comes trouble,” Ruby murmured to Anna.

  “Not at all,” Anna replied haughtily, and bent her head to her sewing again. A not unpleasant thrill of anticipation coursed through her as she waited for Julian’s advent. She had not expected him to take that note at face value. Of course he would come to see for himself if her lungs were troubling her too much to permit her to leave her bed.

  “What’s this?” Julian, her note crumpled in one hand, entered her room without ceremony. He was coatless, of course, which was only sensible in the heat, although many of the Englishmen thereabouts wore coats whether it was sensible or not. His shirt and breeches were grimy and damp with sweat, and his hair had been tied in a little tail at the nape of his neck. Perspiration gleamed on his face, making him look swarthier than ever. Clearly he had just come in from the fields—and clearly he was not happy.

  “Did no one ever teach you to knock?” Anna lifted her eyebrows haughtily, her needle freezing above the miniscule frock as she gave him a look that she hoped would make clear her feelings about his uninvited intrusion.

  “No,” he answered, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. Anna frowned at having the wind taken so neatly out of her sails and jabbed the needle into the cloth with enough force so that it went clear through into the thumb of her opposite hand. Stifling a yelp, she put the injured member to her mouth and surveyed him crossly.

  He stood at the foot of her bed, tall and handsome despite his dirt, and overpoweringly masculine, looking her up and down as if he had every right to do so. Anna had pulled the bed coverings up to her armpits, and wore a demure bedjacket over her nightdress, so she was far from inadequately covered. But something about that look made her feel naked. Drat the man, for being able to make her uncomfortable with no more than a twitch of his eyebrows! She lifted her chin at him.

  “Did you want to see me about something?”

  “You know damned well what I want to see you about. You’re going to this party tonight.”

  “If you had read my note, you would know that I can’t: I don’t feel well.”

  Julian said a word that more than adequately expressed his opinion of that excuse. The tips of Anna’s ears reddened at the profanity, but she didn’t flinch.

  “There’s no need to swear.”

  “I’ll swear any time I bloody want to. I’ve had enough of your sulking in here. You’re coming with me to that party if I have to drag you by your hair.”

  Anna’s lips compressed. “I tell you I’m ill.”

  “The hell you are.”

  “Since you took it upon yourself to destroy my wardrobe, I have nothing to wear.”

  “That green dress looks beautiful on you.”

  “I have no intention of appearing in public tricked out in that. At the very least I must wear half-mourning. Lavender or gray.”

  Julian’s eyes went suddenly black. His voice grated. “My dear, if, when it is time to leave for Mrs. Noack’s, you appear in anything but that green dress, I will personally march you back up here and dress you myself. You have my word on it.”

  “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

  Downstairs 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 se
curely 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.