An Inconvenient Kiss

by Carole Kimberly

  “Absolutely, Grandfather,” Nath was saying. “Konark is a few hours outside of the city of Puri, a little over forty miles from Cuttack. We could send you to Puri within the month.”

  “Excellent, excellent,” Sir Jon said, his chest puffing in excitement. “According to the natives in the cantonment, a great temple, the Black Pagoda, once stood near Konark. It’s a fascinating tale, really—legend claims that it was built by a great king who suffered from leprosy. It was a chariot for the Sun God to ride between heaven and earth. After twelve years of devotion, the god heard the king’s prayers and healed him.”

  Sir Jon seemed ready to burst in his eagerness. “Imagine it—the stuff of legends less than fifty miles from here.

  Nath practically beamed. “I believe Professor Julian Thorne from the Asiatic Society is in residence in Puri to observe some festival or such. He’s made quite a name for himself in recent years. I think you’ll find him an asset when it comes to securing resources for your work. Guides and supplies and whatnot.”

  “Julian Thorne!” Sir Jon exclaimed. “He could help. If I can convince the Asiatic Society of the truth of it, we could start investigating the site in detail. It could be the greatest discovery in India to date!”

  Nath continued to feed Sir Jon’s exuberance. “From Puri you could make several day trips to Konark to hunt for the temple. You could even camp around Konark if you’re up for roughing it.”

  Simon interrupted, fearing this talk may get out of hand. “With all due respect, Sir Jon, Konark is a bunch of rock and rubble peppered with a few peepal trees. If there had been a structure there,” he argued, “wouldn’t we have some proof of its existence? Statues? Ruins? Something? It was supposedly a huge temple, after all. You’d think there would be evidence beyond local folklore.”

  Sir Jon chuckled. “We are just learning that ancient sites sometimes disappear into legend, my boy. The city of Herculaneum was buried under volcanic fallout for centuries before being discovered. Angkor Wat in the Kingdom of Cambodia was all but lost to the jungle. Earthquakes, volcanoes, sandstorms—any number of natural disasters can bury a site. Or the ruins of a site.”

  Simon tried again. “Granted. But that doesn’t warrant a trek through the jungle to Konark. Even if you survived the jungle, Konark itself is not safe. Rumor has it pirates use it as a haven from the authorities.”

  Nath glared at him. “Simon is overly dramatizing, Grandfather. And I doubt the locals would carry such fantastical tales if there weren’t some truth to them. If your investigation leads to nothing, I hear the beach is breathtaking. You could spend a fortnight there and still not detain your work here for more than a few weeks, a month at most.”

  “But the road to Puri is inconsistent at best,” Simon pointed out. “Sending a party out during the rainy season is irresponsible.”

  “Nonsense,” Nath dismissed Simon’s protest and motioned for a servant to fill his grandfather’s glass. “The journey to Bhubaneswar would take a day or two. From there Puri is another day’s travel. If the roads or weather are bad, the village of Pipli is a few hours in between. It’s all very straightforward, I assure you.”

  Skeffington and Tolley had joined them, and Simon shot them a beseeching look. “What do you gentlemen think?” he asked, praying Skeffington wasn’t so angry that he’d set aside common sense. “Would you send Sir Jon to Konark after the rains have started?”

  Tolley shook his head. “I think it ill-advised, I’m afraid. Not only are the roads at issue, but the danger of malaria would also be increased.”

  “Plus there’s the question of Bengali rebels living in the jungles,” Skeffington pointed out, though he sent a chill glare toward Simon. “And the Khondi.”

  “Who are the Khondi?” Sir Jon asked.

  “Nomads,” Skeffington explained, puffing on his cigar. “Savage lot too, by the stories. It’s well known they practice human sacrifice.”

  Sir Jon’s eyes grew round. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. Then he chuckled and amended, “Not about the sacrifice, of course. But the idea that we might encounter tribesmen! How exciting!”

  “Until they cook you for dinner, Sir Jon,” Skeffington drawled.

  Sir Jon waved his hand, dismissing the comment. “In my travels it’s become apparent that these reports are frequently exaggerations.”

  Simon jumped on that. “Your temple ruins at Konark are exaggeration as well,” he pointed out.

  Sir Jon wagged a finger at him. “Possibly. Possibly.” He laughed. “But one never knows until one goes poking around. It’s my duty as a scholar to separate fact from fiction.”

  “You forget, gentlemen,” Nath said smoothly, “that the rebels have been driven far north of here, and the Khondi prefer to make their home in the inner reaches of the continent. This area must be explored.”

  Sir Jon turned to Nath and patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit, lad!” he crowed. “Ready for adventure—just like your grandsire.”

  Nath smiled uneasily. “I’m afraid I can’t accompany you, sir,” he said tightly. “The Company needs me here to ensure the expansion is secured and completed on time.”

  “Quite right,” the old man grumbled. “Quite right. Well, I suppose the girls and I can manage a two-day trip on our own. We’ve traveled greater distances than this and survived quite nicely, you know.”

  Simon’s heart dropped. By the stiff looks on Tolley and Skeffington’s faces, he knew they shared the same opinion. “Sir Jon,” Simon said as diplomatically as he could, “you can’t mean to take Miss Phillips and Mrs. Fairmonte into the wilds of India.”

  “Of course I do!” Sir Jon said without a second thought. “They’re an instrumental part of my research team.”

  “But sir,” Tolley tried, “they’re ladies.”

  Sir Jon chortled with great relish. “Those ladies have experienced a Siberian winter, my boy. I wager my granddaughters are a braver lot than most of the Company’s soldiers. They’ve seen things that’d make many a grown man’s hair curl, I can tell you that!”

  “Like crocodiles up close and personal?” Simon muttered.

  His acerbic tone was apparently lost on Sir Jon, because the man forged on. “Exactly! Crocs in India, tigers in China, sandstorms and cobras in Egypt, not to mention several varieties of unfriendly locals throughout. They can handle anything.”

  Nath chimed in, “No one’s forcing them to go, of course. Should they refuse, they may stay in the cantonment and continue with their regular activities.”

  “That won’t happen, I assure you,” Sir Jon said, oblivious to the tension around him. “Those girls accompany me wherever I go.”

  Simon was unable to speak. That Sir Jon allowed Georgiana and Jane to be subjected to such dangers—repeatedly—was inexcusable. It was reprehensible. By Nathaniel’s happy demeanor, Simon knew there was little chance of dissuading this insanity. Simon bit his tongue while he wrestled with his temper.

  Fortunately, Skeffington came to his aid. “Perhaps Lieutenant Colonel Phillips might see that a small envoy of soldiers accompany Sir Jon and his party to Konark. That way, should trouble arise, the ladies would not need to handle it on their own.”

  “I’d like to volunteer, sir,” Simon said through clenched teeth.

  “As would I,” Tolley echoed.

  “Damn,” sighed Skeffington. “Now I’ll look like a disagreeable lout if I don’t volunteer as well.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Tolley and Skeff can go,” he said. “But Ashford, I need you here to make sure our plans stay on track. We’ve had too many delays as it is.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Simon said smoothly. “I’d ask you to reconsider. Skeffington knows what needs to be done here. I have full confidence that he can manage the projects a fortnight or longer. Besides everyone knows he’s an abysmal shot. He�
�d be utterly useless should this little party encounter anything savage.”

  Simon gave Skeffington a quick wink. His second in command was looking at him with open astonishment.

  Nath begin to protest, but Simon snapped to attention and interrupted. “Sir Jon, no doubt you’d like to hear my qualifications. I speak fluent Hindi, as well as some Oriya and a spattering of words in other local dialects. I’ve spent several weeks surveying and exploring some of the land we’d be covering, so I’m at least vaguely familiar with the types of obstacles we may encounter.

  “Furthermore, I understand the purpose of your study and the methods with which you gather information, as I’ve aided your granddaughters this past month in their endeavors. Finally, I am not an abysmal shot. I served as a marksman in the infantry against Napoleon. I believe, sir, that I’d be an asset to your expedition.”

  Sir Jon nodded eagerly. “Yes, Nath, I simply must have him.”

  Nath shot him a darkling smile. “Of course Major Ashford shall accompany you, Grandfather. You may also have Lieutenant Tolley and eight regulars at your disposal. I trust you’ll see to the arrangements, Major?”

  “I’d like to leave within the week,” Sir Jon added.

  Simon bowed, more to cover the fact that he was barely controlling his temper than to show his regard. “If you gentlemen will excuse me,” he said icily, “I have an expedition to plan.”

  Fuming, Simon stalked to the door. Just as he was passing his glass to a servant, a hand caught him at the elbow. Simon whirled, ready to tell Nathaniel exactly what he thought of him. Only it wasn’t Nathaniel.

  Skeffington eyed Simon with an odd expression. “What?” Simon asked sharply.

  “I’m surprised, Ashford,” Skeffington said simply. “I thought you didn’t like me, and yet you’ve just handed me your job.”

  “Just because we dislike each other doesn’t mean I’m blind to your capabilities, Percy.”

  “Your career will be ruined if I muck this up,” Skeffington pointed out.

  “Hang my bloody career,” Simon snapped. “Besides, you won’t muck it up. You’re too proud and too obstinate to allow a Company project to fail, even one that’s not yours. As much as it pains me to say it, you’re more than competent as an engineer and you’re a damned hard worker. I’ve no doubt you’ll get the thing done to everyone’s satisfaction. Now, if I’ve flattered you sufficiently, let’s meet at eight tomorrow morning to go over the plans and cover any gaping holes in your knowledge.”

  “I owe you an apology for my earlier behavior, Ashford,” Skeffington said, a glint of reluctant admiration in his eyes. “I believe I underestimated your intentions toward Miss Phillips. I was unbearably rude, to both of you, and it will not happen again.”

  “Well,” Simon admitted slowly, “it was pointed out to me that you may have been, ahem, provoked.”

  “Perhaps,” Skeffington agreed thoughtfully. “Regardless, Miss Phillips seems to be a rather remarkable woman. I hope you plan to take good care of her.”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “If she’ll let me.”

  * * *

  The monsoons held off long enough for Simon’s crews to finish the dams, but when the rains did finally begin, their tardiness was made up for with a stinging ferocity. Sir Jon’s expedition, which included Sir Jon and his granddaughters, Simon, a Hindi guide, Tolley and eight other marines, had to wait four days before the weather let up enough to venture forth. On the afternoon of the fifth day the small group set out under clear skies, only to be stopped a few hours later when the rains returned with a vengeance.

  Each day was the same. It poured down on them in the morning, they traveled a few hours in the afternoon when things cleared up, and then they made camp once the rains started again. It had taken three days to reach Bhubaneswar instead of one because the roads were virtually impassable. They’d spent two nights there before trudging on.

  Georgiana struggled along what was allegedly a road, slipping and sliding and sloshing through mud puddles that frequently went up past her knees. She’d chosen a pair of heavy boots over her walking slippers after losing a shoe to the muck the first day out. She had quite literally sunk into a puddle nearly waist-deep and had been unable to move. Had Simon not plucked her out of the oozy, viscous filth, she’d likely still be stuck.

  Picking her way carefully along the narrow ledge that couldn’t rightfully be described as a path, Georgiana cursed her brother, her grandfather and herself, in that order. When Simon had broken the news that her grandfather would be journeying into the jungle on what was little more than a wild goose chase, Georgiana had a moment of self-doubt. She did not want to venture out into the wilderness of a foreign land, nor did she want her cousin and her grandfather to do so.

  But one glance at the petulant look on Sir Jon’s face and Georgiana knew she had no choice. Letting her grandfather traipse off to the ends of the earth alone was impossible. Of course once the decision had been made, Jane, bless her heart, had agreed without hesitation.

  Simon had tried to dissuade them both, which she appreciated. His arguments were futile, as he didn’t understand their unique situation. Sir Jon was a celebrated explorer, and on the other end of this ridiculous expedition was Julian Thorne, a respected member of the Asiatic Society and a man known for the depth and influence of his scholarship. Thorne could ensure her grandfather’s acceptance into academia’s most prestigious circle—or not. If Sir Jon returned from this venture with little more than a hangover, there would be no Asiatic Society, no speaking engagements, no future funds for research. No future period.

  So instead of heeding any sort of common sense, including her own, Georgiana finished her interviews with the weaver, mustered her courage and packed what she needed for a soggy adventure.

  The ill-concealed glee on Nathaniel’s face when they’d departed had fueled her resolve to make it through this blasted expedition without complaint. She had survived Society’s snubbing, the desert in Egypt and a voracious crocodile. One little explore into the wilds was certainly well within her capabilities.

  After days trekking through rain and mud and mosquitoes the size of small birds, however, she was ready to admit defeat. This was insanity. The look on her companions’ faces said the same.

  Simon hiked along beside her, but he spoke little. She knew he was annoyed with her for agreeing to this. Georgiana sighed. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed, as her stubbornness was the reason he was stuck in the jungle during monsoon season. She should be annoyed with his fit of temper; she hadn’t asked him to come, after all. Instead, she found herself grateful for his presence, silent or not.

  That wasn’t entirely true, Georgiana admitted to herself, watching Simon clamber over a fallen tree blocking the road. Once across, he grudgingly offered his hand. Georgiana frowned, but took it. She disliked this aloofness. She’d grown accustomed to his insight, his sharp humor. It bothered her that Simon was put out with her, even if she understood the reason. Without a word, Simon helped her manage the tree and dropped her hand the moment she was safely across. She chanced a glace at him and chewed her lip. It was time to put an end to this nonsense.

  “Lovely weather we’re having,” she said chattily as she plodded along next to him.

  He didn’t even bother to glare at her.

  “We could use a spot of rain though,” she tried again, hoping to garner a smile. “This part of the road isn’t nearly as washed away as it should be.”

  She waited for any acknowledgment that he’d heard her. When it was clear that he was not going to respond, Georgiana sighed. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

  Simon grunted.

  “I’ve been told I’m quite charming,” she chattered on. “Many people have remarked on it, you know.”

  “I doubt many of them were up to their arse in mud and mosquitoes when they made
such an observation,” Simon drawled dryly, swatting at something on his neck.

  Georgiana grinned. “See there, I knew you couldn’t stay annoyed with me.”

  “Miss Phillips,” Simon began, turning to look at her. He pulled her off the road and to the side, closer to the base of the hill that rose over them, allowing Jane and Tolley room to move by. Sir Jon and the marines lugging equipment followed, glancing at Simon as they passed. He waved the men on, calling out that the village of Pipli should be little more than a quarter hour away. Then he turned his attention back to her.

  “Let’s be very clear, Princess,” he muttered. “I’m not annoyed. I’m angry. In fact, I’m angry at your whole damned family.”

  “May I remind you that this was not my idea?” Georgiana protested. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my grandfather’s misguided, if romantic, notion of uncovering ancient civilizations and my brother’s rather nasty propensity to throw me into uncomfortable situations.”

  “You shouldn’t be here at all,” Simon snapped. “You shouldn’t even be in India. And yet, here you are.”

  “It’s my decision to make,” Georgiana retorted, ignoring the large droplets that signaled the start of a heavy soaking. “Just because you don’t understand—”

  “You’re right,” Simon interrupted. “I don’t understand. You tell me that your grandfather needs you—that you are indispensable to his work—but I think that’s a lot of rot.”

  “Really?” Georgiana huffed. “So why exactly do you think I trudged knee-deep into the muddy jungle if not to aid my grandfather?”

  “Because you’re impetuous, Princess,” Simon said crushingly. “And you’re stubborn. You do whatever you want and suffer no one in your way. You wanted to come on this little adventure, so here you are.”

  Georgiana felt the driving rain drenching her hair, her clothes, but she barely noted it. A lump had formed in her throat. That Simon thought so little of her cut her to the quick. “It seems to me,” she said stiffly, “that everyone on this ridiculous expedition volunteered, you included. If you didn’t want to come, Simon, why are you here?”