by Jane Ashford
“That we won’t. If you’re coming, there are more arrangements to be made. I expect it will take a day or so.” Could they take the mail coach? No, he’d have to hire a post chaise for her.
“I would like to ride there on a horse,” Kawena declared.
“She’s never ridden,” Ariel remarked, to the air, it seemed.
“You couldn’t endure such a long journey on horseback,” James replied.
“The horse in the field outside likes me,” Kawena told him.
“I expect he may, but—”
“She came to my hand like a tame bird. I have given her apples.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I think it would be a most pleasant way to travel.”
“How would you know if you’ve never ridden?”
“I can tell by looking,” Kawena assured him.
“It isn’t as easy as it appears,” put in Ariel, at last giving him some help. “When you first learn to ride, well, you find all sorts of muscles you didn’t know you possessed. And a whole new variety of aches and pains.”
“And it isn’t done,” James added, then immediately wished he hadn’t.
Kawena fixed him with her dark, flashing eyes. “I never heard that phase until I met you. Now, I seem to hear it all the time.”
That isn’t fair, James thought. He hadn’t said it more than…a few times. He couldn’t remember. Who could think when she looked at you in that way? Or refuse her what she wanted? Even if she shouldn’t… “You moved through the countryside as a boy,” he managed. “Did you see any ladies careening around on horseback?”
“Careening?”
“Traveling, then. Slogging along the high road on a longish trip without a carriage. You know very well what I mean.”
Kawena considered the question. She sighed. “Oh, all right. But I think it’s stupid.”
“You really can’t learn to ride in a day,” Ariel said. “It isn’t possible.”
This seemed to cinch the deal, though Kawena’s expression promised more protests at some later time. “England has so many ridiculous rules,” she said.
“It’s different for young ladies,” said James. He waited for an explosion, but instead got a speculative glance that was somehow more ominous. She seemed to have no notion how vulnerable she could be, away from this house and his company. Which was not his fault! She was looking at him as if he was the author of all the cursed rules of polite society. Hadn’t he chafed against them himself, wanting only to be off to sea? Hadn’t he staged a full-blown rebellion when his mother had pushed him to attend some devilish dancing class in London?
“What sorts of arrangements must be made?” Kawena asked.
Did she expect him to head right back into Oxford and engage a carriage—without so much as a glass of wine or a biscuit? It appeared that she did. James turned away.
“You must keep a careful record of all the money you spend,” Kawena added. “I will repay every bit.”
“Oh, certainly,” James muttered. “Just consider me your bookkeeper as well as your courier and general dogsbody.”
Striding out, he heard her say, “Dogsbody? What does that mean? What dog?”
He left on Ariel’s peal of laughter, seeing nothing the least amusing about his ever-expanding duties on this quixotic quest.
Six
Lord James and Kawena departed two days later, climbing into a post chaise early in the morning and rattling off down the road south, to Kawena’s vast relief. She’d chafed at every moment of delay, and still more at the debates that had arisen in the household. Lord Alan had very nearly convinced Ariel that Kawena shouldn’t go. And when she’d taxed him with her right to decide for herself what she would do, it had appeared that he was more concerned with his brother’s fate than hers. He imagined that their journey would put Lord James under some obligation to marry her, whether he wished to or not. Which was the stupidest thing Kawena had ever heard. No sane woman, or man, would decide on marriage in such a way. And so she’d told him. She’d offered to swear a blood oath never, under any circumstances, to marry his brother—any of his brothers. That had silenced him! And if she’d felt a curious relief when he’d declined her offer…well, everyone liked to be believed without the need for solemn rituals.
Kawena turned her face to the soft summer air wafting through the coach window. She had to admit that the seats in this carriage Lord James had hired were more comfortable than the jolting wagons she’d ridden to get to Oxford. No doubt it was far more costly as well. She hadn’t inquired about the amount. What was the point? She hadn’t a penny.
She stared out the front window. Right in front of her eyes, lashed to a platform above the front wheels, was the small bag of necessities Ariel had put together for her journey. She’d accepted it reluctantly, adding a paltry few items of her own. It was simply ill-natured to keep protesting her hosts’ kindness, but she was very weary of depending on others. She was used to making what she needed, or trading what she made for things she couldn’t produce. In England, that was simply not possible. She did feel the lure of beautiful, intricate—frivolous—items. Who could resist such colors and textures and convenience? But then one needed a bag or a trunk or a room or a house to keep them safe.
Kawena looked at the iron guards that the post boys wore on their right legs, to protect them from the center pole of the carriage. They looked cumbersome and uncomfortable, and it seemed to her that a load of possessions would be rather like that. An increasing burden that pulled at you, weighing you down. “Why are they called ‘boys’?” she asked Lord James. Both of them appeared to be a good deal older than she was.
He shrugged. “It’s the term used.”
Kawena thought it was a little insulting, but she was learning to keep some of her opinions to herself. The wiry little man riding the leader, a jaunty sprig of lavender in his hat, seemed very proud of his job. He’d told her that post chaises were called ‘yellow bounders’ because of their coat of yellow paint.
“I hope you are not uncomfortable,” Lord James added.
Kawena turned to look at him. “The carriage is quite luxurious.”
“Yes. I meant…nothing.”
He was the one who looked uncomfortable, Kawena thought. She knew the situation was straining his English notions of propriety. Although he was keeping to the far side of the seat, they were quite close together in a small space. It seemed to have destroyed the ease they’d begun to develop in his brother’s house.
Surely so attractive a man had been alone with women before? Her father had given Kawena the impression that sailors jumped in and out of beds all over the world. Indeed, that they thought of little else. So, Lord James must know how to cajole and please.
The idea roused a flurry of images that sent a wave of warmth through her body. She knew what went on between a man and a woman. Her mother and half sisters and their friends had talked freely, laughed and commiserated over romantic complications. No one made a secret of that part of life, as they seemed to do here. Young people slipped off together now and then before they formed their own households, and no one minded if they took care. Indeed, despite the awkwardness caused by her father’s foreign notions, Kawena had managed one or two hurried couplings of her own amongst the leaves. They hadn’t been terribly satisfying. She knew there was much more to be learned and appreciated. And this man so close beside her made her want to explore all those things. In great detail. Handsome, well set up, solicitous, intelligent. His air of easy command when dealing with the arrangements for their journey had called out to something inside her.
Kawena’s gaze fixed on Lord James’s hand, resting on his muscular thigh in its tight buckskin breeches. She remembered his fingers’ cleverness in creating tiny paper birds. She could very easily reach out and place her hand over his. His skin would be warm. He might turn his palm and inter
lace his larger fingers with hers. And then, if she looked into his eyes, she was sure she’d find fire there. The air inside the chaise seemed to thicken. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.
“What is it?” he said.
Uncertain, Kawena turned away from him. She couldn’t say what she’d been thinking. She had made that perfectly clear in the discussions before they set off. She didn’t see that it conflicted with her promise to his brother, but it was bound to outrage Lord James’s English notions of propriety. He would very likely insist that they turn back, that she must stay behind while he conducted the search. She couldn’t let this journey be disrupted. “Nothing,” she said, keeping her eyes on the passing countryside.
Lord James started to reply, and the chaise hit a rut in the road and bounced high in the air.
Kawena’s head tapped the ceiling. She grabbed for a handhold and found none. In the next instant, Lord James caught her around the waist and pulled her tight against him as he braced. She threw her arms around his chest and hung on as the wild bumping continued.
Their bodies molded together from shoulder to knee, she could feel his heart beating at an accelerated pace that matched her own. His grip on her was like a solid mooring in a storm. Kawena’s nostrils filled with his clean, masculine scent. Her lips, inches from his, parted of their own volition.
Then the carriage steadied, and he let her go. Rather hastily. Kawena had to stifle a sound of protest.
“Uh,” said Lord James. He cleared his throat. “Uh…a…a rough patch of road.” His voice had gone thick.
Kawena nodded. Her clothes felt too hot, and even more intolerably constricting.
Her companion leaned out the window on his side and called, “Take a little care, will you, Rollins.”
“Sorry, sir,” came the reply from the nearest post boy. “We didn’t see them ruts until we was right on top of ’em.”
“Look sharper,” he ordered. He ducked back inside, met her eyes, and glanced quickly away, as if he’d done something wrong.
She’d been right, Kawena thought. Any hint of…passion would jeopardize her goal. She mustn’t think of how good it had felt to be in his arms, or how close—how achingly close—they had come to a kiss. Seeing that he was gripping a strap hanging beside the door, she took hold of the one on her side. She understood now why it was there. The seat might be softer, but this vehicle was far more precarious than the heavy wagons she’d ridden in on the way to Oxford. She’d been happy to see the four-horse team when they departed, but now it seemed as if the carriage whipped behind them like the tail of a kite in a stiff breeze.
Lord James appeared to be searching for words. When he finally spoke, he made no reference to the incident just past. “Ah…we’ll be traveling in stages,” he said. “We’ll stop at posting houses for fresh teams. There’ll be time for refreshment or other…needs.”
Kawena was amused to see his cheek redden slightly. But if he wished to talk of commonplaces… Well, perhaps that was best. It was a way to keep other considerations at bay. “Whose horses will we use?” she wondered.
“They belong to the inns, available for hire.”
“All along the roads?”
Lord James nodded. “It’s an efficient method.”
“So the English have set up a whole system so that people can race around the countryside like busy ants?” she said. “You like to be able to move fast.” Though their roads might be smoother, she noted.
“You keep talking about ‘the English’ as if we belonged in a menagerie,” Lord James objected.
“I am only observing customs that are new to me. It is interesting.”
“Some might find your ‘observations’ insulting.”
He was sitting as far from her as possible again. Was he angry? Well aware that she didn’t catch every subtle nuance of English manners, Kawena wasn’t sure. “Do you? I’m sorry.”
“Well…” He paused, looking surprised. “I don’t, actually. It’s…rather interesting. Hah.” He turned to her. “One thing I’ve always enjoyed about naval missions is the chance to observe the world, see how other peoples behave. ‘Exotic’ rules and practices. But I rarely thought to look back at my own country that way.”
“Home is the way things are,” she said.
“Exactly.” He smiled at her, as if pleased by their fellow feeling.
“Then you travel far away and see that isn’t true. It’s just one way for things to be.” And very disorienting that was, Kawena thought.
He was gazing at her as if she’d said something profound. “Some people see that,” he replied after a moment. “Others decide that everyone else is misguided, or benighted, or disgusting.”
“Everyone else in the world?” It was a ridiculous attitude.
Lord James nodded with a rueful smile. “One’s own beliefs can be very obstinate things. That’s why I tell you that other people might be insulted by your observations. You want to take care.”
“But why would I care about such silly people?”
“I don’t suppose you want to insult anyone unnecessarily. And they can make life in society difficult.”
Kawena shrugged. “You worry so much about other Englishmen and what they will think.”
Lord James looked pained, then thoughtful. “I suppose it might come of being a Gresham and having a family name to uphold.” He nodded to himself. “One spring when I had leave, my mother insisted that I experience a bit of a London season. Said it would be good for me.” His smile was fond. “I remember one particularly dull party. I was complaining to Nathaniel, threatening to chuck lobster patties at the wall in sheer frustration. He said the season was like having a barrage of telescopes focused on you every minute. Only they were in the hands of the gossips instead of enemy ships.”
Once again, Kawena was moved to take his hand. She saw that there could be different reasons to want to hold onto a man. And once again, she resisted.
“Of course, Nathaniel feels it most, being the oldest and Papa’s heir.”
“He will be a duke?” Kawena asked.
“Yes. Years and years from now, God willing.”
“But can’t a great nobleman do whatever he wants?” She’d read of kings and emperors who certainly seemed to. Hadn’t there been one English monarch who had six or seven wives?
“Yes and no,” Lord James said. “There are standards, and expectations. Nathaniel takes them hard.”
“Well, it seems stupid to me,” she said. “Not your brother, but the ones looking through the ‘telescopes.’”
“Isn’t there disapproval on your island? Malicious gossip? Or, uh, social transgressions?” He looked genuinely curious.
The questions stopped Kawena cold. Of course there were. From disobedient children to envy, and seemingly innate meanness to verbal and physical fights, even once a murder. You could be criticized, admonished, even; in the latter case, exiled forever. She knew she was watched particularly, because of the alien ideas her father taught her.
When she met Lord James’s gaze, consciousness of this in her face, he nodded and said, “It goes both ways.”
“Yes. I see.”
His blue eyes held hers. “I suppose we have a lot to learn from each other,” he added.
Kawena flushed, from her cheeks all the way to the core of her body. It was like stepping into a circle of fire. She wanted to learn everything he had to teach, in ways that were not at all what he meant. Or thought he meant? What lay beneath his words? Because, in these foreign circumstances, she didn’t know, and she looked away.
* * *
As they pulled up at the first posting house, James said, “Don’t forget that we’re telling everyone you’re my sister.”
Kawena nodded. “I have not forgotten. Though why anyone would believe that we’re related…”
It was a stretch, James admi
tted silently. His auburn hair and pale complexion, even roughened as it was by years at sea, were a complete contrast to her honey-toned skin and coal black hair. He was an obvious Englishman, while she… She was an enticing, utterly desirable creature…
“All this deceit,” she added, with a tilt of her head. “It could make one think that Englishmen are unable to control themselves.”
James felt something like a growl rise in his throat, along with an almost irresistible desire to seize her and kiss her senseless. Which would only demonstrate that her ridiculous assertion was right. And it wasn’t! He could control himself. He had practically inhuman control. Hadn’t he been a perfect gentleman when she was tossed into his arms like a gift from Eros himself? And hadn’t he continued to be one despite the fact that the look and the feel and the scent of her, so close and yet so unavailable, were driving him quite mad?
He shoved open the carriage door and escaped the confined quarters that had become a sort of tantalizing torture chamber. He’d be shut up with her for hours more, two days most likely, as they covered the eighty-odd miles between Oxford and Portsmouth. This journey was proving to be a greater test of his resolve than most of the naval battles he’d endured. He wondered if he could hire a horse and ride beside the chaise from here? Most likely Kawena would kick up a great fuss and insist on following suit. Which was impossible. No, he was trapped. Or did he actually wish to be trapped, and this was merely an excuse to stay near her?
Seeing that the landlady had taken charge of Kawena, he stomped into the taproom. A mug of ale would be just the thing. Two would be even better. But…no. He needed all his wits about him.
The horses were changed, new post boys mounted up, and in a few minutes they set off again. Kawena’s sweet smile as they turned onto the main road south nearly undid him. He nodded in return and set himself to watch the passing scenery, in which he had no interest at all. Less than that!
An hour or so later, the carriage jerked and then wobbled. When James stuck his head out to see what was the matter, he discovered that one of the traces had broken. The postilions were struggling to halt the team with the right-hand leader out ahead, reins dragging behind him.