by Jane Ashford
This time, she got it.
Taking care not to fall, she lowered herself to the chair, and the floor. She took her prize over to the window. The small, squat wooden figure had a large head and a greatly exaggerated male organ. About six inches tall, it was a type of carving produced on her island, mostly for sale to foreign traders. And she’d noticed as soon as she lifted it that it was far heavier than it ought to be.
Her heart beating fast, Kawena turned the figure over and ran her fingers around the base. There was an almost invisible crack; she could feel it. She needed a tool. With growing urgency, she scanned the room. There was a bronze letter opener on the desk. In the next moment, she was inserting the tip into the crevice in the wood. It resisted. She wiggled and pried until, slowly, the crack widened, revealing the outlines of a square plug. She twisted and pushed harder until at last the bit of wood popped out. Beneath it was a cloth bag, stuffed in the figure’s hollow interior. Kawena pulled it out and untied the drawstring. Inside nestled her father’s hard-won hoard of jewels, glinting up at her like laughing eyes, and like salvation.
Amazement and relief made her knees weak. Letting the wooden plug drop, she half fell into an armchair, clutching the bag close. The treasure had been here, right here, all this time. She’d found it. She’d succeeded—just when she’d given up believing that she could. Her long voyage had been worth it. Everything was all right. Except…
Outrage brought her bolt upright in the chair.
Lord James had lied to her! He was the thief. He’d hidden the jewels right here in his house, his family’s house. He’d humored and cajoled her, gone through the pretense of talking to his crew, when all the time he’d known he had them. Perhaps he’d exulted in that knowledge, enjoyed deceiving her…
But even in her fury, logic brought Kawena up short. That, and her observations of Lord James over these last weeks. Would any thief, even the most daring, bring her here and leave her alone to explore the house, when she might do exactly as she had done and find his hiding place? There had been no need to come here. She need never have entered the place. It was stupid, and even if Lord James had somehow been able to disguise his thieving nature, she knew he wasn’t stupid. She looked down at the bag of jewels in her hands. It made no sense.
Kawena sprang to her feet. She snatched up the now-empty figure and stalked out into the corridor, down it, and up a flight of stairs. A left turn, another hall, and then a closed door, which she pounded on with the carving before shoving the panels open and striding through. The door swung shut with a click behind her.
Inside a bedchamber less opulent than the one she’d been given, Lord James sat up in bed, blinking. She rushed over to him and thrust the figure at him. With her other hand, she shook the bag of jewels, making them rattle. “They were right here all the time!”
“What? What are you doing in my room?”
“Right here, all the time,” she repeated, louder. “The jewels were right here!”
Lord James caught her wrist and pushed the wooden figure away from his face. His fingers were like steel bands, his strength irresistible. Belatedly, it occurred to Kawena that it might not have been wise to confront a wily thief alone, in his bedchamber, with only his family’s servants to witness anything he might do. She yanked her arm free and stepped back.
He appeared to be still shaking off sleep. “You shouldn’t be in my room,” was all he said.
Kawena moved farther toward the door. But she still wanted answers. She still couldn’t believe that this man was a consummate deceiver. “I found my father’s jewels inside this figure in your mother’s parlor,” she told him. She held up the carving and the bag.
He stared. She watched comprehension, and then astonishment, cross his face. They looked unfeigned. “That thing? I sent that to Mama as a joke, months ago.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, blinked again. “I send her odd bits and pieces from all my ports of call. She likes to get some sense of what I’m seeing.”
“But how did you get this?” Kawena demanded. She shook the figure again. “There is no way you could have—”
“Well, I didn’t steal it! You may be sure of that.”
“No one would have given it to—”
He held up a hand. The sleeve of his nightshirt slid down to bare a muscular forearm. “Wait.”
Impatiently, Kawena did so.
Lord James frowned. “I must have bought it. I buy trinkets wherever the ship stops. I don’t even think about it anymore. It’s a habit.”
His puzzlement seemed genuine. Kawena relaxed just a little. “No one would have sold you this at the trading center on Valatu. Not with my father’s jewels hidden inside. It would never have been on the shelves. My brother would never have—”
“Wait,” he said again. He frowned as if working through a knotty problem. “It was a boy,” he said finally. “I’m remembering now. I thought nothing of it at the time.” He threw back the coverlet and started to rise, giving Kawena an enticing view of his bare legs beneath his nightshirt. She remembered those legs quite vividly, in far more pleasant circumstances. He pulled the coverlet back up.
“I’d come to make the final payment,” Lord James went on. “After all the supplies we’d ordered had been delivered to the ship. And the man I’d dealt with before wasn’t there.”
“My brother,” said Kawena.
He nodded. “As I know now. There was only this boy around the place. He assured me I could leave the coin with him. I was in a hurry, and he kept on chattering—”
“Atui,” concluded Kawena. “My brother’s oldest son. He talks before he thinks. He would surely have been instructed to fetch my brother for any business.”
“Well, he didn’t,” said Lord James. “He just talked in a funny sort of half English.”
“He’s very smart,” said Kawena.
“I’m sure he is. And enterprising. He tried to sell me all sorts of things. I expect he’ll be taking over the trading one day. And do well at it.”
“This figure,” she said, holding it up again.
“Right. I’d seen some of…those. Crew members had bought them from canoes that came up to the ship, and I thought my mother—”
“Would find it funny,” Kawena supplied with a spark of resentment.
“Well, in a way.” Lord James looked a bit sheepish. “So I told him I’d take one. This boy looked, and at first found nothing. Then he ran into the back and brought that figure out. He must have asked a small sum, or I would remember. I’m sure I readily gave it. It was over in a moment. I bought some other things as well. As I said, I always do. There was nothing memorable about the transaction.” He sounded defensive. “I sent that off to my mother with the next courier we encountered.”
“And Papa had an apoplexy when he found it gone,” Kawena said sadly. “So he couldn’t tell me what had happened.” She bit her lip.
“There were some coconut-shell carvings,” Lord James added. “I’m not sure where they’ve gotten to. I have chests of things from my voyages. They store them in the attic at Langford.” He moved as if to get out of bed again, then stayed put. “You will say I should have thought of this, but how could I possibly have imagined that—”
“Papa would leave his treasure sitting out in plain sight?”
“Well, yes.”
She nodded. It did seem like a foolish thing to do. But her father was not a fool.
“I suppose it might have been to throw people off the scent,” he suggested. “People on the island must have known he had the gems. And not every single one can be honest.”
“No.” Kawena could think of several islanders she would not have trusted with secrets.
“They wouldn’t have thought to search for them in such a place.”
Kawena nodded. There was also the fact that her father’s office at the trading center had been sacrosanct. In
deed, it was usually locked up. But Atui got into everything, and he was notorious for not “hearing” rules. He couldn’t have had any notion what he’d done. He’d probably been proud of himself for making a sale.
“The important thing is, you’ve recovered your inheritance.”
“Yes.” Kawena sighed with relief, both at this happy truth and the fact that Lord James had not turned out to be a thief. She hadn’t been wrong about him. She’d known she couldn’t be. Yet… She realized that she’d been holding the carving by its most prominent feature, conveniently placed like a handle. Laughing, she held it up to share the joke with Lord James.
The burning look she got in return sent a flush of heat along her skin. He was so close, really, in the tumbled bed, his bare chest enticing through the open neck of his nightshirt, his auburn hair tousled. They were alone, together, in a house that still slept. Her fingers tightened on the carving.
Lord James’s eyes were so very blue, like the ocean off the edge of a reef. She had a sudden intensely tactile memory of his hands on her, his lips driving her wild.
Kawena stepped nearer, holding his gaze, setting the figure and the bag of gems on the small table beside the bed. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly along his collarbone, and down.
“We can’t,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Not here.” He didn’t draw back, however.
Kawena began to unbutton her gown.
“We can’t,” he repeated, with somewhat less conviction, she thought. “The servants…”
She shrugged off that concern, and her dress. It fell into a puddle of fabric at her feet.
“You mustn’t.” His tone was clearly halfhearted this time.
The cumbersome English undergarments took a little longer. Probably some of the disapproving gossips he was always talking of invented these cursed laces, Kawena thought.
Lord James groaned as she stripped off her shift. “I’m not made of stone, Kawena.”
She glanced at the bedclothes, which showed a clear sign of his arousal. “Some of you almost might be.” Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She slid a knee up onto the ticking, ready to climb into bed.
Whatever new objection he might have been formulating sizzled to nothing. He pulled her close as she wriggled under the covers and stretched out next to him. He took her kiss and deepened it until her senses began to reel. She felt as if her skin had caught fire.
With the urgency of desire, Kawena pushed his nightshirt up along the hard muscle of his thighs, the softer skin of his ribs, caressing as she went. He drew back and yanked the garment up and off, cursing when the cuffs caught at his wrists. A button went flying as he tugged. When he threw the shirt against the wall, Kawena laughed again.
And then she couldn’t laugh, or speak, or think. She could scarcely breathe as he met her pent-up longing of the last few days with a response as strong and sweet and deep. The explosive passion of their night by the sea swept through them once again, dizzying her in the delight of hands and lips and arching bodies. It built to a trembling peak, so achingly intense it seemed almost like pain, and then burst into luscious release. Kawena felt that they vibrated in perfect harmony as they rode the tide together.
It was only afterward, as they lay entwined, letting their pulses slow, their breathing ease, that Lord James said, “Oh, God.”
Cuddled in the circle of his arm, Kawena found his despairing tone offensive. “You’re not going to begin—”
“You don’t understand what we’ve done.”
She trailed her fingertips over his chest. “Don’t I?”
He caught her hand in his. “No, you don’t. Servants are the worst gossips of all, Kawena. When they discover you’ve been with me here, they’ll call you a lightskirt. They’ll tattle to their opposite numbers at Langford, and then my mother’s bound to hear of it. She’ll be angry. I know she would have liked you, too…” He stopped and clenched his jaw, took a breath. “I can’t bear the idea that she might misjudge you—despise you.”
Somewhat mollified by the concern in his voice, she considered. “Well, we must see that they don’t know anything about it then. I’ll sneak back to my room and—”
A light knock on the door and a rattle of the handle brought him bolt upright in the bed. “Wait!” he nearly shouted. “What is it?”
“Morning tea, sir,” replied a puzzled voice from the other side of the panels.
“Just a moment!” Moving with lightning speed, Lord James leapt out of bed and started snatching Kawena’s scattered clothes from the floor. He pulled her from the tumbled sheets and shoved the bundle into her arms. “Get in the wardrobe,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Ssh!” He grabbed his nightshirt and pulled it on even as he pushed her toward the large walnut wardrobe against the far wall. When Kawena would have protested, he laid two fingers over her lips. Then he practically lifted her into the wardrobe and shut the doors, immersing her in darkness.
“All right,” she heard him say, his voice muffled.
There were more muted sounds. Unsure whether to laugh or be angry, Kawena waited. After a few minutes, the door opened, and Lord James stood before her, looking grim. “Well, that’s torn it. They’ll have taken your tea as well, and found your bed empty.”
Kawena stepped out of the wardrobe, holding her clothes, feeling foolish and not much liking the sensation. “I never even got into it, I was so—”
“What?” He turned so fast it startled her.
“I couldn’t lie still,” she explained. “Because I thought I’d failed when we couldn’t—”
“Your bed wasn’t slept in?”
“No.” She was quite bewildered by the intensity of the question, and the sudden calculation in his eyes. “What—”
Lord James held up a hand for silence. Mildly irritated, she kept quiet.
“All right,” he said after what seemed quite a time. “I’m going to tell Mrs. Hastings that you were called away late last night by an…emergency. At a…a friend’s house. And you had to stay over with her.” He clutched at his tousled hair. “The deuce. Who can it be? You don’t know any females in London.”
“Except Miss Jennings.” There was something fascinating, if demented, in his utter focus on this nonsense.
“Right! Yes. Who’s to say you weren’t already well acquainted? And so you had to go to her at once. There was no time to pack anything—”
“Why?”
“Because you were in such a tearing hurry,” he replied, as if this was utterly obvious and somehow sensible.
“No, I mean why did I have to go to her?”
“I don’t know!” He looked harried. “Some…some female reason.”
Kawena did laugh then, earning a frown from her endearingly obsessed companion.
“The reason is none of the servants’ affair,” he said, suddenly lofty.
“So you must explain the fact, but not what is behind it?” she asked. Once again she marveled at the time and effort the English put into making up stories to hide the fact that they had done what they wished to do.
Lord James ignored her philosophical inquiry. “We’ll smuggle you out of the house, and you can return later—”
“But will Miss Jennings agree?”
“To what?” He appeared confused.
“To say that I stayed at her house—”
“We’re not going to tell her about this.” He seemed appalled that she would think so. “We’re not going to tell anyone. Anything.”
“Except the servants.” Kawena was bemused.
“That’s right.” He sank into the armchair by the hearth, seemingly exhausted by his efforts at invention. “Do you want some tea?”
“No. I hate tea.”
“Really?” He looked up from the pot as if this was the oddest thing he�
��d heard today, and Kawena nearly laughed once again.
Then their eyes caught and held.
Kawena started to lower her bundle of clothing.
“No, no, don’t…”
“No one knows I’m here,” she said. “We could have time to—”
He turned away like a man abandoning his heart’s desire. “Get dressed. Please, Kawena. I beg you.”
Taking pity on him, she did.
Twelve
Kawena “returned” to the Langford town house an hour later, having successfully evaded observation on the way out. She’d spent most of that time riding around the neighborhood in a hansom cab, under the care of a bewildered but obedient driver.
Lord James heralded her arrival with polite inquiries about her friend, which she answered as instructed. She was not able to tell if the footman found her story odd. She didn’t know him well enough, and he clearly prided himself on remaining impassive at any cost. He did have a distinctly alert air, and Kawena had no doubt that her words would be reported to the rest of the staff. Lord James seemed satisfied, however, and that was enough for her.
And then the two of them were left alone again, in the drawing room. Kawena sat down, but Lord James hovered near the door, as if he might dart out at any moment. “So…” he said. “All’s well. Er, mission accomplished. I suppose…you’ll be going home now.”
Kawena examined his strained expression. In many ways, this English duke’s son seemed like two different men. There was the ardent lover—all skill and certainty and fiery freedom. That man entranced her. But then there was this other—the one harried and bounded by “society.” He was so often irritating; he even, sometimes, seemed to disapprove of her. Yet she also pitied him, a little. He was like a fish tangled in a net. She realized that she was staring, and that she hadn’t answered him. “Home,” she said. A wave of melancholy washed over her at the word. She was feeling the effects of all that had occurred in the last twelve hours, she decided.