by Jane Ashford
“Speech,” repeated James. He didn’t like that part of it.
“Surely you have rallied your men before a battle?” Miss Grantham replied. “Or praised them for their actions after. You can say a few words.”
“I suppose so,” he grumbled.
Miss Grantham rose to go. “I do hope your whole family will attend. It would be such an honor to have the duke and duchess at our unveiling.”
James frowned, wondering if this was the reason she’d turned to him for this task.
“I’ll inquire,” interrupted Ariel before James could speak. “I’m not certain of their plans.” She looked suddenly thoughtful. “May we invite other…friends as well?”
“Of course. We hope to have a good crowd.” Miss Grantham seemed eager to leave now that she’d accomplished her purpose. “I beg your pardon for calling at such a late hour,” she said belatedly as she went out.
“How could you have wanted me to marry her?” said James when she was gone.
“I didn’t want it,” Ariel replied. “It was simply an introduction.”
“More like a lucky escape,” he muttered, and followed her back to the dining room.
* * *
When he reached the allotted place the next day, accompanied by all of his family, of course, James found a draped monument, a platform sporting the Union Jack and, in the center of it all, a massive old artillery piece. The kind of cannon Henry VIII might have used at Flodden in the fifteen hundreds. It looked as if it might have been sitting there since then, too. That would have been all right. But a fellow stood next to it, affixing a fuse. James started over to speak to him, but was intercepted by Miss Grantham and hustled toward the platform. “People are starting to arrive,” she said. “You must take your place.”
“Do you mean to fire that piece?” James asked her, indicating the cannon.
“Isn’t it grand? It will be the perfect punctuation to the unveiling.”
“Punctuation?” Her strange choice of words sounded too much like “puncture” for his taste. “Has someone checked it over? Someone who understands artillery?”
“Of course. We have only powder in it, naturally. No ball.”
“Yes, but gunpowder—”
“It’s time to begin,” interrupted Miss Grantham. She pushed him, rather sharply, toward the front of the platform.
James looked out over the people clustered before him. Along with the Greshams there were perhaps twenty others, many of whom had the look of old sailors. He noticed a peg leg and a missing arm among them. Off to one side, he spotted a slender figure in a worn coat and breeches, with a cap pulled well down over…her face. Kawena looked up briefly, grinned at him, and lowered her head again. James’s heart began to pound, and everything else went out of his mind. What was she doing here, dressed like that? And why was he up here, so far from her?
He took a step toward her, and Miss Grantham’s elbow thumped into his side, recalling him to his duties. He said a few words about the hazards of naval warfare and the stout hearts of English sailors. A rope was insinuated into his hand. He pulled, and the cloth fell to reveal quite an ornate cenotaph. He glimpsed flame in the corner of his eye, and turned to find the putative gunner setting match to fuse. “No,” James cried. “That’s not a good—”
The fuse hissed into the hole. The crowd waited with indrawn breath, and then the huge old gun erupted.
The noise was deafening, obviously beyond what anyone had expected. Choking black smoke poured out over the onlookers. As James leaped down to help, he saw that the ancient piece had split down one if its seams. Bits of flaming powder spit from the opening. He’d tried to tell them that modern gunpowder was much more powerful than the stuff that gun had been built for.
James ran for the gunner first. The man was flat on his back, stunned, but he didn’t appear wounded. James quickly checked his limbs, found them sound, and got him up and away.
Turning, he saw Kawena leading his mother to a bench on the far side of the square. Alan was doing the same for Ariel, an arm around her waist. The duke was escorting another lady, a stranger.
James went to find the wounded sailors. The man with the wooden leg was down, his arms wrapped around his head as if to shield it. Kneeling beside him, James gently loosened them. “It’s all right,” he said. “All flash and no ordnance. We’re all right.”
The fellow let his arms fall, revealing the eyes of a man who’d faced many a broadside, and the resulting carnage, in his time.
“All’s well,” said James. The man pointed to his ears and shook his head. James nodded. His hearing was all right, but many would have trouble for a bit. That thing had sounded like the crack of doom.
He saw that Kawena had come back for Horatia Grantham, who’d collapsed in a heap on the far side of the platform, and was half-carrying her to the benches. He went to give her a hand.
Working side by side, with the help of a few others, James and Kawena attended to each member of the crowd and found places for them to settle. The ancient gun muttered and smoked. People cried or shouted or huddled, according to their natures.
When the area was clear, and the fire brigade had arrived to douse the cannon, James found Kawena and captured her hands. All thoughts of lists had fled from his mind, but words came spilling out. “That was…just splendid. You were splendid. I adore you, Kawena. There’s no other woman like you. You’re everything I could want, for the rest of my life. Please say you’ll spend it with me.”
Utterly unaware of people staring and whispering, James amended, “Allow me to spend it with you, I should say. Whatever your plan. I don’t care.”
She smiled up at him, teeth very white in a face somewhat blackened by the smoke. “Yes, I will marry you,” she said.
Almost dizzy with triumph and relief, James pulled her into his arms. Pent up longing surged through him. This was right, and so intoxicating, to finally hold her again. And to know that she was his. He took her lips, reveling in her eager response to his touch, and fell into a kiss sure to drive them both mad with desire. He let his hands roam over the body that had haunted his dreams and plagued his waking hours for a seeming eternity. She pressed against him, her fingers like trails of fire along his ribs, across the fabric of his breeches. James wished their clothes to perdition.
“Disgraceful!” huffed someone. James realized he didn’t care a whit.
Kawena’s cap fell unheeded to the ground. Her hair escaped its pins and tumbled down her back.
“It’s a woman,” commented a male voice. “At least.”
At last, matters grew too urgent, and too obvious. They couldn’t make love in a public square, beside a fuming cannon. Slowly, reluctantly, they drew apart.
“I believe that may trump a mud hole,” James heard his father say.
“In sound and fury, but not in romantic originality,” replied his mother.
The duke’s laugh was filled with delight.
“Shall we head for home?” said Alan. “My home, that is. Where all of Oxford will be calling in the next few days to learn what the devil happened here.” He sounded resigned.
“Scientific geniuses are expected to be eccentric,” replied Ariel. “It’s almost required, I think.”
“Is it?” But Alan sounded more amused than concerned.
Relieved, with an arm firmly around Kawena, James followed his family from the square.
Twenty-five
“I shall go up to London for a special license,” James said as he escorted Kawena back to her own house some time later, “so we can be married right away.” Memories of Nathaniel’s recent wedding surfaced. It had been…somehow satisfying to have the whole family together for the occasion. The thought made him briefly wistful. Most of them hadn’t even met Kawena.
“There is one thing we must do before everything is final,” she said.
&nb
sp; “What? You said yes. That’s final.”
“I will explain it all in Southampton,” she told him.
“Southampton? What has Southampton to do with anything?”
“You will see once we go there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We will travel together, as we did before.”
With those words, James remembered every delicious detail of their earlier journey. They would be away from chaperones and interfering relations and…everyone.
“I will meet you where the south road leaves Oxford tomorrow morning at eight,” Kawena declared. And refusing to elaborate, she walked into the house.
* * *
Kawena sat on her horse at the side of the busy roadway, waiting for Lord James to appear. She wore her breeches and cloth hat once again, rather the worse for smoke, keeping her head down to hide her face. Other garb was in a bag tied behind her saddle. She was still not an expert rider, but good enough for this journey.
As she waited, she felt a curious mixture of elation and uneasiness. She was certain she wanted to spend her life with…James. James. It was time to stop adding his title now that he was to be her husband. She’d wanted to settle the future on her own terms. And so, she’d succeeded. He’d declared his willingness to live whatever life she chose. There was every reason to celebrate, no reason to worry. Yet, there were issues she hadn’t completely considered until the time came for this journey.
She thought the plan she’d made would please him as much as it did her. But what if it didn’t? She’d taken such care over it, looked at the details from every angle. When she’d gotten the idea of revealing it to him in a great flurry of adventure, she’d imagined the scene so innocently. The mystery, the surprise. He’d be amazed, delighted, and after that everything would fall into place, just as it should be. But now it was real, not a fantasy. There were obstacles she’d ignored in her imaginings.
There he was. She watched James ride toward her, straight and easy in the saddle, so terribly handsome. He saw her and smiled, and it was as if all the other people on the road faded into insignificance. Kawena’s heart filled with joy.
He reached her, and she signaled her horse to move onto the road beside his. As they rode along together, she returned his smile.
This could be the adventure as it should have been, she told herself. She must make certain it was.
“So will you tell me now why we’re going to Southampton?” he asked.
“To look into the future,” she said.
“What, you have a fortune-teller there?” he joked. “Crystal gazing and palm reading? I daresay I could find you one closer by.”
Kawena smiled as she shook her head. Her heart was beating fast. “You said…yesterday…you said whatever my plan, you would follow it.”
“Fortune-teller it is, then.”
“But can you really put your future into my hands?” she asked. “Without knowing what it is?”
“It doesn’t matter where I am, if I’m with you.”
“In England, I am expected to say that, to do that, for you.” He started to speak, but she held up a hand. “And I could not.”
James tried to discover, in the depths of her dark eyes, what was coming.
“I told you I could not sit in England and wait while you sailed off for years—”
“I’ve resigned from the navy,” James interrupted.
“What?” Kawena was shocked into silence.
“Days ago. It was time to do it. I dreamed of a career in the navy, and I had one. I’m ready to move on.”
Even though this made matters easier, Kawena was worried. “I don’t want to be the reason that you gave it up.”
“Meeting you only made it clear,” he replied. “Along with other things—the slow tops at the Admiralty, seeing my family and realizing how much I’ve missed.”
“If you regret your choice.”
“What I would regret, to the end of my days, is losing you. I don’t care about anything else.”
She gazed into his blue eyes. “Are you really sure?”
“Completely. Though I expect I shall miss the sea.”
“Oh, the sea.” Kawena gave him a dazzling smile, driving all thought from his head.
* * *
They didn’t hurry. There was no reason to, and they shared an unspoken desire to recapture the mood of their previous travels. The day was warm, if overcast, and the breeze fresh. Their horses were content to move at a brisk walk. Kawena let the rhythm of their pace, and of occasional conversation, soothe her. Only after an hour or so had passed did she ask him, “What do you think is the most important thing in life?”
“You,” said James.
She smiled. But he’d said it automatically, and she wanted a more considered response. “What if you had never met me?”
James looked over at her, and seemed to catch the gravity of her question from her gaze. He grew thoughtful. “Most important,” he repeated. “I don’t know how to choose one thing. I have wanted to make my family proud, to act with honor, to serve my country.”
“And you have,” she said. “You do.”
“I hope so. After those things…” He considered. “I’ve always wanted to see more, experience more, to find out what’s beyond that next curve of shoreline. The other side of the hill.”
“I, too,” said Kawena, her spirit soaring with hope. She’d made the right decision, in so very many ways.
“Not that I can’t settle down,” he added hurriedly. “In a house or…some such.”
She smiled a secret smile and rode on.
When the sun sank toward the western horizon, throwing ruddy light into their faces, James began to wonder about arrangements for the night. He was alive with hope, and desire, but wary of making assumptions. As if reading his thoughts, Kawena said, “We should find a room for the night.”
“A room,” he echoed, to be perfectly sure.
“You should engage it,” she replied, with a smile that showed she was well aware of his meaning. “I don’t want to be too much noticed in these clothes.”
Spirits soaring, James chose a busy inn where the hostlers scarcely had time to observe them as they took charge of their horses. He bespoke a private parlor as well as a bedchamber, and saw that their things were carried up. Calling for hot water to be fetched to the room, he went off to get a good wash elsewhere.
When he returned to their parlor, much refreshed, he found Kawena sitting at a small table before the hearth. She’d taken off her boy’s clothes and now wore the sunset-orange gown that gave a seductive glow to her delicate skin. Her hair was pinned up in a sedate knot that made James’s fingers itch to loosen it. It was all he could do to sit down opposite, rather than crush her in his arms.
The harried waiter who brought in a tray expressed no surprise at seeing a young lady instead of a boy awaiting dinner. James’s concern for appearances eased, and then evaporated when he met her dark eyes, dancing with amusement. Kawena would live as she chose, and it was one of the things he loved most about her.
As they ate, conversation gradually died, replaced by an aura of longing so intense that James thought he would burst. He couldn’t have said, afterward, what dishes comprised their dinner, what wine they drank. It seemed forever, and a moment, before Kawena rose and smiled at him. “I shall be in the bedchamber,” she said.
The words, and the sultry invitation in her eyes, seared through him. He waited a few, dragging minutes, and then followed her.
By the time he traversed the short distance to their room, he was breathing like a man who’d run for miles. He opened the door and stepped in, shutting it securely behind him.
Kawena sat at a tiny dressing table in the corner, wearing a thin nightdress edged with lace. In the light of two candles, the intricate tracery lay along her skin like se
a foam. Her hands were raised to take down her hair. James strode over and knelt beside her. “Let me,” he said, his voice thick with longing. She let her arms drop, and now at last he could pull the pins and let her hair cascade down her back in a gleaming, ebony fall. It was one of the most beautiful things about this exquisite woman.
She turned to him, and he pulled her close in a kiss that held and held. Through the thin cloth of her nightdress her skin felt hot.
Kawena stood, pulling James up with her, their bodies pressed against each other. She pushed his coat off his shoulders and down his arms. He flung it off, then bent to yank off his boots and stockings and toss them away. Urgent now, Kawena tugged at his shirt. He jerked it up and over his head, tugging impatiently when the cuffs resisted.
Then he stood before her in only his buckskin riding breeches, muscles gilded by the candlelight. Kawena stepped closer and ran her hands over his ribs and up across his chest, delighting in the shudder of desire she evoked. She slid her arms around him and pulled his head down for another of the lingering kisses that set her afire. She could feel his arousal, taut and urgent. She let her hand slide downward again to the fastening of his breeches. He moaned as she loosened them, and gasped when she pushed them down to free him from their bonds.
As James rid himself of this last garment, Kawena skimmed out of her nightdress. They faced each other, naked in body and soul, in the flickering glow of the candles, and moved as one into a passionate embrace. Kawena’s knees threatened to give way. She pulled him back onto the snowy bedclothes. He lifted her a little as they tumbled into bed, legs interlaced, hands and lips delectably busy.
Riding a storm of sensation as wild as any tempest at sea, Kawena cried out when he covered her lips with his own and entered her. It was like discovering fantastic new lands, and like coming home, as all her senses dissolved in a crescendo of pleasure.
Afterward, they lay entwined, pulse and breath slowly easing. “I want to lie beside you every night of my life,” James said.