She nodded unsteadily. “And you?”
“I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the fear there’d been no time for during the attack.
“I fought back,” she whispered fiercely. “This time I fought back!”
“And did it very well.” He hugged her closer, terrified by the thought of what might have happened.
The constable arrived, truncheon in hand and puffing from his futile chase. Bulky and powerful, he carried himself like a soldier. “You folks all right ’ere?”
“I think so,” Gavin said.
“What ’appened, sir?”
“My office is above that warehouse,” Gavin explained. “Usually my wife and I leave earlier, but we were…working late and lost track of the time. We were on our way to the livery stable when those drunken sailors suddenly attacked without warning.”
The constable knelt by the two attackers who hadn’t escaped. After a quick check, he said, “Both of ’em are dead.” He gave Gavin a narrow-eyed glance. “You did that with your bare hands?”
Both dead? Gavin nodded, sickened by the knowledge that he’d killed without conscious thought. Though he’d used pentjak to defend himself in the past, never had the results been so deadly. “They had knives.”
“So I see, but they don’t smell of spirits. Odd for drunken sailors.” The constable stood. “You’ll need to come to the station for a report.”
A pair of pale objects lay on the ground. Remembering that the leader had dropped them at the start of the fight, Gavin bent and scooped the objects up. As he stared down, chilled, the constable asked, “What’ve you got there?”
“Just a pair of dice. I suppose the fellows had been gambling somewhere.” He dropped the dice in his pocket. “Might I delay my visit to your station until tomorrow morning? My wife has borne up bravely, but I’d like to get her home.” He shot Alex a look, and she obliged by sagging as if on the verge of collapse.
When he started to put a supportive arm around her, she frowned and changed instantly from drooping to concern. “You’re bleeding.”
He looked down and saw that his left sleeve was saturated with blood. Alex efficiently rolled back his coat, then turned a handkerchief into a temporary bandage. He wondered if it was one of the ones she’d used earlier for unholy purposes. Digging out his card case, he handed a card to the constable. “I’m Seabourne.”
The constable’s brows arched as he glanced at the card. “The Yankee Earl. I’ve ’eard of you, my lord. I’m Constable Mayne, and this is my regular patch.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Constable. We’re grateful you arrived when you did, or who knows what might have happened.”
Mayne looked down at the bodies. “I doubt you were in much danger tonight,” he said with unmistakable dryness. “But in the future you may want to be more careful where you walk.”
“I intend to be.” Gavin wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “Would you mind escorting us to the livery stable? I’d feel safer with you.”
“You can use your carriage for the ride to the station, but with two men dead, I must ask you to come tonight.” Mayne was polite but implacable. “’Twon’t take long, my lord.”
Gavin was tempted to wield his lordly status, but reminded himself he despised using rank in such a way. Besides, maybe it was best to get the official part of this incident over with as soon as possible.
He only wished the implications of the attack could be dismissed so quickly.
The police were courteous but very thorough. By the time Gavin and Alex finished answering questions and returned home, they were so tired they went straight to bed. Together. He woke early the next morning to find himself wrapped around his wife, spoon fashion. It was a very married feeling, and had given him a better night’s rest than he’d had in weeks.
Nuzzling through her hair, he kissed her neck and lazily caressed one full breast. It occurred to him that at least in the summer, it was warm enough to sleep without nightgowns. He wondered if she would be willing to consider that. She’d been remarkably broad-minded the evening before….
Alex woke and rolled to face him. Lightly she skimmed her hand over his shoulder and down his arm. “So last night really did happen.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You weren’t exaggerating about how deadly pentjak silat is. No wonder you worried when you and Kasan fought.”
“I should have been more careful, but having you there…” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I lost control.”
She regarded him gravely. “Killing is not to be taken lightly, but I haven’t much sympathy for murderous criminals.” She rolled up the left sleeve of his nightshirt and checked the bandage she’d applied the previous night before they went to bed. “I didn’t realize you have a tattoo.”
“Which will have a neat little scar across it,” he said, glad to change the subject. “I had a shipmate do this when I was young and foolish. Luckily, even at sixteen I had the sense not to be tattooed in a visible place.”
She studied the picture, which was mostly covered by bandage. “What is it?”
“An American eagle.” His mouth curved. “Branded a Yankee until I die.”
“Not a bad choice.” She leaned closer and kissed his throat, her hand running down his body. “Not a bad choice at all.”
Passion blazed through him. Now that they were lovers, his body wanted to make up for his long celibacy. The same must be true for Alex, because she responded eagerly to his caresses. Her breath quickened and her legs separated, welcoming his touch.
He wanted to roll over and bury himself in her to obliterate the previous night’s mayhem, but common sense intervened. “Do you still feel that mental wall is down?”
She hesitated. “I think so.”
“That’s not quite as definite as I’d like. So…” Catching her around the waist, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.
“Oh!” She caught her breath with surprise. Then she said, “Oh,” with a different intonation as she settled into the new position with her legs bracketing his. “I wonder if this will be rather like sitting on your lap.”
“Find out.” He should have thought of this earlier. He loved supporting the weight of her softly female body, loved being able to caress her delightfully curved backside, while she obviously liked not being trapped under his weight.
Deftly shifting their nightclothes out of the way, she sank onto him with a gasp of pleasure. As she began slowly rocking her hips, she said, “How civilized this is. The exact opposite of yesterday.”
If the previous day had been educational but harrowing, this morning was gentle and deeply satisfying. They made love as fluidly as sea creatures bathed in the warmth of a tropical ocean. When Alex discovered she could control the pace of their lovemaking, she began to experiment with joyous delight.
Gentleness built into scalding desire and ended with profound fulfillment. Even after both of them were spent and panting, he continued to hold her on top of him. “I’d like to wake up like this every morning for the rest of my life.”
“I’m willing if you are.” She kissed his throat, her lips soft against his pulse, her hair falling silkily over his face and shoulders. With wonder, he recognized that he was happier than he’d ever thought he could be again.
Perfect moments never lasted. Alex rolled onto her side, covering a yawn. “Let’s get up before we fall asleep again. It was kind of the sergeant to send out for meat pies to sustain us through questioning, but it wasn’t much of a dinner. I’m ready for a bath followed by a stevedore’s breakfast.”
“So am I.” Gavin suspected that the meat pies had been police recognition of their status—and the sergeant’s gratitude that they hadn’t used that status to be difficult.
She swung from the bed, her expression turning serious. “I know the East End is supposed to be dangerous, but I’d always felt safe around the warehouse. Foolish of me. So close to the docks, I suppose thieves and drunken sai
lors are to be expected.”
“There was nothing random about the attack on us. Or rather, on me.”
She frowned as she pulled on a robe over her nightgown. “That’s right—the man who attacked first said that you were ‘the one.’ Why do you think he said that?”
“Just a moment.” Gavin stepped into his own bedroom to don his robe and collect the dice he’d found on the street. Returning to Alex, he dropped the dice into her hand. “These were thrown at me.”
She gasped. “Maduri twelve-sided dice! But why?”
“My guess is that they were a cryptic calling card to be found by my dead body, with only the man who wanted me dead knowing the meaning.”
“Would Sultan Kasan send men halfway around the world to kill you? If he’d wanted your death, he could have had you executed in Maduri.”
“My thoughts exactly. It’s probably someone else, but I don’t know who.” He retrieved the dice and studied the familiar symbols, which had led him to where he was today. “Perhaps Cousin Philip wanted to regain the title, or Barton Pierce has turned lethal with his resentment, or your possessive former suitor wanted to widow you again so he’d have another chance to win your favor.”
Alex shuddered. “What a range of possibilities.”
“Probably all of them wrong, with the truth something entirely different.” He dropped the dice into his pocket, wishing he could turn this over to the police, but there was nothing solid to offer those sober, literal-minded gentlemen.
“Do you think I’m in danger also?”
He wanted to lie, but she was safer knowing the truth. “It’s possible. They might not have wanted you left alive as a witness to murder.” When she shivered, he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Alex. It never occurred to me that I might bring danger on you.”
Her gaze was level. “On the contrary, I brought this on you. If not for rescuing me, you’d surely have left Maduri without making enemies.”
“Perhaps. Whatever the reason for the attack, we need to take precautions. In the future I’ll be armed, and I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
After she nodded agreement, he girded himself for a suggestion she would not like. “I think it’s best if you don’t work at the office until this is settled.”
Her cooperation vanished. “Will you stop going to the office?”
“No, though I guarantee I won’t be working late.”
“So you can risk your life, but I can’t?” Her brows arched ironically. “If the warehouse district is unsafe for me, it is for you as well. More so, since you were the target of the attack.”
He clamped down on his exasperation. “I don’t want either of us taking unnecessary risks. I need to work at the office most days until Peter Spears is fully trained, but your estate work can easily be done at home, and this area is far safer. Hired thugs like those who attacked last night would stand out like camels in Mayfair.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t be kept prisoner in my own home, Gavin, nor will I let my life be run by fear. If you can risk the East End, so can I.”
“Damnation, Alex, I won’t allow you”—he didn’t realize he was shouting until the door opened and Daisy appeared with Alex’s morning tea tray. Looking frightened, the girl stammered an apology and started to withdraw.
Gavin drew a deep breath. “It’s all right to come in, Daisy. We were just having a discussion, but I’m sure my wife would rather have her tea.” To Alex he said, “I’m sorry for losing my temper. We can discuss this after breakfast.”
After she nodded, he withdrew to his own room, shaken by the way he’d exploded. His even temper was legendary among the men he worked with, but he was discovering that where Alex’s safety was involved, he had a very short fuse. Last night he’d killed two men with his bare hands because she was threatened, and this morning the mere thought of her in danger had made common sense go out the window. He’d probably only strengthened her determination to put herself at risk.
When Alex’s mother had asked if he loved her daughter, he hadn’t known how to reply, but the weeks since they arrived in London had clarified his emotions. Because he’d thought his heart had died with Helena, he hadn’t recognized that he was gradually falling in love with Alex. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—compare her with Helena; they were too different. But day by day, Alex had won him with her courage, her directness, her kindness, and her passion.
He loved his wife—and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
Alex stared blindly at her mirror, trembling a little. To think she’d believed life in England would be blessedly peaceful. In less than twenty-four hours she’d discovered an inner darkness she’d never suspected, come close to being murdered, and had her first fight with her husband. She hadn’t realized how completely she’d come to rely on Gavin’s steady temper and support. Having him angry with her was deeply disturbing.
“My lady, are you all right?” Daisy asked worriedly.
Alex wondered if the girl’s experiences made her fear that Gavin might turn violent. Pulling herself together, she took a steaming cup of tea from the tray. “I’m fine. My husband and I merely had a minor disagreement.”
Without further comment, the maid began to pick up the previous day’s garments, which had been thrown over the sofa when Alex returned from the police station too tired to ring for her maid. Daisy wore a simple but elegant dress that she’d sewn from a length of rose-colored linen Alex had given her. She had a natural sense of style that a professional dressmaker would envy. But she hadn’t lost the anxiety that she’d had from the beginning. She usually looked on the verge of tears.
Alex asked, “Are you happy in this house, Daisy?”
The girl looked startled at the question. “Everyone has been most kind, my lady. I’ve never known such kindness.”
And obviously she didn’t know how to react to kindness. “How are the reading lessons going?”
Daisy’s face lit with genuine pleasure. “Miss Hailey is a wonderful teacher. She says she’s never had a student learn so fast. Yesterday I read a chapter of one of Miss Katie’s books all by myself.” She paused, then added conscientiously, “Miss Hailey helped with words I didn’t know.”
“I’m so glad,” Alex said warmly. “My mother taught me to read. I remember her telling me that reading was the golden road to anywhere one wants to go.”
“The golden road,” Daisy repeated thoughtfully. “That’s why slaves aren’t allowed to read. Because the masters don’t want them to learn to dream.”
The quiet statement was chilling. Throat tight, Alex asked, “How did you bear slavery, Daisy? You’re so bright and attractive—in a just world, you would have had so many more opportunities.”
“Being attractive is no blessing for a slave girl, ma’am,” the maid said bitterly. “Nor is intelligence. Because of that, Miss Amanda had me brought from the fields to the big house to train as a maid. Because she didn’t like the way slaves talked, she made me learn to talk white, and whipped me when I made mistakes. As to being attractive—” She swallowed hard. “Miss Amanda’s husband thought so. That’s why she had me sold away from the plantation and my family.”
“Oh, Daisy!” Alex stared at her, horrified. Her own experience of slavery gave her a visceral understanding of what the maid was saying—and not saying. “Slavery is evil. An affront to God and all that is best in mankind. I’m doing what I can to fight it, and will for the rest of my life.”
“That’s very good of you, ma’am.” Daisy was polite, but her expression suggested that she thought Alex meant contributing a little money to the Anti-Slavery Society now and then.
A thought struck Alex. “Please don’t discuss what I’m about to say because it’s potentially dangerous, but I’m seeking information that might help the Royal Navy block illegal smuggling of slaves between Africa and the Americas. Do you know anyone who might have such information? Or who might be willing to listen and collect scraps and bits of conversation in sailors’ ta
verns?”
“My lady, don’t have anything to do with slavers!” Daisy gasped. “They’re too dangerous.”
Alex wondered what horrible experience had created such vehemence. “Yes, which is why they need to be stopped. Do you know anyone who might be able to help?”
Daisy’s dark face grayed, as if some inner battle was taking place. After a long silence, she said reluctantly, “I might know someone. I would need to leave the house for several hours to find him.”
“You have my permission to do so. And thank you for the attempt.” Alex finished her tea with satisfaction. Daisy’s friend might open a whole new line of information, perhaps even imprison a slaver. That was worth a little risk.
Chapter 31
GAVIN LOVED the business of tea, which was why he found comfort in moving through his dimly lit warehouse. The previous night’s attack had left him with the same restiveness he felt at sea, when he sensed a gathering storm but didn’t know when or how it would strike.
The warehouse was a sanctuary of peace and order by comparison. He walked along quiet aisles between tall stacks of tea chests, occasionally touching one of the bright illustrations that had been painted on the chests by factory artists in China. One stack was delicate Young Hyson while the next was partially fermented Oolong, known in Chinese as the “black dragon.” There was smoky Lapsang Souchong, sturdy Congou, popular Pekoe, and many more, each with its own character. He’d learned every step of the process from the planting of tea bushes by peasants through the harvesting, processing, and packing that allowed the blessed leaf to travel halfway around the world to soothe harried Westerners.
He paused at the huge section of Earl’s Blend tea, which was mixed secretly in Canton with exact proportions of tea and bergamot peel to give a clean, fruity taste. He couldn’t think of the tea without thinking of Kyle, who’d developed the blend. Gavin had been lucky the day a casual encounter began what turned into a rewarding personal and business relationship. A pity Kyle was at his country estate. It would be good to discuss the situation with him.
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