Kitabı oku: «A Regency Rake's Redemption», sayfa 8

Chapter Nine

Alistair looked from the charming, slightly clumsy piece of embroidery in his hands and up to the generous mouth he had kissed until it was red and swollen. And then up again and into the green eyes that were Dita’s, just as they always looked, unchanged even though he had taken her with careless lust. He had seen the sophisticated, adult Dita at Government House and somehow she and the girl in his memory had seemed separate individuals; now, with her gift in his hand, the two slid together, became one.

It had been very strange, that feeling that they had done this before, that she had lain in his arms, that his lips had tasted the tender skin of her breasts, stroked those long, slim legs. It must be because he had known her so well. And those frequent dreams: confused, erotic, troubling dreams touched with anger and betrayal, all mxed with the memories of how he had left home.

The last thing he needed was her becoming in some way attached to him. Lovemaking was all very well, but perhaps he had underestimated her experience. His brain felt as though he had a fever, but one thing was clear: Dita might not be a virgin, but she was inexperienced. The man she had eloped with had obviously been a clumsy boor and now he had shown her a glimpse of what lovemaking could be like. He suspected he had given her her first orgasm.

Alistair led her up the companionway and on to the foredeck. Other passengers had come out, too, but they were laughing and talking and listening to the sailors playing, not paying any attention to two of their number who appeared to have strayed a little further along the deck to catch the warm breeze.

‘There—safe,’ he said, giving his neckcloth a final tug.

‘Indeed.’ Dita was a good actress, he thought with gratitude. Her voice was cool even though she looked flushed and a little … a little loved. He had thought her still a skinny beanpole, but now he had caressed those slight curves he knew he had been wrong: she was perfect and made for his touch. Her skin glowed under its slight golden tan, her lower lip pouted with a fullness that held the promise of passion with its potential still unfulfilled. Dita raised one hand and curled the loose ringlet around it and his body tightened at the memory of those slender fingers circling his flesh, the ache to sheathe himself in her tight, wet heat.

Perhaps he had been worrying unnecessarily and she was sophisticated enough for these kind of games. He would wait and see.

Some of the passengers had begun to dance a country jig. Alistair caught Dita’s hand and almost ran down to join them, whirling her into the end of the line next to the elder Miss Whyton and Lieutenant Tompkins.

‘Mistletoe!’ Miss Whyton cried as Dita was spun past her, on down between the row of dancers by the lieutenant. ‘Wherever did you get that?’

But she was safely down to the other end now and Alistair made himself focus on the steps as he caught her hands and waited for their turn to dance to the other end.

By the time the fiddler drew out the last chord everyone was flushed and laughing, the ladies fanning themselves, the men pretending to pant with exertion. Alistair saw Callum Chatterton admire Dita’s hair ornament and then snatch a kiss, followed by his brother. A positive queue of gentlemen formed.

‘I will lend it to you,’ Dita said to Daniel, ‘and then you may go and make mischief.’

Averil began to unfasten it for her, then stopped, the spray in her hands, and stared. Alistair strolled a little closer.

‘But these berries are pearls, Dita! Real pearls—you could make an entire necklace there are so many.’

Callum took the spray out of her hands and turned it close in front of his eyes. ‘And fine ones at that. You should have them locked in the strongbox, Lady Perdita, not be dancing a jig on the open deck in something this valuable.’

‘How lovely they are.’ Mrs Bastable came over to join the group, her arm linked through that of her taciturn husband. ‘But you ought to replace the pearls with glass beads, for safety. Who gave them to you, dear?’

‘Someone I was friends with a long time ago.’ Dita said. ‘I don’t think I know him any more.’ She looked up from the mistletoe and caught Alistair looking at her. Her eyes were bleak. ‘Excuse me. I will take your advice and lock them away.’

Alistair held the door to the cuddy open for her and she paused on the threshold. ‘I would have lain with you for glass beads, or none,’ she said in a vehement whisper. ‘You had no need to buy me with pearls. I am not a professional. Nor am I an innocent girl who has no idea what is happening when a man kisses her. Don’t behave as though we have just done something regrettable; something silly. If you want someone to patronise, go and flirt with Dotty Whyton.’

‘Damn it!’ The accusation was so unfair, and yet such an accurate stab at his conscience, that Alistair let go of the door and it slammed, shutting them off from the others.

‘Give them back, then,’ he said, smiling, not troubling to keep that devil out of his eyes.

‘No.’ She put up her chin. ‘I shall keep them to remind myself of the folly of passion. They will make a very lovely necklace.’

They were fortunate with the weather, everyone agreed. The wind held, the storms were not severe and they reached Cape Town a week ahead of Captain Archibald’s most optimistic prediction.

‘I will be so glad to stretch my legs on a surface that does not go up and down,’ Averil said as she tied her bonnet ribbons under her chin and tried to see the result in the small mirror that hung on her wall.

‘The land will go up and down just as much as the ship seemed to,’ Dita told her from her perch on Averil’s bunk. ‘You have got your sea legs now. What do you intend to do today? The captain says we have two days here.’

‘Lord Lyndon has asked me to form one of a party going to the Company’s gardens. Apparently they have the most wonderful collection from all over the world, and a menagerie as well. But surely he has asked you, too?’

‘He did, but I have shopping to do, so I refused.’ Dita met Averil’s questioning gaze with a look of bright interest. ‘I saw the gardens on my way out. They are very fine—you will enjoy yourself.’

‘I am sure I will.’ Averil stuck a hatpin in her pincushion and fidgeted about tidying her things. Dita waited for the next question.

‘Shopping for two days?’

‘I have something to take to the jewellers and then I must collect it the next day.’

‘Is there something wrong between you and Lord Lyndon?’ Averil went slightly pink; she was not given to intrusive personal questions.

‘Yes,’ Dita said. There was no point in lying about it.

‘Since Christmas Eve.’ Averil nodded to herself. ‘That is what I guessed. Whatever is the matter?’

‘We had a … a misunderstanding.’ Or, at least, I misunderstood. I thought he cared for me and wanted to make love to me because of that. How naive! He wanted to make love and so he seemed to care and once he had, then he was all cool practicality. It was a mercy he had held back from entering her. She was shamefully aware that she would not have stopped him.

‘I thought you liked him very well.’

‘I do … did. I find him too … attractive for prudence with a man like that.’

‘Oh.’ Averil fiddled some more, dropped her gloves and blurted out, ‘Did he overstep the mark?’

‘Overstep it? Yes, I think you could say he over-leapt it. I should have known better—’ Dita broke off, but the sound she heard had been from above their heads, not from anyone returning to the roundhouse, and the windows were closed.

‘Dita—you didn’t sleep with him?’

‘Absolutely no sleeping occurred. Oh, I am sorry, I should not be so flippant. No, if you mean did anything occur that might lead to, say, pregnancy. I was more intimate with him than I should have been, and, it is fair to say, we are both regretting that now.’

‘So he kissed you very passionately?’ Dita reminded herself that Averil was a virgin, and a well-behaved one at that, and nodded. ‘But if you are both regretting it, could you not put it behind you now?’

‘It is one thing both of you regretting something at the same time,’ Dita said, jamming her own hat on her head as she got to her feet. ‘That indeed might lead to eventual harmony. What is not … flattering is when the man shows every sign of wanting to run a mile within moments of the encounter.’

‘Oh, no! How—’

‘Humiliating, is the word you are looking for. The fact that this is, of course, the most sensible and prudent outcome does not help in the slightest.’

‘No, I can see that.’ Averil gathered up her parasol, reticule and shawl and opened the canvas flap. ‘What a pity. I thought he was perfect for you.’

Perfect. He is beautiful and insanely courageous and intelligent and apparently rich and he makes love like an angel and he … he is no angel. An angel would bore me.

‘Lady Perdita, Miss Heydon. Good morning.’ It was Dr Melchett, a tough old survivor of everything India could throw at a man. Except possibly tigers, Dita thought.

‘Good morning, Dr Melchett. Are you going with the party to the gardens?’

‘I am not, Lady Perdita. I have seen them several times and I have every intention of buying gifts for my godsons. Might I escort you ladies, if you are also looking for bargains? Ostrich feathers, for example?’

‘Thank you, I would be glad of your company, sir. Miss Heydon is bound for the gardens, so I will be your only companion.’

He was a dry and witty escort, Dita discovered, and the perfect antidote to troubling and handsome young men. He tempted her into buying a huge ostrich feather fan and plumes for her next court appearance and then enchanted her by taking her to a wood carver to buy amusing carved animals for his godchildren.

‘Oh, look.’ It was a small oval box, no bigger than a large snuffbox, with Noah’s Ark carved in low relief on the lid. When the lid was opened it was full of minute animals, each in exquisite detail and so small that she could sit the elephant on her little fingernail.

Dita played with it for several minutes before she found the pair of tigers and remembered Alistair and her reason for coming shopping.

‘Is there a good jeweller’s shop, do you know, Doctor?’ Reluctantly she slid the lid closed and handed the box back to the dealer. She already had a number of larger carved animals for nephews and nieces and they were all too young for anything so delicate.

‘You are not intending to buy gemstones? You would have done better in India. There is one along here, I seem to recall. Ah, yes, here we are.’

‘I need a necklace stringing,’ she explained as the jeweller came to greet them. ‘These. They are already drilled.’ She poured the pearls out on to the velvet pad on the counter. ‘Can you do it for tomorrow? I want them in one simple string.’

‘I can do it for tomorrow morning, madam.’ He produced his loupe and picked up a handful. ‘These are very fine and well matched. Indian?’

‘Yes.’ They agreed a price and she let the doctor take her arm and find a carriage back to the ship.

‘Your mistletoe pearls?’

‘They are.’ She gazed out of the window, willing the doctor to change the subject.

‘Interesting young man, that. And generous.’ So he had guessed who had given them to her.

‘We knew each other as children.’ Talk about something else. Please.

‘And yet you are no longer friends.’ The old man rested his clasped hands on the top of his walking cane and regarded her with faded blue eyes. ‘A pity to fall out with old friends. When you reach my age you appreciate the value of all of them.’

‘It is his birthday tomorrow,’ Dita said. There was a lump in her throat for some reason. ‘I … Perhaps I should buy him a present.’

‘What would he like, do you think?’ Doctor Melchett sat up straight, a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

‘I do not know. He can afford whatever he wants and it is too late to make anything.’

‘Then give him simplicity and something to make him smile. He does not smile enough, I suspect.’

‘The Noah’s Ark!’

‘That would make me smile if a lovely young lady gave it to me,’ the old man said with a chuckle, pulling the check string and ordering the carriage back to the shopping district.

After breakfast Dita waited until Alistair strolled out on to the deck alone. If he snubbed her, she did not want an audience.

‘Happy birthday.’ She could have sworn she had made no sound as she walked towards him where he leaned against the rail, but he did not start at the sound of her voice right behind him. Nor did he look round.

‘Thank you.’ She waited, despite her instinct to turn on her heel, and eventually he shifted until he faced her. ‘You are speaking to me again?’

‘And you to me. Kindly do not imply I have been sulking.’ She drew down a deep breath: this was not how she had meant this encounter to go. ‘You are the most infuriating man. I was determined to be all sweetness and light and in less than a dozen words you have me scratching at you.’

‘Sweetness and light?’ He smiled and she found herself smiling back with wary affection. Thank you, Dr Melchett. ‘That I would like to see.’

‘I would like to forget Christmas Eve, to put it behind us. I wish we could just be friends again and not think about who was to blame or who said what.’

His smile was wicked. ‘I would suggest that staying in plain view of at least three fellow passengers at all times might be a good idea if that is your plan. You might want to be just friends, Dita, I would be a liar if I said I did. And I am not sure I believe you either.’

‘Have you no self-control?’ she snapped, then threw up her hands. ‘I am sorry. Doubtless you are right. It was both of us, I know that. Can we not forget it?’

‘We could pretend to forget it,’ Alistair said, watching her. Could he sense how aroused he made her feel, just standing there? She had kissed his mouth, just there. Those long, clever fingers had touched her there and there and. ‘Would that do?’ he asked. Something in his expression made her doubt he intended pretending for very long.

‘It will have to, I suppose.’ Dita brought her hands out from behind her back to reveal the box. ‘This is for your birthday. It is quite useless—its only purpose is to make you smile.’

‘That seems a good purpose.’ He reached out and took it, his fingers scrupulously avoiding touching hers. ‘Local work?’

‘Yes. Best to open it over a flat surface and out of the breeze, I think.’

It was reward enough, just to sit and watch his face, intent over the box, his fingers delicately lifting each tiny creature on to the table, arranging them in pairs, finding the miniature gangplank that could slope up to the box. ‘Here is Noah.’ He lifted the final piece out and looked up at her, smiling. She swayed towards him a little, drawn by the curve of his lips.

‘Thank you, this is exquisite.’ He lifted a finger and touched her cheek. ‘It makes you smile, too. I hated that I killed your smiles, Dita.’

‘You did not,’ she said, stiffening. He had only to touch her, it seemed, and her self-control wilted. Attack seemed the only defence. ‘You have an exaggerated idea of the influence you have over me. If I have seemed sombre, it is no doubt because I have been reflecting on the folly of allowing myself to be attracted to a personable rake.’

‘Attracted?’ That smile was back. He must practise it to have such a devastating effect, she thought, fighting down equal measures of panic and arousal.

‘Do stop fishing for compliments, Alistair.’ Dita pushed back her chair and stood up and he rose, too, the movement of his linen coat scattering the tiny animals across the table. ‘Of course attracted. I would hardly make love with a man for whom I felt no attraction.’

‘Wouldn’t you? I really have no idea what you might do, Dita, if the fancy took you.’ The amusement had drained out of his expression, leaving it bleak and arrogant.

‘You are suggesting that I would—’ What? Sleep with any man I fancied, on a whim? She almost asked the question, then bit it back; she did not want to hear him say yes.

‘That so-called chaperon of yours, sweet lady though she is, just isn’t up to your weight, Dita.’

‘I am not a damned horse! ‘

Alistair’s eyes narrowed into an insolent scrutiny that had her balling her fists at her sides in an effort not to slap him. ‘No. You don’t need a jockey, you go fast enough as it is. What you need, Perdita my love, is a husband.’

‘Perhaps I do,’ she said with every ounce of sweetness she could get into her voice. ‘Perhaps, somewhere, there is a man who is not patronising, arrogant, domineering or interested only in my money or my body. On the evidence so far, however, I am finding that hard to believe.’

Behind them the door opened, bringing with it the sea air and the sound of shouted orders to the men in the rigging. Dita whirled round and walked out, almost colliding with Dr Melchett on the threshold. She managed a thin-lipped smile as she passed, intent on reaching the prow of the ship before anyone, anyone at all, spoke to her.