Her movement had brought her close. She stood less than a foot away.
For a moment, they stood locked in each other’s eyes. He could have sworn the moon, the earth, and the heavens stood still. That there was no other reality beyond the pair of them standing in the soft darkness, with the breeze sending loose tendrils of her hair streaming, and plastering her gown to her svelte frame.
He caught himself as his hands rose, but he couldn’t remember why he shouldn’t. She’d kissed him to thank him-he could do the same in reverse.
Then his hands settled around the delicate curves of her face, his hard palms cradling the fine skin of her cheeks, brushing the fragile bones of her jaw as he tipped her face up to his.
He bent his head. “Thank you for today-for saving me.”
She lifted her lips, and they brushed his. But this time it was he who kissed her, who pressed his lips to hers-gently, slowly, achingly carefully.
She didn’t back away. He felt her hand rise and cup the back of one of his, anchoring her, him-them.
Accepting.
Urging.
He angled his head, and pressed just a little harder, persuaded-when her lips parted, he teased them further, then, still riding his instincts hard, reining them in, he entered, slowly, deliberately, but definitely.
When she made no demur, he pressed deeper, and laid claim.
And something flared.
She moved into him, sending a shocking wash of heat cascading through him. Her lips moved beneath his, drawing him deeper, returning the caress.
And desire was suddenly there, unfurling within him-and her.
Familiar, yet not. More specific, more aware.
He couldn’t mistake it, not in him, or in her.
Unexpected, yet beguiling, appealing, enticing. For long moments he did nothing more than savor the taste, the heady drug of having a willing woman in his arms.
What with one thing and another, this mission, the Black Cobra, it had been some time since he’d last sipped from desire’s cup, but not even that pleasure, and the promise of more, could dim his mind to the reality of which woman he was holding.
Yet the warmth remained, the promise remained-undimmed.
He wasn’t sure what this was-where they were heading. There could be no easy roll in some hammock-not for him, not with her.
This, whatever it was, was different. That much he knew, but what next…that was shrouded in mystery.
He drew back-he had to, for he didn’t know what came next. Not here and now, not with her.
He didn’t even know if she knew what he did-if she recognized the tug of burgeoning desire and understood where it would lead. If they went on, if they blindly followed the road their feet were now treading.
So he eased back from the kiss, reluctantly-so reluctantly-drew his lips from hers.
Looked down into her face as her lashes fluttered, then rose. Looked into her eyes, and saw…
Nothing beyond soft delight.
Her lips, sheening from the kiss, lightly curved.
Her hand fell from his. He released her face and she stepped back.
Still smiling that soft, elusive smile.
“Good night, Gareth.”
He heard, but said nothing.
Could do nothing but watch-trusted himself to do nothing more than watch-as she turned and unhurriedly walked to the companionway, then went down.
He heard her footsteps travel the lower corridor, heard her door open, then close.
Only then did he fill his lungs, breathing deeply and long. Then he turned and leaned on the railings again, and stared out at the moonlit water rippling in their wake.
Five
12th October, 1822
Very late night
My cabin in Ayabad’s schooner
Dear Diary,
He kissed me! I am, at last, making headway, and flatter myself that I have, at the very least, engaged his interest. And the kiss was wonderful-so much better in every way than any kiss I have experienced before. He was masterful, yet in no way overwhelming. It was the sort of kiss I have every intention of experiencing frequently-preferably with greater fervency, but that I am sure will come.
Equally promising was his unprompted recognition of my part in the day’s action-and who would have thought that he, an army major, could be so progressive and clear thinking as to accept the need for me to be better able to defend myself-and him, although I doubt the latter occurred to him.
Nevertheless, I have to report that all is progressing most favorably. Given his estimation that we will be safe from further attack until we reach Suez, I have great hopes of what the next few days will bring.
I lay my head down to sleep in excited anticipation.
E.
16th October, 1822
Afternoon
My cabin on the schooner
Dear Diary,
I have written nothing for several days, as, to my irritation, I have nothing of note to report. I had great hopes that Gareth, having broken the ice and kissed me-and we both know it had little to do with gratitude-and having realized the nature of our bond, as I am quite sure he did, would accordingly seek to kiss me again.
Sadly, he has shown no evidence of such sensitivity-indeed, his reaction to the event appears to be to try to keep me at arm’s length! Not that he is denying the attraction that flared between us-I can see knowledge of it in his eyes-but it is more a case of his having decided that we should not be permitted either time or place to further pursue our mutual interest.
I have mentioned, have I not, his distressing tendency to make unilateral decisions?
This must stop, but I have yet to discover a way of getting around his determined stance.
But I will.
E.
19th October, 1822
Very early morning
Cabin on blasted schooner
Dear Diary,
I am penning this in a hurry as we are packing and preparing to quit this restricting vessel. Suez has materialized out of the mists ahead, and we expect to be docking in a few short hours. This section of our journey is at an end, and if its revelations have been significant-I now know Gareth Hamilton bears all the hallmarks of my “one”-and subsequent developments-that kiss!-encouraging, indeed promising, I must report that I have yet to further engage with Gareth.
He has proved to be annoyingly elusive.
Exactly what the next stage of our journey will encompass neither I nor he knows, but I am hopeful it will afford me greater scope to pursue him-or, more accurately, to encourage him to pursue me.
I go forward in hope.
E.
They quit the docks as the sun rose above the eastern quarter of Suez, painting pale walls a glowing amber-pink. Gareth squinted at the buildings silhouetted against the morning sky, minarets and the domes of mosques underscoring that they walked in a foreign land.
Luckily, since the defeat of Bonaparte, this foreign land was increasingly falling under British sway.
Garbed in his Arab robes, he strode confidently forward, as if he belonged, as if he knew where he was going-which he did. He’d stopped in Suez on his way out to India. Walking into the square beyond the docks, he glanced back at the small procession trailing him-Mooktu by his shoulder, Emily, Dorcas, and Arnia in their burkas a respectful pace behind, then Bister and Jimmy with the luggage, with Watson and Mullins bringing up the rear.