The Constant Heart (11 page)

After they had enjoyed strawberry ice cream for dessert, Sukey rose rather unsteadily to her feet and laced her arms around Harry's neck. 'I want to dance. You promised me that we could dance after supper.'

He steadied her with his hands spanning her tiny waist. 'Well, it would be churlish to break my promise.' He turned to Rosina with an apologetic grin. 'Would you object to my dancing with Sukey?'

'Not at all. I'm quite content to sit and watch you.'

'Come then, Sukey. Let's show the rest of them what we can do.' Harry led her out of the booth.

Rosina leaned over the balcony, resting her chin on her folded arms. The sky was dark but the innumerable gaslights flooded the crystal platform with so much light that it might have been midday.

'Would you like to dance?'

A disembodied voice from the next booth jerked her out of her reverie. She turned her head and saw Roland Rivers leaning over the balustrade.

'No, thank you,' Rosina said stiffly.

He disappeared and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he took no for an answer. But her relief was cut short as the door to the booth opened and he walked in without waiting to be invited. She leapt to her feet, angry at the intrusion. 'Please leave at once, sir. I don't think you ought to be here.'

'Come now, I only want to enjoy your company. You need not be afraid of me.'

'I am not afraid of you, Mr Rivers. But I am asking you to leave.'

He took a step closer. 'And what if I refuse?'

'I'll call out to my friend.' He was so near to her that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek, but the table and chairs blocked her exit.

Rivers glanced over her shoulder at the dance floor where couples were whirling round to the strains of a Viennese waltz. 'I don't think he will be able to hear you, my dear.' He traced the outline of her cheek with his finger.

'You are no gentleman, sir.'

'Isn't that fortunate for me?' Before she could protest, he had taken her in his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss that was both shocking and exciting. No man had ever had the temerity to go any further than giving her a peck on the cheek; nor had any held her in such a crushing embrace. She struggled but he was much the stronger: she could barely breathe, and for a moment she thought she was going to faint. Then, suddenly, she was free. She clutched the balustrade for support, staring in disbelief as a masked man, dressed like storybook illustrations of a pirate with a scarlet bandanna tied around his head and gold earrings in his ears, seized Rivers by the collar and the seat of his trousers and pitched him over the balcony.

Rosina gripped the rail and leaned over the balustrade, half expecting to see Roland Rivers stretched out on the ground in a pool of blood.

'He hadn't far to fall,' her rescuer said, laughing. 'We're only on the first tier, and there's a nice soft flowerbed down below.'

It was true: Rivers had fallen onto soft earth and crushed a bed of red and white geraniums. He was already scrambling to his feet and brushing himself down, much to the amusement of the passers-by. 'You could have killed him,' Rosina said, slightly dazed by the sudden turn of events. 'Or he might have fallen on another person and killed them.'

Behind the mask his eyes shone with laughter. 'You have a tender conscience for one who was being molested by a complete stranger, or am I mistaken?'

'No, sir. You are not mistaken, and I thank you for intervening.'

He bowed from the waist. 'May I claim my reward?'

'R-reward?'

'A dance. Just one waltz with a beautiful girl would be reward enough.' He held out his hand.

She hesitated. He looked so handsome and so dashing in his costume – like a romantic figure from a novelette. He must be an actor or one of the characters from a sideshow, but he had just saved her from a most embarrassing situation. She laid her hand in his. 'Just one waltz then.'

She did not want to admit that, apart from her recent fleeting encounter with Rivers, this was the first time she had ever been held in any man's arms other than those of her father. She had shared dancing lessons with Sukey and her sisters, but thus far she had not had the opportunity to put them into practice. Beneath the canopy of black velvet sky the crystal platform was ablaze with light; the air was filled with music and laughter. The sensation of being held so close to a man who was unrelated to her was strange and oddly thrilling. At first, as she concentrated on her steps, Rosina could not bring herself to look him in the face. The mask made him seem mysterious and intriguing, but she could not bring herself to look him in the eye. The top of her head just reached the level of his chin, and she found herself staring at the open neck of his frilled shirtfront, which revealed a tantalising glimpse of a muscular chest and smooth, tanned skin. Hanging round his neck, he wore a small heart-shaped medallion on a fine gold chain.

'It is rather a fine medallion, isn't it?' His voice held a hint of laughter.

She looked up and saw that he was smiling. 'Are you an actor, sir?'

'As you see, I'm a pirate.'

His laugh was infectious and she found herself joining in. Suddenly it seemed as though anything was possible. 'All right, I believe you.'

'Are you going to tell me your name?'

'Rosina May.'

'That's a beautiful name, just like its owner.'

'Now you're flattering me.'

'No, I'm simply telling you the truth.'

She was saved from the embarrassment of answering as the rhythm of the waltz changed to that of a polka, and he swept her into the fast movement so that her feet barely touched the ground. As they moved together as one in time to the music, she found the courage to raise her eyes to his face. There was something so different about him and yet there was a hint of the familiar. She felt as though she had known this enigmatic stranger for years, although they had only just met. As the polka ended, the orchestra stopped playing for a moment to allow the dancers who wanted to leave the floor time to tear themselves away and seek refreshments. She knew that she ought to have gone too, but she felt so comfortable in his arms and he showed no sign of letting her go. She was vaguely aware that Harry was glaring at her from the other side of the platform, and that Sukey had her hands entwined around his neck, clinging to him with the tenacity of ivy.

'You haven't told me your name,' Rosina murmured, looking deeply into his eyes that were a shade that was neither green nor brown, flecked with golden glints when he smiled. He was smiling now.

'My name is Pirate.'

'Now you're teasing me.'

Before he could answer, Harry came striding towards them. Sukey was still clinging to his arm and she had to run to keep up with him. He did not look pleased. 'Who the devil are you, sir? It seems to me that you are being a great deal too familiar with this young lady, who is in my care.'

'Harry!' Rosina twisted round to glare at him. She felt her partner's arms tighten around her and she leaned against him. Ignoring Harry's furious expression, she was barely conscious of anything but the thrill of being supported by strong arms; the heat of his body permeated through his thin cotton shirt and the muslin of her evening gown; the scent of him filled her nostrils and was more intoxicating than a glass of sherry wine. Spice, cloves, lemons and – Indian ink. She found herself sniffing the air like a hungry hound. How could a pirate, or an actor, or whatever he was, smell of Indian ink? Without thinking, she caught hold of his hand and turned it palm upwards – his fingers were ink-stained, long and supple – she had to suppress the urge to raise them to her lips and kiss each one in turn.

'What the devil are you doing, Rosina?'

Harry's sharp voice brought her back to earth with a bump. But instead of answering him, she turned her head to look up into the pirate's face. 'You are a scholar, sir?'

His lips twitched and the martial gleam in his eyes was wiped away by a glimmer of amusement. 'Alas, no. As you guessed, I am an actor, and the ink stains were caused by writing out playbills.'

'He looks like a real pirate,' Sukey said, giggling. 'I think he looks quite dashing.'

'He looks like a bounder to me.' Harry extended his hand to Rosina. 'Come, Rosie. Allow me to escort you back to our booth, away from this charlatan.'

The pirate fingered the wooden dagger that was lodged in his wide leather belt. 'I could challenge you to a duel for that, sir.'

Rosina shot him a quick glance, and saw to her relief that he was laughing. His teeth flashed white against his dark skin, and, when he lowered his gaze to smile at her, she felt herself go quite weak at the knees. She summoned up all her self-control and laid her hand on Harry's arm. 'This is ridiculous, Harry. This gentleman and I were dancing. There's no harm in that, is there?'

'We were dancing too, Harry.' Sukey tugged at his arm. 'Let's go back to the booth. I would love a glass of champagne.'

'We will all go back to the booth,' Harry said firmly. 'But not you, sir. Haven't you got a play to act in, or a charade, or something?'

The pirate inclined his head, and his gold earrings flashed in the gaslight. 'I have business to conclude, but first I would like to claim this last dance with Miss May.'

The orchestra had already begun to play a lively gallop, and before Harry had a chance to protest further the pirate had whisked Rosina onto the dance floor amongst the throng of dancers. She caught a glimpse of Harry escorting Sukey in the direction of their supper booth, but at this moment she cared about nothing except the thrill of dancing with the handsome stranger. The gallop was followed by a stately quadrille and then a waltz. There was no need to talk as she floated in his arms, looking into those mysterious eyes behind the black mask. Suddenly the sky was filled with a million coloured stars and an explosion of sound and light. The dancing stopped while everyone craned their necks to watch the firework display. He was holding her hand and they were standing so close together that she was certain she could hear his heart beating. The firework display ended with a huge starburst and a succession of loud explosions. The noise seemed to awaken Rosina from her dream. She snatched her hand free. 'It must be getting late. I really must go.'

'It's not yet midnight. Can't you stay a bit longer?'

'I must be home – I mean, I have to be somewhere at midnight. It's terribly important that we're there on time.'

'Where exactly is home?'

'Black Eagle Wharf. I doubt if you would know it.'

'I'm a river pirate, am I not?'

'Now you're laughing at me.'

'No, I would never laugh at you, Rosina.' He drew her into his arms and kissed her so softly and tenderly that she opened her lips with a sigh of delight, giving herself up to the strange and wonderful sensations flowing through her veins. It was over too soon, leaving her desperate for more, but he drew away from her, laying his finger on her parted lips. 'I will see that you get home safely.'

'Y-you will?'

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. 'Let's go and find your friends.'

By the time they reached the supper booth, Sukey and Harry had drunk a whole bottle of champagne between them. Sukey was hiccuping and giggling and Harry had reached the belligerent stage of intoxication.

'So, there you are,' he murmured thickly. 'I ought to give you a good hiding, mister.'

Stepping in between them, Rosina laid her hand on his arm. 'Have you any idea of the time, Harry? No? Well, it's almost midnight. We're supposed to be back at your parents' house before midnight. Have you forgotten that Walter is going to meet us there?'