Virginia Henley (7 page)

Bernard pulled out the obituary of the late Lord Lamb that he’d clipped from the
Gazette
and handed it to her.
“My cousin Anthony is the present Lord Lamb and I’m the heir apparent. He’s only seventeen with no heirs of his body, and I can tell you on good authority he’s not expected to live much longer.”

“Whose authority?” Angela asked, suddenly becoming very interested.

Bernard smiled cunningly. “My authority, Angel Face.” His hand moved down from her arm to cup her exposed buttock.

She saw that he was sporting brand-new clothes, from the latest Petersham neckcloth to the polished Hessians. She wanted to believe him, but was a skeptic by nature.

“My luck has turned. I can’t even lose at the card table since I became heir to Lamb Hall. Tell you what,” he cajoled, caressing her pretty bum, “let me come home with you tonight, and tomorrow I’ll drive you out to see the estate for yourself in my new phaeton.”

Angela did have another couple of men on her string, but they weren’t as morally bankrupt as Bernie. There was a lurking bastard inside him that quite excited her. She had no scruples and knew instinctively he was the same. Who knew what they could not achieve if they put their brains together, to say nothing of the rest of their throbbing anatomy.

“Well, stup me,” she giggled.

“I intend to,” he promised.

Angela lived in a single room on the third floor of a building rented out to theatrical people. Until she hooked someone with real money, it was adequate for her needs because it contained two essentials, a big bed and enough space to accommodate her oversized wardrobe.

Bernard took special care to pleasure her tonight. Tomorrow night would be very different. Once she set her avaricious eyes on Lamb Hall and was eaten alive by ambition, Angel Face would be the one who would have to do the pleasuring.

The next step would be to dangle the plum of becoming
Lady Lamb before her and she would be willing to cater to his every lustful perversion. His skillful hands caressed her delicious bum as he pressed her onto his swollen sex. Anticipation was half the pleasure.

They had to set out early the next morning for Stoke because Angela had to be back in London for her evening performance. Though he let her believe the phaeton was his, he had only rented it for the day. It was, however, such an improvement over the lumbering public stagecoach, he knew he would never again travel any other way.

Bernard drove her past Lamb Hall at a slowed pace, not daring to turn into the driveway in broad daylight. This would never do for Angela. She hadn’t driven out all this way to miss a grand tour.

Without realizing it Angela was being manipulated. She agreed to Bernard’s suggestion that they rent a punt upriver in the Medway and she reclined back, enjoying herself as he poled slowly so that they drifted along the bank until they came upon Lamb Hall’s boathouse.

From this vantage point they could see the lovely red brick mansion with its carriage house and stables off to one side beneath the stately old elms. The grass was like a thick velvet carpet sloping up to the Hall. Arbors and trellises were covered by wisteria and tea roses. Angel sighed as she pictured herself beneath a frilly parasol, entertaining her theater friends at a garden party.

Bernard caught his breath when he saw the doors to the carriage house standing open and the carriage gone. Thinking to boast a little he hinted at what he had done.

Angela looked at him wide-eyed. “Why on earth would you sabotage their carriage when you could fix their bleeding boat? On the road there’s always someone to come to your aid, but out at sea if you get into difficulty there’s only a cold, watery grave awaiting you.”

Bernard was pleased that Angela was as coldly calculating as himself. Their devious minds were entirely in synchronization.
He pulled out a small saw and waved it in the air like a magic wand. “Hey presto!”

He maneuvered the punt alongside the sailboat and they climbed aboard. Neither of them was familiar with the workings of a small yacht, but they were both inventive, imaginative, and very determined.

The saboteurs were long gone before Antonia and Roz arrived home from London.

“I hope Anthony had the presence of mind to get a bill for the new harnesses. He can submit it to Watson and Goldman. I can’t wait to give him lessons in how to aggravate and eliminate a guardian.”

Adam Savage was toying with the idea of marriage. He was thirty-two. Most men his age had had at least one wife. In the ruling class marriages were arranged to keep money, land, and titles in the hands of the nobility. Adam Savage had had none of these in the past, but now he intended to return to England and forge a dynasty.

He would need a special kind of wife: one who was at ease in society, who could entertain the highest in the land and at the same time appeal to his senses somewhat. Lady Evelyn Lamb seemed to fit his requirements like a glove. She was coolly beautiful, cultured, and he knew she would make a superb hostess for Edenwood, which would aid him in achieving his political ambitions.

Her cool English beauty appealed to his senses, challenging him to develop her sensually so that they would be able to enjoy a satisfying physical union. Her only drawback
as far as he could see was her age. He could not expect her to give him a large family, but he would be content with one son and heir. If he wedded Eve, he would get her with child immediately. Marriage to Eve, of course, would make him legal father to her children rather than just their guardian, and he rather fancied he would make a good, strong father.

Today he was traveling to Colombo with precious cargo for his East Indiaman, the
Red Dragon.
Its holds already contained teak, ebony, and satinwood as well as pepper, nutmeg, and cinnamon. These were cargoes that stored well for long periods of time. When he loaded his latest rubber and tea crops he would have to see exactly how much space was left.

England was luring him home and he had almost decided to sail back on the
Red Dragon’s
next voyage. He would take some of his Indian and Oriental furnishings with him, as well as the fifty tea chests marked with a leopard symbol to distinguish them from the chests that actually contained tea.

One of his smaller vessels from the China run should have made port in Colombo bringing a cargo of incomparable silks that he was importing to England. As soon as the small ship was unloaded he would supervise the loading of Evelyn’s cargo that had left days ago for the Colombo warehouse.

Adam had a general idea of what was produced at the small Lamb plantation. It had a cake house for cutting and drying indigo and a large acreage of cocoanut palms, the easiest crop to grow, that produced the greatest number of products. One simply popped the round nuts into sandy holes two feet apart. All they needed to make them grow was a little saltwater every other day and in two years time they produced six crops a year. The nut meat or copra was used for food when mixed with curry, or the oil could be extracted for hair, lamps, and candles. The sap was distilled to make arrack liquor, the shells produced
tooth powder or receptacles for gathering latex, while the fiber made rope, baskets, fishnets, cushions, brushes, and mats.

It took two or sometimes three days to make the journey to Colombo. The heavy-laden wagons were pulled by domesticated water buffalo, which were strong but slow. As well as drivers Savage had his own guards, whom he had trained in the use of firearms. Thugs roamed the hills, preying on wagon trains.

All went smoothly. Savage had his own warehouses along the wharf in Colombo, but since the
Red Dragon
stood at anchor, its crew carried the latex rubber and the tea chests aboard from the wagons and stowed them in the cargo hold so that Adam could see immediately how much space he had left.

The captain and crew of the
Red Dragon
were a frightening-looking assortment of cutthroats, whom he had hand-picked. He paid them well for their services both in wages and shares. They were allowed the freedom to do as they pleased when they were off duty and Savage had no doubt they kept many a tavern, gambling den, and whorehouse in business, but when on duty guarding his ships and cargoes, there was not one man who dared to come on watch doped or drunk.

His small ship, the
Jade Dragon,
had only made port that morning. When its cargo of precious silks had been put aboard the East Indiaman and there was still plenty of cargo space, Adam Savage made the decision he knew had been inevitable. He told his captain he would be sailing to England with him and would likely be ready in two or possibly three weeks at the latest.

For some time now he had been negotiating with the East India Company officials in Madras to sell them Leopard’s Leap. When he picked up his mail from the mainland, as they called India, it contained a generous offer from the Company.

Savage boarded the
Jade Dragon,
entered his cabin, and
sat down in his captain’s chair with his feet propped up on the map table. He threw the letter containing the offer on top of the meticulously drawn charts he’d labored over when he sailed this ship himself on the Canton run. Why wasn’t he elated that the East India Company had offered a substantial fortune for Leopard’s Leap? His mind traveled back to the early years. He had shed blood, sweat, and tears to make the plantation thrive. He’d sacrificed his youth to the backbreaking labor, to endless hours that had left him bone weary and brain numbed. He’d risked his health and, for the rest of his life, knew he’d suffer from recurring bouts of malaria. He’d risked his sanity, enduring the soul-searing loneliness, until he’d learned to become one with nature, and he had risked his life innumerable times hunting down rogue elephants that trampled his plants, stalking panthers that ate his livestock, putting down insurgence from natives determined to burn him out and rid the land of the white man.

By any reasonable reckoning he should be glad to be free of it all. But Savage was not reasonable, he was unreasonable. Ceylon had insinuated itself into his blood and Leopard’s Leap was a part of him. He had built it from nothing with his bare hands. He looked at those hands now. They were brown and strong and scarred. The little finger on his left hand was burned black from when he had been struck by lightning getting in a crop before the monsoon struck.

When he had arrived, he had owned nothing but the clothes on his back. Now he owned this land and it had become precious to him. This was the reason he’d lingered here in indecision long after he’d become a millionaire. He could not bring himself to part with Leopard’s Leap.

He took up the letter from the Company and began to write his reply in earnest. He offered to lease his plantation for a two-year period. This would give the East India Company the opportunity to reap the high profits he’d
hinted at. If at the end of this time the Company was interested in purchasing the plantation outright, he would renegotiate.

Savage mulled over the proposition he’d just put in writing and knew he couldn’t lose. If at the end of the proposed two years he decided he still could not part with Leopard’s Leap, he would simply ask a price the Company was unwilling to meet.

He sent back his offer by the return mail boat, knowing they would jump at it. He instructed them to send their plantation manager without delay as he was returning to England in three weeks’ time.

Savage sent the wagons back to Leopard’s Leap. He would easily catch up to them on horseback the next day. As the light faded from the afternoon the languid indolence was replaced by an air of excitement that always descended upon the city with darkness. High-caste women in veils and shapeless robes disappeared and were replaced by lower-caste women with their silky black hair uncovered.

Music and laughter could be heard as the pace of life picked up. The food vendors’ business became brisk and the streets started to fill up with men and women intent on enjoying all the pleasures of the tropical night.

Adam told the crew of the
Jade Dragon
they need not take on cargo until morning. He wanted to supervise the loading of Evelyn’s exports for the China run so that he could give her a favorable report when he returned, and morning would be soon enough.

Perhaps this would be his last chance to enjoy Colombo’s exotic delights. He had been working eighteen-hour days and felt as tightly coiled as a serpent. A smile touched his lips as it occurred to him where he would go to unwind. He departed the ship and headed into the city of domed mosques. He walked east, away from the port, and at the very end of Kelani Street he stopped before a house known as the Jewel of the East. As Savage stepped
through the front portal he removed his wide-brimmed planter’s hat and narrowed his eyes until they adjusted to the brilliance within.

The reception room was a myriad of mirrored tile with glittering amethysts set between. He recalled how his mouth had fallen open at such opulence when he had first seen it six years past. Here he had learned of Ratnapura, the City of Gems, where violet amethysts were so plentiful they had no value at all—except when he shipped them to England, of course.

Two darkly beautiful women greeted him warmly. “The Leopard honors the Jewel of the East.” The women wore exquisitely embroidered saris in an identical shade of lavender. They looked like sisters, but Adam knew otherwise. They were Pearl and Mother of Pearl, a combination so exciting they could take a man to the edge of madness.

He kissed their hands and exchanged familiar pleasantries with the dusky females before he was graciously asked to make his first choice. The Jewel of the East offered a twofold path, stimulation or relaxation. Previously he had always chosen the former and had never regretted that choice. Tonight, however, he chose relaxation and was ushered through the beaded curtain concealing the archway to the left.

He was seated upon a cushioned divan and given a menu from which he was to make his selections. The menu was not for food alone. He was led to the bathing room, where six dusky handmaidens removed his gun and his garments. Two came into the pool with him while the other four poured in flagons of boiling water until the temperature of the bath was raised to almost scalding and steam filled the small room.

Next they cleansed his body thoroughly with an amazingly efficient tool designed for the purpose, then he was wrapped in a large thirsty towel and led from the steamy room. The dusky handmaidens lined up before him so he could make his choice. Their filmy garments revealed
more than they concealed, so Adam had no difficulty selecting his partner for the night. Her name was Delight and long before dawn he would learn that it was most apt.

When they were alone she removed her diaphanous garments and head-veil to display her body, which had been completely denuded of hair. As she stood naked before him her lustrous black hair fell in a waterfall down her back to sweep the floor about her heels. Delight was well curved, her breasts and thighs swelling out from her tiny waist. Her face was sensually attractive with full, pouting lips and enormous black liquid eyes.

She pressed him down upon a hard divan with his head well cushioned, then massaged his naked limbs with oil of almonds. Her hands felt like heaven as she swirled them in long, smooth ovals over every muscle in his body. Adam began to relax and by the time she had finished he felt his very bones were melting.

The food he had ordered was now ready. Delight took the heavy-laden tray from the servant, walked past a table, and set it upon the floor. They reclined naked upon cushions while she lifted the lids from tureens of gold to allow the tantalizing aromas to whet the Leopard’s appetite. First she offered him a demitasse containing a sweet blue liquid. Adam let it roll about his tongue, savoring its unusual taste. Everything seemed to slow after that, every movement, every sound, every breath and heartbeat. Then, at a deliciously languorous pace, she fed him with her fingers.

He recalled past visits where each successive dish was spicier and hotter than the last until he had been stimulated to an insatiable lust. This time nothing was spicy. The foods were comforting, soothing, dipped in smooth syrups that made him lick and suck Delight’s delicious fingers.

When he was replete he sighed heavily and allowed her to bathe his hands and face with rosewater. From a shelf Delight took a filigreed casket and sat cross-legged before
him upon the table. She opened the casket with its mirrored lid and began to paint herself with henna.

She decorated her palms and the soles of her feet, then she moved on to her breasts, where she painted an intricate pattern of dots and tiny flowers forming circles, spiraling from her nipples. Then she mixed a brighter red pigment into the henna, spread her legs wide, and began to paint her labia with the blood-red maquillage.

Adam had thought himself so relaxed, he could not lift a finger; he was mistaken. His male center stirred, lifted, and hardened as his eyes became mesmerized by what her delicate fingers were doing to her sex. As a female decorates her mouth with red lip salve to attract the male, so Delight decorated the lips between her legs to emphasize the alluring mouth with the erotic pigment.

From the casket she took two bracelets decorated with tiny bells and fastened them around her ankles. Then slowly, sinuously, she raised one foot and lifted it behind her head. She needed the help of her hennaed hands to place her other foot behind her head, then she posed absolutely motionless, knowing the Leopard would arise from the floor, drawn to her almost against his very strong will.