A week went by and Rosa caught neither sight nor sound of William Barrington. Clara came bustling into the house after a day doing her charity work. Rosa met her in the hall, having spent the day at home.
‘You look harassed, Aunt Clara. Have you had a busy day?’
‘Extremely,’ she replied, handing her hat and coat to the hovering maid. ‘I’ve just come from the institute in Ludgate. One of the women from Soho brought in an older child. She had some interesting information about a young boy who had been brought in earlier—a foreign child apparently, probably Indian. According to the quality of his clothes, he comes from a good home.’
Rosa looked at her sharply, all her senses alert. ‘An Indian boy? How old is he?’
‘Young—about five years old, I think. The trouble is he is clearly traumatised and extremely distressed. He hasn’t spoken a word so we can’t find out anything about him.’
Rosa frowned. ‘Five years old, you say. Where was he found?’
‘Close to Green Park, I believe—huddled behind a pile of rubbish. He was trembling and frightened, poor little mite. I’ll go and see him tomorrow—first thing. Perhaps he might have found his tongue by then and we’ll know more about him.’
Aunt Clara and Uncle Michael were visiting friends in Richmond that evening and would not be back until the tomorrow afternoon so Rosa was left alone. There had been so many social events of late and she had put in long hours at the institute. She had intended on catching up on some sleep and having an early night, but she couldn’t settle. She felt a peculiar hollowness in the pit of her stomach.
‘Is something wrong, Rosa?’ Clara asked as she was preparing to leave the house. ‘Since I told you about the young boy you’ve been distracted.’
‘It’s just a suspicion I have. It is possible that the child is Dhanu. It’s probably just a coincidence but I am uneasy. I must go and see for myself.’
‘But is that wise? It will be dark soon.’
Rosa was already ordering the carriage. ‘I’ll not rest until I know. Would you send someone to Lord Ashurst and tell him to meet me at the institute—just in case it is Dhanu. He lives in Grosvenor Square. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult finding him.’
It was almost dark, the lamplighters lighting the oil lamps to illuminate the streets, when Rosa climbed into the closed carriage and told Archie, the driver, to take her to the institute in Soho. Nearing her destination, the streets were thronged with pedestrians. Caught up in the congestion the carriage paused. Looking out of the window to see what the holdup was, she had a peculiar sense of being watched. A man was leaning on a lamppost, looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat. The man was of Asian origin and there was something in the unswerving gaze of his yellowed eyes, some hint of expression in his face that struck fear in her heart. That it was Kamal Kapoor she had no doubt.
Immediately she pressed herself back against the upholstery with a terrible sense of foreboding. Fear instilled itself into her heart—fear and desperation. If the boy at the institute was Dhanu, was it possible that they had seen him and followed him?
The institute was situated close to Soho and Seven Dials. The building stood in what was little more than a narrow passage. It had no lamps so it was shrouded in darkness. It was also congested with carts and barrels and crates of every description stacked high against the buildings so Rosa had to leave the safety of the carriage some distance away and proceed on foot. The institute was a well-built but grim-looking building in a small yard situated in an area where poverty and disease ran side by side.
Aunt Clara found the time she spent at the institute and the one in Ludgate highly rewarding, particularly so when she found situations for the older children. Rosa had been to both several times, but the condition of its young inhabitants never failed to shock her. This institute in Soho had been brought into being ten years earlier, paid for by donations from wealthy donors with the intention of providing aid and provision for destitute children—a place of Christian charity. But it was always difficult to afford the necessities—coal and food.
Inside, a score of undernourished children dressed in rags, their legs bowed and eyes enormous in pinched faces, were quietly sitting or lying on small makeshift beds or standing about. The windows were small, the furnishings stark, but it was warm and everything was scrubbed clean. The air was tinged with the aroma of cooked food, plain but appetising, and two women with aprons fastened about their waists passed among the children, doing what they could to make their lives more comfortable and lessen the fear that lurked in their eyes—fear of the world outside and the dangers it posed to those alone and very young.
Rosa looked around, her eyes searching for the boy her aunt had described. Beth Penworthy, one of the women who came in to do what she could, pointed towards a bed in the corner of the room. A child, his forlorn little face watching what was going on around him, turned and looked at the new arrival. At first he just sat and stared, and then, giving a low mewling sound, he threw himself off the bed and darted across the room as fast as his legs would go and wrapped his arms about Rosa’s legs, clinging to her for all he was worth.
Rosa gasped, horrified. How could it be? ‘Dhanu! What on earth has happened to you?’ Leaning down, she gathered him into her arms. Going to the bed, she sat and tried to comfort him. He was clinging to her with the desperation born of enormous fear.
‘Well, glory be! You know him, Miss Ingram?’ Beth said.
‘Yes, yes, I do, Beth, but as to how he came to be wandering the streets on his own I have no idea.’
‘His family’s clearly well to do. If they’ve missed him there could be a hue and cry.’
‘I’m sure there might very well be. I’m hoping his guardian—Lord Ashurst—will meet me here. If not I shall see he gets home to Grosvenor Square. I have the carriage at the end of the street.’ She looked at Dhanu. ‘What happened, Dhanu? Did you leave the house by yourself?’ He nodded, his expression one of profound fear. ‘It’s all right, Dhanu. You are quite safe. No harm will come to you now, I promise.’
‘I wanted to go to the park to see the bears I saw yesterday.’
Whatever had happened to him, his mute shock seemed to have passed. ‘They prompted you to go out. I see.’
‘Mishka wouldn’t take me,’ he whispered, tears welling in his big dark eyes.
‘So you thought you’d go by yourself.’ She sighed, her arms tightening about him. ‘Oh, Dhanu. What are we going to do with you? You know you shouldn’t wander off on your own. Did you get lost?’
He shook his head. ‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘Two men chased me—those bad men.’
Immediately Rosa understood. Her mouth set in a grim line and she held him in a firmer grip as though the very fierceness of her protective instincts would keep him safe, for there was no doubt in her mind that the men he spoke of were the same men who had been hounding him ever since he had arrived in England. Her emotions were scattered amid twisted layers of fear, sadness and outrage that the people who were supposed to be taking care of this five-year-old boy had once again failed in their duty.
It was mid-afternoon when Mishka alerted Lord Ashurst to Dhanu’s absence. Having gone to check on the boy she had left him having his nap in the nursery and finding his bed empty, frantic, she searched the house but he was nowhere to be found.
‘Lord Ashurst, something has happened.’
William looked at Mishka hard as he listened. He felt a peculiar hollowness in the pit of his stomach. At first he stared at her wordlessly, distinctly feeling his heart almost stop beating in his chest as he tried to comprehend her words, but then, understanding that she was telling him that his worst fears had been realised, that Dhanu had disappeared, his eyes sprang to life.
‘How long has he been missing?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps half an hour—no more,’ she told him, distraught.
‘He must be hiding somewhere.’
‘I don’t think so. I put him down for his nap and went to check on him but he had gone. With Ahmet I’ve looked everywhere but he is nowhere to be found. Oh, Lord Ashurst,’ she cried wretchedly, wringing her hands in her wretchedness and despair, ‘I am so worried that something terrible has happened to him.’
One of the footmen, alerted to Dhanu’s disappearance by Mishka, came to tell them that a child had been seen leaving the square a short while before.
The hollowness inside William deepened. His eyes were ice-cold and shining with a light that seemed to come from the depths of him. He flung himself towards the door, his formidable anger bursting from him and vibrating around the walls of the room. It was directed at Kamal Kapoor, who had been sent to end Dhanu’s life.
He immediately instructed the footman to inform the constables and with Ahmet at his heels he left the house in pursuit of Dhanu, thinking he might have headed for the park. The thought that something dreadful had happened to Dhanu after all the efforts he had taken to keep him safe tortured him. It consumed him and filled him with a torment worse than any soul could.
Giving up on William, thinking that perhaps he was away from home when Aunt Clara’s messenger reached Grosvenor Square, Rosa decided to take Dhanu home. Opening the door of the institute, Rosa scanned the shadows before venturing out, holding Dhanu’s hand. She was aware of the danger they faced from the two men she was certain were somewhere close by. Keeping Dhanu close, she looked right and left. The passageway was quiet and dark. Stealthily they made their way along. Hearing a footfall, she ducked behind a cart, her eyes fully adapted to the darkness, her mind racing. The street was redolent of smoking chimneys and the sour scent of the garbage-filled gutters, where dogs scavenged for a meal. Above her own breathing she heard a soft footfall, then another, growing momentarily nearer. Dhanu wriggled against her at being held so tight. He kept his eyes closed, too afraid to look in the dark recesses where menace lurked. Rosa shushed him calmly and, to her astonishment, now that she was closer to absolute peril than ever before in her life, she felt comparatively calm. Every sense was alerted and quivering with sensitivity. Never had her senses been so acute.
She waited, holding her breath as the footsteps halted close by. Hearing words spoken in a strange language, she knew without doubt it was the two Indians. Fear clamped its cold hand over her heart, concentrating her mind and adding steel to her spine as she held her breath. Through a small crack between the boards of the cart, she saw the two men silhouetted in the dark. Her eyes widened as they came closer. She dared not breathe for fear of being heard. A sigh of relief passed her lips when the men turned and became absorbed into the shadows.
Shocked into full alertness as she held the small boy close to her, she waited a few seconds before creeping out, holding on to Dhanu’s hand. Suddenly, without warning, disaster struck. When something small and live ran over Dhanu’s foot, to Rosa’s dismay he stumbled and cried out, alerting the men to their presence. Immediately they rushed menacingly towards them. Cringing against the stacked barrels, Rosa watched them come closer and in a moment of fear and desperation, letting go of Dhanu’s hand, she placed her hands on the barrels and gave them an almighty push. Not only did she dislodge the barrels but also a vast amount of debris, showering them in dust and garbage she could not and would not care to put a name to. Grabbing hold of Dhanu’s hand once again, she jumped aside and watched as they came crashing but the two men dodged the barrels and moved menacingly towards them.
Dhanu whimpered with fear. Rosa held him tight, tenderly placing her hand on his frozen cheek, her heart seized by a terrible anguish. Hopelessness at her situation traced through her body. Dhanu seemed to shrink inside himself. Rosa shoved him behind her, praying hard for a miracle.
The servant sent by Clara Swinburn arrived at the Earl of Ashurst’s residence in Grosvenor Square. When he entered, an agitated Lord Ashurst was pacing the floor in his study. His face was set and grim. Seeing his strained features, sensing his tortured frame of mind, his grief and fury which he kept in abeyance, the servant was aware that beneath the gentleman’s remarkable self-control, which unbeknown to him his military training had taught him to employ, he was a man in the grip of a nightmare.
On hearing what the servant had to say he took no time in ordering the carriage to take him to the institute, hoping and praying that the boy taken there earlier was indeed Dhanu.
The miracle Rosa prayed for came in the form of William. Like Rosa earlier, he’d been forced to leave his carriage at the end of the street. The sudden noise Rosa had created when she had toppled the pile of barrels had brought people onto the street, along with beggars who appeared out of dark recesses. Adjusting his eyes to the dark, he proceeded with stealth down the alley, seeing a woman pressed against a wall, her determined stance like that of a tigress defending her cub as she tried to protect with her life the small boy. He was labouring under all the effects of considerable terror, clinging to her leg as two men bore down on them. One he immediately recognised as being Kamal Kapoor. William was oblivious to everything but that small group. Other images were blurred, voices faded. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly they ached, and there was hate in his eyes as they settled on Kapoor. He hurried on, careful to keep to the shadows until he was behind Kapoor and close enough to reach out and grasp his arms in brutal hardness, pulling him back.
Taken by surprise, a cry escaped Kapoor and he struggled. His accomplice, seeing what was happening, made a dash for it, disappearing into the dark streets of St Giles.
The noise had attracted more people into the alley. Some carried lanterns, holding them high to throw some light onto the scene, which had become one of devastation. Two women came out of the institute and the two carriage drivers appeared with Mishka close behind.
A tirade of curses in Urdu issued from Kapoor’s lips as he made vain attempts to disengage himself from William’s iron hold on his arms.
‘Try to get away, Kapoor, and you’re a dead man. Here,’ William said, thrusting Kapoor towards the two carriage drivers. ‘Hold on to him and for God’s sake don’t let him go. Take him inside the institute. I’ll follow.’
The drivers were only too happy to oblige. Dragging the Indian to the open door of the institute, they disappeared inside.
William took in Rosa’s appearance, realising what she must have been through. He was deeply concerned and afraid for her in many ways. The obvious danger of injury or even death when confronted by two assassins was only a part. There was also the vulnerability of her mind to the seriousness of the situation.
He frowned, showing his concern, clearly moved at the tenderness and compassion she showed for the child clinging on to her. ‘What about you, Rosa? Are you hurt? Are you harmed in any way?’ She shook her head. ‘And Dhanu?’ Dhanu, frightened by the suddenness of it all and the terror he had been subjected to, began crying loudly. William scooped him up into his arms. ‘Thank God! Thank God you’re all right.’ The ragged note of relief in his voice was apparent as he held the boy tight, offering strength and comfort to the trembling child.
Rosa watched him, her throat tight with emotion. She could see Dhanu’s need of him as he wrapped his short arms around his neck, the man who had promised to protect him against all things, and she was struck by the various emotions playing over William’s features, the love reflected in his eyes could not be concealed. She must have trembled perceptibly because she felt William’s fingers tighten on her shoulder and drew some comfort from the warmth of the contact. She could only look at him, her eyes shining with the unbelievable comfort of knowing that they were safe.
Having no wish to linger in the street, they went into the institute, closing the door behind them.
Kamal Kapoor, stood beside a bed, guarded by the two carriage drivers. In no hurry to confront him, Dhanu’s plight more important just then, William turned to Mishka, whose relief on finding Dhanu safe, was evident on her face.
‘I want you to take Dhanu home, Mishka. This is no place for him.’ He looked at his driver. ‘Take them home—send for the constables while you’re at it. And, Rosa,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘Go with them. This is no place for you.’
‘I work here, William—doing what I can for the children.’
‘Nevertheless—’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m staying.’
Rosa turned and looked at Mishka, who had tears of relief swimming in her eyes as she checked Dhanu over for any injuries. ‘Take him home, Mishka. Apart from being frightened he doesn’t seem to have suffered too much from what has happened to him. When he gets back to the house a hot bath and a good night’s sleep will do him good, although he should not be left alone. After today’s unfortunate escapade, even though Mr Kapoor has been apprehended it might be wise to have someone with him at all times.’ She knew her advice sounded like a rebuke, but she could not help herself. It was the third time she had come to Dhanu’s rescue. The next time he might not be so fortunate when Mishka left him alone.
Rosa watched them leave, the driver saying he would direct the constables to the institute, before turning her attention to what was happening around them. When Kapoor had been brought in, Beth had gathered the children together and ushered them into another room, closing the door so they could not witness what was happening.
Face-to-face with Kamal Kapoor at last, William had to make an intense effort to control himself, even to keep his voice from shaking when he spoke. ‘Kamal Kapoor, we meet at last.’ He moved closer. His jaw was rigid and a muscle twitched dangerously in the side of his neck. It took a physical effort to maintain his calm and stop himself going to Kapoor and wringing his neck. ‘Your accomplice appears to have fled.’
Kapoor’s thin face broke into a reptilian smile, and the hiss that he emitted was more venomous and more fearful than any snake. He stared at William with eyes that were like ragged holes in his face. There was loathing there and contempt, not fear. Kapoor feared no man and was renowned for his prowess with a blade, but William Barrington’s reputation as a military man with both pistol and sword was an enviable and well-known fact. William approached him. There was something ugly beneath Kapoor’s skin. William knew the man had no scruples and would sell his own mother for the right price, and kill her for more.
Kapoor tried to lunge at him, a murderous lunge, but Archie jerked him back. William wanted to hurt him. He had suffered all sorts of hell knowing this man and his accomplice would kill Dhanu if he dropped his guard. William prepared to defend himself and to ward off the threat. Refusing to accept defeat, a guttural sound rumbled from deep in Kapoor’s chest and crimson hate filled his sight. Instead of backing away Kapoor drew a short bladed knife and launched himself at William, his thrust like lightning. Unable to avoid the forceful assault, the blade nicked the back of his hand. Kapoor was not quick enough to inflict more injury. William grabbed his wrist with both hands, turned and pivoted his back into him, using his arm as a lever. Kapoor was smaller than William. The arm could not stand such torsion. With grim satisfaction William watched as the knife fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. William kicked the knife away and pushed him back against the wall, where he slumped onto a stool. A terrible, consuming hatred flared in his eyes when he looked up at his powerful assailant. He was defeated, he knew it, and it came as a crushing blow.
‘Why don’t you finish me?’ he hissed, breathing shortly. ‘While ever I am alive I will pose a threat to you and yours. This is a stay of execution, not a reprieve.’
The words were uttered with a hard, bright stare that seared William to the backbone. It was chilling, the way he said it so matter-of-factly. It worried William more than he showed, and he knew that Kapoor meant it. ‘I am sorely tempted—and had I any sense I would. You have escaped your fate—and you have been a burden on my flesh from the moment I set foot on English soil. You sought to end Dhanu’s life with nothing more than a fat purse from your sister—and the promise of more when the deed is done I don’t doubt. I should tell you that Anisha has been banished. Apparently she is responsible for the death of the Rajah’s brother and she is no longer in favour.’
The news brought Kapoor’s head up sharp. ‘Tipu is dead?’
William nodded. ‘By your sister’s hand. She was lucky to survive with her head intact. The Rajah has asked for Dhanu to be taken back to India and if he is harmed in any way his wrath will know no bounds.’
‘Then what now? What will you do with me?’
‘The constables will deal with you. You are in England now and subject to English law.’
‘I have committed no crime.’
‘Not through want of trying. In England I am a powerful man. I will see to it that you rot in gaol.’ And he would. The resolve inside him was set like steel.
Kapoor smiled, a knowing smile, and his eyes became hooded, as if he held a secret. ‘If you are able,’ he said, his words holding a hidden meaning. ‘Things happen when you least expect them to.’
William looked at him hard, wondering what he meant by that. Unable to concentrate his mind on Kapoor any longer, he handed Archie a small pistol. ‘Watch him. Shoot him if he tries anything.’ William turned to Rosa, taking her arm and drawing her aside. ‘You should go. Dhanu is safe now. There is nothing else you can do here.’
Rosa looked at him, her face set and white as she turned her eyes blazing anger and defiance on the man she held responsible. Without a bonnet and with her hair dishevelled and full of debris and streaks of grime on her face, she knew she must look a sight, but never had she been so uncaring of her appearance as she was then. Her emotions came rushing to the surface and the tension of the last few hours was released in one sweeping moment.
‘How on earth did this happen?’ she fumed. ‘For goodness’ sake, who is supposed to be looking after the child?’
William stiffened, brought up sharp by her words. ‘He is in my charge,’ he said, having recovered from the shock of Dhanu’s disappearance and objecting to Rosa’s accusing manner while trying to remain calm. But he had been negligent and he was shamed to the core.
‘Precisely, and for that reason alone you should have more control over his movements.’
‘I do realise the gravity of the situation. I admit I should have taken stronger action to keep him safe. I failed. You are right to put the blame on me. I knew my responsibilities and I should have taken better care of him. I have had so many commitments of late that I have neglected my duties. I should have honoured the pledge I made to Tipu.’ His voice was harsh with self-recrimination. ‘I promised him I would take care of Dhanu. I gave him my word and I broke it.’
Rosa found it somewhat satisfying that he experienced guilt, but it did not lessen her anger. ‘Yes, you did. Thank goodness Aunt Clara made me aware of the situation and I managed to bring him home. But I do not want to be put in a situation again when I might have to save his life. It is your responsibility to do that. He was entrusted to your care. You have an obligation to take care of him. He has been through a dreadful ordeal today. Thankfully he appears to be unhurt. But when I think what those two men who followed him from India might have done to him—well—it doesn’t bear thinking about.’
William’s eyes narrowed and his expression tightened. ‘How did Kapoor know where you were. What were they doing here?’
‘Dhanu encountered them in the park and ran from them. It was fortunate that someone who looks out for destitute children on the city’s streets found him and brought him to the institute. When he arrived he was a very frightened little boy. Indeed, he was so traumatised he could not speak. When my aunt told me a small Indian boy had been brought in I thought it could not possibly be Dhanu—I was horrified to find I was mistaken. Those men were watching the institute. They must have seen where he was taken. I shudder to think what might have happened had they got their hands on him.’
‘Thank God,’ he murmured hoarsely, overcome with emotion and putting a hand to his suddenly aching head. ‘Hopefully everything will be all right now.’
Looking at him now, seeing how affected he was by this whole sorry business and the death of his friend he had told her about, Rosa’s attitude softened. ‘Yes—yes it will,’ she uttered. ‘I—I am sorry to hear about your friend. You must feel his loss terribly.’
He nodded. ‘Something like that. He was a good man. He did not deserve to die the way he did.’
Two burly constables appeared. William gave them an account of what had happened. ‘I can rely on you see this man is put under lock and key?’
‘Aye, sir—we’ll see to it.’
After speaking to Beth, who was relieved the situation had been resolved with no one hurt, William and Rosa left the institute. He had almost reached the carriage when a haze appeared in front of his eyes and he stumbled.
He shook his head. What the devil was the matter with him? The night was dark and there was a haze that was thickening around him and voices came to him from down a long reverberating tunnel.
‘William? Are you all right?’ Rosa asked, having left the institute in his wake and seeing him sway and reach out to the wall for support.
He turned his head and looked at her. Suddenly there was something strange in his sensations and indescribably new. He seemed to be losing all identity. Trying to bring his mind back to the present he thought of the cut Kapoor’s knife had inflicted on his hand and cursed. The confusion, the giddiness—the knife must have been dipped in one of Kapoor’s concoctions. This was what Kapoor had been referring to when he had said—things happen. That had to be it. He shook his head to try and clear it, and looking through the haze he saw that Rosa was watching him closely, her eyes dark with concern. Her face swam before him and he heard her voice coming from somewhere a long way off.
‘William? Speak to me. Are you ill? What is wrong with you?’
‘Get me away from here, Rosa,’ he managed to gasp, his words slurred. ‘I don’t care how you do it—but for God’s sake get me to a bed. The knife—Kapoor’s knife—something on it... A drug, poison—God only knows what it was. It’s the only explanation I can think of. That damned Kapoor... I don’t want anyone to—to see me like this... Take me somewhere—anywhere—soon...’
‘A doctor. I must get a doctor to look at you.’
‘Just get me to a bed... I have to lie down.’
Rosa was incredulous, but she felt the urgency of the situation. Shouting for Archie to help her, the two of them managed to get him to the carriage and inside. It was a long way to Grosvenor Square, the distance not so great to her aunt’s house in Bloomsbury. In a state of indecision she looked at William. He suddenly became restless, pulling at his cravat as if it was too tight and muttering something unintelligible beneath his breath. The decision was made for her. On impulse she shouted to Archie to make for home.
Archie helped him out of the carriage and walked him to the door. ‘Shall I come in with you, Miss Ingram?’
‘No—no, Archie, I’ll manage. He’s still upright and seems able to walk—if unsteadily, although for how long I cannot say. I don’t know what it is that’s made him like this. Fetch Doctor Walsh, will you—Aunt Clara’s doctor. Tell him it’s the Earl of Ashurst and that he needs urgent attention. It’s useless trying to talk sense to him while he’s in this state. When you’ve fetched the doctor go to Grosvenor Square and inform them Lord Ashurst is here and for them not to be concerned. I am sure he will feel much improved in the morning, although I suspect he’s going to have an enormous headache.’
Sick with dread, inside the house she did consider waking Mrs Loxley, the housekeeper, but her room was on another floor and at the back of the house. She was also a heavy sleeper—as was Dilys, who slept in the next room to Mrs Loxley. Her aunt and uncle were not expected back until the following afternoon. She turned to William, who was having to hold on the newel post to keep from falling over. Looking at his handsome face with his hair tumbling in disarray over his brow, at that moment she had no wish to dwell on what had made him so ill, or the sinister implications of it.
Time for that later, when she had got him to bed and the doctor had taken a look at him. Taking his arm she forced him to look at her. ‘William, can you understand me?’ He nodded, trying hard to concentrate on her face. ‘We have to get upstairs so come along. I will show you to a room.’
William tried to allay her fears by pushing himself away from the newel post and, with difficulty keeping his eyes focused, he gripped the balustrade as he followed her up the stairs. Opening the door to one of the guest bedrooms, Rosa crossed to the window and closed the curtains before lighting a couple of candles. Turning to William, who was about to collapse onto the bed, she helped him out of his jacket before turning down the bedcovers. He had the presence of mind to remove his cravat and open the neck of his shirt before dropping onto the sheets. She removed his boots and stood looking down at his face, the sweep of his long lashes as they rested against his cheeks, the little creases at the corners of his mouth, the black hair curling on his brow. There was nothing more she could do.
Thankfully Doctor Walsh came straight away. He lost no time in examining William, lifting his eyelids and feeling his pulse. William moaned, muttering incoherently. The doctor looked at the cut on his hand. With Rosa’s assistance he cleaned and dressed it. Seeming satisfied he stepped back.
‘I don’t think it’s poison—there’s no vomiting. I think it’s probably a narcotic of some kind. Hopefully he’ll sleep off the effects before morning. He should feel better by then—although his head will ache considerably.’ Picking up his bag he walked to the door.
‘Thank you for your time, Doctor Walsh. I’m most grateful.’
‘Not at all. If he gets any worse send for me. I’ll see myself out.’
Left alone with William, Rosa looked at his head resting against the pillows, his hair ruffled and his eyes closed. She was reluctant to leave him. Following all that had happened since finding Dhanu, all her senses were heightened and she was in a very strange mood.
As if he sensed her confusion, William’s eyes flickered open. Raising his arm, he took hold of her hand, pulling her down until she was sitting on the bed facing him.
‘Stay,’ he whispered, raising her hand to his lips. ‘Don’t leave me.’
His lips were soft on the back of her hand. She did not pull it away. His half-open eyes held hers like a magnet, drawing her to him and doing strange things. Suddenly she felt a throbbing heat creeping into her body and everything began to change. She was not immune to him. He was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. An alarming, treacherous warmth was creeping through her body. Dazed by the confusing messages her body was sending to her brain, and afraid that if she didn’t withdraw her hand things could take a dangerous turn, she gently removed it from his grasp and rose. Once again his eyes flickered closed and he began to breathe deeply. In the partial darkness of the room she stood perfectly still, gazing down at him with trembling disquiet, mesmerised by the partial uncovering of his magnificent body. Her gaze caressed his strong shoulders, his open shirt revealing the upper part of his furred chest.
Time seemed to stand still. She was conscious of her increased pulse rate—due to her nervousness and trepidation, no doubt—but what to make of the weakness in her legs and the warm, glowing feeling low in her belly she truly did not know.
As if he sensed her continued presence, William’s eyes again flickered open. With some difficulty they focused on the shape of the woman peering down at him. Her features were indistinct. Through his confused, drug-clouded mind his thoughts strained for clarity, but it was no use. Everything struck him as odd and his brain refused to register things. But the memory of a face he adored fluttered through the caverns of his mind like a butterfly and penetrated his torpor.
Somehow he managed to say, ‘Rosa...’
Surprised to hear him speak her name, she whispered, ‘Yes?’
His eyes gleamed bright. ‘I want to hold you.’
She stared at him, wanting so much for him to do just that. When he reached out his hand she felt something stir within her—something she had never felt before. A flicker, a leaping, a reaching out. She found herself moving towards him, slowly, her eyes fastened to his.
Through the lingering effects of the drug clouding his brain, William drew her once more onto the bed so that she was half sitting, half lying beside him.
‘Thank you for not leaving me,’ he uttered hoarsely.
The closeness of her body whetted his appetite, and with a surge of lust and desire he wanted her—wanted to fill his mouth with the taste of her and draw those inviting hips beneath him.
Rosa studied him in the dim light. He was staring at her, breathing hard and fast, and behind the haze and confusion she saw in his eyes, mirroring her own, was hot, burning desire. It shook her to the core of her being. She wanted to feel the broad expanse of his chest pressed to hers, to kiss again those beautifully moulded lips. Looking into his half-shuttered eyes, she found her gaze held in a wilful hungry vice of blue. They had a fixed, unnatural brightness and were without expression. She knew that somewhere in his fuddled mind he knew who she was, but he didn’t really see her. She shivered, but it was not from the cold. Suddenly she was warm—far too warm.
Something was happening to her. It was as if a spark had been lit that could not now be extinguished. A need was rising up inside her—a need to be close to this man, to wallow in the desire that had suddenly taken hold of her, to saturate herself in passion. Pulling her head down to his, he found her lips with his own, moving hungrily, twisting and demanding, warming her to the very core of her being. His tongue passed between her lips to probe and taste the honeyed sweetness within with a ferocity that drew a moan from her throat, breaking her resolve and lacerating her will, causing every one of her senses to erupt in a ball of flame.
Rosa knew she could not withstand his persuasive and unrelenting assault for long—and she knew what he was doing to her could be a prelude to other pleasures. At that moment she wanted to experience every one of them—and why shouldn’t she? Encouraged by his mouth and his caress, the thought took root and began to grow. Desire swept through her, warm and hungry, gathering force until it became a storm of passion. An inner voice inside her head said, This is wrong. It is not right—stop now before it is too late. And yet she could not pull away from the grip of whatever had her as its prisoner. Nor did she want to.
The thought of what she was about to do flashed through her mind, but she rejected it quickly. There had been no vows said between her and William and there never would be. She knew it was a sin for a woman to give herself to a man in carnal lust outside wedlock and that she must learn to exercise the strictest discipline over the demands of the flesh. She had always regarded her virginity as something infinitely precious, but she hadn’t realised that desire could be so powerful and all-consuming. The feelings she carried in her heart for William she could not put a name to, but he occupied her heart and mind. If she could just have this one night of happiness to remember, to savour and memorise in the years ahead, then surely God would forgive her this one weakness. She realised that in the cold light of dawn the pain of what she had done might be intolerable, but regardless of this and what came after, tonight she wanted to belong to him completely.
Shoving William’s arms away, she stood up, pulling off her clothes until she was completely naked. Seeming to sense what she was doing, William sat up and rid himself of his shirt. His trousers proved to be more of a problem, but with Rosa’s help he managed to remove them and flung them aside.
Rosa’s hair tumbled down to her waist and her heart was pounding in her breast. Carried away by desire she lay beside him. Coming into contact with his flesh, she relaxed against him with the familiarity of the most successful courtesan, little realising the devastating effect her naked body had on him. He was vital and strong, all rippling sinews.
With desire burning fiercely in his veins, William held her to him, his arms strong and protective, his lips claiming hers. They were sweet and moist and parted eagerly beneath his own. Sliding his tongue between them, his arms tightening possessively around her, he groaned and his long-starved passions flared. Their bodies bent in the ardour of their embrace. The kisses became fierce and stirring, devouring and all-consuming.
‘You are wanton, my love—and how perfect you are. I must have you.’
‘Shh...’ Rosa whispered against his lips in the warmest tone, thankful for the shadows that covered them both. Her body was burning and she wanted more of him. ‘Don’t talk.’
When she felt the bold, insistent pressure of his body she realised that the reckless path she had chosen was where she wished to go. He cupped her breast in his hand. She had never been touched like this by a man before and the feel of his hand almost melted her bones. It was when her thigh brushed the scorching heat of his manhood, throbbing with life, that she was shockingly made aware of her innocence.
Suddenly primeval fear mixed with the awesome pleasure of his body. Less sure of herself, she felt fear take over and panic set in. She shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong—totally wrong. She felt her body tightening, and she felt cold, as though her blood had turned to ice. She wanted to cry out, to tell him to stop and push him away, but having lost his sense of reality, with his mind reeling and filled with the scent of her, his lips were on her demanding more.
In desperation she tore herself free and rolled away from him. How could she possibly give herself over to him in his drugged state, when he would be unable to remember anything of what he had done? But, not to be cheated out of what he desired and what he believed she wanted to give, he laughed and pulled her back with a strength she had not thought possible. Her body was pale and lustrous, his hand moving up her calf warm, encircling her knee, then spreading and caressing her aching thighs. Sensing her capitulation, his ardour increased and he kissed and caressed her with a hunger he saw no reason to control. Covering her with his body, growing more purposeful, his hungering lips were insistent. With his mouth against her flesh his tongue teased the soft peak of her breast, his hand spreading, caressing the soft flesh of her inner thigh that began to tingle and to glow.
Like magic her fear was gone. Incapable of reason and drowning in a flood of pleasure, she felt her body respond as if she were another person. And though her mind told her this was wrong, lost in that wild and beautiful madness, her female body told her mind to go to the devil. Her body became alive with pleasure, unfolding like the petals of an exotic flower. Never in her imagination had she experienced anything so erotic as this. There was nothing she wanted more than to let herself go. What was happening to her? What was he doing to her? Every fibre, every pulse, every bone and muscle in her body came alive. All her senses became heightened and focused on William and what he was doing until nothing else mattered. A shuddering excitement swept through her and the strength ebbed from her limbs as his lips travelled over her flat belly, hips and thighs. She strained beneath him. They were entwined—and a burning pain exploded in her loins as the delicate softness was penetrated. She cried out softly and for a moment he stilled, locking his gaze with hers, until her body eased around him.
Joined with him in the most intimate way imaginable, crushed beneath his strength and able to feel the beat of his heart against her breast, Rosa became aware of a sense of fullness as he plunged deep within her. With lips and bodies merged in a fiery fusion, she gasped. His hungering mouth searched her lips and he kissed her with a slow thoroughness, savouring each moment of pleasure before beginning to move. And then she felt something new and incredible as she began to respond to his inner heat.
Never would she have believed that she could feel such fierce pleasure, nor that she could respond so brazenly as she yielded, giving all her desire and passion, as if an ancient, primitive force were controlling her, driving her on. Operating wholly on instinct since her wits had flown long since, she craned her neck back and her fingers laced through his thick hair as she abandoned herself to his lips, his hands. They were no longer two separate entities, but one being. Then his control shattered and, as though he were seeking a much-needed release for his mind and body, he claimed her fully, filling her with an urgent desire until he collapsed completely, his shuddering release over.
Still in a drug-induced state and unable to keep at bay the oncoming forces of sleep, with his rock-hard body glistening with sweat, William drifted away in a heavy slumber, losing all contact with reality and the young woman in his arms.
Rosa was aware of nothing but an immense, incredible joy, beyond which nothing was comparable. Her body was aglow, her limbs weighted with contentment. Sated and deliciously exhausted, her body and lips tender from his caresses, she slipped away from him. Gathering her clothes in her arms, she crept to the door and let herself out.