Blame It on the Duke(100)
“What of March and Bill and Berthold?”
“My ragged band of misfit servants will be fine without me.”
Finally, she walked toward the bed, a little unsteady on her feet because of the motion of the ship.
When she was near enough he reached for her and tumbled her into the bed, sending an indignant Kali leaping away.
Smoothing her hair away from her face, he gazed tenderly at his beautiful wife. “I’ve made many mistakes in my life, Alice, but the biggest mistake I ever made was allowing you to leave without telling you I loved you and begging you to take me with you on your wonderful adventure.”
“Nick.” She closed her eyes. “You love me?”
“More than anything, Dimples.”
He kissed her eyelids. Then he kissed her dimples, because she was smiling.
“I love how you plunge headlong into life with the belief that you can conquer anything. Speak any language. Translate any text. You’ve conquered me, Alice.”
She opened her eyes and the clear, deep turquoise stopped his heart from beating.
“I can’t tell you that you won’t go insane, Nick,” she whispered. “That you won’t forget my name or forget me entirely. No one can assure you of that.”
“I know. And I can accept that now, if you can.”
She nodded. “Yes, Nick. I will always love you. No matter what happens.”
“All I can do is be here with you right now, Alice. Right here. We can create memories so vivid that they weave themselves into the fabric of the universe. Into the light of the stars. The memory of this moment. You holding me. The memory of our kisses.”
He kissed her then with all his heart and soul.
Because she wasn’t just any fever dream of a woman.
She was Alice.
His wife. His lover.
His future.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
Calcutta, India
“Here.” Nick pointed to a spot on the map spread before him on the table in the study of the house they’d rented on Council Street in Calcutta. “We’ll find the Cymbidium aloifolium blooming in the forests of the Himalayan foothills.”
“Aloifolium. Does it resemble an aloe plant?” Alice asked.
“It has elongated leaves which resemble aloe,” said Nick. “The Nepalese believe its roots cure paralysis and treat vertigo and insanity.”
The duke glanced at his son, his gray eyes clear and focused. “I know this cymbidium, don’t I?”
“We searched for it together once, you and I,” Nick said gently.
Alice’s heart brimmed with pride as she watched father and son pore over the map.
The months-long voyage had brought back painful memories for Nick, but he’d been writing in a diary, observing the duke and recording their conversations.
For his part, Barrington was growing sharper and less confused every day. Hunting orchids was his favorite thing in life and it gave him a focus and purpose.
“Will it be blooming in winter?” Captain Lear asked, scratching Kali’s head. She was cradled in the crook of one of his arms with her head nestled against his chest and her hind legs spread in a thoroughly unladylike manner.
Nick nodded. “It’s a hardy plant adapted to mountain conditions. It’ll survive the voyage back to England.”
Kali squirmed out of Lear’s arms and jumped on the table to sniff the map. She’d proven a fearless companion on the voyage, and the sailors aboard The Huntress had adopted her as their ship’s cat, even making her a miniature berth and a tiny sailor’s cap to wear.
Captain Lear pushed back his long black hair, which he’d allowed to grow unchecked on the voyage. “My investors will care only for the beauty of the blooms, not its medicinal properties, I’m afraid.”
Nick drew Alice to him and wrapped an arm about her waist. “Oh, she’s a beauty, all right. Blooms in clusters on long, slender pendant stalks. Has small, perfect scarlet-and-cream petals with an hourglass mark in the center.”
He gave Alice’s waist a squeeze when he said the word hourglass. Why did everything he say have to sound so very suggestive?
Her heart skipped a beat recalling the wicked things she and Nick had done last night, and every sultry, languid night of the voyage. She was quite certain some of the things they’d done weren’t even described in the Kama Sutra.
“It must be nearly time,” she said to Nick.
They had an engagement today with the Sanskrit scholars from Fort William College. She was nervous about handing over her translation, even though she still intended to present it as Fred’s work.
Outside, the air was warm and humid and filled with the fragrance of the coconuts, pineapples and oranges being hawked by street vendors.