hollow at the base of his bare throat?
Even more surprising than her lewd daydream was the fact Miles worked alongside Mr. Kato. The nobleman and the African, both laboring toward a common purpose as they had done in battle. Now they restored order and maintained calm.
A fantasy, to be sure. A mere trick of this challenging land and its dry desert mirages. She knew him too well. Only a fresh deck of cards and his other numerous vices held the power to drag her husband out of bed each afternoon. That he’d crossed the Atlantic was distinctly out of character. That he’d behaved like an avenging hero was like watching a myth become reality.
The blond tradesman’s wife approached the way station, her face drawn and flushed. “Pardon me,” she said softly, arms crossed protectively over the bulge of her belly. “My husband . . . Can you spare some bandages?”
“Of course.” Viv glanced at the other two women, who were busy with their own wounded charges. “Chloe, you stay here and rest,” she whispered.
Her maid only nodded and curled into a tighter ball. Viv hated to leave her in such a state, but the girl would survive until the worst had passed. No one had the luxury of extravagant choices on that morbid afternoon. Carry on . . . or quit.
Viv had no intention of quitting.
She stood and scooped up the makeshift bandages and medicines they’d scrounged from among the luggage.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“No, please,” she said. “Let me do what I can.”
The woman nodded and led the way to the last stagecoach. Whereas Viv’s had contained no more than six people since setting off from Beaufort, the train line terminus, this coach held twelve. The passengers’ bodies were thinner, their clothes less ostentatious and bulky, and their possessions fewer. Four of them were children, including the woman’s young boys. In the shadow of the coach the two lads sat like bookends on either side of their father, who reclined on his elbows with his legs stretched out. The fabric of his trousers had been torn at the knee, revealing a huge gash.
“You’ve brought reinforcements to fuss over me, eh, Alice?” he said.
“I need reinforcements, you stubborn fool.” Alice knelt beside him and shooed the boys away. “David, John, go find trouble. But don’t touch anything, you hear?”
Viv grinned at the contradictory advice as the boys sped off toward the bluff. Although Alice turned to the task of cleaning her husband’s injury, he never took his eyes off their sons. Viv had done the same when watching Miles, as if will alone would keep them safe.
She shook free of her maudlin mood and prepared the bandages. “You’re bound for Kimberley, then?”
“That’s right, ma’am. The name’s Ike Penberthy, from Cornwall.” He tipped his head toward his wife. “You’ve already met Alice.”
“Actually, we hadn’t got so far as introductions. I’m Vivienne Bancroft.” She wound the bandage around his knee asAlice supported his foot in her hands, holding the injured leg just off the ground. “I’m grateful you took up arms to defend us, Mr. Penberthy.”
“Couldn’t stand by and let them hurt me and mine.” He grimaced when Viv tied off the strip of linen.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.” Alice edged around and wiped his forehead with a damp rag. He smiled up at her. “Heaven, my angel.”
“This is hell if ever there was one on earth,” Alice said, her wide mouth drawn tight. “And I thought the mines in Cornwall were bad.”
“You say that now, but wait until you’re wearing diamonds from head to toe.”
Viv had to look away. Could the diamond fields really hold such riches? She’d been so intent on the terms of her father’s will and the bonus it offered. The thought of actually pulling handfuls of diamonds out of the dirt struck her as fairy-tale talk. Yet this family had traveled for months, uprooting their lives and risking the safety of their sons on just such
Even more surprising than her lewd daydream was the fact Miles worked alongside Mr. Kato. The nobleman and the African, both laboring toward a common purpose as they had done in battle. Now they restored order and maintained calm.
A fantasy, to be sure. A mere trick of this challenging land and its dry desert mirages. She knew him too well. Only a fresh deck of cards and his other numerous vices held the power to drag her husband out of bed each afternoon. That he’d crossed the Atlantic was distinctly out of character. That he’d behaved like an avenging hero was like watching a myth become reality.
The blond tradesman’s wife approached the way station, her face drawn and flushed. “Pardon me,” she said softly, arms crossed protectively over the bulge of her belly. “My husband . . . Can you spare some bandages?”
“Of course.” Viv glanced at the other two women, who were busy with their own wounded charges. “Chloe, you stay here and rest,” she whispered.
Her maid only nodded and curled into a tighter ball. Viv hated to leave her in such a state, but the girl would survive until the worst had passed. No one had the luxury of extravagant choices on that morbid afternoon. Carry on . . . or quit.
Viv had no intention of quitting.
She stood and scooped up the makeshift bandages and medicines they’d scrounged from among the luggage.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“No, please,” she said. “Let me do what I can.”
The woman nodded and led the way to the last stagecoach. Whereas Viv’s had contained no more than six people since setting off from Beaufort, the train line terminus, this coach held twelve. The passengers’ bodies were thinner, their clothes less ostentatious and bulky, and their possessions fewer. Four of them were children, including the woman’s young boys. In the shadow of the coach the two lads sat like bookends on either side of their father, who reclined on his elbows with his legs stretched out. The fabric of his trousers had been torn at the knee, revealing a huge gash.
“You’ve brought reinforcements to fuss over me, eh, Alice?” he said.
“I need reinforcements, you stubborn fool.” Alice knelt beside him and shooed the boys away. “David, John, go find trouble. But don’t touch anything, you hear?”
Viv grinned at the contradictory advice as the boys sped off toward the bluff. Although Alice turned to the task of cleaning her husband’s injury, he never took his eyes off their sons. Viv had done the same when watching Miles, as if will alone would keep them safe.
She shook free of her maudlin mood and prepared the bandages. “You’re bound for Kimberley, then?”
“That’s right, ma’am. The name’s Ike Penberthy, from Cornwall.” He tipped his head toward his wife. “You’ve already met Alice.”
“Actually, we hadn’t got so far as introductions. I’m Vivienne Bancroft.” She wound the bandage around his knee asAlice supported his foot in her hands, holding the injured leg just off the ground. “I’m grateful you took up arms to defend us, Mr. Penberthy.”
“Couldn’t stand by and let them hurt me and mine.” He grimaced when Viv tied off the strip of linen.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.” Alice edged around and wiped his forehead with a damp rag. He smiled up at her. “Heaven, my angel.”
“This is hell if ever there was one on earth,” Alice said, her wide mouth drawn tight. “And I thought the mines in Cornwall were bad.”
“You say that now, but wait until you’re wearing diamonds from head to toe.”
Viv had to look away. Could the diamond fields really hold such riches? She’d been so intent on the terms of her father’s will and the bonus it offered. The thought of actually pulling handfuls of diamonds out of the dirt struck her as fairy-tale talk. Yet this family had traveled for months, uprooting their lives and risking the safety of their sons on just such
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