I’m afraid
I must get some rest.”
The men nodded, stood and bowed, while
Ava looked at her from beneath her lashes and tried to pretend as
if she weren’t there.
When Jocelyn gave her a pointed glare
and raised a brow the younger girl hissed out and irritated breath
before turning to the men all smiles and instant sugar.
She knew Ava had wanted to stay but
Jocelyn couldn’t in all good conscious let her. After she had her
sister settled and in bed she’d go in search of her elusive
guardian.
She wanted to see him and Jocelyn
believed that she’d been patient long enough.
* * * *
He’d left after the
strawberry.
At the time seeing her turn those eyes
on the captain and lean towards him much the same way she leaned
toward Damon those many nights before, had set his temper
off.
He would have left soon, having little
appetite for food and little patience for the forced necessities of
a dinner party.
He had never been good at those sorts
of things.
Oh he was charming enough, and polite,
but he hated sitting there smiling if he didn’t want to smile and
he hated talking and joking with someone whom he didn’t
like.
When he’d first started out as a
soldier they’d become worse, maturing from the restless
dissatisfaction of a young man to the twisted jaundism of a
hardened fighter. The women and their giggling seemed trivial,
ridiculous, when he’d watched a friend’s head blow off the day
before. Sitting through three hours of some young chit struggling
through a piano recital and smiling and clapping became not only
pointless but physically painful to endure, when the week before,
he’d straddled a man’s chest, and with the madness of battle riding
him hard, had carved his heart out.
The men were all foppish young fools
compared to his comrades, thinking war to be a grand game you
played at when you weren’t busy whoring or gambling or buying up
useless artifacts to complete their useless lives.
It was amazing, that out of all that
raging cynicism he was able to calm himself long enough to love
someone, let alone have them love him back.
His fiancé, Ellenore, had been a sweet
creature.
Her head had been anything but empty
and her laughter, when she gave it, was anything but trivial or
ridiculous. When she smiled up into his eyes his heart would jump
and always when she placed her small hand in his so that he could
assist her here and there, the delicate scent of her perfume would
send his senses reeling.
She was tiny, petite, and delicate. Not
strong enough to handle the life he led certainly, but willing to
follow him all the same. Most days he felt as if her innocence is
what cleansed the dirt from his soul and it was that as much as
anything else that made him eager for the chance to spend the rest
of his life with her.
So he’d proposed and she’d said yes,
which didn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knew them. Her home
had been England but she visited India often enough with her father
on his trips when he came to trade for the exotic silks and spices
the land had made its fortune on. His father had been an Englishman
but had met her mother, a native to Bengal where his family had
made their estate, and fallen in love. Damon had never been to
England before and he listened attentively whenever Ellenore told
him stories of her home just as she sat rapt as he showed her the
wonders of his own.
These days when he closed his eyes
though, it was her bloodstained hands and accusing eyes he saw, her
dress ripped and stained and her throat cut.
Not exactly the image he wanted
replacing that shy grin and elusive scent.
He loved India.
…He’d loved India, at least he had up
until the Mahrattas had come and taken away everything away from
him.
Sighing, Damon lit the pipe in his
hand, taking a long meditative pull on it as he stared narrowed
eyed at the churning black waves. Putting the flint back in his
pants pockets he leaned against the side of the boat, resting his
forearms and
I must get some rest.”
The men nodded, stood and bowed, while
Ava looked at her from beneath her lashes and tried to pretend as
if she weren’t there.
When Jocelyn gave her a pointed glare
and raised a brow the younger girl hissed out and irritated breath
before turning to the men all smiles and instant sugar.
She knew Ava had wanted to stay but
Jocelyn couldn’t in all good conscious let her. After she had her
sister settled and in bed she’d go in search of her elusive
guardian.
She wanted to see him and Jocelyn
believed that she’d been patient long enough.
* * * *
He’d left after the
strawberry.
At the time seeing her turn those eyes
on the captain and lean towards him much the same way she leaned
toward Damon those many nights before, had set his temper
off.
He would have left soon, having little
appetite for food and little patience for the forced necessities of
a dinner party.
He had never been good at those sorts
of things.
Oh he was charming enough, and polite,
but he hated sitting there smiling if he didn’t want to smile and
he hated talking and joking with someone whom he didn’t
like.
When he’d first started out as a
soldier they’d become worse, maturing from the restless
dissatisfaction of a young man to the twisted jaundism of a
hardened fighter. The women and their giggling seemed trivial,
ridiculous, when he’d watched a friend’s head blow off the day
before. Sitting through three hours of some young chit struggling
through a piano recital and smiling and clapping became not only
pointless but physically painful to endure, when the week before,
he’d straddled a man’s chest, and with the madness of battle riding
him hard, had carved his heart out.
The men were all foppish young fools
compared to his comrades, thinking war to be a grand game you
played at when you weren’t busy whoring or gambling or buying up
useless artifacts to complete their useless lives.
It was amazing, that out of all that
raging cynicism he was able to calm himself long enough to love
someone, let alone have them love him back.
His fiancé, Ellenore, had been a sweet
creature.
Her head had been anything but empty
and her laughter, when she gave it, was anything but trivial or
ridiculous. When she smiled up into his eyes his heart would jump
and always when she placed her small hand in his so that he could
assist her here and there, the delicate scent of her perfume would
send his senses reeling.
She was tiny, petite, and delicate. Not
strong enough to handle the life he led certainly, but willing to
follow him all the same. Most days he felt as if her innocence is
what cleansed the dirt from his soul and it was that as much as
anything else that made him eager for the chance to spend the rest
of his life with her.
So he’d proposed and she’d said yes,
which didn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knew them. Her home
had been England but she visited India often enough with her father
on his trips when he came to trade for the exotic silks and spices
the land had made its fortune on. His father had been an Englishman
but had met her mother, a native to Bengal where his family had
made their estate, and fallen in love. Damon had never been to
England before and he listened attentively whenever Ellenore told
him stories of her home just as she sat rapt as he showed her the
wonders of his own.
These days when he closed his eyes
though, it was her bloodstained hands and accusing eyes he saw, her
dress ripped and stained and her throat cut.
Not exactly the image he wanted
replacing that shy grin and elusive scent.
He loved India.
…He’d loved India, at least he had up
until the Mahrattas had come and taken away everything away from
him.
Sighing, Damon lit the pipe in his
hand, taking a long meditative pull on it as he stared narrowed
eyed at the churning black waves. Putting the flint back in his
pants pockets he leaned against the side of the boat, resting his
forearms and
Similar Books
