The Elusive Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

tinkled, summoning them to luncheon.
    To his even greater surprise, and his unease, not to mention his discomfort, she smiled brilliantly. “Excellent! I’m famished. And with the mode of our onward transport settled, we can start reorganizing our bags.”
    She whirled and, head high, led the way out of the room.
    He followed rather more slowly, his gaze locked on her back, wondering. He should have felt pleased she’d backed down; he told himself he did, but he also felt…
    It wasn’t until he was lying in bed that night that the right word to describe how he felt over that exchange fell into his head.
    Humored .
    He snorted, rolled over and pulled the sheet up over his shoulder. He wasn’t worried—she would learn.
    4th October, 1822
Still in Aden, at the guesthouse
    Dear Diary,
    In just a few hours, we will depart on the first leg of our shared journey home—and once we’re away, he—Gareth, Major Hamilton—won’t be able to send me back. I was on the brink of explaining that I wasn’t one of his men, and he should not therefore assume that I will simply fall in with any decision he makes, but just in time I recalled that in Aden we are within reach of the company ships. Should he take it into his head that my accompanying him is too difficult—or as he would put it, too dangerous—then it might well be within his scope to commandeer a sloop and pack me and my party off, either back to Bombay or on to the Cape, thereafter to travel on a ship of the line home.
    I abruptly changed my tune. Given my need to learn more of him, the opportunity to share the journey home, in daily contact and close proximity, is simply too good to let slip through my fingers.
    True, his habit of command is sadly entrenched, but I can make my opinion on that issue clear later.
    On reflection, I really couldn’t have planned things better. How ironic that I owe this chance to confirm, and hopefully, in the fullness of time, secure my “one”—the one and only gentleman for me—to that horrible fiend of a Black Cobra.
    E.
    They returned to the docks with the sun a glowing fireball hanging over the sea. The low angle of light glancing off the waves made recognizing people difficult. Gareth hoped the cultists clung to their black silk head scarves, their only readily identifiable feature.
    He glanced at Emily, walking briskly alongside him. At his suggestion, she’d worn a dun-colored gown, and her parasol was safely stowed in the luggage. At this hour, everyone on the docks was striding purposefully, all the vessels keen to make the evening tide, so their rapid and determined progress was in no way remarkable.
    What might have alerted a shrewd observer was the way he, and the other men in their small group, constantly scanned the crowds, but that couldn’t be helped. The cultists were sure to be hanging about the docks.
    He’d managed not to think too much about Emily, not in a personal sense. He kept trying to make his mind conform and label her Miss Ensworth , preferably with the words the Governor’s niece tacked on for good measure, but his mind had other ideas. Striding along the dock where just days before he’d saved her from an assassin’s blade, he couldn’t ignore his awareness of her—of her body, slender, warm and femininely curved, moving gracefully beside him.
    He wanted her much closer—at least his mind and body did. Both could recall—could re-create—the sensations of the moments when he’d held her tucked protectively against him.
    That instant when something buried deep inside him had surged to the surface and growled, Mine.
    He shook his head in a vain effort to dispel the distraction.
    She noticed and glanced up. “What?”
    He couldn’t fault her focus. Her eyes were wide, alert. He looked at the ships. “I was just wondering where the cultists are. I haven’t sighted any.” He pointed to the barge two vessels along. “That’s ours.”
    She nodded crisply, and made a beeline for the