66 The Love Pirate Read online

  She was a creature from another world, Lord Saire thought, and without really thinking what he was doing, he put out his arms and drew her close to him.

  The magic of the night, the beauty all round them and his feelings of compassion and tenderness for Bertilla made him forget the caution, prudence and self-control which were part of his training.

  Instead he looked down at her for a long moment and then his mouth was on hers.

  His lips were gentle and yet at the same time possessive, as if he tried to capture something that was elusive about her and make it his.

  Then, as he felt the softness and innocence of her mouth beneath his, as he felt her whole body quiver as if with a sudden ecstasy, his kiss grew more possessive, more passionate.

  Yet the tenderness was still there, as if he was touching a flower.

  For Bertilla it was as if all Heaven had opened and lifted her into a rapture and glory that was indescribable.

  She only knew that this was what she had longed for, yearned for and yet not really known it could even be a possibility.

  At the touch of Lord Saire’s arms her whole body melted into his and she became incredibly and miraculously a part of him.

  His lips brought her an ecstasy that she had never known existed and she felt a sense of wonder and adoration move through her until it was as if everything that was beautiful and everything that she had ever known was divine was there in him.

  ‘This is love!’ she thought.

  And yet it was so much more, it was everything she had sought and longed for and known in the back of her mind was somewhere, if she could only find it.

  It was part of the God in whom she believed and yet a rapture and excitement that was very human.

  How long Lord Saire held her captive they neither of them had any idea.

  At last slowly he raised his head to look down into the darkness of her eyes and, as her lips parted, he heard her whisper,

  “That is the – most wonderful – the most perfect thing that could ever – happen to me!”

  Even as she spoke, her voice very soft and yet vibrant with a strange compelling excitement, there was a sudden shout which seemed to echo all over the garden.

  “Saire! Where are you, Saire?”

  It was Mr. Henderson calling for his most important guest.

  As Lord Saire instinctively stiffened, Bertilla moved from the safety of his arms and slipped away from him into the shadows.

  One moment she was there, the next minute she was gone.

  Lord Saire realised that she would not wish to go back to the house with him feeling, even as he did, that they had fallen from the very peak of an enchanted mountain down into the plains.

  Slowly he walked back alone over the lawn towards the house.

  He imagined that Bertilla would go to her own room and would not wish to join the noisy merrymaking guests who still thronged the veranda and the sitting room where the music was growing louder.

  He was right in that assumption.

  Bertilla, after watching him walk back to the house and in the golden light from the windows join his host, went to her own room.

  “You have an old friend here,” Mr. Henderson’s voice boomed out as Lord Saire walked up the steps to the veranda, “who has come out from Singapore to greet you.”

  Bertilla did not wait to hear any more.

  Carefully she edged her way in the shadows round the house until she could enter it by a door at the back and reach her bedroom without being seen.

  She could still hear the sound of voices and the music, but they were faint and irrelevant beside the wonder glowing within her like a lamp that had been lit in the darkness.

  She knew now, she told herself, what love was like and she knew too that a kiss could be the most ecstatic experience beyond words and beyond description.

  “I love him! I love him!” she whispered. “And he has kissed me! He has kissed me and I shall never be the same again!”

  She told herself humbly that it could not have meant very much to him, but for her it was a revelation from Heaven itself.

  In the future, she thought, when she was alone she would only have to close her eyes to feel his arms round her and his lips on hers.

  She felt happiness well up inside her because, however lonely, however miserable she might be, this one perfect moment could never be taken away from her.

  It was hers – hers for all time and if nothing else ever happened in her life she had for her very own a treasure beyond price.

  She did not get into bed but sat in a chair, feeling as if she was encompassed round with sunshine and her whole body pulsated in a manner that she could not describe, but she knew it was as if the life force itself moved within her.

  ‘I love him! I love him – and I will worship him in my heart for all time,’ she thought.

  It never struck her to feel possessive or even for one moment to imagine that she could mean anything special to Lord Saire.

  There were so many women in his life – beautiful exotic women who she imagined would look something like her mother.

  They moved in the same distinguished Royal Circle as Lord Saire, where someone as insignificant as herself could never intrude.

  He was like a King amongst such women and they gave him gladly all that he asked because he was irresistible.

  But for herself Bertilla knew it was very different.

  She had nothing to give and yet in his fineness, in his generosity, he had given her this marvellous happiness when she least expected it.

  ‘He kissed me! He kissed me!’

  She hugged the knowledge to herself, feeling it was almost like a child she held in her arms that belonged to her and yet he had a part of it.

  She sat for a long time remembering exactly what had happened, feeling the wonder of it in her mind, in her body and on her lips.

  When finally she undressed and climbed into bed, the house was quiet and the guests must all have left.

  *

  Because it was already dawn before she slept, Bertilla awoke to find in consternation that the morning was far advanced.

  She knew that Lord Saire would have left the house with Mr. Henderson for their tour of the plantation and she rose and dressed quickly to apologise to her hostess for being so late for breakfast.

  As she looked at her face in the mirror, she expected to find it different because of the happiness surging within her.

  She thought that there was a new light in her grey eyes and a new softness about her mouth that had never been there before.

  Because her thoughts enveloped her like a golden haze, she almost hated to leave her bedroom, to have to speak in commonplace tones to ordinary people.

  She thought that the sunshine was more golden and the flowers she could see outside in the garden more brilliant than they had ever been before.

  She moved from her bedroom, which was at the far end of the house, along the corridor leading to the reception rooms.

  Breakfast was usually laid on the veranda outside the dining room and Bertilla was just about to step through the long open windows of the sitting room when she heard her own name mentioned.

  Instinctively she came to a standstill.

  “What do you think of Bertilla Alvinston?” she heard someone say.

  The voice was familiar and then she knew who had spoken – it was Lady Ellenton.

  She had been present at the party last night, brought by planters named Watson, with whom she was staying and she had gushed at Lord Saire in a manner that had made Bertilla feel almost uncomfortable because she felt sure that he disliked it.

  “I find her delightful and very good mannered,” Mrs. Henderson replied.

  Lady Ellenton gave one of her giggles, which Bertilla remembered.

  “I cannot help thinking it’s funny,” she said, “that Lord Saire – the Love Pirate – had to be shipwrecked, which is romantic in itself, not with one of the alluring women with whom he is always connected but w
ith no one more exciting than an immature girl!”

  “I find Bertilla extremely intelligent,” Mrs. Henderson said.

  “But no one could call her sophisticated,” Lady Ellenton sneered, “and I can assure you from long experience that Lord Saire’s affaires de coeur are always with very sophisticated women.”

  “I cannot believe that a ship on fire is a particularly appropriate background for a love affair,” Mrs. Henderson remarked.

  Bertilla knew by her tone of voice that she had taken a dislike to Lady Ellenton and was on the defensive where her guests were concerned.

  But Lady Ellenton gave another of her affected giggles.

  “Anyplace, anywhere will do as far as Lord Saire is concerned! Anyway I hear that one of his past loves, Lady Boyner, is waiting for him in Singapore.”

  “Lady Boyner?” Mrs. Henderson questioned.

  “Yes, she and her husband arrived, I am told, only two days ago from India and she is very attractive. I may tell you, Lord Saire was completely infatuated with her when he was last in Calcutta.”

  “Well, I am sure he will be pleased to see an old friend again,” Mrs. Henderson remarked neutrally.

  “He had better rid himself of that tiresome encumbrance he has saddled himself with at the moment,” Lady Ellenton said. “I know Lady Boyner and she is insanely jealous. It’s rumoured that on one occasion she tried to shoot a lover who had turned his attention to some other woman!”

  “Good gracious!” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. “I hope we will not have that sort of thing happening in Singapore!”

  “I expect Lord Saire can look after himself,” Lady Ellenton replied, “but if he is not careful he will have that fair-haired creature hanging round his neck like a piece of clinging ivy.”

  “I am quite certain Bertilla will do nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Henderson said sharply.

  “I hope you are right. But Lord Saire has always seemed to me to be very chivalrous and chivalry is something that a man can find very costly.”

  Mrs. Henderson pushed back her chair.

  “If you will excuse me, Lady Ellenton,” she said, “I will just go and see what has happened to Bertilla. I told the maids to let her sleep, but I imagine she must be awake by now.”

  She must have moved while she was still speaking, for suddenly she walked from the veranda into the sitting room and saw Bertilla standing just a few feet away from the open window.

  One glance was enough to tell the older woman that she had overheard what had been said.

  She put her arm round Bertilla’s shoulders and drew her to the other side of the room to give her time to recover.

  “Take no notice,” she said quietly. “She’s a spiteful busybody! If you ask me, she’s jealous because Lord Saire has paid no attention to her personally!”

  Bertilla did not answer.

  She felt as if her voice was strangled in her throat

  *

  Lord Saire returned later than he had expected and the sun was sinking in a blaze of glory.

  As they neared the house, Mr. Henderson remarked,

  “I don’t know about you, Saire, but I’ll be damned glad of a drink. My throat feels like the bottom of a parrot’s cage!”

  “That might be the result of too much punch last night,” Lord Saire suggested.

  “I made it a bit too strong for some of my guests. I imagine a number of them had a hangover this morning.”

  “And you?” Lord Saire enquired.

  “Nothing affects me,” Mr. Henderson boasted. “I was brought up in Scotland, where a man learns to take his whisky at an early age. Then I was in Australia for a few years before I came out here and that’s as good an education for drinking as any man can have!”

  “I will take your word for it,” Lord Saire replied a little dryly.

  He himself was always abstemious and he disliked men who got drunk whether it was in England or in any other part of the world.

  He was well aware that it was the British from Britain who were the heaviest drinkers.

  The Australians had a reputation as beer drinkers and they also produced one or two excellent wines, but he himself preferred, as did all the moneyed classes, champagne.

  Champagne had become extremely important to the Empire builders and it was the drink of the day.

  The Prince of Wales used to tell a story over and over again of how when West Ridgeway, later Governor of Ceylon, marched under Lord Roberts from Kabul to Kandahar, he was haunted throughout the whole journey by the thought of iced champagne.

  The Prince would pause then and say,

  “Ridgeway told me himself that, when Roberts ordered him to ride to the nearest Railway Station with an urgent despatch, the first thing that occurred to him was that at any Indian Railway Station iced champagne would be available!”

  “And was it?” Lord Saire enquired, as was obviously expected of him.

  The Prince used to laugh until it started a fit of coughing and when he could speak he said,

  “Ridgeway telegraphed ahead to reserve a bottle and rode breakneck for three days and nights, but oh, the disappointment! He said later, ‘the ice was melted, the champagne was corked, and the next morning I had a head!’”

  Mr. Henderson drew up in front of the house and pulled his tired horses to a standstill.

  “Now for our drinks, Saire,” he said, “and I think I can offer you anything that you fancy in the way of alcohol.”

  “If I have a choice,” Lord Saire replied, “I would enjoy a glass of champagne.”

  “It’s yours!” Mr. Henderson shouted, “and a damned good vintage at that!”

  He hurried ahead of his guest up the steps, shouting to his wife as he did so.

  “Muriel! Where are you, Muriel?”

  “I’m here,” Mrs. Henderson answered, coming out of the sitting room and kissing her noisy husband affectionately on his cheek.

  “You’re hot and dusty!” she said accusingly.

  ‘What do you expect?” her husband retorted. “We’ve been miles today, but Saire is extremely impressed by what he saw.”

  “Very impressed,” Lord Saire agreed. “I will go and wash.”

  “Your champagne’Il be ready for you when you return,” Mr. Henderson shouted after him and started bellowing orders to the servants.

  Ten minutes later Lord Saire, having changed completely into fresh clothing, was walking towards the veranda.

  Cosnet, his trusted valet, had been located amongst the other passengers from the ship and had joined him two days previously.

  It was a relief to have everything ready the moment he needed it and to allow Cosnet to take over the supervision of the clothes he had ordered from the local tailors.

  He knew as well as, if not better than, his Master what was required and Lord Saire’s new wardrobe was growing day by day with suits made almost as well as those he had bought in Saville Row.

  “Come and sit down, Lord Saire,” Mrs. Henderson said with a smile.

  He saw that beside the table there was an ice bucket in which reposed a bottle of excellent champagne.

  A servant poured him out a glass and put the bottle back in the ice to cool further.

  “Where is Bertilla?” Lord Saire asked.

  He sat back at his ease in a deep comfortable bamboo armchair made by the Malayans and lined with a number of silk cushions.

  Mrs. Henderson paused for a moment before she said quietly,

  “Bertilla has gone!”

  “Gone? What do you mean – gone?” Lord Saire enquired sharply.

  “There was a boat leaving Singapore for Sarawak at four o’clock this afternoon. She insisted on being on it.”

  “She insisted? But why? I don’t understand.”

  Mrs. Henderson looked uncomfortable.

  “I couldn’t prevent her from leaving, Lord Saire. I did my best, I promise you, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Lord Saire put down his glass of champagne.

  “Something
must have upset her for her to make such a decision.”

  There was a pause before Mrs. Henderson said even more uncomfortably,

  “I’m afraid it was something she overheard.”

  “Will you please tell me what it was?”

  There was a note of command in Lord Saire’s voice Mrs. Henderson had not heard before.

  “It was very unfortunate,” she began hesitantly, “that Lady Ellenton should have said what she did on the veranda. I didn’t know, of course, that Bertilla would be in the sitting room and therefore able to hear every word.”

  “Lady Ellenton!” Lord Saire exclaimed. “What was she doing here?”

  “She came over this morning with Mr. Watson. He left her to have breakfast with me while he went to see our overseer about some plants they were exchanging.”

  “What happened?” Lord Saire asked.

  “Do you wish me to repeat exactly what Lady Ellenton said?”

  “I insist that you do so,” he said. “Bertilla was in my charge and I cannot understand why she should leave in such a precipitate manner.”

  “I begged her to stay – I did really!” Mrs. Henderson said. “Quite frankly, Lord Saire, I love that girl. She’s the sweetest, gentlest creature and I wouldn’t have had her hurt for the world.”

  “She was hurt?”

  “It was impossible for her not to have been by what Lady Ellenton said.”

  Lord Saire’s lips tightened.

  Lady Ellenton was in fact the type of gossipy woman he most disliked.

  They were to be found all over the world, but especially in small communities like Singapore and managed to do an enormous amount of harm just by talking spitefully and exaggeratedly about everybody and everything.

  “If only I had had the sense to stop her the moment she mentioned Bertilla’s name,” Mrs. Henderson said ruefully. “But I was being polite. After all she was a guest in my house and it was only after the damage was done and Bertilla insisted upon leaving that I thought what a fool I had been.”

  “Before we discuss it further,” Lord Saire said, “please tell me word for word exactly what Lady Ellenton did say.”

  Mrs. Henderson drew in her breath and told him.