Page 25 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

“No, Alex, I must tell you. I should have told you about this before we married.” To be held close to his chest gave Emma the most comfort she’d had in days. “You should have known.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He kissed her forehead, and she relaxed a trifle.

“I was afraid if you knew I’d been there during the mutiny, you’d want nothing to do with me. You’d think I’d be damaged in some horrible way.” Emma pressed her face against his broad chest, calmed by the wonderful masculine feel of him. “Which I am.”

“Nonsense.” He pulled her closer, the barest hint of his sandalwood cologne soothing her frayed senses. “You were undoubtedly courageous to have born the depravations of the siege so long and so well.”

“Not well at all, Alex.” Shaking her head, she tried to bury herself deeper against him. “I was afraid constantly. I tried not to let my aunt know, but she did. We were all more and more frightened as the siege wore on and our defenses weakened. Soldiers died every day. The enemy shelled the structure and blew up mines almost daily, undermining the Residency walls themselves.”

The wall of flames she dreamed about so often sprang up before her eyes. “One night, one shell from the enemy hit the wall near where my aunt and I were sleeping. It caught the bedclothes on fire. In moments, my aunt was in flames.” She hugged Alex, praying for the image of her aunt screaming to subside. When he squeezed her tighter, some of the fear and horror receded. “I have nightmares to this day about that.”

“My love, I wish you would have shared this with me.” He spoke low, directly into her ear, the warmth of his breath easing her misery a trifle. “I could have helped you when you were afraid.”

“You would?” That offer was sweeter than any she’d ever had.

“Of course I would.” He began to rock her gently, the slight swaying motion surprisingly calming. “We are as one, remember? I will always do whatever is in my power to help you and to keep you from harm.” Alex pulled back and lifted her face to his. “You believe me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Gazing into his deep blue eyes, Emma couldn’t help but believe him. Alex was so strong, so kind, so dutiful. If he promised to protect her, she understood he would lay down his life for her if need be. Who could not believe such a man? Who could not love such a one?

Emma gasped and sat back. She’d never allowed herself to think such a thing about Alex. They were amicable, they were good companions, they were passionate toward one another in the nighttime. He’d given her the deepest sense of safety she’d known since her return to England. But above all this, had she actually fallen in love with her husband?

“Do you believe me, Emma?” His gaze bore straight to her soul. “Do you?”

“I do, Alex.” She grasped his hands, not ever wanting to let go. “I do believe you, my dear.”

“Then tell me the rest of your ordeal so we may put it all behind you.”

If only she could. After living with the nightmare for so long, she couldn’t imagine a time she’d not lived in fear. But she could try. With a sigh, she straightened and continued. “There’s not a lot left to tell, except the normal things one endures during a siege. The privations of food and any other creature comforts, the constant fighting, the deaths due to the enemy and to the diseases that ran rampant in the compound. The rats.” These were some of the hardest things. Yet she’d not had to endure the ultimate devastation. “The deaths of so many children. Scarcely a woman with little ones escaped having to bury one of their darlings. By the time we were relieved, I believe I was completely numb to any emotion.” She raised her long neglected tea to her lips. It was stone cold, but she didn’t mind. She needed to finish the story. “That is why it took me so long to return to England. Once the Residency was relieved—the second time, mind you. The first relief effort couldn’t actually relieve us but joined our forces. But once we were truly rescued, we started out on our journey to Calcutta in November, landing there after many different changes of conveyance in February of 1858.”

“That was over two years ago, my dear.” Alex had raised his teacup, but paused and frowned. “Why did you not sail for England immediately?”

“Most of the women who had come from the Residency did take ship almost as soon as we arrived. But I…” Emma looked away. “By the time I arrived in Calcutta, I wasn’t quite myself. I kept thinking I was back at the Residency, that we were still under siege.” She raised her gaze to his. “You’ve seen how that looks. It was even worse two years ago. The doctors at the garrison didn’t know what to do with me. Fortunately, they were able to contact one of my uncle’s friends living in the city. He and his wife took me in until I had come more to my senses and was able to sail for England.” She shrugged. “You know the rest from there.”

“I do.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “And I am more grateful now that you are my wife than I have ever been.”

“You are?” Those had not been the words she’d expected to hear from him. “You don’t wish you needn’t put up with me and all my lunacies?”

“Far from it, my love.” Alex pulled her back to him. “I know now how strong you truly are. To have survived such an ordeal shows me that you are exactly the kind of strong, capable woman I’d want as my wife. I’m sorry that I made you recall that nightmare, and I only hope you can forgive me. Lesson learned. From today, we’ll move on together, both of us stronger for having gone through the experience. Can we do that, Emma?”

An unimaginable weight lifted from Emma’s shoulders and she threw her arms around Alex, hugging him so tightly she feared she might hurt him. But she was so very grateful for this magnificent man who could accept her with all her faults and still wish to be married to her. Who wouldn’t love such a man? “Yes, my love. We absolutely can.”

Chapter Ten

Two days after Emma’s astounding revelation, Alex arranged to meet Uncle Jack at the Rum Pum-Pas Club, a boxing establishment owned by James Langham, the current middleweight boxing champion. Alex and his uncle had sparred for years, his uncle having taken a liking to the sport as a young man. Although he didn’t often fancy getting trounced, as he so often was by his enthusiastic uncle, this morning Alex was willing to take his drubbing in order to be able to talk to his uncle about a matter that had been on his mind over the weekend.

Jack entered the Cambrian Stores, Langham’s tavern over which the boxing club sat, and hurried up the stairs. As he approached the entrance, the dull thudding blows of bare-knuckles on bare flesh reached him, punctuated by the guttural grunts of two pugilists in the midst of a match. He walked through the doorway just as a hefty-looking bloke landed a right hook to his young opponent’s nose. Blood flew in a spectacular arc and the chap sank to his knees then crashed forward onto the mat.

“Alex.” His uncle stood to the side of the ring, chest bared, ready for their turn in the ring. For a man forty-nine years of age, Uncle Jack was still a fine specimen of a man. Barrel-chested, powerful shoulders, and long arms. Sometimes it was difficult for Alex to land a blow on him at all.

“Good morning, uncle. I see you’re fit and ready for action.” Alex doffed his jacket and pulled his cravat free. “When do we go?”

“There’s one more sparring round before us.” He nodded as two assistants helped the young chap with blood trickling down off his chin out of the ring. “Depending on who it is, we may have some time.” His uncle peered at him thoughtfully. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something important.”

“I do.” With a practiced motion, Alex pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair holding his growing pile of clothes. Giving his arms a few good swings to help him limber up, Alex cast an eye over the crowded scene. Gentlemen in all stages of undress milled around, betting on various rounds, chatting, smoking. Hardly the setting for an intimate conversation, but Alex didn’t want to wait and his uncle had given this time as his only free moments that day. “It’s about Emma.”

“Your wife?” Uncle Jack looked taken aback. “I thought you wanted my advice on buying some new cattle or an estate for your new home.” He eyed Alex, frowning. “Is she well?” His brows rose sharply. “Is she already in a family way?”

“No, I mean, yes. I mean…” Alex had to stop himself from blithering away as his uncle’s face became more excited.