Free SQ 04 - The English Concubine by Dawn Farnham Page A

compliments and excitements on the susceptible nature of women, even this one. And it raised him to something more than a man, more invincible warrior. At least he hoped it did.
    ‘Come,’ Edmund said and led her to his cabin where a luncheon was laid out with white cloth and silver cutlery. He poured champagne and she looked around. The cabin was not large but well appointed, everything a naval man could need carefully in its place. A map of China was spread out on his desk. She went to it.
    ‘Where you go, it will be very dangerous?’
    ‘Yes, perhaps not so much for myself, as for the soldiers I carry.’
    She knew instinctively that wasn’t true. She felt his eyes on her and turned.
    ‘It is good to see you again.’
    He said nothing and she looked away under the intensity of his gaze. An awkward silence lengthened.
    He broke it finally. ‘You were married, I understand, and widowed. I am sorry.’
    Charlotte looked up, wondering how he knew.
    ‘Thank you Edmund, yes, my husband died many years ago. I have two boys and,’ she hesitated the space of a breath, ‘and, a daughter. One son is returning from Scotland and the other still there. Did you marry, Edmund?’
    “I married, yes, a few years ago. My wife gave me one daughter. She died in childbirth with our second child who did not survive.’
    Charlotte frowned and felt an anguish.
    ‘Oh Edmund, I am so very sorry.’ Charlotte put out her hand to his, but he did not take it and she dropped it back to her side.
    ‘I have found active service has been of benefit in this case. My daughter lives with my parents in Leicestershire.’
    Charlotte recalled, instantly, that the Mallorys were a noble Leicestershire family. She remembered vaguely that they lived in a place called Kirkby, or was it Kirby. Edmund made nothing of it, had told her only once, yet she remembered it now.
    A servant arrived silently, bringing a tray with a pie and steaming vegetables. Edmund pulled out the chair for Charlotte and she sat.
    ‘Do you recall the food on board the Madras ? Apart from a few dinners you obligingly managed to get me, the food was appalling.’
    ‘I recall everything on board the Madras,’ he said.
    Charlotte looked down. ‘Edmund, I am sorry …’
    Edmund raised his hand. ‘No, no. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
    Edmund cut the pie and the aroma of beef filled the room. They both smiled.
    ‘Do you like life here, Charlotte?”
    Charlotte took a sip of champagne and contemplated her reply. Somehow, she wanted everything to be clear with this man. She knew the heart of him, perhaps better than any other man, even Zhen. He was a man of unflagging courage and honour. She looked into his eyes.
    ‘What have you heard about me, Edmund?’
    Edmund looked at her steadily. ‘Nothing that means anything to me, if you are happy.’
    In an instant, it seemed, they were back on terms of intimacy, as if the intervening years had disappeared; the intimacy of the shipboard companionship they had shared when they had talked of everything, her life, his own, his ambitions, her fears, poetry, music, beauty. They had passed five months in each other’s company, on a voyage of dread, monotony, danger and hardship. They had shared the long evenings together when he was not on duty and when he was, she was often by his side.
    One evening, he had thrilled her to her core. He had let her steer the ship guided by his hands. She had never forgotten that moment, the almost overpowering emotion of holding the wheel, feeling the hands of the seas holding this ship to its bosom, the arms of the wind rushing around them, the sails gusting and roaring, towering above them like a great forest filled with vast white clouds as they steered towards the moon.
    She loved to watch him, calmly ordering the men to positions, taking charge, as if he was the ship; so long as he stood solid the ship was secure. She had been vulnerable but he had not once taken advantage of her vulnerability. He