Free Laura Kinsale by The Hidden Heart

will I—breathe?”
    “You’ll soon get used to it, mum,” the maid said confidently. “’Ere now, ’old the arms up.”
    Tess, too weak from lack of air to protest, closed her eyes and raised her arms. There was a rustle of silk, andthe gown dropped down over her head. She opened her eyes as a cascade of emerald-green slid past her nose, then the room reappeared again. The dress formed a generous puddle around her waist, resting on the wide cage of her crinoline and petticoats. The maid began to fluff and smooth, and guided Tess’s hands through the tiny dropped sleeves. The low-cut bodice, which exposed all of Tess’s smooth white shoulders and arms, fitted precisely to the artificial shape that the corset forced on her. There was not one fraction of an inch to spare.
    The quick, shallow breaths she had been taking made her dizzy, and she concentrated with great effort on slowing them. The maid continued to fuss and adjust, buttoning buttons and fastening hooks. At her instruction, Tess sat, a slow and intricate process in the stiff corset. The woman tucked back a stray curl that had escaped the smooth coil of Tess’s hair and placed a crown of white flowers on her head, cheerfully ignoring Tess’s protest that the wires hidden in the greenery pricked her severely.
    The maid’s persistence had its effects; Tess finally submitted to the adornment with an impatient sigh. She sat still while various pins and combs were placed with utmost care, trying not to dwell on the evening ahead. It would be her first taste of London society, and the prospect made her feel dizzy again. She took a deep breath to clear her head, chiding herself for developing a case of nerves that would do any young London miss proud.
    I’ve faced alligators, she thought. Jaguars. Indians. Typhoons.
    But somehow, none of those dangers equaled the terror of facing Fashionable Society. She wished longingly to be back aboard ship, standing at the rail and watching the spray spin past in a shower of rainbow colors,with an honor guard of dolphins cavorting on the Arcanum ’s bow wave. A faint smile traced her lips as she remembered how Captain Frost had sometimes joined her there, and they had talked of places they had been, of islands and cities and wild empty coasts. He had been a different person at those times, not the taciturn gentleman at the dinner table. He laughed with her, and teased her for letting her hair fly free in the breeze, and once he had even reached out to brush a dark strand from across her cheek. The memory of that touch brought a flush of warmth to her face; she should have stopped him, moved away. It was unwise to associate with Captain Frost at all. A blockade-runner, an adventurer; he was not what her father would have called “suitable,” by any stretch of reason or imagination.
    But the queer excitement that took over her when he was near was addictive. Everything seemed to come clearer; her senses sharpened and life seemed sweeter. Seen through his eyes, the sky and the sea became ever-changing wonders; he knew their moods and lived by their rhythm, understood them, in the same way Tess understood the complex life of a tropical jungle—by instinct, and by a lifetime of watching and listening.
    But he had always changed when one of the Campbells appeared on deck. Whenever one of her chaperones was near, his mask of wary reserve fell into place, and he would not speak to her. She had been hurt at first, thinking she had made some blunder and offended him. But like a hesitant, wild animal drawn to a sweet in her hand, he would come again, and she learned to be patient with him as she had been with the creatures of the forests. She went every afternoon to stand alone by the rail, and her patience was rewarded; the day would come when she looked up to find him at her side. He never spoke of why he sought her out, but Tess thoughtthere was a shadow behind the ready smile in his gray eyes, and she drew her own conclusions.