By the Bay Ch. 04

And four, she'd visit the little old lady in the market who sold herbs that prevented unwanted conceptions. If she were to be involved with the Duke, she didn't want a child brought into the complexity of matters. A child should grow up with love from both parents, and because Anita couldn't provide a child with that blessing, she didn't think she should subject a child to that kind of life. Moreover, she wasn't exactly ready for a child with the Duke, especially since she didn't exactly know him…

Which came to the point about his first name. She'd been calling him 'the Duke' in her head for more than two weeks now, and it was just last night when she realized she didn't know his first name. She laughed when she realized she'd let a man kiss her when she didn't even know his name. She made a mental note to ask him as soon as she could.

The small clock on the bedside table told her it was past six, time for her to start breakfast. She was making something special for the Duke today, and she hoped he'd like it.

Sliding out of bed, she took her neatly pressed dress out of the small cupboard and laid it across the bed. Then, as quickly as possible, before the morning chill could penetrate her bones, she shed her sari and slipped the dress over her head. Safely bundled in the white dress, she reached for the ornate comb on the dresser. The silver comb was the only thing that was left of her mother; it had been a gift from one of her lovers, and Anita didn't want to think of the price her mother had paid for it. But she kept it because she wanted some material memory of her mother.

Putting her hair up in a bun, she washed her face in the basin of water she kept on the small table in the room. She wiped the excess water from her face, and reached for the little bottle of jasmine water. She had made it herself by crushing jasmine flowers pilfered from the garden in warm water.

Finding that there was only precious little of it left, she reminded herself that she would need to make some more before she went to bed that night. The smell of jasmine always made her feel womanly, and Anita liked that feeling.

Then, before she forgot, she took the tiny pottu off the looking glass she'd stuck it on last night and placed it on the centre of her forehead. There, she was done with her morning toilette. She folded her sari and placed it across the chair before heading out of the room. There was water running in the bath, and she supposed either Meera or Nanthini was awake, a rarity, as both of them tended to sleep in 'til after seven.

She'd just set the pan to heat on the kerosene stove when she heard the front door bang shut. Startled and thinking that it was an intruder, she reached for the large wooden spoon as she'd done on the night when she'd first met the Duke, but soon saw that there was no need for it.

Sweaty and stained with sand, he walked into the dining room, leaving a fine mess behind him. She cocked her head to the side and watched him trudge across the floor, seemingly unaware of the mess he was creating.

When Jay spotted her staring at him from the kitchen, her head tilted to the side, her body wrapped in that tight little dress of hers, he couldn't help but smile. She always made him happy to see her, regardless of the time.

Before he entered the kitchen though, he gained enough forethought to look down at himself. His sweater was drenched, plastered to his body from perspiration. His pants were covered with a fine layer of sand from having done sit-ups on the beach. He realized that in his current state, he shouldn't go near her, for he'd probably worked up quite a smell as well. The stench would probably make her not want to come near him ever again.

"I should probably take a bath," he said, raising his eyes from his self-perusal.

"That would be indeed a fine idea, sir," she replied with a smile tilting the corners of her lips.

He retraced his footsteps back to the foyer, calling: "I'll be back in a bit."

Anita simply shook her head and returned to making breakfast.

*

She was nearly done with breakfast when he came bounding down the stairs, his wet hair raining droplets of water onto his blue shirt. As usual, he ran a hair over it when he passed the mirror in the foyer, but as usual, it did nothing to tame his curls. Shrugging, and thinking that Anita would just have to put up with his messy hair, he walked into the kitchen and settled himself on one of the stools. There was an inviting smell emanating from the stove, and he felt like a fat toddler waiting to be fed a treat.

Smoke filled the room as she took a pot off the stove and set the dish aside to cool. Giving him a smile, she brushed past him to grab plates from the cupboard. When she returned, he was ready, and caught her by the waist before she could bypass him.

"Oh!" Thrown off by the sudden contact – not that she hadn't expected it, really – she held the glass plates up so that they wouldn't get caught in the tussle.

"Aren't you going to say good morning?" he asked with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. He tilted his head to get his forelocks out of his eyes, and Anita thought the action was adorable.

"Good morning," she said, internally wondering how many more minutes she had until the curry boiled over.

"Did you think about me last night?"

As if I could do much else, Anita thought wryly. "Yes, I did, sir."

He frowned, then shook his head with a small smile. "We've got to do away with the formalities, Anita. If you continue calling me 'sir', I'll take to calling you 'miss'. How'd you like that?"

She laughed. "Won't that be really odd?"

"Exactly. So what have you decided?"

Just then, they heard water a door slam and Anita pulled away from him abruptly. She stood awkwardly with the heavy plates still in her hands. "Could we speak at length after I send my sister to school?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

She turned away to wash the plates in a basin of water before wiping them off with a towel. Opening the pot she'd let cool, she took out something white from it and placed it on the plate. It looked like a large, flimsy, white disk. Jay peered curiously at it as she added a spoonful of sugar to the side of the plate and poured curry into a small bowl.

"There you go," she said, setting the plate in front of him. Up close, the dish looked like a complex cobweb, but a sticky mass of it. "I'm not sure how to translate it into English, but in Tamil, it's called Idiyappam. I don't know if you'll like it, but go ahead. Try it."

He reached for the fork and knife that were set in a cluster in the middle of the table, and Anita nearly chuckled at the thought of someone using utensils to eat Idiyappam. She'd never seen it being done before.

"Akka!" she heard Meera call from the next room. Anita spun around quickly, as though she'd been caught doing something that she shouldn't have done.

"'Ka, I'm leaving," Meera called as she walked into the kitchen, books in hand. She stopped short when she saw Jay sitting at the kitchen table.

"Um, hold on," Anita said to fill in the void of silence that followed. "I'll pack your lunch."

Jay was the first to say good morning and break the silence. The young girl returned it a little grudgingly. There was something in her gaze that he thought wasn't quite right. It was as though she hated him for reasons unknown.

"Here," Anita said, handing Meera a silver lunch box. "What time will you be home today?"

Meera's gaze left the man so comfortably sitting in the kitchen, to land on Anita. She spoke in her own tongue. "I'll be home before dinner. I'm going to write for a bit."

Anita smiled. She liked it when her sister mentioned her educational endeavors. It was comforting, in a way. "That's good. Don't be late, though."

Meera returned her sister's smile. "I won't. I'll see you in the evening?"

Anita said her farewells to her sister before turning back to the Duke. He still hadn't touched his food and was frowning in the general direction Meera had been standing in.

"Is something wrong?" Anita asked, suddenly concerned.

"I think so. Does your sister hate me?"

The way he'd phrased his question made her laugh. "Why do you ask?"

"Didn't you see the way she stared at me? If only hate could kill."

Anita chuckled again. That was a rather amusing way to describe Meera's attitude towards men.

"Well, it's not you, really..."

"That's good to know."

"…it's just that she doesn't like men in general. They've given her grief all her life."

"That's rather comforting, thank you. She looks like she could murder me in my sleep."

"She won't, I promise you. She just thinks that all men are pigs who only have one thing on their minds. I don't blame her. She's been attacked and proposed to by more than a decent number of men."

"And what does she do to the lot of them?"

"Attack them with anything handy." This time, both of them laughed. Anita realized that she like the sound of their laughter together. It had a good ring to it.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Anita diverted the conversation away from her sister. It felt strange talking about her when she wasn't there.

"Yes, after I've figured out how to."

Anita deduced that laughter was a common thing around this man.

"Try using your fingers."

Jay set his utensils down and began picking at the webby mass by the tips of his fingertips.

Watching him fumble with the wriggly dish, Anita offered to help. She washed her hands in a basin before coming to stand beside him. Nimbly, she used her thumb and forefinger to tear a bite-sized portion from the disk. She was about to pull away after having shown him how to tear off small pieces of the dish, when he held her to him again, his forearm resting comfortably on her waist.

"Yes?" She smiled down at him with an amused smile. He nudged the wrist that she'd laid on his shoulder.

Shaking her head, she reached down, picked up the piece she'd torn for him, dipped it in the colored sugar and raised it to his lips. His stare was decidedly sensual as he took the offering between his teeth and began chewing. Then his expression changed on the third bite.

"This is delicious," he said, looking down at the Idiyappam once again. He couldn't believe that such a plain-looking thing had so much flavor.

"Thank you," she replied, making a move to pull away, but he caught her to him again. This time, she landed effectively across his lap.

"What are you doing?" Wriggling, but laughing at the same time, she tried to get up, but he held her there, seated on his lap.

"I like you this way," he replied. Anita was eye-level to him now and most definitely close enough to kiss. Perhaps they could have her 'discussion' this way. If she had any qualms, he'd certainly know how to answer them.

She reached for the plate again and tore off a piece of the dish, coated it with sugar and offered it to him. His eyes never left hers as he chewed, his index finger slowly traveling across her abdomen while his other arm held her in place across his lap.

"You wanted to talk to me?" he reminded her when he felt her tremble slightly. The laughter seemed to fade from her eyes, and together with it, his self-assurance. He'd been almost confident that she was growing to like him just a little bit – hell, she wouldn't have let him pull her across his lap if she didn't – but what if there was something that-.

"I…I have a few conditions if this is really what you want," she said softly, raising her hand to dust orange sugar off his cheek. He caught her hand and kissed the back of her palm.

"How could you doubt it?"

She smiled, and two little dimples appeared by the corners of her mouth. He realized that she had to smile in a certain manner for them to appear. But when they did, she looked more beautiful than words could describe.

"You have dimples," he said, his gaze flicking from her lips to her eyes. "I noticed them the first time you smiled at me. They don't appear when you laugh, just when you smile."

Her eyes, too, fell to his lips, unbidden. Oh, he was melting her with his words, every one of them sweet as honey. She wanted to savor them, drown in them, remember them so she could repeat them to herself when she grew old. They were beautiful words, just like the beautiful man that held her.

"I wish I could say something as sweet, too," she replied honestly. "But nothing comes to mind at the moment."

He stared at her unblinkingly for long seconds before he threw his head back and laughed.

"Did I say something wrong?"

After gaining some semblance of control, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"No, no, though only the lord knows why I don't feel insulted. Out of all my masculine attributes, you couldn't find one to praise me about?"

"Oh." She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I didn't mean in that way."

"In what way did you mean it, then?"

She leaned back against him, tilting her head to the side so she looked at him with her head on his shoulder. "I was being honest."

"I know you were. I shouldn't have laughed." His fingers found hers and began fiddling with them. Her fingers were long and thin. And very, very calloused.

"It's all right," she said, equally enthralled by the tingling feeling that spread through her arms from his touch. His fingers looked so pale next to hers, but it was a good pale. Golden pale. She decided she like that.

"I should feel uncomfortable," she confessed moments later.

"Why?"

"Because you take such liberties with me."

She felt him stiffen slightly and looked up to find him staring at her. The look in his eyes was almost unreadable.

"I should feel uncomfortable, but I'm not," she hastened to add. "You've always been so gentle with me that I don't find a need to make you let me go, sometimes. Though I know you should."

"Really?" His fingers interlaced with hers and rested on her stomach. He watched her watch their fingers.

"Yes, really. The current situation being a perfect example."

"Do you want me to let you go?"

They tilted their faces to the side at the same moment. They were so close that if she leaned forward just a bit, her lips would touch his. She smelled the soap on his skin, the heat through his shirt and the steady beat of his heart. There was desire in his eyes, bold and titillating, and she reacted to it, her heartbeat doubling, feeling the joy of being wanted take over.

"No," she whispered against his lips. His fingers tightened their hold on hers and Anita felt goosebumps spread over her arms.

She could almost feel his lips on hers, hovering, hovering, when footsteps sounded from the servant's quarters.

He didn't know she could move that fast. But one moment she was on his lap and the next, she was standing by the stove, her eyes wide and staring in the direction of the noise. He groaned and rested his cheek on his palm, frustration gaining the upper hand in him. That was the second time that someone interrupted them today. He thought wryly that he'd have to kidnap her to a hidden alcove so he could get his fill of her. Thank god there were many alcoves on the island.

The squirrel maid appeared in the doorway, her face bright and scrubbed. She didn't notice him, but chirped something to Anita, who returned it half-heartedly. Then she spotted him lounging on his stool and gave him a sloppy curtsy. He smiled at her, trying his best not to shout at her to go away.

"Um, 'Ka, I'm going to the market to get some chicken and vegetables. Do you need anything that I could get while I'm there?"

Nathini's eyes bobbed from Jay to Anita and back. Anita hoped there wasn't any visible signs of their – what could she call it? – cuddling, on her body.

"No, but I thank you," Nanthini replied in the English that she was accustomed to. Anita turned back to the Duke.

"Do you need anything, sir?"

"No, but I thank you," Jay replied, mimicking Nanthini's earlier words without lifting his head. The reply caught her by surprise and she struggled to keep her laughter from embarrassing everyone in the room.

"Enjoy your breakfast, then, sir." She gave him a quick curtsy. "'Ka, I'll be back in about an hour or so."

Anita exited the room, leaving him to stare at the squirrel maid. She gave him a rather motherly smile and grabbed the broom from the cupboard before going into the dining room.

Jay sighed, looking down at his food. It didn't seem very appealing all of a sudden.

*

She grabbed the little basket by the back door and made her way across the open space of the backyard before exiting the house through the rear gate. Her mind was still on the conversation that she'd tried to have with the Duke. If only Nanthini hadn't intervened when she had, the hunger that had been stewing inside her from last night would have abated at least a little. Now it still churned in her stomach, making her release a frustrated groan.

Walking in the direction of the bayside market, she counted the coins in her hands. There was still a little more than a week 'til she earned her first month's salary, but she didn't feel the monetary strain whilst working for the Duke. Whatever she needed, she was already provided. The only extra money she needed was for Meera's school fees – which, Meera had told her, was only going to be for two months more – and extra expenditures like the one she was going to make today. After a long, painful time, she actually felt some sort of security. There was a strong roof over her head and food for every meal. She couldn't ask for more.

The house was out of view now, but she still had a ten minute walk to the market. Humming, she hooked the basket on the crook of her arm and tucked the coins back into the pouch at her waist. She'd just turned a corner when she heard footsteps behind her. Even without turning, she knew it would be him.

He was looking at the forest that lined one part of the path they were taking, whistling to himself, his hands deep in his pockets. When she turned around to look at him, he pretended to be shocked by her presence.

"Anita," he said. "What are you doing here?"

When she laughed and strode towards him, he backed away with a look of horror. "Are you following me?"

Since it was so obvious that he was the one following her, she laughed so hard that her stomach hurt. He walked over to her and plucked the market bag out of her hands while she was still laughing and didn't have the breath to protest.

"I'm glad I amuse you," he said as they walked side by side to the market.

She couldn't get rid of the grin on her face. "I am, too," she admitted.

They walked in silence for a while, her occasional snicker the only thing that marred the quiet. Then they reached the beach and he turned to look at her.

"Did you want to tell me something before we, um, got sidetracked?"

Her features took on the serious expression again. A frown creased her forehead, and he resisted the urge to smooth it away.

"Yes, I did. I have a few conditions that I would like you to respect if we ever… you know…" She bit her lip.

"Be intimate?"

Heat rose to her cheeks again. She was definitely not her mother's daughter.

"Yes, that."

"And what would those be?"

She turned to start walking toward the market again. "Well, umm, would you let me say it all before you speak?"

He followed her. "Yes, of course."

There was a hollow log lying at the point where the beach met grass. She went over to sit, and he sat beside her, testing the stability of the wood. He was still rocking the log when she spoke.

He listened to her, raising his eyebrow at some points, and nodding at others. She wasn't asking for anything unreasonable, but he had to admire her spirit. He knew of many women who would do anything he wanted if he desired them, because of his family's sizable inheritance. But she was so very different from all the other women. She had conditions, something he fully appreciated having left the army only some years ago.