By the Bay Ch. 11

Hey you guys! Just a quick update. Been mad busy lately (you've been warned) so future chapters might be a while in coming.

I'd like to thank you all for the encouraging emails on By the Bay, Colorblind and Alex – yes, I'm still working on those last two! But as you can probably tell, I barely have time to breathe right now. On a brighter note, stick with me and I'll try to get the chapters out ASAP!

Thanks for reading and don't forget to vote and comment!

Love,

Lily

© 2010 Lilian K. Rockmore

It was sunset. She sat on the beach, golden locks trifled with by the wind. Her body was rooted to the sand, but her mind was floating, floating, searching for something more. She felt incomplete. Empty. She'd tried to battle with this feeling of discontentment over the past month, and she'd thought she'd succeeded in burying the reason for her unhappiness, but she realized she'd only dug a shallow grave for it. A hard rain could unearth the painful memories, and she didn't have the strength to fight against it.

It always happened when she was alone. When she was around her sister or with her characters, her heartache seemed far away. It was when she was alone that the solidarity killed her, emotion by stifling emotion. She wished she'd never met Rae; she wished they'd never touched, never talked, never connected beyond the tangible. She wished she'd never fallen in love.

But she also remembered how cherished she'd felt in the other woman's arms. How tender, how sweet their loving was. What they'd shared over those few precious months. She just wished she hadn't been so foolish the last time Rae had come to see her. It had been stupid to tell Rae what was in her heart when she knew that Rae would leave eventually. But she'd thought Rae had felt it too. Sometimes, in her eyes, Meera could see the longing, the kind of desire that only came with affection.

Desire, she thought, scoffing.What do I know about desire?

She reached between her legs and grabbed a fistful of sand, letting it fall away slowly between her fingers. It was so fine, so white, so smooth, so sensual. She'd been on the beach when she'd first met Rae.

A hoot of laughter in the distance cut her musings short. She looked up in time to see the duke lift her sister in his arms and twirl her around in the air. Anita looks so happy, Meera thought. So carefree. Grudgingly, she admitted that the man was good for her sister. He treated her well; he made her laugh. If only he'd make Anita the right promises, he would be a perfect husband. Her sister was definitely the marrying kind of woman.

Now they were walking back towards the house, holding hands and sharing a laugh. They didn't seem to care about what a passerby would think of them, and Meera had to admire that. Her sister was handling the stressful situation very well, better than Meera had thought she would. She'd always known her sister was a very strong woman, but these instances reminded her just how strong she was.

Meera found herself staring at them unblinkingly and she had to consciously tear her gaze away from the perfectly matched couple as they came closer. She went back to staring at the horizon, brooding.

Seconds later, she heard boots scraping the sand, and she knew he was coming to speak with her. She realized that she didn't dread that prospect as much as she used to.

"Hello," he offered as he fell to the sand beside her.

She nodded, still staring off into the still waters. "Where's 'ka?" she asked without looking at him.

"She went into the house to get dinner ready." He, too, stared off into the distance in an effort to see what she was staring at so intently. When that endeavor failed, he looked back at Meera.

"You make her happy," she said with a slight tightening of her lips.

"She makes me happy, too."

"But it can't be, can it? You're a white man."

She turned caustic eyes on him. He shrugged.

"What is race but skin-deep," he said, leaning back on his forearms.

"That's easy for you to say; you're part of the supposedly superior race."

"Well, you're half," he rebutted.

She almost smiled.

"What is it you want from my sister, huh?"

"Companionship," he said easily.

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"But you do know that you're probably the only man she'd ever give herself to, don't you?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening perceptibly.

"I wouldn't ask that of her. When we part ways, she'll be free of me." The words were said as emotionlessly as possible, though the last few words sounded like a croak to him.

"When you 'part ways'?" Meera said, shaking her head. "It'll leave her completely heartbroken."

"Your sister is a strong woman who knows what she wants in life. And she also knows what we have is not forever."

They shared a silence.

"Sometimes I think you take advantage of her." Meera continued a few minutes later. "But then I see how happy you make her and I could almost forgive you."

"We make each other happy, Meera. It goes both ways."

"I just don't want her to get hurt." Meera said, averting her eyes.

"I don't either. You have to trust me when I say that."

She sighed, looking away.

He decided to change the subject. "A few weeks ago, I met my sister Catherine and she mentioned you. Are you two friends?"

Meera froze at the mention of Rae's name before nodding woodenly.

Jay smiled. "Yes, I can see why you two will be friends. I could almost imagine you talking about the female liberation movement."

A small smile twitched on Meera's lips. "Yes, we had a lot of similar interests."

Then another silence interspersed their conversation. Meera wrote her name in the sand while Jay watched her.

"Meera," Jay said after several minutes.

She turned to him, grasping a fistful of sand and letting them fall between her fingertips.

"As I've said before, I'd really like us to be friends. Your sister would too."

Meera's eyes became guarded. "I don't think..."

"Come in for dinner you two!" Anita's shout had them both turning towards the house. Anita stood just outside the back gate, motioning for them to get inside.

Meera rose first, brushing sand off her sari. Jay followed suit. She looked up at him, raising her eyebrow at the new earring he sported. He really was a roguishly handsome man. Her sister had made a great catch.

He was waiting for her response to his question, but truly, she didn't know what to say. A few months ago, she would've laughed at him for even mentioning the word 'friends' to describe their relationship. But now, maybe... perhaps... just for Anita?

But she just sighed and said, "Thank you for the saris you bought" and walked away.

*

They sat down to a simple dinner of prawn curry and an assortment of Indian-style stir-fried vegetables. It was a Sunday and Nanthini wasn't around, so Jay bid Anita and Meera join him at the dining table.

Anita served them steaming spoonfuls of rice and lathered it with spicy curry. The aroma from the pot of curry was almost sinful, and when Jay had his first taste of it, he swore that the taste was even better.

It was her fanciful thinking, but as she watched Jay and Meera enjoying her cooking, she couldn't help but envision this scene some twenty years from now. They would all be older, but still together, bantering over fragrant rice and spicy curries. Like a family.

"Anita?"

Startled from her thoughts, Anita replied quickly. "Yes?"

Jay frowned concernedly at her but she gave him a reassuring smile. "I was just telling Meera that you have something to say to her."

Anita glanced at her sister. Meera was looking at her expectantly. "Oh, well, yes. Meera, I wanted to tell you that I've decided..."

A beatific smile split Meera's lips even before Anita could finish. "I knew it!" she said with a laugh. "We're going to England, aren't we?"

Her sister's obvious happiness made Anita feel like she'd made a good decision. Meera came over to give her sister a tight hug.

"So," Meera said, pulling away. "When do we leave?"

Anita looked at Jay. He shrugged. "I've to go down to the port and check for the next ship departing for London. When do you ladies want to leave?"

Anita and Meera shared a look. "Soon, I think," Anita replied.

He nodded. "I'll go down to the port tomorrow then."

"I can't believe I'm going to England!" Meera clapped her hands excitedly. "I'm going to pack!"

"Meera, what about your food?" Anita called after her sister.

"I'm too excited to eat!" she called back. Anita shook her head.

When she turned back to Jay, she found him staring at her. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She looked down at her hands, biting her lower lip. "Jay, I'm a little scared," she admitted.

"Why?"

"I've never left the island before. I've never even been to a place out of walking distance. And now I find myself going to England... a whole sea away from home. It scares me."

Jay pushed his plate away and reached out to place his hand over hers. "You'll be with me, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

If those words had been said in a different time, place and situation, Anita would have been ecstatic. As it was, she simply clasped her cold hands in his warm ones and tried to draw strength from him.

"You're still worrying," he commented with a frown as he watched her nibble on her bottom lip. He raised a hand to trace the outline of her full lips, feeling the dent she'd made with her teeth.

"I can't help it," she admitted, catching his fingers and pulling them away from her. She needed to think and plan her schedule for the next few days, yet when he touched her, all those thoughts flew right out the window. "I guess I would worry if I find myself not worrying about the future," she said with a slight smile.

He stood and pulled her out of the chair, draping her arms around his neck. "Well, that's a lot of worrying," he said as he laid his hands on her hips.

"It's my nature," she said, her head tilted up to him. "Sometimes I worry when you're not home after dusk, even knowing that you can take care of yourself."

A lazy half-grin played around on his lips. "Do you?" he asked, slowly pulling her away from the dinner table.

"Yes." She had no inkling as to what he was doing, but she matched him step for step until they reached the unlit but spacious sitting room. He pulled her close until she could feel the heat of him through several layers of clothing. Then he began to sway, and her body began to move with him.

"Jay, what are you doing?" she whispered in the dark, catching fleeting glimpses of him in the moonlight.

"Dancing," he whispered back. "Under the moonlight."

"But it's dark. We might trip over something."

He chuckled lowly in her ear. "I wish the dames at home would think like you do. In London, the ladies consider dancing in the moonlight the height of romanticism."

"It's a little impractical, but I must admit that it is romantic... at least it is once my eyes have adjusted to the dark and I can actually see your face."

His hands traced the slender indentation of her waist, breezed past her breasts and cupped her face. Anita wished dearly that she could see the emotion reflected in his eyes, but it was too dark.

"God, you're so different," he murmured, placing a lingering kiss on her lips. "I'll never get enough of you."

She froze at the yearning those careless words caused inside her. His lips took hers again for a deeper, more satisfying kiss, and she felt herself giving up everything she had to the one man who made her blood heat.

And when her hands slid into his shirt and covered his rapidly thudding heart, she consoled herself that, for the moment, it beat only for her.

*

"Anita!" Jay called as he bounded down the stairs the next morning. He was dressed in one of his new shirts and trousers, his hair combed backward and secured with a leather thong. "I'm heading down to the port."

"Wait!" he heard her voice call from the kitchen. "I'm making breakfast!"

He made a detour and walked past the dining area to the kitchen, hearing the whistle of the kettle as he neared it. She was standing by the stove, the end of her sari tucked at her waist and wisps of her hair escaping their pins. It was his fault that she was so disheveled this morning. He'd kept her awake most of the night doing the most delicious things to her body, and it had been near dawn when he'd finally let her sleep. Knowing Anita, he believed she'd only allowed herself a few hours of sleep before awakening to tend to her chores. Even as he watched, she smothered a yawn behind her palm and swept loose strands of hair away from her forehead.

"Morning," he said from the doorway. She turned to give him a smile before returning her attention to the small pan on the stove.

"Give me just a minute," she murmured, turning something around in the pan.

He settled on the chair he'd claimed as his and tilted it so he could watch her movements.

He loved watching her, especially at this close a range. She was always so graceful, so refined in a non-English way that she captivated him. Her hands flitted from one pot to another, pouring hot water into mugs, stirring a mixture or swiping away the pesky strands of hair on her forehead. His eyes followed the slender curve of her arm, the slight dip of her shoulders, the gentle arc in the back of her neck that was so sensitive, down, down, down across the steep drop of her back to the very generous curve of her bottom and further, to her pretty feet.

Then she turned to him with his breakfast and a beatific smile and he found hat he couldn't breathe.

"Here," she said, placing the plate in front of him. "Try this."

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the bowl-shaped, raised-centered offerings with curiosity. He hadn't seen anything like this before, even at the markets or in town.

"It'saapam. Something like pancake with coconut milk in the center. Go on. Try it."

The light coconut milk dribbled out of the center as he tore a piece of the dough with his fingers and raised it to his lips. The taste was quick to explode on his tongue; warm coconut milk and Indian fried dough. It was a combination he'd never thought possible, but the taste was wonderful and the meal settled warmly in his stomach. Anita had already turned to put away the cooking utensils when he finally – albeit regretfully – swallowed the last piece of the dish and stood.

She turned from the basin, washing her hands in the clean water.

"It was good?" she asked.

He patted his stomach and replied, "Very."

A stray yawn caught her off guard and she hid it behind her palm.

"You need some sleep," he told her, a concerned frown marring his forehead when he noticed that the whites of her eyes had turned an unhealthy pink.

"I'm fine," she insisted, her backbone straightening in a show of defiance.

He reached out to cup her jaw in his hand, tilting her face to his for inspection. There was no denying the signs of fatigue on her face.

"You're tired. You need to sleep. I can see it in your eyes."

"No, I -."

He laid a finger over her lips. "Hush. I want you to go to bed. Take a few hours to rest then resume your work."

"I can't-," she murmured beneath his finger.

"No arguing. It's an order. I'll be very unhappy to find you asleep on your feet in the middle of the afternoon."

"But I-."

He kissed her, silencing her protests. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless. He decided then that it would be the perfect time to flee.

*

Ruth Tatiana lingered in bed on a Monday morning, clad in a black silk whalebone corset and garters. Her blonde locks fell over her shoulders and tickled the top of her breasts. She flicked the irritants aside as she raised the thin silver cigarette holder to her lips and inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar taste and feeling run through her body. She stared at the man lounging in her bathtub, his physique pale and perfect.

"I think your wife would want you to return to your holdings," she commented, exhaling a puff of smoke.

The Earl turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Chasing me away so soon, Ruth?"

A smile graced her lips, but it was a small one. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you'd like to return home to see how the birthing went."

He waved off her suggestion. "She was screaming like a shrew when I left. I cannot possibly return without knowing with absolute certainty that she has delivered the baby. I've heard these things might take days."

You sodden bastard,she thought to herself. "Well, what do you suggest we do, then?"

He rose from the tub and stepped into a robe. "I was thinking that we should take a trip, perhaps to the beach houses near the south."

Her eyes widened. "Those are very expensive, dear."

He smiled at his reflection in the mirror as he ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter. I would like to take you there."

Ruth watched the generous man, wishing she felt even an ounce of affection for him, even a thread of sexual desire. But her heart felt like lead after decades of yearning for love. Now she cared only for the monetary gains she could reap from men like him.

She extinguished her cigarette and rose from the bed, wrapping herself around him.

"Perhaps I could try to make it worth your money."

*

Jay returned later that afternoon, finding the house quiet around him. There was no sign of the other maid who'd reported for work early that morning, and he knew Meera had gone back to school to collect her graduation certificate. So that left him and Anita alone in the house.

He hoped she'd gotten some sleep. She hadn't looked too good when he'd left, stifling yawns every few minutes.

He stopped by her room before heading upstairs, but frowned when he saw that she wasn't in bed. He checked the backyard, kitchen and sitting rooms before heading upstairs.

He nearly missed her; she was curled on one of the chairs in his room, her head resting on drawn knees. A feather duster dangled from her fingers.

Stubborn little idiot, he thought with a smile. She'd probably fallen asleep whilst cleaning the house. He really should be insulted that she hadn't heeded his words and taken a few hours to rest.

He padded across the room and gently pried the duster away from her fingertips before lifting her from the chair and placing her on his bed. She barely stirred – an indication of her exhaustion. He shook out a blanket and covered her with it before removing the pins from her hair so she could sleep better. She let out a little sigh as his fingers grazed her forehead, and his resultant smile held a wealth of warmth. He pressed a kiss to her pliant lips before exiting the room.

Once in the library, he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and set it on the table. One of the few Chinese merchants at the port who'd been able to speak English had written down the time and dates of the ships departing for London. There weren't many of them for most ships had already returned to London after trading with the locals during the season in March. The next ship would leave in two days, and the others, only a week after that.

As with most issues in his life, he felt no pressure to make immediate decisions. He would consult Anita about it, and whenever she decided to leave would be fine with him.

Again, he wondered how the society in London was going to react to Anita and Meera being his companions. He certainly wasn't going to flaunt the women and invite trouble, but news like this had a way of spreading quickly. He could almost imagine his mother's face when she saw Anita on his arm...

Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to put them in the manor. God knew his mother would try to rip both women to shreds with her words, and Meera would only react to that by lunging for his mother's perfectly preserved face. No, he thought, shaking his head. It would definitely not be wise to leave the women in the manor.