His hands shook as he put down the drum and broke the spell. Anusha moved, pushed back her heavy plait, sending the bangles clattering down her arm, and smiled at him. ‘That is something I have never done before,’ she said. ‘I do not expect I ever will dance for a man again, so it is my thanks to you. The thanks you will not take in words.’
Speechless, he watched her pass him and did not turn as he heard the sound of her footsteps change when she walked up the gangplank and on to the deck. She had taken his breath away and he wondered if he would ever get it back.
* * *
‘We are here.’ It was not a question. Old memories were coming back, although not of landmarks exactly, for it was dark now and all she could see were the myriad
of lights both on land and on the boats that seemed to swarm over the surface of the Garden Reach, the great pool of water that was Calcutta’s harbour. Anusha leaned on the rail, recollection helped by the mingling smells of the city: human and animal waste, cooking fires, spices, flowers.
‘I remember this, I think—all the great ships.’ And they were still there, the merchantmen, anchored under the protection of Fort William. ‘My father took us up on to the battlements of the fort to see the view once.’
‘We will go to the fort now,’ Nick said. ‘I do not want to take you through the streets without an escort, and besides, Sir George may not be at the house.’
‘Is it still the same one?’
‘Yes.’
Dancing for Nick had unlocked something inside her, lifted her spirits with the release of movement, the joy of doing an outrageous thing because she chose to. Freedom. Now the old apprehension slithered back to fill her stomach with cold apprehension and the sour burn of old betrayal. What if she could not hide how she felt well enough for her father to do what she wanted?
‘I had not thought it would be the same house, somehow.’ Full of memories of Mata that no doubt the other woman would have tried to brush away.
‘You will find it changed, perhaps,’ Nick said in an echo of her thoughts as a small skiff bumped alongside to take them ashore.
Yes, it would be changed and perhaps that was not a bad thing. The present was hard enough to manage without the ghosts of the past lying in wait around every corner. Anusha climbed down into the skiff and stood with Nick to catch their meagre bundles as they were tossed down. The crew was already chattering and happy at the prospect of a night in the city with wages fattening their purses.
Anusha watched them as the skiff was poled towards the shore. They were poor, they worked hard, their lives were uncertain—was she foolish to envy them their laughter and their careless joy for one night?
‘Courage.’ Nick was looking at her. ‘You are Rajput, remember?’
‘I do not know what I am now,’ she countered. ‘But I will find out.’ His mouth tightened. ‘What is it? Does your shoulder still pain you?’
‘No.’ He shook his head and smiled. Knowing him as she did, it looked a little forced. ‘My conscience poking at me, I suppose.’
They were speaking English, but she lowered her voice even so. ‘Because you kissed me? Because you came to my cabin?’
‘That must be it,’ he agreed.
‘There was no harm. You were very strong and said no.’ She tucked her hand companionably into the crook of his arm and leaned against his shoulder, wanting to give comfort. ‘You see? We are just friends now.’
Friends? A tremor ran through her as though he had touched her intimately instead of it being she who had offered this harmless gesture.
Her nostrils flared, absorbing the scent of the soap Nick had used and of the day’s sweat. Under her hand there was the solidity of muscle and the beat of his heart under his ribs where the backs of her fingers touched. She was as aware of him as she had been when she had danced for him, aware at a far deeper level than the physical attraction that had flashed between them in her cabin, when he had kissed her. This was like that second when his gaze had found her in the village when, veiled and in shadow, he could not have known her by any rational means.
Shaken, Anusha looked up at the still profile, black against the lights of the Princip ghat, the nearest landing steps to the fort. There was nothing to read, only strength and a strong masculinity of line and something of tension in the way his jaw was set. ‘Friends,’ she prompted, needing reassurance, although against what, she was not sure.
‘Remember that,’ Nick said. She thought he would add something, but all he said was, ‘Keep hold of me when we land, it is crowded tonight.’