‘My love?’ He set her on her feet again, but did not let go of her. ‘Was I squashing you?’
‘Yes, but I do not mind. Nick, tell me truthfully—will marrying me make things more difficult for you when you inherit this title?’
‘Honestly? I do not know,’ he said, tracing his index finger down her nose, along the line of her lips, as though he had never really seen them before. ‘Will there be bigots and snobs who are too stupid to see your quality and your intelligence? Perhaps, but I will not let them rule my life and by the time it comes to it, you will be able to out-marchioness any lady you might meet.’
‘Is that what I will be, a marchioness?’ It was an unwieldy word on her tongue, almost as bad as the reality of the role would be.
‘Indeed. And everyone, except members of the royal family, dukes and duchesses and marquises and other marchionesses, must bow or curtsy to you. That does not eliminate many people, so you will become very top-lofty, my lady.’
‘Top-lofty? That is better than totty-headed, I think.’ Anusha pulled his head down for another kiss and pretended not to notice a group of camel herders staring, wide-eyed, at the sight of a sahib kissing a youth by the roadside. ‘Mmm. I thought I would never be able to do that again, never feel your arms around me, never taste you on my tongue.’
Nick appeared bereft of speech, something so unusual that she felt herself begin to gabble out of sheer happy nerves. ‘You must have an heir now, as soon as possible.’
That made him smile and he turned his arm around her shoulders and began to walk back to the horses. ‘Are you proposing that we go home and begin dealing with the matter at once?’
‘Perhaps.’ She cut him a glancing look and saw his lips twitch. ‘Yes?’
‘No, wicked woman. We wait until we are married, which is only seventeen days now, so you will have to behave.’
‘So will you. Nick, do you remember that first night together at the shrine? Is it not a good omen that we find that we love each other at another shrine?’
‘A very good omen. I think we should leave an offering. I have an oil flask in my saddle bags. Have you your knife? There is a flowering bush over there.’
Together they poured the sweet oil over the Shiva
lingam and placed a spray of flowers at its base. ‘I found a branch with fruit and flowers,’ Anusha said, leaning against Nick, her head on his shoulder, their fingers entwined. Were there tears in his eyes? There were in hers. ‘For the future.’
* * *
‘This is your house?’ Seventeen days later Anusha stared, delighted, at the sprawling white bungalow with its low sweeping roofs and the wide, shaded verandas all around it.
‘It is our country house, Mrs Herriard. I thought you might not mind travelling all day after the wedding if there was peace and quiet and privacy at the end of it.’
‘It is beautiful.’ Grooms ran out of the compound to take the horses as she slid down from the saddle of the chestnut mare that was Nick’s wedding gift.
‘I wanted to find some height, and a view, and this was the best spot I could find within a day’s ride of Calcutta. I come here when I can.’ He pointed. ‘See, there is the Hooghly over there, but the hills make it healthier and less humid, even in the summer.
‘Come, let me show you your new home.’ He bent and, before she could protest, swept her up in his arms and strode up the front steps. ‘This is an English wedding custom: the bridegroom carries his bride over the threshold.’
‘I like it.’ Anusha buried her face against his neck, then wriggled to get free when she found herself being carried straight past a row of servants, all bowing a welcome over their joined hands. ‘Namaste!’ she called as her new husband simply kept walking whilst offering the same greeting. ‘Nick, put me down!’
‘Of course.’ He shouldered open a door and set her on her feet in a room that seemed to take up the entire width of the back of the house.
White muslin curtains blew in a breeze that was cooled by the dampened mats hung in front of each opening. A marble pool had been set into the floor in front of the wide double windows and, as well as a big European bed, there was a wooden-framed Indian one swinging from chains attached to the ceiling beams.
‘A proper bed,’ Anusha exclaimed.
‘I was hoping it would be a most improper one,’ Nick said. ‘Shall we bathe?’
‘In the pool? Oh, yes.’ She remembered all the lessons of the zanana. ‘I shall undress you, husband.’