Price of Desire (10 page)

He turned to the secretary
,
who was nervously flicking his fingers over the titles
.
“Have you had a chance to look through this then, Mitter
?
Is there any
kind
of order to it?”

Mitter swallowed, his
A
dam’s apple bobbing, bu
t allowed the
matter
to drop
.
“Not that I can find
.
It looks more like somebody dumped and re-piled the volumes than that anybody actually looked through them
.
There a
re
remarkable number of volumes on Greek antiquities.”

“Yes, Burberry was fascinated by the ancient world
.
He was stationed in the Mediterranean for years, picked up much of his collection then
.
Said once that there was nothing more exciting to him than walking in Homer’s shoes
.
I’ve heard he wanted to go to Oxford before he joined the Navy
.
Can you imagine?
”
Wulf restrained the irony of his own voice.

Mitter gazed up with wide eyes
.
He’d missed the edge in Wulf’s tone
.
“That is odd
.
Can’t imagine why anyone with an academic bent would turn to the military.
”
He picked up another book with a crumbling jacket
.
“Look at this
.
It’s a detailed account of a young man’s journey across Asia Minor
,
well over a century ago
.
And these . . . first hand accounts of the crusades
.
I’ve never seen such a collection of diaries and journals.”

“My father mentioned so
mething about that once.
How the
a
dmiral obsessed over reading what people had seen in their own words
.
He wanted to build a picture of how the ancient had progressed to the present, step by step
.
I think if we look we’ll find a collection of maps as well.”

“Maps?
”
Mitter’s eyes gl
ittered
with excitement
.

“
Burberry was fascinated with how the world changed . . . where borders stayed steady and where they blurred or moved all together
.
The idea that cities, countries, could grow great and then fade altogether intrigued him
.
Look at these
.
”
Wulf gestured towards the great piles of books
.
“I wonder how he tracked these all down.”

“I am sure I don’t know
.
Quite the collection
,
though
.
It will take me days to sort through it, the state it’s in.
”
Mitter spoke low, more intrigued with the books spread before him than with
keeping up his end of the
conversation.

In truth,
Wulf sympathized with Mitter’s
fascination
.
A
decade ago, when he, himself, had dreamed of nothing beyond his studies and the wonders of ancient worlds, the plethora of history spread about him would have seemed an unbelievable
trove
.
Now, after experiencing the world for himself – seeing the
kinds of
destruction
which
maps did not reflect, he had no interest in the words of others,
for
he knew better
himself
.
He tore his eyes from a speculation on ancient trade routes and moved to
ward
the window
.
He was a man of action; he’d leave these dry tomes to Mitter
.
They could hold no
fascination
for the man
that
he’d become.

He turned his face away
.
He would refuse
his uncle’s
legacy
.
Being surrounded by books of learning only separated him further from the man he’d been
.
He’d
knew he’d
be a stranger at Holly Hill
,
and being a stranger in his
childhood
home
was unacceptable
.

A flurry of cobalt and gold outside the window drew his gaze
.
It darted behind a bush and then peeked out again
.

“Anna.
”
The soft call was muffled by the window
.
“Anna, come now, you’ve been out long enough
.
I need another kiss before I wash up.”

The flurry bobbled out from behind the shrub, all glowing smiles and rounded cheeks
.
Her tousled curls gleamed in the bright sun as she galloped.

Rose rounded the corner and came into view
.
The deep blue dress he noted earlier shone in the sun, contrasting with her creamy skin and glowing curls
.
She bent as the flurry raced into her arms, unmindful of grass stains and wrinkled skirt
.
Her delectable, womanly hips were almost successful in distracting him from the child.

“Ah
,
my poppet, I missed you this morning
.
What have you and Nanny been up to?”

“I want to play
with the
ball, but Nanny says no.
”
The high-pitched child’s voice echoed loud, causing even Mitter to glance up
.
She stood straight within her mother’s encompassing arms.

“Now, I know you can keep your voice more in control
.
Didn’t we discuss yesterday that princesses don’t need to scream to be heard?”

“I want to play ball!  I am only a princess when I want to be.
”
If anything the cry grew louder.

“Anna, I am delighted to learn you want to spend the morning playing ball, but the whole house does not need to know.”

Anna
.
This was Anna
.
His daughter
, h
is flesh and blood
.
He knew the truth
; h
e was not mistaken
.
He let his head fall forward against the window
.
His daughter
.
He couldn’t define the emotions that swept through him
.
All he could do was watch as the child pursed her lips, stepped back from her mother and stomped one dainty foot hard
.
Wulf smiled at her determination
.
He knew that feeling.

“I want to play ball now, not later.”

“Ah, my poppet, you need, however, to be more polite in your phrasing – princesses always say please.”

The little girl looked mutinous, but did not reply.

“I’ll ask Nanny when you’re heading back to the nursery
.
I know it’s time for you to have a bite and lie down, but maybe there’s still a little time.”

Pudgy arms crossed across tiny chest and a pointed chin tilted up
.
The foot stomped again.

“Mama, please play ball with me
.
I want to play with you, not Nanny
.
Nanny doesn’t throw hard enough.”

Wulf saw the deep sigh escape Rose as her shoulders drew back and then dropped.

“I need to go wash up before more guests arrive.”

“Mama, please stay and play ball
with me
.”

Rose glanced at somebody still hidden by the corner of the house.

“I am sorry, but you will have to play with Nanny
.
I really must go back in.”

Faster than an oncoming storm the child dropped the pout and scrunched her face
,
a large tear trailing down one cheek
.
Something clenched tight in his chest.

“Please, Mama, I want to play ball with you
.
I don’t want Nanny.”

Rose’s expression softened with the child’s tears, but she did not demur.

“No, Sweetums, Mama has to go in
.
I’ll play ball later.”

A second tear joined the first, then a third.

Rose knelt beside the girl, not minding the dust catching on her skirt
.
She ran her fingers through the mussed curls and planted kiss after kiss on her daughter’s face, each gesture filled with warmth and love
.
Wulf could see them whispering, but could not hear the mouthed words.

The child turned away and faced directly at the library window
.
She turned her tear-streaked cheeks up and stared at Wulf
.
Emerald eye met emerald eye
.
A warmth he had not felt in years swept him.

“Maybe the man will play ball with me
.
I bet he can throw.
”
The child raised her finger and pointed straight at him, more imperious than any queen.

Rose lifted her face from her daughter’s and followed the direction of the imperial finger
.
Her gaze met his, clashed
.
Her face blanched, losing all trace of bloom and color
.
Her voice remained calm, but he could hear the strain beneath.

“No, Anna
.
The man can’t play ball
.
He has important work to do
.
It is time to return to Nanny and go back up.”

Anna pursed her lips, prepared to resist, but sensing the iron beneath her mother’s quiet, turned and stomped off around the corner with all the majesty her pudgy body could manage.

Rose turned back to him, met his gaze one last time, shooting him a look laden with caution and anger, before turning to sail off in pursuit of her daughter.

What did the blasted woman have to be angry about
?
He was the one who’d been deprived of his child, forced to hear about her birth in drawing room conversation
.
What right did she have to look so wronged
?
He was not the deceitful . . .

He turned back to Mitter and barely managed to contain his discontent
.
He wanted to pound his fist on another door, he wanted to run to the yard and grab the girl
.
He’d cry the truth loud and clear
.
He’d not let Rose deny him – not anything
.
No
.
He would not think in that direction
.
For now he had to plan
.
He would have what was his
.
This he would not be denied.

Refusing to even draw a deep breath, he seated himself beside the secretary
.
He would not yield
to emotion
.
He pulled over a pile of books and began to glance through them
.
He paged casually and then wistfully, choosing one with a series of battle sketches
.
He wished that the ancient world held the powers of attraction and obsession it once had
.
The drawings really were quite good.

A decade ago, before he’d faced reality, these treatises and illustrations on theories of Greek warfare would have held him captive for hours, and studying the difference between the descriptions of Greek battles and the more organized Roman
formation
s . . .
wh
y, if the Thebans had only used a strateg
em
here like the one Scipio had employed against the Carthaginians at Baecula, then . . . .

Rose scrubbed her face
.
She’d worked up quite a sweat playing with Anna
.
The unexpected heat reminded her so much of that other
long ago
morning . . . s
top it
.
She would not think about him
.
It was bad enough she was stuck acting his hostess, she would not think about large hands loosening a sweat-soaked bodice, would not imagine how those fingers had felt tracing down her breast, the first unimagined shock as he’d outlined a nipple t
hrough her damp chemise . . . b
ut s
he was doing it again
.
She had to stop.