Winter of the Passion Flower (The de Vargas Family) (3 page)

Rising slowly from her chair, she moved
around the table, turning her back to him. “Unlace me.”

The captain sat without moving, his face
expressionless.

“Go ahead, lad. Do as Madame says,” said
Mr. Grimoult.

Zane rose, pushing the chair aside. He paused,
fingers brushing against the ribbon lacing at the back of her bustier. Indigo
raised one shoulder, waiting for him to undo the ruby colored lace at the edge
of the garment.

“Hurry up.” She encouraged him, but her
tone was waspish “We don’t have all night.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he undid the top
lace, loosening the rest of the ribbon in the brass eyelets. Strong, calloused
fingers lingered on her skin and she struggled to keep her composure as warm
hands brushed against her bare shoulders. Indigo reached around, pulling the
garment down, exposing her back. She heard a quick intake of breath as her
tattoo was revealed and the captain realized it was identical to his.

“Can you now see why I will trust my life
and my livelihood with you on such a short acquaintance? We are connected,” she
said. “Now, lace me back up.” His fingers trembled against her shoulder,
pulling the laces tight, and finishing with a clumsy bow.

“That will do,” she said quietly turning
back to face him. “Now, sit back down. We have a long night ahead.”

As Indigo saw the question in his eyes, her
face broke into a sultry smile.

“Not the sort of night that you anticipate,
sir.” She leaned back in her chair. “That may come later if you are good and do
as you are told.”

In the early hours, Mr. Grimoult stifled a
yawn and his head dropped until he snored quietly into his chest. The captain
remained alert as Indigo described her biome tourist enterprise and the
smuggling of exotic plants in her steam-powered submarine. Her wealthy
clientele, escaping the bitter English winters, holidayed in warm luxurious
environments in one of three huge biomes simulating a variety of temperate
climates. The biomes were accessible from the longest pier in Cornwall via a
steam-powered funicular railway that traversed the steep cliff. The
entertainment biome catered to the wealthier members of society and a
procession of clowns, minstrels and variety bands provided entertainment for
the patrons and their children. A skating rink, miniature zoo and theatre
completed the entertainment biome. A simulated beach enabled sea bathing
holidays in the coldest months and provided a therapeutic option for the rich
clientele in the beach biome. Water was pumped in from the ocean, and warmed
through a series of steam rooms.

Discussion turned to the voyage ahead, and
planning a mission without her usual, experienced crew.

“The
Artemis
is fitted with a
greenhouse and a steam generator pumps ocean water, which maintains the
tropical temperature during the expeditions. It enables us to keep the plants
alive. Mr. Grimoult has invented a light reproduction device,” Indigo
explained.

Seeing the disbelief on the captain’s face,
Indigo nudged Mr. Grimoult awake with her elbow.

“Mr. Grimoult…Mr. Grimoult? Would you please
tell the captain about your light device?” The old man raised his head slowly
and caught up with the conversation. He rubbed a hand over his weary, lined
face.

“Yes, Captain. Madame speaks the truth. I
use luminiferous aether, sprayed onto the back of brass tubing. When the
submarine is submerged, the aether is released in small doses and keeps the
plants alive.”

“The plants are purely for the pleasure of
the guests at the complex,” Indigo emphasized. “The opportunity to exhibit at
the Great Exhibition in May will source more financial backing and facilitate
an expansion of our enterprise.” Indigo paused, tapping her fingers angrily on
the table. “I am sure Duke Lorca is behind the disappearance of my crew.”

She explained that the duke, who lived in a
towering castle overlooking the next cove, had offered her financial backing.
“I am unsure of the reasoning behind the offer. I believe that he may have some
knowledge of the plants that I have been cultivating.” She looked down at the
table, shuffling her papers, without meeting the captain’s eye. He did not need
to be privy to her whole business. “He believes a union between us will be an
easy way to reverse the losses he has incurred recently. Lorca even tried
wooing me and became most despondent when I rejected his proposal of marriage
last week.” She laughed at the memory of the duke stomping to his dirigible in
high dudgeon, after she had not only rejected him but also thrown him out of
her manor. Indigo expected to hear more from Leopold, as she doubted he would
let a woman get the better of him. A ridiculous appearance camouflaged a
cunning mind.

Gathering the maps together she said,
“Captain, you are a man of few words.”

The captain drained the last few drops from
his goblet and looked across at her. “Madame, you are a woman of much
confidence.”

Reaching over, Indigo ran her fingers along
the tattoo on his arm. The muscles tensed beneath her fingers as sudden warmth
singed her skin and she snatched her hand back quickly. Taking a deep breath,
she fought to regain her composure, looking into the dark eyes across the
table.

“Zane, it is essential that I can trust you
to take charge of the
Artemis
. We must complete one more voyage if we
are to have enough botanicals for our quest. We have only until the end of the
month to complete our prototype for the exhibition.”

“Quest?” His brow wrinkled above those
midnight eyes. “That is a peculiar term, Madame.”

She stumbled over her reply. “I mean our
quest to get the prototype ready in time. The Amazon voyage is essential.”

“The Amazon? I am more than happy to pilot
the
Artemis
, however a South American voyage will take seven weeks to
complete. I believe you have a month until the prototype is due?”

Indigo allowed a secretive smile to spread
across her face as she rested her chin in her hand. She turned to Mr. Grimoult,
almost asleep in his chair. “Captain Dogooder is obviously not a mariner of
your ilk, Mr. Grimoult. You will have to teach him a thing or two.”

Mr. Grimoult nodded at Indigo.

“Madame, I beg to differ,” the captain
corrected her, his voice polite. “I have completed a voyage to the Amazon. As
an experienced mariner, I know the time a safe journey takes.”

She reached over, stroking his arm
soothingly. For some reason her skin craved contact with his. “Don’t worry,
Captain. I am in charge. All you have to do is navigate.”

Indigo stood, reaching around to adjust her
loose corset, revealing considerably more breast than before her laces were
undone.

“We must rest. There is not much left of
the night and there is still much to do. We shall discuss your remuneration
tomorrow, Captain. Mrs. Grimoult has prepared a guest room. Follow me.”

The captain stepped outside and paused
before entering the directional perambulator. Crossing her arms, Indigo laughed
as he hesitated.

“Nervous, Captain?” She offered her hand to
him. “How can I possibly trust you under the Atlantic with my submarine?”

Ignoring her outstretched hand, the Captain
entered the contraption. Indigo leaned against the wall observing him. Eyes met
and held as the doors clanged shut and the perambulator dropped quickly. The
unaccustomed butterflies in her stomach were caused by the sudden descent, not
the attraction she felt for the brooding stranger.

That was all that was causing this heady
feeling.

 As the perambulator descended, his
gaze left hers to travel slowly from her bare shoulders, over the laced corset
and down to her high boots. The door opened as the perambulator reached the
lower level of the manor. Indigo walked ahead of him down the corridor,
deliberately swaying her hips. Pausing at the last door, she turned an ornate
knob, entering through the back of a guest room, and ushered the captain past
her.

“You should find all you need here. We will
speak again in the morning.”

Indigo turned to leave, but a warm hand
descended on her bare shoulder.

“Not so fast, my beauty,” said the captain.
He pushed her gently back against the velvet-lined wall and strands of her hair
caught on the soft nap. Eyes narrowing, she stiffened as firm thighs pressed her
legs back against the wall. Strong callused fingers slid down her bare arms and
the captain trapped both of her hands in one of his, raising them high above
her head. His moist lips trailed up her neck until his soft breath warmed her
lips.

“I sense there is much that has been left
unsaid tonight. We will explore that in due course. But first tell me the
significance of our identical tattoos.” He spoke against her mouth. The
vibration of his words on her lips sent delicious shivers shooting downward to
the juncture between her thighs. She leaned away from him, tossing her head and
black curls surrounded him. Indigo freed her arms, linked her fingers behind
his head and snared his legs in the folds of her skirt. His grip loosened as
she moved her mouth back toward his. Their eyes locked, and she moistened her
lips in a slow and sensuous movement. She moved in closer and the captain’s
eyes darkened with anticipation.

Indigo bit him sharply on the lip as she brought
her knee up hard to his groin. Pushing him away, she spoke coldly. “You will
learn your place in the scheme of things. Do not ever touch me without
invitation. And do not ask questions about things best left unsaid.”

Before the door slammed behind her, she
watched as he rubbed at his mouth, wiping a small drop of blood off his lip.

* * * *

Indigo returned to the viewing room alone
and sat staring into the darkness until the black sea lightened to a dull gray
and the first rays of dawn light crept in from the east. She had not returned
to the Amazon for thirteen years, and she pondered on all the Fates had thrown
at her with the disappearance of her crew and the arrival of Captain Dogooder,
a man to whom she was instantly attracted.

Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled
her father’s excitement when he left for the final leg of that fateful trip.
The passionflower and its pharmaceutical properties and the moonflower and its
potential for extending human life had formed the basis of a lifetime of research
for him. He had left Indigo alone in Ilo and travelled not only into the
Amazon, but two centuries into the future to find the source of the
passionflower. He had found a wild plantation at the headwaters of the Amazon,
and had also discovered that the healing properties of his beloved
passionflower had increased tenfold over the intervening two hundred years.

Upset at her father’s refusal to take her
on his trip to the future, Indigo had spent the day in a tattoo parlor,
ensuring the importance of the passionflower to her would be inscribed
permanently for her father to see on his return. She clearly recalled a young
drunken sailor with a Cornish lilt to his slurred voice. He had lain beside her
in the tattoo parlor on that last fateful trip. She had ignored him, and he had
been so drunk, he had paid no attention to the young girl next to him.

Unfortunately, the Fates decreed her father
never see the magnificent passionflower tattoo on his eldest daughter’s
shoulder. Bandits had waylaid the group as they returned from the expedition.
Professor de Vargas had been buried in the Amazon jungle in 2008, one hundred
and seventy years into the future, leaving Indigo, and her stepsister Sofia,
fatherless.

“Madame?”

Indigo jumped when Mr. Grimoult appeared at
her side. She hadn’t heard the ascent of the perambulator.

“Have you had any sleep?”

“Just thinking,” she replied. “I have been
thinking of my father and how proud he would have been of our progress.”

“It was most fortunate we retrieved his
notes from that final expedition, Madame.”

Indigo reached over and squeezed the older
man’s hand. “It was all thanks to you, Mr. Grimoult. You risked your life to
retrieve his research papers and I am forever in your debt.”

She stood and spoke briskly. “Now, enough
of this reminiscing. I need to be certain of one thing. Can I trust Captain
Dogooder?”

As the sun rose over the Cornish landscape,
Duke Leopold of Lorca paced around the second mezzanine ring deck of his
ancestral home, Castle Lorcathian. Accessible via a long suspension bridge,
only a select few were privy to the knowledge of a steam door for underwater
craft, which provided a less dangerous entry to the castle. The castle
dominated the coastline, the huge moving cog on the eastern parapet used by
mariners for navigation past the treacherous rocks.

Leopold did not notice the soft pink light
creeping over the broad open fields to the east nor did he notice the small man
shadowing his steps. Closely followed by Brixton, his faithful retainer, the duke
stopped frequently, peering out across the ocean through a long glass monocular
with a large brass handle. Muttering as he fiddled with the cogs on the device,
the duke headed off for another circuit of the deck. He paid no attention to
the automatic gas lamps dying as the morning sun touched the walls of the
castle. Stopping suddenly, Leopold turned around and the little man scurrying
along behind him tripped over the duke’s feet.