headway, and flatter myself that I have, at the very least, engaged his interest. And the kiss was wonderful—so much better in every way than any kiss I have experienced before. He was masterful, yet in no way overwhelming. It was the sort of kiss I have every intention of experiencing frequently—preferably with greater fervency, but that I am sure will come.
Equally promising was his unprompted recognition of my part in the day’s action—and who would have thought that he, an army major, could be so progressive and clear thinking as to accept the need for me to be better able to defend myself—and him, although I doubt the latter occurred to him.
Nevertheless, I have to report that all is progressing most favorably. Given his estimation that we will besafe from further attack until we reach Suez, I have great hopes of what the next few days will bring.
I lay my head down to sleep in excited anticipation.
E.
16th October, 1822
Afternoon
My cabin on the schooner
Dear Diary,
I have written nothing for several days, as, to my irritation, I have nothing of note to report. I had great hopes that Gareth, having broken the ice and kissed me—and we both know it had little to do with gratitude—and having realized the nature of our bond, as I am quite sure he did, would accordingly seek to kiss me again.
Sadly, he has shown no evidence of such sensitivity—indeed, his reaction to the event appears to be to try to keep me at arm’s length! Not that he is denying the attraction that flared between us—I can see knowledge of it in his eyes—but it is more a case of his having decided that we should not be permitted either time or place to further pursue our mutual interest.
I have mentioned, have I not, his distressing tendency to make unilateral decisions?
This must stop, but I have yet to discover a way of getting around his determined stance.
But I will.
E.
19th October, 1822
Very early morning
Cabin on blasted schooner
Dear Diary,
I am penning this in a hurry as we are packing and preparing to quit this restricting vessel. Suez has materialized out of the mists ahead, and we expect to be docking in a few short hours. This section of our journey is at an end, and if its revelations have been significant—I now know Gareth Hamilton bears all the hallmarks of my “one”—and subsequent developments—that kiss!—encouraging, indeed promising, I must report that I have yet to further engage with Gareth.
He has proved to be annoyingly elusive.
Exactly what the next stage of our journey will encompass neither I nor he knows, but I am hopeful it will afford me greater scope to pursue him—or, more accurately, to encourage him to pursue me.
I go forward in hope.
E.
T hey quit the docks as the sun rose above the eastern quarter of Suez, painting pale walls a glowing amber-pink. Gareth squinted at the buildings silhouetted against the morning sky, minarets and the domes of mosques underscoring that they walked in a foreign land.
Luckily, since the defeat of Bonaparte, this foreign land was increasingly falling under British sway.
Garbed in his Arab robes, he strode confidently forward, as if he belonged, as if he knew where he was going—which he did. He’d stopped in Suez on his way out to India. Walking into the square beyond the docks, he glanced back at the small procession trailing him—Mooktu by his shoulder, Emily, Dorcas, and Arnia in their burkas a respectful pace behind, then Bister and Jimmy with the luggage, with Watson and Mullins bringing up the rear.
Facing forward, he led the way across the crowded square to the opening of a street that led, not to the diplomatic quarter, but into a quiet residential area. Halting beneath the awning of a shop that had yet to open, he waited until the three women, Bister, Jimmy, Watson, and Mullins drew near and halted, close enough to hear.
He hadn’t told them where he was taking them. He didn’t want any questions or protests along the way,
Equally promising was his unprompted recognition of my part in the day’s action—and who would have thought that he, an army major, could be so progressive and clear thinking as to accept the need for me to be better able to defend myself—and him, although I doubt the latter occurred to him.
Nevertheless, I have to report that all is progressing most favorably. Given his estimation that we will besafe from further attack until we reach Suez, I have great hopes of what the next few days will bring.
I lay my head down to sleep in excited anticipation.
E.
16th October, 1822
Afternoon
My cabin on the schooner
Dear Diary,
I have written nothing for several days, as, to my irritation, I have nothing of note to report. I had great hopes that Gareth, having broken the ice and kissed me—and we both know it had little to do with gratitude—and having realized the nature of our bond, as I am quite sure he did, would accordingly seek to kiss me again.
Sadly, he has shown no evidence of such sensitivity—indeed, his reaction to the event appears to be to try to keep me at arm’s length! Not that he is denying the attraction that flared between us—I can see knowledge of it in his eyes—but it is more a case of his having decided that we should not be permitted either time or place to further pursue our mutual interest.
I have mentioned, have I not, his distressing tendency to make unilateral decisions?
This must stop, but I have yet to discover a way of getting around his determined stance.
But I will.
E.
19th October, 1822
Very early morning
Cabin on blasted schooner
Dear Diary,
I am penning this in a hurry as we are packing and preparing to quit this restricting vessel. Suez has materialized out of the mists ahead, and we expect to be docking in a few short hours. This section of our journey is at an end, and if its revelations have been significant—I now know Gareth Hamilton bears all the hallmarks of my “one”—and subsequent developments—that kiss!—encouraging, indeed promising, I must report that I have yet to further engage with Gareth.
He has proved to be annoyingly elusive.
Exactly what the next stage of our journey will encompass neither I nor he knows, but I am hopeful it will afford me greater scope to pursue him—or, more accurately, to encourage him to pursue me.
I go forward in hope.
E.
T hey quit the docks as the sun rose above the eastern quarter of Suez, painting pale walls a glowing amber-pink. Gareth squinted at the buildings silhouetted against the morning sky, minarets and the domes of mosques underscoring that they walked in a foreign land.
Luckily, since the defeat of Bonaparte, this foreign land was increasingly falling under British sway.
Garbed in his Arab robes, he strode confidently forward, as if he belonged, as if he knew where he was going—which he did. He’d stopped in Suez on his way out to India. Walking into the square beyond the docks, he glanced back at the small procession trailing him—Mooktu by his shoulder, Emily, Dorcas, and Arnia in their burkas a respectful pace behind, then Bister and Jimmy with the luggage, with Watson and Mullins bringing up the rear.
Facing forward, he led the way across the crowded square to the opening of a street that led, not to the diplomatic quarter, but into a quiet residential area. Halting beneath the awning of a shop that had yet to open, he waited until the three women, Bister, Jimmy, Watson, and Mullins drew near and halted, close enough to hear.
He hadn’t told them where he was taking them. He didn’t want any questions or protests along the way,
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