sailor strolling past at this hour was an unusual sight.
Sarah wanted to see more of him. The simple fact kept repeating itself, raising his hopes to levels of fantasy he knew to be foolish. At the same time he was uncomfortably aware that her proximity and physical contacts, however slight, had awakened powerful urges that in no sense could be termed honourable. One thing was certain, next to Renzi he was nothing but an oaf. He cringed at the memory of his awkwardness and lack of conversation.
Suddenly resolved, he set out for the quay where the ship's boats secured — he would return aboard and resume his acquaintance with the literature.
On the berth deck there was only one occupant, still and silent at the table under a lanthorn glow. It was Renzi, reading. Kydd slid into the seat opposite. Renzi did not acknowledge his presence, continuing to read his slim volume with great concentration.
'At y'r books still, I find,' Kydd said lightly.
Renzi looked up balefully then resumed his concentration.
'The priest has tired of y'r company?' Kydd said, with more emphasis.
'He does have other duties,' Renzi said.
Kydd bit off a hot rejoinder and remembered his intention. 'Then I'd be obliged were you to suggest t' me one of
Renzi laid down his Wordsworth. 'So Miss Bullivant might be agreeably impressed with your undoubted erudition?'
'So I might have th' chance of knowing somethin' more of this ragabash world.'
With a theatrical sigh, Renzi leant back. Then his expression softened. 'You are not — yet — a friend to logic, the rational course, but should you so desire then I have in our sea-chest an old and very dear piece by John Locke,
Sarah was wearing light blue, with many tiny bows sewn into the skirt of her frock, and a gay lace bonnet that was very fetching.
'M'lady!' Kydd smiled, rising to greet her. Nunez was silent, watchful as a bird.
'Kind sir!' Sarah replied, bobbing a curtsy with a radiant smile just for him. Kydd felt a rush of feeling that left him in confusion.
He collected himself and said casually, 'I rejoice t' see you in looks, Miss Bullivant, if th' validity of th' inference may be allowed as experientially rooted.' The bit about empiricism could come out later.
Nunez's eyebrows shot up. Sarah hesitated in puzzlement, then her expression cleared. 'You have been disputing with Nicholas,' she said, in an accusing tone, 'and now you mean to quiz me.'
Kydd couldn't keep it up, and a wide grin spread. She was caught by his infectious glee and returned the smile. They stepped out into the street, as prim a couple as any to be seen. There was little small-talk as they walked companionably together.
At Sao Tiago they stood on the ancient battlements and looked out to sea, to the islands and scattered ships at anchor, the bobbing sampans and serene junks. Sarah stood in front of Kydd, her bonnet held in her hands and looking outward in silence. Kydd stood close behind: the scent of her hair came up to him, the lines of her body inches from him.
As if it were some other he watched as his hands came up to take her shoulders, his head bent and he kissed the top of her hair very gently, her female scent briefly enclosing him. She froze; her hands came up slowly to touch his, still facing away, still silent.
Suddenly she turned round, but said in a quite practical tone, as if nothing had passed, 'I believe you would like to see a Chinese pagoda - Thomas.' Her eyes held his but moved past, over his shoulder. Kydd knew that something was happening, but was unsure, painfully aware of a thudding heart. 'Come,' she commanded, her grip on his arm a fierce imperative.
In a trance Kydd conveyed her back along the narrow streets the way they had come, feeling his masculinity uncomfortably, and longing with a fierce dread for what he knew must lie ahead.
Ah Lee opened the door to the mansion for them, and they entered arm in arm. 'Mr Tsoi journeys to Canton in the winter season,' Sarah said, with a peculiar air of defiance. 'The house is deserted.'
Kydd glanced at Ah Lee, whose expression was even more blank than usual. The house was easily the richest and most spacious that he had ever entered, but had an alien look and smell with a compelling exoticism.
'We will have our picnic in the pagoda,' Sarah said, and in halting Cantonese told Ah Lee, who looked shocked, but bowed once and withdrew.
Sarah steered Kydd through the vast house and out into the garden. Her arm still in his she chatted on, remarking on this Oriental bloom and that until they reached the door at the base of the pagoda. Kydd wondered what lay in the dark interior. Fiddling with the dark bronze latch, Sarah eased open the tiny door and held up her lantern.
Kydd started uncomfortably. In the flickering gleam he saw her face turn to him, and in his heightened state it seemed distorted, devilish, leading him on into an unknown perdition. 'Come on, silly!' She giggled at his hesitation, and ducking down, entered the pagoda.
Quite used to the low deckhead of a man-o'-war, Kydd followed. The golden light of the lantern steadied and strengthened away from the evening breezes, revealing mysterious forms and carvings on all sides. He stared uneasily, the odour of cedarwood and the dust of ages acrid and strong.
'These are Mr Tsoi's ancestors,' Sarah said, then girlishly tripped around a spiral passageway at the periphery. They circled madly in a dizzying whirl that left Kydd breathless. At the very top they finally stopped, laughing. The curved roof above provided a small room, which was barely furnished with a small table and some red straight- backed Chinese chairs on a dark carpet. Many richly ornamented hangings with elaborate writing characters decorated the walls.
Taking his hand, Sarah pulled him over to a window opening and looked at him in triumph. 'There, Thomas, is it
