Captured by Moonlight, Book 2 of the series Twilight of the British Raj by Christine Lindsay
Prisoners to their own broken dreams…
After a daring rescue goes awry, the parched north of India grows too hot for nurse Laine Harkness and her friend Eshana. The women flee to the tropical south…and run headlong into their respective pasts.
Laine takes a new nursing position at a plantation in the jungle, only to discover that her former fiancé is the owner…and that Adam has no more to say to her now than he did when he crushed her years ago. Why, then, is she still drawn to him, and to the tiger cub he is raising?
Eshana, captured by her traditional uncle and forced once more into the harsh Hindu customs of mourning, doubts whether freedom will ever again be in her future, much less the forbidden love that had begun to whisper to her. Is faith enough to live on? Or is her Savior calling her home?
Amid cyclones and epidemics, clashing faiths and consequences of the war, will the love of the True Master give hope to these searching hearts?
Excerpt:
He worked his way against the wind as waves
pounded the beach. Sand hissed as the surf ebbed. He hadn’t bothered with shoes
and walked barefoot along the hard-packed shore, the tang of salt on his lips.
The pillared walkway from the house to the beach
lay ahead. Silver light on the horizon lifted the marble pavilion out of the
night. Yet the gray dawn brought out the greenness of the trees and grass, reds
and purples of flowers, the white sand, painting everything a deeper hue.
A single figure in jodhpurs and shirt
stood within the pavilion that jutted out on the rocks like the prow of a ship.
A woman stared out at the bay and the clouds
that shrouded the rising sun.
Laine leaned against the pillar farthest out so
that waves splashed upwards and soaked her. Was she a woman or a child? She had
the best of both. As a child she’d always acted the bossy little woman that
he’d found endearing. When he’d returned from Oxford and found she’d become a
woman, he held her child-like enjoyment of everything under the sun equally
endearing.
But the Laine standing in that pavilion was not
a girl. She was a woman who’d seen as many atrocities as he had in the
trenches. The tide had turned. And he fought against it. Dear God, help me fight against it.
He started to veer away when she saw him. A
friend would raise their arm and hale the other. Neither of them did. If they
couldn’t be lovers, married, then they couldn’t be friends. From childhood on
they’d been meant for each other, two parts of one whole, and friendship could
never fill the gap. He’d always known this, though she had not.
Laine took the steps down to the beach. Though
he was standing, the sense of falling came over him.
The sky beyond her showed that strange color of
clouds amassing above the ocean. Clouds with that greenish tint that meant a
cyclone was on its way.
Her dark hair lay tousled on her shoulders. Her
feet, bare. Those tea-colored eyes reflected the hunger of the growing clouds
behind her. A wave crashed on the shore, sending up a spray while a kingfisher
flitted out, flashing the blue of its wings. And a current of his former
passion for her sluiced through him.
She stopped two feet from him, and they stared
at each other, the moment stretching out forever until she lifted her hand in a
helpless gesture of defeat. Her small indication of unhappiness crushed his
heart.
He must be mad, but he took a step toward her
and reached for her shoulders, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms.
She clung to him. For a moment he resisted. His
mind clanged to stop this madness. But there was no resistance in Laine, only
the warmth of a woman who always gave all. In a heartbeat they sought each
other’s mouths, and he lost himself, a man parched with thirst savoring the
sweetness of her lips. How could he have lived so long without...
She moaned against his mouth as his hand moved
to the small of her back, and he drew her closer. Her hands wound their way
along his shoulders, her fingers in his hair.
The ground beneath his feet became unsteady, and
he lost all sensation of the world around him. All but Laine. Intoxicating
Laine who drowned out his every thought, every shred of reason.
Their kisses turned slower, he felt her lips
against his unshaven cheek and jaw, and he found her mouth again.
The oncoming tide swirled at their feet and
ankles, soaking their trousers.
Dear
God! What am I doing? He pulled
his lips from hers and stared at the foam-flecked surf as it retreated.
She resisted as he removed her from him as
gently as he could. Her face remained soft with the answering passion to his as
the space between them grew.
He shook his head as he dropped his hands, and
heard the quiver in his voice. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry, Laine. I shouldn’t
have...”
Even in the gray dawn, the horrible pain of
rejection robbed her face of all color. Her gaze fell, and those long dark
lashes hid her eyes from him. She wouldn’t cry. Not Laine. But he knew her too
well, and the pain in her shuttered eyes kicked him in the gut. He stood rigid,
waiting for her to slap him as she should.
Her throat moved as she swallowed with
difficulty. “You’re right, Adam, you shouldn’t have done that. Nor I.” Her
words came out full-throated. Raw. “Because nothing has changed, has it?” Her
gaze lifted to his.
“Nothing has changed. I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry again. I couldn’t bear
it. In fact, it’s best we both pretend this never happened. It didn’t happen.
Do you understand? It just didn’t.” She turned from him and walked back the way
she’d come. Not in a flurry of emotion, but with precise steps as if she were
made of glass and would break with any jarring movement.
He didn’t follow her. Just stared at nothing and
raised a trembling hand to his brow.
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