Surrender To Love

“The queen of historical romance.”

—New York Times Book Review

“Returning to her roots with a story filled with family secrets, politics, adventure and simmering passion, Rosemary Rogers delivers what fans have been waiting for.”

—Romantic Times on An Honorable Man

“Her novels are filled with adventure, excitement, and always, wildly tempestuous romance.”

—Fort Worth Star-Telegram

“This is exactly what her many fans crave, and Rogers serves it up with a polished flair.”

—Booklist on A Reckless Encounter

“Ms. Rogers writes exciting, romantic stories…with strong-willed characters, explosive sexual situations, tenderness and love.”

—Dayton News

“Her name brings smiles to all who love love.”

—Ocala Star-Banner

Also available from MIRA Books and ROSEMARY ROGERS

AN HONORABLE MAN

WICKED LOVING LIES

A RECKLESS ENCOUNTER

SWEET SAVAGE LOVE

SAVAGE DESIRE

Surrender To Love

Rosemary Rogers

To the youngest female in my family, my granddaughter Reina—and to all women who are trying to find themselves; and to the men who are strong enough to understand and help us.

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

PART II

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

PART III

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

PART IV

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

1

The heat in Colombo, capital city of the British Crown Colony of Ceylon, seemed especially oppressive on this sun-scorched August afternoon. As their carriage jolted and rumbled over a newly paved street, Alexa Howard surreptitiously opened one more button on the front of her gown, thankful that Aunt Harriet appeared to have fallen asleep and wouldn’t notice.

And even if she had, Alexa would not have cared! It was ridiculous, Alexa thought mutinously as she felt unladylike rivulets of perspiration trickle down her sides and between her breasts, that women should be expected to keep up the English fashions in a hot, tropical climate. Far more suited to the prevailing temperatures was the simple costume worn by the native Sinhalese women—a piece of cotton material wrapped twice around the waist and knotted at the hip, reaching to just above the ankles, known as a “camboy.” And their only other garment was a very brief and low-cut bodice that more often than not exposed a bare brown midriff. In fact, when Alexa was in the privacy of her own room at home, that was all she wore. But now here she was in Colombo—too many miles and far too many hours away from the comparative coolness of the hill country, and encased in a steel and whalebone corset that cut into her flesh, as well as layers of stifling petticoats under a gown that was supposed to cover her from neck to wrist.

The sharp clatter of horses’ hooves on either side of the carriage made Alexa wish enviously that she too could have made this journey on horseback wearing practical breeches instead of a hampering skirt. She knew the two young officers who had volunteered to act as their escort and they knew as well as she did that she could outride and outshoot either of them. Hadn’t she proved it only three weeks ago at the boar hunt up on Horton Plains? How cool it had been that day. She remembered the feel of the fresh wind in her face and the mounting sense of excitement that kept building during the chase with the dogs leading the way—the challenge of danger that was always present on one of these hunts. Why couldn’t she have been born the male instead of her brother, Frederick, who hated getting dirty and turned pale at the sight of blood, preferring to read books and practice on the pianoforte for hours on end when he could have spent the time outdoors enjoying all that life had to offer instead?

And what does Freddy know about running a coffee plantation? Alexa began to fan herself vigorously with the newly acquired bonnet she had positively refused to don before they had set out early that morning. Why, I’m the one who acts for Papa when he has to go away, and I can keep the ledgers and talk to the overseers in their own language and…and they respect me too, even if I am a woman! Freddy doesn’t even care about learning things like that even though he’ll need to know them some day, and Mama coddles him far too much, of course! But then, rather guiltily she caught the thought back, remembering how precious her only son was to poor Mama, who had lost three other children in infancy. And that was the reason it was Aunt Harry and not her mama who was to be her chaperone at the Governor’s Ball tomorrow night. Freddy had developed a fever—a slight fever—but of course Mama couldn’t dream of leaving his side! She had been quite preoccupied with instructing the cook exactly how to prepare fresh beef tea when a sullen Alexa, hurried along by Harriet, had left the rambling bungalow at five that morning.

“Do have a wonderful time, my darling,” Mama had said earlier. “And do try to smile instead of frowning in that forbidding fashion. It was so very kind of the Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie to invite you to stay with them in Queen’s House—really quite an honor, dearest, and I’m sure you’ll make both your papa and me very proud of you. Who knows, you might just meet some nice young man in the Civil Service, and…” But at that moment Freddy had called out for Mama, and she had hurried away after bestowing a quick kiss.

Perhaps it had been just as well, Alexa thought now. Sometimes she had to almost bite her tongue to keep from arguing vehemently, especially when the conversation turned to “suitable” young men. And that was another of the things she resented. Why was it simply taken for granted that every woman’s ambition must be to “catch” some man and be married? And yet it was usually either that or end up as a governess or an unwanted poor relation hovering in the background, hiding in the shadows—eternally grateful, constantly self-effacing. Alexa fanned herself even harder, feeling her lips grow taut with anger and frustration.

“I am going to be different! Why must I be forced to choose from such poor alternatives? I’ll find some way!” Alexa remembered herself saying that, the words spilling from her hotly; and she remembered even more clearly her aunt’s cool, measured voice replying.

“My dear Alexandra, I can only hope that besides giving you an education that most young females of your age are not fortunate enough to receive I have also taught you that you must learn to be practical. Logical and reasonable in your thinking, if you prefer. At any rate I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to realize that there are certain inescapable facts of life that have to be accepted, like it or not, my dear. You were born a female—and you have no other alternatives save even more unpleasant ones that we need not discuss.”

Oh, how fiercely she had argued, and how intensely she had felt the pain and frustration of the injustice of it maul her like the claws of a leopard before she’d been forced to concede to what Aunt Harry had called the inescapable facts of life—if you were a woman, that was. She had been allowed the taste of freedom for as long as she could remember, allowed to learn and think for herself and express her own opinions—to “run wild,” as some of the neighboring planters’ wives put it. And then…

“But why have I been allowed to have such freedom if I was only meant to lose it some day?” Alexa never cried, but the words had been a cry of despair in themselves. “You know Freddy doesn’t know anything about running a plantation, and he’ll never take the trouble to learn about it. I could help him, couldn’t I? I could…”

“Could be his right-hand man until he takes a wife, who will hate you and want you out of her house? Yes, her house, Alexa, for all that you’ve looked upon it as your home for most of your life. Freddy will inherit the plantation, and when he marries it will be his wife’s home, not yours.”

All it had amounted to was that Alexa should be practical and think logically and should begin to prepare for what her future must be. It was after their talk that Alexa had finally agreed to accept the invitation to Queen’s House for the Governor’s Ball, which would really be a birthday ball held in her honor—like a “coming out.” But snatches of that unusually frank conversation with Aunt Harry still floated through Alexa’s head.

“There have been women throughout history, my dear, who were clever enough and wise enough to rule countries and empires through their men. You might remember that.” What a strange thing for Aunt Harry to have said.

“There’s the main gate of the Fort up ahead of us now. It won’t be too long before we arrive at Queen’s House!” One of the young subalterns who had escorted them leaned down from his horse to give the young woman he usually called “Alex” a grin and a wink. He grinned even more broadly when she gave him one of her famous scowls. “It’ll be a lot cooler there, you know. Sea breezes and all that. And you’ll save me a dance tomorrow, won’t you?” Seeing Alexa’s eyes narrow dangerously, he winked at her again before he straightened up hastily, turning his grin on his brother officer. Poor old Alex! She must be furious, suddenly being turned into a female. He couldn’t even recall, come to think of it, that he’d ever seen Alex in skirts before. Wonder if she knew how to dance? Well, at any rate he and Eric had talked about it in the mess last night, and they’d decided that since she was such a good sport it would only be the proper thing for them to help her out; and they’d taken a solemn oath not to laugh and tease her if she tripped over her flounces and furbelows—for one thing, she’d probably come after both of them with a pistol if they did, and, female or not, Alex had a damned cool head and a deadly aim! He’d seen that for himself, and they’d all heard the story of how she’d finished off a wounded and enraged bull elephant in mid-charge.

“Did that young man say we were almost there? Lord, I cannot believe that I actually fell asleep in spite of all the rattling and bumping around!” Straightening up, Harriet delved in her reticule for a handkerchief to mop at her face with. “I hope to goodness it’ll be cooler once we get closer to the ocean. Such heat! I’d almost forgotten how hot Colombo can be.”

Alexa had been gritting her teeth so hard that she was surprised to find her jaws were not locked together. She said with syrupy sweetness: “And were you giving me an example of how to rattle on like an empty-headed young thing, Aunt Harriet? Since I’m up on the auction block now I suppose I really must try harder, mustn’t I?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Alexa, let us not become dramatic!” The snapped-out reply sounded more like the Aunt Harry she was familiar with, at least. “And shake out your sleeves. They’re looking positively wilted in spite of the lining I had that stupid tailor stitch into them. And put your bonnet on at once! It was not meant to be a fan, you know. I don’t know who else will be staying with the Mackenzies, but I do want everyone who might be there when we arrive to know that even in the hill country we try to keep up with the latest fashions.”

Alexa’s slate-colored eyes, so dark they could look almost black, flashed dangerously even though her voice remained sweetly docile. “The latest fashions? But all the journals we receive from London are at least four or five months old! If I had been consulted I would have begged Mrs. Mackenzie to make it a fancy dress ball tonight; and then I could have attended as a Sinhalese woman and be cool all evening.”

Realizing the girl was riding on a short rein, Harriet was wise enough to shrug and say only, “Well, I’m sure that the ball gown that Sir John means to surprise you with will be truly exquisite and in the very latest style, so that you will outshine every other female there. He has such good taste!”

At the mention of her adopted “uncle,” who was one of her father’s best friends, Alexa could not help but lose some of her earlier feeling of resentment, even if he had been one of the instigators of this birthday ball for her. How could she not continue to love and respect her beloved Uncle John? It had been Sir John who had presented her with her first thoroughbred and had taught her to ride it like a man—Sir John who had taught her about guns and how to shoot and not to flinch even from the kick of a heavy elephant gun. And how she had loved being allowed to listen when Sir John and Papa would begin talking about the wars they had been in and the exciting battles they had fought under Wellington.

“I’ll wager that you wish you’d been there too, don’t you, Alex?” Sir John would tease her sometimes, but he never teased her in the condescending way of grown-ups; and Alexa would nod vigorously, her eyes wide and shining as she imagined how it must have been—the noise of cannons and the smell of powder and the keening sound of a musket ball whistling past your head; the excitement of a charge with your sword drawn, facing a screaming foe, and hand to hand combat; and if you died you died gloriously and with honor, and if you lived you always knew you had been there, so close to death that you had brushed shoulders with it and had still survived.

It was only to Sir John that an older Alexa, only a few months ago, could confide seriously: “I know it’s probably only because I’ve been hearing the stories for most of my life—yours and Papa’s—but sometimes I really feel as if I have lived through wars and battles. It seems so real, as if I know what it’s like. Even to the smell of horses and dust and blood, and the sounds of clashing swords, and how you feel inside in battle…”

He hadn’t laughed—she remembered that. “Well, my dear, I lived in India for quite some time, as you know, when it belonged to the old John Company, and the Hindus there, they believe that souls are born and reborn over and over again. And that it’s possible for some people to remember past lives. Who knows, my dear, who knows? It’s something I’ve often wondered about myself.”

Harriet, of course, could hardly know of the thoughts that had raced across her niece’s brain during the past few seconds. But by mentioning Sir John Travers she had done exactly the right thing, she recognized with relief, seeing the almost imperceptible relaxing of Alexa’s tensely held shoulders. Sighing, Harriet said, “I really hate to admit how weary I am. All those miles and miles of traveling and the change of climate—I’ll be glad of a nice cold bath, I can tell you that!” She noticed with relief that Alexa was actually putting on her hated bonnet, although she did so with a wry face, adjusting it over her decorously pulled back hair and actually tying the wide ribbons in a bow under her chin.

“If either Eric or Basil make any comments when they see me in this…!’ Alexa sounded so fiercely threatening that Harriet had to force back a smile. In spite of the fact that she would be eighteen years of age tomorrow, Alexandra could sometimes sound very much like a hoydenish little girl. But the child must face the fact that she was a woman now and a whole year older than her own mother had been when she had carried her. Poor little Victorine, so helpless, always so pretty…

As she usually did, Harriet closed her mind firmly on unwanted memories of the past. No point thinking back, was there? Victorine was safe and content now. She had a loving, considerate husband, the son she’d always craved, and she had security. The future belonged to Victorine’s daughter, and now, although she was not overly religious, Harriet thought, Pray God I’ve taught her enough and made her strong enough to survive and go forward. To be a victor instead of a loser.

“Well, ladies, here we are at last!”

The carriage had actually come to a stop, and the feeling of not being in motion was almost strange.

“Aunt Harry? Are you unwell? You looked so…”

“Nonsense! I was just thinking, that’s all. And there’s the Governor himself waiting to greet us, and Mrs. Mackenzie. Shake out your skirts, dear. And smile. It lights up your whole face when you do.”

One of the young officers had dismounted quickly enough to open the carriage door for them, and taking a deep breath Harriet squared her shoulders before she accepted the hand he proffered. Behind her Alexa too had drawn in her breath, holding it inside her until she felt calm enough to breathe out again. Yoga. She had learned about that from Sir John. And it was comforting to think that of course he would help see her through the whole ordeal ahead.

There was actually a smile on Alexa’s face that showed off the dimple at one corner of her firm young mouth, Harriet noted relievedly. And the sprigged muslin had held up remarkably well after all with its wide “Mary Stuart” sash that made Alexa’s small waist seem quite tiny.

Lady Mackenzie, who had had her misgivings about this whole idea and had only acceded to her husband’s request to please Sir John Travers, gave a tiny mental sigh of relief. The young woman was quite charming after all and seemed well-mannered too—which only went to prove that one did best not listening to gossip spread by jealous older women with daughters of their own. Why, she could see nothing mannish or forward about this very feminine young creature who actually dropped a small, old-fashioned curtsy while making her thanks for the honor being shown to her. Remembering the days when she had been married to that insufferable bore Sir Samuel Hood and had been gossiped about because she enjoyed smoking a hookah, Mrs. Mackenzie decided immediately that she was going to like Miss Howard, and would, moreover, make her coming-out ball an event that would be long remembered in Colombo.

2

When at last they had been shown to their spacious quarters and the door had closed behind the last obsequious servant, Alexa could relax again. She felt by this time as if her face ached from smiling while she uttered simpering insincerities. Thank goodness they were to be allowed to rest for the remainder of the afternoon and that at last she could take off the constricting muslin gown she already detested, as well as all five petticoats and the corset that seemed to cut off her breath.

“Oh, at last! Did I behave well enough to suit you? But I do not think that I can stand another minute—no not another second—of being smothered in all these layers of hypocrisy! I would like to tear myself free! Thank God it is cooler in here…I was beginning to feel as if I could not breathe any longer. A few more minutes and I would have…”

Used to handling her charge, Harriet faced the challenging glower directed at her with a raised eyebrow. “My dear Alexa, don’t you think that you are by now a trifle past the age for childish tantrums? I was proud of the way in which you conducted yourself just now, and I’m sure you lived up to everything Sir John must have told the Governor and his wife about you. You’re not going to let down the people who believe in you from lack of self-control, I hope?”

For a moment Alexa seemed to stand there poised like a hummingbird caught in mid-flight, and perhaps even she did not know whether she was on the brink of rebelling or running away. But then, to Harriet’s relief, the rigid young shoulders seemed to slump, and the slender fingers that had already began to claw at the neck of the offending gown dropped away.

Not defeat, Harriet warned herself. With Alexa, born under the zodiacal sign of Leo, the lion, there would never be the concession of defeat, only an occasional retreat, perhaps. Putting aside her own weariness, Harriet came forward briskly, commanding a suddenly woebegone-looking Alexa to turn around.

“No need to tear a perfectly good dress, what with the price of fine materials these days. Here, I don’t suppose you want me to send for one of those chattering little maids, do you? So I’ll undo you myself, if you’ll hold still. And do try to remember, my dear, that losing your temper is the same thing as losing your head—or losing the advantage, if you were engaged in some kind of a contest. Do you imagine you’d be any good on a hunting trip if you stopped using your head and gave in to blind panic?”

“I…I suppose I never thought about all this in the same light,” Alexa confessed, with her head bent. And then, throwing it up almost defiantly, she said, “Keeping a cool head…A hunt—is that what I am supposed to be engaged in? But who is the quarry, Aunt Harriet? The eligible man I’m supposed to capture with my false, feminine wiles? Or I myself?”

There had been an edge of cynicism and perhaps even of desperation in Alexa’s voice that forced Harriet to answer with studied brusqueness. “My dear child, I hope I did not make you imagine, with all my sermonizing, that you are being abandoned to the wolves. You must not feel that you must immediately find yourself a husband, or think that this will be your only opportunity to meet eligible men. All I meant to say was that it is more than high time you thought of yourself as a beautiful and feminine young woman to whom men are bound to be attracted and not as a sister or a plucky comrade, as some of the young officers stationed upcountry seem to regard you! Oh, for heaven’s sake! I really can’t seem to recall now what I started out to explain to you in the first place. There, that takes care of your corset. And I’d have you know that I am many years older than you are and just as hot and sticky and tired!”

For once Alexa did not kick aside each garment, as it dropped around her ankles, with a smothered, under-the-breath military oath that Harriet always pretended not to hear. She had been standing as still as a statue, and just as silent except for a slight sigh of relief as the tightly laced corset was loosened. And now, to Harriet’s disquiet, Alexa actually bent down to retrieve each offending article, one by one, something that she, used to doting servants waiting on her from babyhood, had never deigned to do before.

Alexa’s voice sounded rather smothered for a moment until she straightened, still with her back turned to Harriet. “Well, I suppose that you did not want to make this journey any more than I did, Aunt Harry, especially with Freddy being sick and Mama all flustered, and nobody to help Papa out with the ledgers and to see that he eats enough. And I suppose that I have been spoiled and allowed to run wild, and…and have thought only of myself all this time without any sense of responsibility towards other people. While everyone else around me, like you, Aunt Harry…”