Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘That is what you should do, lad,’ Wilson said. ‘Save your money. When your fortunes change, come looking for her again. Might work out then, when it does not now.’

  Wait twenty-five years like Wilson had? That prospect felt even worse.

  Rhys loved Helene. It was shredding his insides to have to say goodbye to her, but he must stand firm. Above all else, no harm must come to her. No suffering. After the battle when she appeared in front of him covered in blood, he’d thought she’d been mortally injured. It shook him to the core. He would not risk that fear ever coming true.

  * * *

  Later that night Rhys helped David get ready for bed.

  ‘I will be so glad to be home and in my own bed,’ David said. ‘I never want to see this place again. Or any of these people.’

  ‘Wilson, Louise and Mrs Jacobs have been very good to you, David,’ Rhys chided him.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ admitted David as Rhys helped him into a clean night shirt. ‘They just remind me…’ His voice trailed off and his face contorted in pain.

  ‘Of the battle?’ Rhys guessed.

  David shook his head. ‘Do not say the word. Do not speak of it! I hate thinking about it. It comes back. It all comes back!’

  Rhys gave him a direct look. ‘I know, David. I’ve been through many a battle.’

  ‘Yes, but you wanted to be in the army,’ he protested. ‘You were supposed to be in battles. I was not.’

  Rhys lowered his voice, as he helped David into the bed. ‘You chose to be in the battle, too, David. I saw you join the charge. Accept the fact that it was your choice to come to Brussels, to witness the battle, to join the cavalry charge. What you experienced was the consequence of your decisions.’

  David’s eyes widened. ‘You saw me?’

  David seemed to miss the point, but Rhys answered him. ‘I was too far away to stop you. Your friend Lennox told us he tried to stop you, but you didn’t heed him.’

  David glanced away. ‘Odd. I did not remember that until now. My memory started with my horse galloping—’ His breaths came fast. ‘I wish I had never come here! I want to go home.’

  Rhys put a hand on David’s shoulder. ‘Calm yourself, David. Get some sleep.’

  David’s voice became more strident. ‘I hate to sleep! It all comes back when I sleep.’

  Rhys firmed his grip. ‘Listen to me. You survived a battle when thousands did not. That counts for something.’

  ‘I was a coward!’ David cried. ‘I hid and played dead while they—while they—’

  ‘You were clever,’ Rhys said. ‘You did what you had to do to survive.’

  David peered at him uncertainly. ‘Clever?’

  Let him think on that a while. ‘Tackle your nightmares like a man. Face them. Face the decisions you made and make amends.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ David’s voice turned sarcastic. ‘Quite the easy thing for you to tell me to do.’

  Rhys responded soberly, ‘On the contrary. Facing the results of one’s own decisions can be very, very difficult.’ He patted David’s shoulder. ‘I’ll say goodnight. Try to sleep. The travel tomorrow will be hard going for you.’

  David relaxed against the pillows.

  Rhys started to leave the room.

  ‘Rhys?’ David called him back.

  He turned.

  ‘Thank you for saving me.’ His voice was small. ‘And thank Grantwell, too. I do not think I ever said thank you.’

  Rhys nodded approvingly. Perhaps David did have a chance to grow from a boy into a man. Rhys gave him a wave and turned to leave again.

  ‘Rhys?’ David called again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you going to marry my sister?’

  Not that question again. ‘No, David.’

  ‘Good!’ The boy snuggled in the pillows again. ‘Because I need her.’

  Rhys’s muscles tensed. David might be hopeless, after all.

  Rhys started to walk away, but he whirled around to David and spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Perhaps some day, David, you will be man enough to set aside what you need in order to consider what your sister needs.’

  Rhys walked out.

  * * *

  When Rhys finally climbed the stairs to the bedchamber he shared with Helene, she was in a nightdress and was climbing into bed. She looked up at his entrance but did not speak.

  ‘David is settled for the night,’ he said.

  She did not answer him.

  He sat on a chair and pulled off his boots and stockings. He stood again and removed his coat. The other nights they’d shared together, undressing had been something they’d done in unison, like a dance with varied, but shared, steps. This night he undressed alone—at least down to his drawers. It appeared they would not lie naked in each other’s arms this night.

  It might be for the best. Each night they made love he risked getting her with child. As extraordinary an idea as that was, Rhys could not offer a son or daughter anything but hardship.

  He washed, cleaned his teeth and felt as if they’d already said goodbye to each other, the distance between them seemed so vast. When he turned and finally faced her, though, she sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him.

  He approached the bed, but she lay down and turned away.

  This was agonising. No matter the risk, Rhys longed to hold her one more time, make love to her one more time before they must part.

  He lay there, despairing, unable to even conceive of sleep, when she turned and spooned against him, her soft curves pressing into his back. He inhaled a long breath and savoured her closeness. He remained as still as possible, assuming she had moved to him in her sleep. He had no wish to wake her.

  Her lips touched his bare back in a deliberate kiss. He rolled over. Moonlight from the window illuminated her lovely face. Her eyes were open.

  She sat up and lifted her nightdress over her head, all the while her gaze continuing to pierce into him. Once naked, she stilled again and he basked in the sight of her. He could no more resist her than resist breathing. How could he ever let this night be their last? How could he allow her to leave him?

  She eased him on his back, straddling him and joining their bodies together. They moved together, still silent, eyes still locked. His hands grasped her waist. They created a slow rhythm together, as if they’d both agreed not to hurry on this terrible final night together. Nothing compared to the exquisite pleasure of this dance with Helene. No other woman could come close.

  Rhys wanted this joining between them to never stop, this connection, when bodies, minds and souls made them one. His body, though, his damned body—hers as well—betrayed him, intensifying his arousal, forcing them to move faster and faster…until…until…until the explosion of their climax made their joining complete—and very quickly separated them again.

  Helene slid off him and, although he held her close, they were no longer one. They were apart again.

  When Rhys’s body recovered, he tried to recapture what he’d so recently possessed and lost. He rose above her as her body welcomed him again. This coupling, though, was more carnal, two bodies in need of each other, eager to get their fill while they were still able. When completed Rhys held her again and would not let her go. He fought sleep, wanting to remember each moment of the few hours he had left with Helene, but his body betrayed him again.

  He almost instantly fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When dawn broke Helene made love to Rhys again. This time was unlike any before and she knew it was because her emotions were high and raw. He was caught in the same mood and kissed her roughly. She returned his kiss in kind, her body instantly aroused and yearning for him. When he turned her on her back and entered her, it was with one hard thrust. Her fingernails raked his back as he moved, pushing deeper and harder than before. Still, the p
ain was in her heart; her body was glorying in his drive to their ultimate ecstasy. When her pleasure exploded inside her, she felt a momentary exhilaration, as if she’d proved once and for all that they belonged together. After he cried out in his own release and collapsed on top of her, she realised it was all illusion. Their bodies separated and he lifted himself off her.

  She stared at him, her body trembling and he met her eye as he held himself away from her, giving them both room to breathe. Neither of them spoke but Helene sensed this was the last time she would see into his eyes, and he, hers.

  He slowly moved to her side, and, as a clock struck the hour to mark the time, she could mark this as the first moment of separation.

  ‘I need to dress,’ she said.

  They might as well proceed with the day. Perhaps doing the ordinary things would make the day tolerable.

  She climbed off the bed and walked naked to the pitcher and basin on the chest of drawers. She poured water into the basin and began to wash herself. When she washed away evidence of their lovemaking, the cloth came back red. At first she thought it was because they’d been rough, then her heart sank. All it meant was there would be no baby growing inside her, no precious consolation for parting from Rhys.

  She glanced over at Rhys, but he was seated on the bed, his back turned to her. Should she tell him?

  No. She could not see inflicting such pain if he’d grieve this loss as she did. If he met the news with relief, Helene did not think she could bear it. She took care of herself and put on her shift and positioned her corset.

  She turned to him. ‘Would you help me with my corset?’

  ‘Of course.’ He rose from the bed, gloriously naked.

  She could not help but watch him, so muscular, so masculine as he moved towards her. When he came close, she turned her back so he could tie her laces. His warmth, his scent and the gentleness of his fingers made her body come alive again. She closed her eyes to help her remember this feeling; she would never feel it again. After he tied the laces, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his chin resting on her shoulder. How could she endure this? It hurt so much!

  Rhys had to help her again when she needed her dress laced. While Rhys washed and shaved, she sat at the dressing table and arranged her hair. On other mornings he might have brushed her hair for her, a pleasure second only to lovemaking.

  She was dressed before him. ‘I’ll see if Louise needs help with breakfast.’

  She left the room. As she descended the stairs, she pictured her heart as that mended vase so carefully glued back together. One piece broke off again. Helene suspected the day would crack off the other pieces until nothing was left but jagged shards.

  * * *

  The carriage arrived at quarter past ten. David’s new valet, Marston, came at the same time and Rhys introduced the man to everyone. Marston jumped right in to assist David, doing so with much deference and solicitude, as if David were not half his age and a world less experienced. He freed Helene to bid farewell to the people who had meant so much to her during these dramatic weeks.

  Mrs Jacobs had come to see her off. After deluging Marston with detailed instructions for David’s care, Mrs Jacobs burst into tears and embraced Helene.

  ‘I will never see you again!’ Mrs Jacobs wailed. ‘I will never see my mademoiselle and her Captain!’

  Helene feared that was true. She tried to blink away her own tears. She’d become very fond of Mrs Jacobs. ‘Thank you, Mrs Jacobs. Thank you for everything you have done for me and Wilson and David. I will miss you terribly.’ The nurse held her tight and was reluctant to let go.

  Next goodbyes were with Louise and Wilson. She embraced Louise but could not speak through her tears which now fell in earnest.

  ‘Write to us,’ Louise managed to say, wiping her eyes.

  Helene nodded. She turned to Wilson. Wilson, who had been a constant presence her whole life, someone she always could depend upon, someone incredibly dear to her.

  She hugged him like she used to when she was a small girl and he comforted her for some hurt.

  ‘I feel I am forsaking my duty to you, m’lady,’ Wilson said, his voice rough.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she responded. ‘It is your time to be happy. You have waited long enough for it.’

  Rhys had supervised the loading of the luggage, Helene’s portmanteau and David’s trunk. That accomplished, he stood apart from the others.

  He was her last goodbye.

  She walked over to him and they faced each other. His expression was impassive and she wanted to flail at him. Did he not care? How could he let them part without a promise of being together again? She tried to tell herself she’d many times weathered this fear that they would never see each other again, surely she could do so one more time.

  Helene mustered all her strength to remain composed. ‘Goodbye, Rhys,’ she whispered.

  ‘Goodbye, Helene,’ he responded.

  Before the pain of this moment totally overwhelmed her, she turned away to walk to the carriage.

  She took no more than two steps when Rhys seized her arm, spun her around and captured her in a fierce embrace. She melted into him.

  ‘I am sorry, Helene,’ Rhys rasped. ‘I am so sorry.’

  He loosened his grip on her and she reached up to touch his face. ‘I’ll never stop loving you, Rhys,’ she whispered to him before pulling away and hurrying towards the carriage.

  The drivers were on the box and David and the valet were seated inside the carriage. Wilson helped her to climb in and shut the door.

  As the carriage drove off, Helene turned to look out the back window. She watched Rhys standing in the road becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between them grew greater.

  Until she could see him no longer.

  * * *

  The first hour of the trip found David restless and in a near panic.

  ‘The sound of the horses,’ he cried. ‘I cannot take the sound of the horses.’

  Helene tried to comfort him, but her own misery made it difficult to even speak.

  Marston, in an un-valet-like manner, unexpectedly made conversation with David. ‘The Captain said you got caught in the cavalry charge. Bad business, that.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed David. ‘Very bad.’

  ‘Did you get as far as the French cannon?’ Marston asked.

  David nodded.

  ‘Ah, the horses were blown by then.’

  The valet sat on the rear-facing seat. David looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. ‘Were you at the battle?’

  ‘I was,’ Marston said. ‘My officer was a cavalry man. With the Horse Guards. I was on a hill watching the whole thing.’ He leaned towards David. ‘You must be some sort of fellow to survive that charge.’

  David just stared at him.

  ‘How did you do it?’ Marston asked.

  To Helene’s knowledge, David had never spoken of the battle. He became upset if the battle was even mentioned. Helene almost reached over to silence the valet, but to her surprise, David answered him. ‘When I was knocked off my horse, I rolled away as far as I could and pretended to be dead.’

  ‘Quite smart of you.’ The valet’s voice was admiring. ‘But you got through the whole night, the Captain said.’

  David blinked. ‘I didn’t want to remember this until Rhys—the Captain—talked to me. After the French cavalry left, I hid among the bodies. I could not walk. Night was frightening. They came and stripped off our clothes.’

  ‘You played dead then, too?’ Marston asked.

  ‘I did not know what else to do.’ David’s voice turned small.

  ‘You must have done right, because you made it out of there,’ Marston responded.

  Helene’s astonishment must have shown on her face. The valet glanced at her and nodded, as if telling her he had h
er brother all figured out. He never implied any criticism of David for riding off with the cavalry. His tone was admiring or matter of fact. David was the calmest she’d seen him since Rhys rescued him.

  Marston actually got David interested in how the entire battle proceeded. He must have witnessed it all. For Helene, it brought back the bleeding and dying men she’d cared for, so she stopped attending to the conversation.

  But not listening to the valet only led her thoughts back to Rhys and thinking of Rhys only intensified her misery.

  She tried to distract herself by looking out the window. They passed through Alost with its lovely churches and Gothic buildings, but those only reminded her of the buildings of Brussels she’d seen with Rhys.

  * * *

  The carriage continued for another hour or so before stopping at a coaching inn in Melle to change horses.

  Marston was the first to climb out of the carriage. ‘Let me help you, m’lord,’ he said to David.

  ‘Thank you, Marston,’ David responded.

  Helene climbed out after them.

  The coachmen who had been conversing with the ostlers also climbed down. ‘We’ll be here at least half an hour, they say,’ one told them.

  ‘We could get some refreshment,’ the valet suggested.

  ‘An excellent idea,’ David piped up.

  ‘Shall I help you with your private needs first, m’lord?’ Marston asked him diplomatically.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ David turned to Helene. ‘We will meet you in the inn.’

  After taking care of her own needs, Helene entered the inn and found the tavern. Marston stood and showed her where he and David were seated.

  Helene sipped her tea and nibbled on a cinnamon biscuit, while Marston continued his masterful managing of the conversation with David. David was well in hand and Helene was not needed at all. It was a good thing. Helene was too overwhelmed with sadness to even think at the moment. She, only half listening, sipped her tea while the valet and her brother continued to talk.

  ‘The thing is,’ Marston was saying, ‘you were helpless then. You didn’t have any good choices.’