“We agreed that you’d introduce me properly to Mr. Jones tonight.”
“Ahh, now I remember.” He swept her back onto her back and loomed over her, his hands trapping her hands to the bed, a devouring look blazing in his eyes. “I want to eat you.”
“And I might let you.”
A horn echoed through the open window from the training yard and Harry groaned.
“Are you leading the training this morning?” He usually did on Wednesdays, and today was indeed Wednesday.
“Yes, damn it.”
“Your men will be expecting you. I understand that you must go.” She’d never keep him from doing his duty. “Will I see you tonight?”
“You surely will, and I apologize profusely for abandoning you so early in the morning.” He heaved himself out of bed, caught her hand and gently drew her to her feet. After steering her back into her chamber, he eyed his regimental jacket where she’d left it folded on top of the book on her nightstand. A slow smile lifted his lips, his gaze tipping toward hers. “It all began with you removing my dolman.”
“No, it all began six months ago, when you rode into St. Vincent’s. I’ve fancied you since the beginning.” She collected his jacket and held it out to him and he accepted it, his fingers sliding sensually over the backs of her fingers. Her hand tingled, her skin so sensitive to his touch. “Do you remember the first day we met, Harry?”
“Always. You scolded me, terribly.”
“I had every right to. You raced across the firing range and dived on top of me. We rolled quite the distance, and you ruined my blue skirts. I had to toss my favorite white blouse away too.”
“You could have been hit by cannon fire.”
“I hadn’t intended on crossing the actual cannon firing range, only skimming the outside.”
“It didn’t appear that way to me.” He touched his chest. “My heart hasn’t beaten the same way ever since.”
“Neither has mine.” That much she could certainly admit to. “It will be an interesting affair, don’t you think?”
“Likely the best affair of my life.” He flinched and clasped his dolman over the front of his breeches, but not before she’d caught the telltale sign of a bulge rising within. “Julia,” he muttered. “You need to cease flirting with me. Mr. Jones is not getting the point, that he and I are about to head out for training.”
“Is it painful when that happens?”
“Are you curious as to a man’s nether regions?”
“Only yours.” She licked her lips.
“That is a very satisfactory answer, and yes, it’s excruciatingly painful, although nothing a good dousing of cold water won’t fix.” He retreated to their secret connecting door. “Before I leave, I need to speak to you about how my meeting with Wellington, Bourbon, and your father went last evening.”
“Oh, please do.” Father always updated her after such meetings but she hadn’t seen him as yet.
“Bourbon had one of his men infiltrate Masséna’s camp. He brought word that the French intend on striking somewhere along this peninsula within the next ten days. With that being the case, you’re not permitted to leave this fort, not while our enemy is so close.”
“You are not my commanding officer.” He had a terrible tendency to order her about, and she’d told him off each and every time. Today would be no exception.
“No, but tonight I’ll be your lover, and I don’t want you getting hurt. I care about you.” With a quick salute, he closed their connecting door behind him. “We’ll speak further tonight,” he issued through the wall.
“Harry, wait!” Being potential lovers didn’t give him the right to oversee her every move and she intended to ensure he knew that. She patted the panel, tried to find the blasted hidden latch but couldn’t. Good grief, it had to be somewhere along here. She patted and prodded the panels some more but came up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t abiding by his last demand, not when she could go where she pleased when dressed as Jamie. Ahh, yes, Jamie. Her delightful younger brother was about to reappear.
“Julia, are you there?” A knock rattled her chamber door, Una’s voice floating through.
“Yes, I’m coming.” She’d find the latch later. For now, she scooted across the chilly floorboards, her fire having died out during the night and not a single ember glowing in her hearth. She unbolted the door and after Una stepped inside, shut it and hugged one of her favorite people in the world. Una had always been in her life, their bond having grown over the years in unexplainable ways. The healer understood her as no one else did, had been there the day Father had pulled her out of the stream in a padded basket, right there beside Una’s cottage. Twenty-seven years ago, destiny had decreed that she would have Father and Una in her life. She certainly wouldn’t be alive today if not for them.
“Oh, my dear child. Pray tell, what has that distressed look on your face this fine morn?” Holding her shoulders, Una eased back an inch and inspected her with a look that meant business, where she pulled her brow down and slanted her eyes. “Who do I need to thump?”
“Major Harry Trentbury.”
“What has that man done to you now?”
“He is far too handsome for his own good.”
“Well, that is a fact, one no woman can deny.” A sure and consigning nod. “Tell me more.”
“I asked him for a single night of passion, with no expectation on my part in return.”
“You did?” Una’s brow shot up and a twinkle lit her eyes. “Continue, please. Dinnae stop there. I am an old woman who enjoys listening to hearty tales such as this.”
“You are only in your late fifties. That is hardly old.”
“Shush and tell me what he said.” A puff of her cheeks before she released a berated breath.
“He asked for more than one night, for a month. We then wagered back and forth until we agreed on a more sensible amount of time, that which remains before the next battle begins.”
“A very sensible decision indeed.” Una tapped her lower lip with one finger. “Undeniably he’s a handsome devil, and in my opinion, he’s always watched you like a hawk, and no’ as if you were his prey. Nay, he has shown only care for your safety and whenever there is danger afoot, he ensures you remain here at the fort where no harm can befall you. I’ve always admired the man for his strength and honorable ways. Do you wish for more with him, other than for a short liaison?”
“No, I have no grand expectations of being accepted by his family. He is of the peerage, Una, while I am of rather questionable blood. There is also my age, which is an issue. No man wants a wife who is so close to thirty.”
“Pfft, you can marry at any age, and a child cannae choose who their parents are, as I’ve told you time and time again.” With a swish of her kirtle’s red skirts, Una circled her, assessing her from head to foot before she halted in front of her again. “You wore those clothes yesterday. Has this liaison already begun?”
“No, we decided on tonight, in case either of us changed our mind. Neither of us will though. I’m certain of it.”
“A very sound decision. That’ll give me time to prepare a pouch of herbs for you.”
“To keep me from getting with child?” She’d aided Una in preparing herbs for the ladies in camp who had required them. The camp wenches, some of the maids who served in the fort, even one or two of the wives of the officers who had no desire to bear a child while a war raged. Una never questioned their request, not when she believed that every woman had the right to choose their future path. One of the reasons why Una had never married herself was due to her desire to be the best healer she could be, to never have to turn away a patient who required her healing hand. Una had foregone the chance to wed and bear a child of her own.
“Yes, the herbs will provide the protection you need. I realize you’ve chosen no’ to marry, to embrace spinsterhood, but in truth, my dear, you are just beginning your life. I shall leave the herbs you require in a pouch in your top dresser drawer. Swa
llow a pinch each morning and continue doing so each day while you are gracing your major’s bed. Now come.” Una steered her toward her corner cheval mirror and stood her in front of it. “Let’s tidy your hair.”
“Oh my. You should have warned me about how terrible I look.” Her reflection showed her usually tidy hair now a tangled mess, as if some poor bird had tried to make a nest in it. She scooped the brush from the dresser and passed it to Una, who smiling indulgently, worked at detangling the knots with careful strokes. “I intend on taking Jamie’s façade today,” she informed Una.
“Is that because your father is riding to Sobral this morning?” Una met her gaze in the mirror. “Your father isnae happy with how the messages are being transferred through the signal station at Sobral. They falter a touch longer than they should and his desire is to correct the issue.”
“Father mentioned the issue to me a few days ago, but honestly, the reason for the disguise today is because Major Trentbury has decreed that I’m to stay here at the fort.”
“Silly man. Ordering you about is akin to laying down a challenge.” Una set the brush down and swished across to her wardrobe. She collected her bindings from the top shelf and held them out toward her. “I wish I’d been as wily as you in my youth, creating a disguise such as this.”
“You still could.” She unbuttoned her white blouse and dropped it in the corner hamper, then accepted the bindings from Una and wrapped her breasts in the bindings until they lay flat against her chest, or as flat as they possibly could since she had a decent-sized bosom. A tinge of pain flared as she confined her mounds, but she breathed past the pins and needles until the tinge eased sufficiently.
“You’re right, I could, but I’ve no need to these days.” Behind her, Una gently knotted the bindings in place.
“Where is Father now?” Wrinkled skirts unfastened, she shimmied on a pair of fawn breeches, belted them at her waist then tugged a yellowed tunic—that had seen better days—over her head and laced the front ties.
“I left him in the hall, breaking his fast so I could come and find you.”
“Have you eaten?” She pulled her hair into a low ponytail, secured it with a strip of leather and poked the tail back up underneath, right against her scalp.
“Not yet. The three of us shall eat together.”
Brown cap stuffed on her head, she opened a round tin from her dresser drawer and added a few streaks of grimy coal dust to her jaw and a dab to her cheeks. Done, she turned and with a “Ta-da,” asked Una, “How do I look?”
“Like a most mischievous lad.” Patting her silvery hair coiled high upon her head, Una beamed like a proud mother. “You remind me so much of myself when I was your age.”
“That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive.” She bounced onto her toes, kissed Una’s cheek then tugged her socks on and jammed her feet inside her scuffed boots. “Where shall you be today?”
“In the infirmary this morn, then later this afternoon I’ll be visiting the men in the encampment. So many of the soldiers ignore small wounds they might suffer from. Wounds that then fester and worsen when there is no need for such to—”
Shouts sounded outside, and Una grasped her kirtle’s skirts and hurried to the window.
“What’s going on?” She raced after Una and opened the shutters. Sunshine poured in, a fresh breeze too, and the clear pounding of horses’ hooves. A score of hussars galloped in from the 18th regiment in their distinctive uniforms of royal blue, silver, and white. They hauled their mounts to a stop before the stables and the officer at the head of the group bounded from his destrier. Captain Bradley Poole, his golden locks cropped short and his bearing tall. She’d never mistake him, not when he had fought at Harry’s side for years and had visited St. Vincent’s Fort often over these past six months that Harry had been stationed here.
Poole tossed the reins of his war horse to a stable hand who ran forward to take them, then gripping the hilt of his belted saber, strode across the inner courtyard. She pressed a hand to her heart as Harry left the training yard where he currently supervised his men and met Poole with a firm handshake. They spoke with their heads bent together, then they marched inside the main doors and entered the fort. “What do you think is happening?” she asked Una.
“I’m not sure, but in order to find out, we need to investigate.” Una bustled to the door and glanced back at her with a furrowed brow. “Hurry up, my dear. This war waits for no man, or woman.”
“I’m coming.” She closed the door behind them and keeping her stride lanky and long as a lad would, weaved her way through the passageways as Jamie, her sixteen-year-old younger brother who didn’t actually exist. Thumbs poked into the waistband of her belted breeches, she sauntered into the main hall as the arriving hussars took their seats at the trestle tables among the fort soldiers who were already breaking their fast with hot oats and fresh bread.
From the far table, Father waved to her where he sat with his traveling satchel propped against his chair leg. Dusting her hands against the sides of her breeches, she scuffed her booted feet as she made her way around the perimeter of the room. Once she reached Father, she scraped out a chair for Una then another chair for herself before taking her seat. “Are you leaving straight after you’ve eaten, Father?”
“Una told you of my plans?”
“She did.”
“Good, and yes I am leaving rather soon.” In his blue jacket donned over a dark shirt and trousers, he folded the journal he’d been reading and slotted it into his bag. With a tap of Father’s spectacles higher on his nose, he peered at her as he leaned closer. “Why has Jamie resurfaced today?”
“I simply wish for a little more freedom. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“That’s fine, and I completely understand.” Father tweaked her nose. “Will you be all right while I’m gone?”
“Of course. I have Una.” She accepted a bowl of oats from a serving maid and thanked a second maid for pouring her and Una cups of tea. Una swirled honey over their oats then added a splash of milk from the jug to their bowls. Slouching in her chair just as Jamie always did, she thanked Una and spooned a bite. Mmm, the hot oats slid smoothly down her throat and warmth filled her belly. Delicious. Raising a brow at Father, she informed him, “Captain Poole has just arrived with the 18th. This fort is now bustling with more soldiers.”
“I’m not surprised Poole is here. There has been a great deal of unease along the front line and many of our mounted troops are being repositioned closer to the forts. We must be prepared for a strike soon, which means I too mustn’t dawdle since I need the signal station at Sobral working well. My apologies for not having more time this morning to speak to you, Jamie.”
“It’s all right, Father. I understand your need to ride out as soon as possible. I would too if I was in your position. We can’t allow our work here to falter now that we’re so close to the completion of these Lines.”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly, and thank you for understanding.” Scraping his chair back, Father stood and dropped an affectionate kiss on the top of Una’s head. “Take all care while I’m gone, Una. You are as dear to me as my daughter is.”
“It is you who needs to take all care since you’re riding toward Sobral. The French are camped far closer to the central pass than they are to this fort.” Una grasped his arm, a warning look in her eyes. “I expect you to return promptly, otherwise I shall worry about you day and night. Send a message or two to keep us updated.”
“Duly noted. I don’t expect the job to take much longer than three or four days, but if it does I’ll send word.” Father slung his satchel onto his back and pressed a hand to Julia’s shoulder. He tipped his head toward the door leading from the main hall. “Jamie, walk with me to the stables. I need to speak with you some more.”
“Of course.” She plucked a wedge of cheese from the breadboard, stuffed an apple from the bowl into her pocket, and chased after Father who’d already marched out the door. She
picked up her pace, skidding through the front foyer and into the inner courtyard. Squinting at the bright sunshine, she loped up to Father where he waited near the stables.
“Son,” he murmured when she joined him. “Please, do not find any trouble while I’m gone.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” She crossed her heart. “I promise.”
“Even though you are no longer a child, you will always be my child.” He engulfed her in his arms and squeezed her until she almost ran out of breath. When he pulled back, he smiled. “The day I plucked you from amongst the reeds and held you in my arms, such love filled my heart.”
“I love you too, Father.” Never could she have asked for such a wonderful man to claim her as his child. “You must cease worrying about me.”
“Unfortunately, I always shall.” Another squeeze and Father released her before asking one of the stable lads to saddle him a horse. While he stood beside her waiting for his mount, he looped an arm over her shoulders and whispered, “Look after Una for me. She worries greatly whenever I leave the fort.”
“Will do, Father.” Ducking her head, she sniffed and quickly swiped two tears away as the stable lad returned with a horse. She always shed a tear or two whenever her father left for a few days.
Father mounted up, dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and waved as he galloped through the heavily guarded main gate. His blue greatcoat flapped, the wind plastering his waistcoat to his chest.
She bounded up the curved stairwell leading to the battlements, taking the stone steps two at a time then once she reached the top, she gripped the arrow loop. Father rode along the rutted road weaving through the craggy hills, the rugged countryside bathed in sunshine, the blue sky above holding a few wispy streaks of white cloud here and there.
Along the horizon abrupt peaks of bare gray rock rose high and steep valleys dipped down low. This land could be wild and harsh and barren, yet it also held wind-swept wonders she’d adored uncovering during the year she’d lived here. Six months of that time had been spent living with a dangerously handsome man in the chamber adjoining hers, a man she’d been intrigued with from the beginning. A man she intended on enjoying a short and clandestine affair with.
The Wartime Bride Page 4