Desperate for the comfort he offered, she took Simon’s hand and stretched out beside him. The golden straw under the blanket rustled in a friendly welcome. Simon drew the other blanket over them and pulled her close.
She was cold, so cold, but his warm body and embrace began thawing the ice in her heart. “I didn’t mean to do it,” she whispered. “But he was like Gürkan. A similar size and build and a cruel, evil soul.”
Simon gently touched the bruise on her cheek where the sergeant had struck her for no particular reason other than to demonstrate that he was powerful and she was helpless. “He was a brute, ma petite. Did he injure you in any other way?”
Guessing what he didn’t want to ask, she said, “He didn’t rape me. There wasn’t time for that. He wanted . . . other things first.”
Simon winced. She sighed and said half to herself, “Though I’d rather regretted that I didn’t have the opportunity to kill Gürkan myself, I never truly imagined myself capable of being so vicious. But I was.”
“His behavior put you into a killing rage, like an ancient berserker warrior in a battle fury,” Simon said matter-of-factly. “The rage boiled over and you lost all control.”
That was what her anger had felt like, she realized. It had been an uncontrollable force that boiled up in her body like molten lava and made her want to annihilate her enemy. As she did.
Simon’s explanation didn’t take away her horror at her behavior, but it was an explanation that helped her make sense of what she had done. She began weeping silently into his shoulder while his warm hand stroked down her back.
When she’d spent all her tears and had no more, she asked, “How do you understand this so well?”
After a long silence, he said heavily, “I experienced something very like what you did. The experience was . . . shattering. I wasn’t sorry for the result, but I loathed myself for how I had done it. How vicious and uncontrolled I’d been.”
“What happened?” she whispered, wanting to know, not sure she had the right to ask when she could feel his pain.
He drew a rough breath. “It was on the Peninsula. I came upon a deserter who had just raped and murdered two young children. A brother and sister.”
“Oh, no!” Suzanne gasped with horror, her nails biting into her palm as she imagined how he must have felt to discover such evil.
“Their bodies were still warm, but it was too late. They were already gone. I had a bayonet and a rage that knew no bounds.” Simon drew a ragged breath. “I cannot regret ridding the world of a monster, but I did regret becoming a monster myself.”
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she whispered, able to envision a scene that must have been similar to the one she had created earlier this day. Then, because she needed to know, she asked, “Have you ever done anything like that again?”
“No.” His arm had tightened around her shoulders, and she sensed the effort he made to relax. “I am a soldier. I’ve killed sometimes when it was needful, but never again with that annihilating rage. Once was enough.”
“Oh, yes!” she said so fervently that Simon laughed a little.
“I doubt you’ll ever do such a thing again, ma chérie. A lifetime of rage was burning through you. Some men need killing and Fabron was one of them,” Simon said. “He is now part of your past, as is Gürkan. Don’t let them live on in your mind and torment you.”
“That’s good advice, though it will take time for me to drive them from my thoughts.” She cuddled under Simon’s warm arm and rested her head on his shoulder as she began to relax. She had survived the horror of slavery and Gürkan, and she would survive this. She had behaved savagely, but she vowed not to let that one act poison her life. No wallowing.
“I thought I was done with war, yet here it is on our doorstep again,” Simon said. “I will continue to do unofficial exploration work for Wellington because it must be done, but I’ll do it alone in the future.”
She cringed inwardly. “I caused too much trouble.” “No, but today I realized that when you’re with me, I’m too concerned for your safety,” he explained. “That clouded my judgment and slowed my reactions. Dangerous.”
“If you’d been alone, would you have been able to fight your way free of three hostile French soldiers?”
“Nothing is sure in such a situation,” he replied, “but I’ve escaped similar situations unscathed.”
“I’m sorry I was a liability,” she said in a small voice. “I thought I was helping.”
“Your presence was necessary on this trip to the notaire. There was no way to predict that we’d run into drunken soldiers hungry for violence. What you did to distract Sergeant Fabron was brilliant even though it played out in unexpected ways,” Simon said thoughtfully. “At the end of the day, what matters is that we both escaped relatively undamaged.” His arm tightened around her. “But on purely military scouting trips, I’m better off alone.”
A few days earlier she might have argued with him, but no longer. His military experience and understanding were far beyond anything she would ever master. “Very well, I won’t pester you to travel on journeys where I would be a nuisance.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”
“You thought I’d be stubborn, didn’t you?”
He chuckled, then brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, but one of the many things I like about you is your intelligence.”
“That’s sometimes more true than other times,” she said ruefully.
“Such is the nature of being human.” He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. “I’m going to sleep like a hibernating bear. It’s been a tiring day.”
That it had been. “Will any sound that suggests danger wake the bear up in an instant?”
“Yes, it’s one of those skills one learns in the army. Luckily this seems a peaceful place. I hope you can sleep also, milady.” He tucked her close and relaxed.
He fell into sleep almost immediately, his slow, steady breaths soothing. She wasn’t surprised when she thought of how much he’d done this day, taking down one of the soldiers, then managing their escape and quietly caring for her when she fell to pieces. He deserved his rest.
Though she was also exhausted, her mind was too jangled for sleep. She forced her body to relax, muscle by muscle. Then she made herself remember the whole horrible encounter with Fabron, refusing to avoid a single moment.
Then she hurled the experience into a mental bonfire and let the flames consume every vile touch, every bit of rage, every wash of shame, every searing emotion. The mental exercise left her shaking, but distanced from what had happened. She had devised this technique as a way to endure the worst of her experiences in the harem.
Because above all else, she was a survivor. She would not allow monsters to destroy the goodness of her new life.
Thinking of goodness, she patted her sleeping husband. How had she been so lucky as to find a man of such kindness and understanding? Well, actually he had found her. She hoped he didn’t regret how complicated their bargain had become.
That was a thought for another day. For now, finally, she could sleep.
* * *
Suzanne was dozing peacefully when rustling in the straw jerked her awake. Not an enemy. The sound was too small for a soldier, and far too close. A rat?
Warily she sat up and looked around. Simon slept on, presumably recognizing that sounds from her were unthreatening.
More rustling. The dim light in the barn caught the movement of a small creature, but it didn’t move like a rat. A cat—that was it. A small, scrawny cat was nosing at the food bag. It skittered backward when she moved, staring at her anxiously. Poor hungry little fellow. It seemed to be having a worse day even than she was.
Moving slowly, she reached out for the bag and pulled it close, then felt inside. Ah, the cheese. She broke off a chunk and pulled it out, then broke off a smaller piece and tossed it toward the little cat. It jumped nervously, then crept forward warily on its belly till it reached the tid
bit and bolted it down. Suzanne tossed another piece and this time the cat didn’t back off as far before moving in to devour.
She continued tossing small pieces until the original chunk was gone. When the cat saw that no more food was coming, it sat back on its haunches and daintily washed its small face. Then it vanished into the shadows.
Smiling, Suzanne relaxed back on the blanket and rolled an arm over Simon. Feeding the hungry was rewarding.
* * *
Suzanne woke the next morning when something small, cool, and moist touched her cheek. Surprised, she opened her eyes and saw a hopeful little tabby cat almost nose to nose with her. She decided it was a half-grown kitten, not yet a full-fledged cat. A skinny gray tabby with golden eyes. The little puss had been there a while, she guessed, since her shoulder was warm as if a tiny little fur blanket had been resting there.
She moved her hand slowly to the cat and scratched its head. She was rewarded with a treble purr. The cat arched its back and turned under her hand, the long tail a happy banner. Suzanne got a close view of the little fellow’s backside. A “he,” not an “it.”
He head-butted her cheek. She laughed and Simon stirred to wakefulness beside her. “It appears you have company,” he murmured.
“This little fellow was trying to get into the food bag last night, so I gave him some cheese. He must have liked it.”
“Food is a fine basis for a relationship.” Also moving slowly, Simon sat up. “I think he’s trying to convey that it’s breakfast time.”
“Can we spare more cheese?”
“Go ahead, we have enough to get us back to Brussels and then some.” Simon extended his hand and the little cat sniffed it, then licked his fingertips. “His coat is rough and he’s half starving, but he’s not feral.”
“I think he’s a barn cat who wants a position as a house cat.” Suzanne pulled out more cheese, setting down a small piece for the cat, then handing a larger piece to Simon, along with the last piece of bread. Since there was still a good supply of cheese, she gave more to the cat.
The three of them ate in companionable silence. Then it was time to pack up, saddle the horses, and resume their journey.
Suzanne thought the cat had gone about his feline business, but after Simon helped her into the gray’s saddle, the tabby appeared from nowhere and leaped onto her stirruped left foot. Then he began earnestly hauling himself up her trousered leg, his nails tiny little needles that stabbed through fabric and into skin. He made it up to her knee and jumped on the saddle between her legs, looking vastly pleased with himself.
“I think our scouting party has acquired a new recruit,” she said, unable to resist scratching his scrawny little neck. “Can I keep him?”
“As long as you’re both willing, I don’t see why not. He wouldn’t have shown up here if he had a real home.” Simon had just fastened the supply saddlebags on their packhorse, so he unlatched one side and pulled out a folded shirt. “You might want to put this under him so he doesn’t curl his claws into any sensitive bits of your anatomy.”
“Good idea. Those claws are sharp.” She tucked the folded shirt under the little tabby. He settled into the soft fabric and looked ready to ride all day. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Pets were very cheering. “I should give him a name.”
“Once you do, he’s yours,” Simon said with a grin as he swung onto the saddle pad he’d improvised on the bay’s back.
“Leo, I think. That’s a proper feline name.”
“Very well, Leo and milady. Northward, ho!”
Tonight they should sleep in Brussels after what she fervently hoped would be a boringly uneventful day.
Chapter 33
The ride north was more than uneventful; it was delightful. The day was pleasant and sunny, full of late spring beauty before the summer heat. In the middle of a patch of woods, they forded a shallow river. As their horses scrambled up the opposite bank, Simon said, “We have just passed from France into Belgium.”
“I’m glad!” she said. “Shall we stop and stretch our legs and have a bite to eat?”
“A good thought. The horses can drink from the river and there’s plenty of grass for grazing.” He dismounted and helped Suzanne from her horse. “How is little Leo doing? He hasn’t tried to bolt?”
“No, he seems quite happy to travel along. He’s very attached to me. Literally!” She lifted the little tabby, who promptly dug his needle claws into the shirt that had become his traveling bed. “He’s not doing your shirt any good, though.”
“It’s an old shirt, and even if it wasn’t, it’s worth sacrificing for such a charming addition to our party.”
Suzanne passed Leo to Simon. He was a nice furry little handful who purred, and also yawned to reveal a mouthful of sharp teeth. Lucky he wasn’t a biter.
After a pause to scratch Leo’s head, Simon set him on the ground. The cat bounced under a shrub to relieve himself. Then he returned and made it politely known to Suzanne that he was ready for another meal.
She dismounted and pulled the food pack from a saddlebag, then tossed a bit of cheese to Leo, who consumed it eagerly and looked hopefully for more. As she gave him another bit, she said, “The cheese may run out before we reach Brussels at this rate.”
Simon chuckled. “His enthusiasm is charming, but save some for us, ma chérie.”
They settled next to each other on the grass and enjoyed their picnic. Suzanne loved this relaxed time with Simon. No distractions, no danger for the moment.
She discreetly admired her husband’s handsome face, which no longer made her think of Jean-Louis, who had glittered with wit and charm over deep layers of self-absorption. Simon had similar bones and build and coloring, but when she looked in his face, she saw calm authority and subtle humor and deep kindness.
She liked that his dark hair was getting pleasantly shaggy and that he let her doze for a few minutes with her head on his lap before they continued. With him, she felt safe and cared for and understood.
What made this day so intensely, painfully wonderful was the knowledge that when they reached Brussels, the hammer of impending war would come down on them. Simon would almost certainly be sent away to do his hazardous exploring work, and the city would fill with would-be warriors and worried women. Of which she would be one, so she wanted to capture every moment of this simple happiness to hold in her heart.
All too soon, Simon woke her from her doze with a kiss on her temple. “Time to resume our journey, milady. And at the end, we shall find good food and a hot bath and a large, comfortable bed.”
“I’m not sure which of those sounds best!” She raised her head from his lap and leaned in for a proper kiss. Simon’s arms circled her and he drew her into a leisurely continuation of that kiss. He had a wonderful mouth, so sensual and welcoming. By the time they broke apart, they were both panting.
Simon drew a deep breath and stood, offering her his hand. “Later?”
She rose and gazed into his gray eyes, which were not cool at all. “Later!”
Not releasing her hand, Simon said, “You seem to have recovered from yesterday better than I could have imagined.”
“It helps that I have had a great deal of practice at overcoming dreadful experiences at the hands of men.” She hesitated, looking for the words to explain. “This time, I had you, who understood my berserker rage. Because of that, I better understood myself, which was a very long step toward accepting my own darkness and beginning to heal.”
“I’m glad I was able to help,” he said quietly.
“More than you can ever know,” she replied in a similar tone. Her voice turned brisk. “But now we must resume our journey because we must reach Brussels before we run out of cheese!”
Simon laughed and helped her onto her horse with little Leo on her lap. Not long after their lunch stop, they intersected the Charleroi-to-Brussels road and their pace increased. It was a long day’s ride, but for Suzanne, they reached Brussels too soon, and her perfect day w
ith Simon was over.
At least they had made it to Brussels before the cheese ran out.
Barely.
When Simon, Suzanne, and Leo entered the house, weary and travel stained, the inhabitants immediately started gathering. Maurice and Jackson arrived first. “We’ll take care of the horses, but first, what news, sir?” Maurice asked.
“Bonaparte is certainly mobilizing, but it’s not clear when or where he’ll aim his armies,” Simon said succinctly. “It may well be Belgium, though.”
Philippe and Marie emerged from the drawing room at the front of the house. He was using a cane for balance, but looked much stronger and was walking well. Marie was beside him, and her gaze went to Suzanne. “Suzanne, did you know you have a cat on your shoulder?”
“So I do,” Suzanne said amiably. She reached up to scratch his head. “His name is Leo. He’s a country cat who has decided to move to the city.”
Simon said, “Philippe, I need to talk to you and Marie. Not bad news at all. Give us time to bathe and change and we can discuss what we learned over a late supper.”
Jenny appeared, looking rather appalled. “Madam, your clothing!” she exclaimed, staring at Suzanne’s oversized and travel-stained men’s garments.
“We had to travel quickly.” Suzanne made a face. “Suffice it to say that it was easier to get into France than it was to leave. But as you see, we’re fine. I hope you like cats, Jenny!”
“Indeed I do. Young and skinny as this fellow is, I imagine he’ll want to go to the kitchen for a meal.” Jenny scratched Leo’s head, then expertly removed him from Suzanne’s shoulder without his claws inflicting further damage.
“I must arrange a bath and help you to change,” Jenny continued. “Madame Maurice, do you like cats?” On receiving a positive response, Jenny handed Leo over to the older woman.
Madame Maurice cuddled Leo to her ample bosom and cooed feline noises at him. “I’ll fix you that supper after I feed this young rascal.”
As the cook headed off to the kitchen, Simon predicted that Leo was going to live very well in this house. Then he followed his wife up the stairs to wash up and change into proper clothing. The day was far from over.
Once a Spy Page 24