by Tracy Grant
"Don't listen to her, Lieutenant," Gazin insisted. "She may talk like a lady but she's the one who took my gun."
"Ah, yes." Adam turned to Hawkins, who pulled the gun from his pocket and held it out to Dumont. "I suggest you do not return it to him until he learns some of those manners Madame Rawley was talking about," Adam continued as Dumont took the gun.
Before Dumont could respond, another of his soldiers dashed up, dragging a thin boy of about eleven by the arm. The boy glared defiantly at the circle of French soldiers, then stared in bewilderment as he caught sight of Caroline. It was Pablo Ruiz, whose mother was Adela's cousin. Caroline gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"Throwing rocks, he was," the soldier told Dumont, trying to restrain the squirming boy. "Hit me in the back of the head and knocked Manet to the ground. Got to make an example of him, Lieutenant. He deserves a whipping at least."
Seeing Pablo's olive skin turn ashen, Caroline felt a burst of anger. "He's only a boy," she said. "Surely you can't believe he's a threat to your men, Lieutenant."
"We can't allow these people to show us disrespect, madame," Dumont said with sudden firmness. He glanced at the soldier. "Take the boy into the tavern. I have matters to sort out here."
The soldier started to respond, then cried out in pain and outrage. While his attention was distracted, Pablo had twisted in his hold and stepped sharply on his foot.
The soldier raised his hand to strike the boy, but Adam caught his wrist in mid-air. "I'll deal with this, Dumont," Adam said, removing Pablo from the soldier's grip. "I suggest you round up your men before they become quite ungovernable."
The soldier gaped at Adam in confusion, but Gazin was quick to protest. "Damn it, Lieutenant, are you going to let a man who isn't even wearing a uniform order you about?"
"I told you to be quiet." Dumont glared at him, then looked across the courtyard. The soldiers who were loading the wagon had ceased their work and were watching the scene with curiosity. "Don't just stand there," Dumont said with the irritation of an officer who had difficulty being taken seriously by his men, "carry on." He looked back at Adam. "If I could see some proof, Captain? Purely as a formality?"
Caroline drew in her breath, but Adam merely reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Due to my present mission I carry no official documents, but perhaps a letter from my friend Colonel Lescaut will suffice. An expression of thanks for a piece of work I recently undertook for him."
Dumont's face cleared. "That will do admirably. I know the colonel's hand."
Caroline watched Dumont take the paper, her mouth dry, her heart hammering in her throat. Adam had succeeded by bluffing thus far, but unless Colonel Lescaut's signature was expertly forged, how could he hope to deceive the lieutenant?
Adam watched Dumont, his face impassive. Pablo stood by quietly, as if he somehow understood that Adam did not represent the same threat as the soldier. Emily trembled in Caroline’s arms. Caroline stroked her hair.
Dumont read the paper through, then looked up. Caroline tensed, prepared to defend her child. "Thank you, Captain," Dumont said. "This is quite sufficient."
"I should hope so." Adam held out a peremptory hand. "If I could have my letter back? You'd better see to your men. Might I suggest you not try to cram quite so much onto the wagon? At this rate, there'll be nothing left for the next foraging party that passes through here."
Gazin drew in his breath. "So help me—"
But even as he spoke, Dumont rounded on him. "You forget yourself, Sergeant. Go and help the men with the wagon. You too," he added, gesturing toward the man who had brought Pablo. "And tell the others to leave some of the provisions. Captain St. Juste is right."
For the next half-hour, Caroline stood beside Adam while Dumont rounded up his men, who seemed surprised to see their lieutenant behaving with such authority. It was only when the soldiers had left the village that Caroline really believed it was over. Her legs felt not quite steady. Emily, who she had set on the ground beside her, clung close to her skirts.
"All right," Adam said to Pablo, "you'd better go home. Your mother must be worried."
Pablo looked up at Adam in bewilderment. Smiling, Adam gave him a slight push. Pablo backed away cautiously, then turned and tore off down the street.
Caroline looked down at the cobblestones, not daring to meet Adam's gaze. After she had greeted him with such bitterness, he had saved not only her and Emily but the whole village.
"Looks as if none of us are going anywhere tonight," Hawkins said. "I'd best go and see that the horses are fed and watered."
As Hawkins walked off, Caroline at last risked a glance at Adam. He looked tired and there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead, but he seemed to have lost none of his confidence. Without speaking, they started back toward her cottage. Emily held on to Caroline's hand, but Caroline knew her daughter was studying Adam with curiosity. Caroline felt a knot of tension coiling in her stomach.
The streets were quieter now, though the villagers were beginning to venture out. When they neared Adela's cottage, Caroline picked up her skirt and hurried forward. The door flew open before she reached it. "You're all right," Adela exclaimed. "Thank God."
Caroline hugged her friend in relief. Emily ran toward the Soro children, who were clustered behind their mother. "Mr. Durward made the soldiers go away," she told them. "And he saved Pablo. The soldiers thought he was French, but he's not, is he, Mama?"
Emily tugged at her mother's skirt. Adela and the children looked at Adam. Caroline turned to him, uncertain how to explain his presence. She sought for some clue in his expression, but his eyes were cloudy. He swayed slightly, as if he could not keep his balance.
Concerned, Caroline moved toward him, her hand outstretched. Adam took a halting step forward. Then his knees buckled and he collapsed at her feet.
Chapter Three
"Adam!" The name burst unbidden from Caroline's lips as she flung herself down on the hard ground beside him. His eyes were closed, his skin—dear God, why hadn't she noticed how pale he was? As she bent over him and unfastened his coat, the smell of blood came sharp to her nostrils. The bandage had soaked through, staining his shirt and waistcoat a bright crimson.
"We must get him inside," Adela said, bending down next to Caroline. "Do you think we can lift him?"
But as Adela spoke, Adam stirred and opened his eyes. "A miscalculation," he said, enunciating carefully. "I thought I'd be all right for another quarter-hour. I think I can walk if you'll help me."
Caroline slid her arm under him and helped him to sit up, the need for action superseding panic. She was not deceived by his tone. Adam had spoken in just the same way twenty years ago when she found him bruised and bloody after a fight with some of the village boys. He had claimed he could walk then, but he'd collapsed after two steps and she'd had to run to his aunt for help. But now they had Adela to assist them. With the two women supporting him, Adam was able to stager the few, agonizing feet to the shelter of the cottage.
It was only when they had laid him on the blanket that a wide-eyed Juana had spread on the floor that Caroline knew, from the ache in her arms and the harshness of her breathing, what an effort it had been. Adam collapsed on the blanket and closed his eyes. The children, who had been watching in silence, stared curiously at him.
Emily tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Is he going to be all right?"
"We're going to be sure he is," Caroline said with determination. She brushed her fingers against Emily's cheek, then knelt beside Adam and began to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. A flickering pool of yellow light fell across the floor as Adela lit the oil lamp that hung from the ceiling. Adam opened his eyes again. "Hawkins can take care of it," he murmured, his voice slurred.
"Hawkins isn't here." Caroline pushed back the waistcoat and started on his shirt. "Hold still and don't be an idiot." Adam's skin was damp with perspiration and burning to the touch. It must be over an hour
since his fight with Gazin. How much blood had he lost? She unknotted his cravat which he had used to bind the pad to him. The wound no longer seemed to be bleeding, but the shirt and pad clung to his side, matted with dried blood.
"Here." Adela handed Caroline a stack of cloths and an earthenware bowl filled with water. Caroline moistened a cloth and pressed it against the layers of blood-soaked fabric, her hands steady, her eyes focused on her task. She heard Adela sending the girls to the village well for more water and murmuring softly to Ramon. Adam was silent, but Caroline could feel his gaze upon her. When she tried to ease the shirt away from his skin, she felt him wince.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Better pull it all off at once," Adam advised, in the tone of a detached observer.
As she tugged the shirt free he drew a shuddering breath. "Just one more," Caroline said.
The pad, soaked through with blood, was more difficult to remove. Adam groaned, but when Caroline looked at him, he gave a faint smile. "That's the worst of it. It's not much of a wound considering all the trouble it's caused."
This, at least, appeared to be true. The wound looked shallow and reasonably clean. But it had begun to bleed again when she removed the bandage. Caroline pressed a fresh cloth against it.
"This will cleanse it," Adela said, kneeling beside Caroline and handing her a vial of vinegar. "The girls will be back with more water soon."
"My thanks for your hospitality," Adam said, switching to Spanish. "Señora—?" He looked at Caroline in inquiry.
"Adam Durward, Adela Soro," Caroline said formally, hoping she could leave it at that and not explain Adam's reasons for coming to Acquera.
"Señora Soro." Adam, lying flat on his back, managed to give the words a semblance of gallantry. "My most sincere thanks."
"You are English." Adela smiled. "You have come for Caroline?"
"That was my intention."
"I'm so glad," Adela said warmly.
"I'm pleased to know someone is," Adam murmured.
Caroline reached for the vial of vinegar. "Time for more stoicism," she told him. "This may sting."
Adam's eyes glinted with ironic amusement. "A bit drastic for a change of subject."
Caroline looked away, disturbed. There was something much too intimate about shared humor. Adam did not speak again as she cleansed his wound and she did not permit herself to think about anything but the task at hand. The girls returned, chattering and bearing a pail of fresh water. Juana gathered the little ones in the back room and told them a story, while Adela tore strips of cloth for a new bandage.
"There," Adela said, when she and Caroline had finally secured a fresh bandage over the wound. "You're an excellent patient, Señor Durward."
"You and Mrs. Rawley are excellent nurses, Señora Soro."
Caroline sat back on her heels, pushed some loosened strands of hair out of her eyes, and forced herself to look at Adam. His face was pale beneath his sun-darkened skin, but his eyes were clear and focused again and they seemed to see far more than she wished. His shirt was pushed back, so that save for the bandage his chest was bare. Now that her task was done she could not help but notice the dark hair on his chest in which she had once tangled her fingers, and the lines of bone and muscle which she had once traced with her lips.
When he had collapsed in the street, it had seemed for a moment as if they were children again. But they were children no longer, and if she allowed herself to think that way it could only lead to disaster.
Caroline got to her feet abruptly and went into the other room. The children were getting restless, despite Juana's efforts to amuse them. Emily asked if Mr. Durward was all right, and Ramon wanted to know when they were going to have supper. By the time Caroline went back to the outer room, she had recovered her self-possession. Hawkins had returned while she was gone. He greeted her cheerfully and seemed matter-of-fact about Adam's injury, but Caroline saw the concern in his eyes.
"How is he?" she asked, glancing at Adam who was covered with a second blanket and seemed to be sleeping.
"He was half-asleep when I got here, but he says he'll be ready to travel in the morning."
"Will he?"
Hawkins grinned. "Knowing Durward, he'll travel, ready or not."
That, Caroline knew, was an all too accurate characterization. Hawkins said nothing about Caroline traveling with them. Adela merely said, "Rest is the best thing for Señor Durward now," but Caroline knew her friend was watching her.
The discussion was ended by Ramon, who poked his head through the doorway and again asked about supper. Adela got out bread and cheese and they had a makeshift meal during which the adults were called upon to answer a number of questions. Hawkins proved surprisingly good at this. Emily had already decided she liked him, and the other children were quickly won over. When the table had been cleared, Hawkins offered to tell them a story, and even Ramon, who an hour ago had claimed he never wanted to hear another story, accepted eagerly.
The baby had woken, hungry and crying. While Adela sat at the table and nursed her child, Caroline finished stacking the dishes. After the events of the day, the quiet should have been a relief, but she felt her decision looming over her.
"Don't be a fool, Caroline," Adela said when Caroline had finished with the dishes. "This is the answer to all your prayers. You can go back to England. You can be safe."
"Would you come with us?" Caroline asked, knowing what her friend's answer would be.
Adela shook her head. The baby stirred and she rocked her against her breast. "This is my home. Mine and Victor's. I see little enough of him, but as long as I'm here there's always the chance that he'll get word to me, or that he'll be able to come home for a few days."
Caroline moved to a chair, arms wrapped defensively round her. "If it's safe for you to stay, then it is for me too."
"No," said Adela firmly. "I am Spanish, you are English. You are twice as much at risk as I, and you know it. Isn't what happened today enough to convince you?"
Caroline was silent. The night was still and cool, no different from any other she had spent in Acquera, save for the quiet murmur of Hawkins's voice and the sight of Adam lying beneath a coarse blanket on the floor. She shifted slightly in her chair, shutting him out of her view. When she had first heard the French soldiers she had thought—to the extent that she had been able to think at all—that she would trust Adam, would trust the devil himself, if he would see Emily to safety.
But that was before Adam had taken her in his arms and she had seen the hunger in his eyes and felt the gentleness of his touch. Before she had felt her own response course through her, sweeping aside all reason. She had known that it was dangerous to trust Adam. What she had learned in those few moments before Laclos and Gazin burst into the cottage was infinitely worse. When Adam was near, she could not trust herself.
"It's more complicated than you think," she said at last.
"Perhaps I understand better than you realize." Adela's gaze was shrewd and perceptive. "I saw your face when he collapsed in the street, Caroline. I always suspected there was someone, someone in England."
At another time, with Adam not lying a dozen feet away, Caroline might have welcomed the opportunity to confide in her friend. Now she merely muttered, "I don't think he's been in England for years."
"He risked a great deal to find you."
"The British Embassy sent him," Caroline said quickly, but even as she spoke she realized it was unlikely that Charles Stuart would have the time to spare much attention for the fate of a lieutenant's widow. Adam must have asked to go. Caroline gripped her hands together, discomfited by the thought.
"It doesn't matter why he came," Adela said. "I don't know what was between you in the past. But I do know it can't be enough to stand in the way of Emily's safety."
Caroline started to protest but the words froze on her lips. She felt as if a net was closing about her, driving her toward a future she feared for reasons that had nothing to do with
the dangers of the journey. Her throat tightened with panic. All her instincts told her to struggle, but how could she struggle against her own conscience?
"There's Jared to think of, too," Adela said.
"Jared?" Caroline asked in puzzlement.
The baby gave a plaintive cry. Adela transferred her to her other breast. "Don't you owe it to him to see that his child grows up in comfort?"
This last was too much. Caroline got to her feet, intending to poke up the fire, to do anything that would allow her a moment to recover, and found herself looking into Adam's eyes.
There was no way to tell how long he had been awake or how much he had heard. His gaze gave nothing away, but his mouth curled in something like the smile she remembered from childhood. "How soon can you be ready to leave, Mrs. Rawley?"
Caroline looked into the dark eyes that were so painfully familiar. She would never be easy in his presence. She would never forget that he was the man who had ruined Jared and driven him to his death. She did not understand why he had risked so much to find her, but she had just seen him very nearly killed for her sake. In a sense she owed him the answer he was seeking.
She glanced toward the door to the second room where Emily sat with the other children, listening to Hawkins's story. Adela was right. Emily's safety came first. Caroline drew a breath. Her mouth was dry and her hands were trembling, but her voice was level. "Whenever you are well enough to travel, Mr. Durward."
Adam awoke to bright light, the sound of children's voices, and the smell of freshly baked bread. He lay very still for a moment because experience had taught him that it was best to be sure of where one was before trying anything foolish. The brightness proved to be sunlight, streaming through a hole in the roof that was meant to let the smoke out. The children seemed to be somewhere behind him. There were adult voices too, a woman's and another that sounded like Hawkins. He seemed to be talking to the children.