For the Love of a Soldier

by Victoria Morgan

  He snorted. “I knew damn well my birth wasn’t providing me with any courage or leadership, and I knew if I wanted to live, I had best listen to my men with military experience. In those early days, I wanted to live. I was responsible for the lives of the men under my command.” He crossed to the fence.

  “It took me a while to gain my men’s trust and eventually respect, but by God I fought to do so. If I was leading them into battle, I wanted to make damn sure I was worthy to do so and not from the rights garnered through the purchase of my commission, but by rights of my own merit.

  “But it didn’t matter what I did or any of the junior officers did because they placed Lord Lucan and his brother-in-law Lord Cardigan in charge of the cavalry brigades, and our fates were sealed.”

  Alex moved to stand beside him, wanting to reach out and touch him, to offer comfort, but he held himself with such a detached stillness that it frightened her. She feared that like fragile glass, he might shatter if she stepped too close. So she did what she had done time and again for each of the wounded men who had been under her care. She listened. It was all she could do.

  The wind whistling through the trees was the only noise to break the silence. After a few minutes, he continued. “To say my horse had more intelligence than Lucan and Cardigan combined is an insult to Champion. But they were placed in command of two cavalry battalions, a total of twelve hundred men. I served under Cardigan in the Seventeenth Lancers. Neither possessed much battlefield experience or any training but they were earls. If that’s not perverse enough, they detested each other, fought like rabid dogs, and more often than not, weren’t on speaking terms.”

  He wiped a hand down his face. “Lucan didn’t know the proper military commands to lead our men, while Cardigan held nothing but contempt for those who earned a living as a career soldier. His men suffered in horrific camp conditions, while he slept on his yacht with a French cook on board. My men called Lucan the ‘cautious ass’ for his inability to commit his troops to battle, while Cardigan was the ‘dangerous ass’ because he’d commit his men under any circumstances.”

  His voice became harsher. “By God they lived up to their names. Cardigan sent more than six hundred men riding to certain death in the wrong direction because he and Lucan were too arrogant to clarify Raglan’s orders or ask a subordinate to do so. Afterward, Cardigan retired to his yacht to have a champagne dinner. Lucan provided no backup to the charge, and whether it was due to his enmity toward his brother-in-law or not, we’ll never know.”

  Silence fell again, the only sound the furious pounding of Alex’s heart. Garrett turned his back on the horses and faced her, and she bit her lip at the despair in his expression.

  “The guns Raglan wanted captured to prevent them falling into the hands of the Russians weren’t at the farthest end of the North Valley, but on the left side of Causeway Heights. Lucan and Cardigan argued about the order, but neither man deigned to ask Captain Nolan, Raglan’s quartermaster general who had delivered it, to clarify which guns Raglan meant. You see, Nolan was one of the men Lucan and Cardigan scorned for earning a living as a professional soldier.

  “So blind, unmitigated arrogance sent over six hundred men and horses on that suicidal charge. The Russians had a battery of guns at the end of the valley before us with batteries and riflemen flanking both our sides. If you survived the three-fronted barrage, you then had to turn around and ride back to our lines. One hundred forty-seven of my men rode into battle, thirty-eight made roll call the next day.”

  Garrett took a deep breath and blew it out; he lifted his eyes to the distant horizon as if he could no longer meet her gaze. “I saw a horse carry one of my men’s headless body down the length of the valley and back. I went to assist another of my wounded men, but he lost his seat and like so many others, tumbled to his death in the stampede of riders coming from behind.

  “My men rode with arms and legs being shot off until they fell to their deaths. Others used their swords like a sickle to carve a path through our own soldiers in their flight.”

  Alex struggled to suppress her horror, knowing he needed to get it all out.

  “In the midst of that madness, I no longer cared about living because I thought I had already died and gone to hell. I don’t remember my injury or Champion carrying me back to our lines. I awoke in Havers’s care, and later Brandon arrived and transported me home.”

  Alex yearned to wrap her arms around him, but seeing him swallow as he fought for control, she held back. She understood he needed to unleash these festering memories. She had heard similar tales from the soldiers, and the London Gazette had published Raglan’s dispatches as well as his blame of Lord Lucan for the whole debacle. But it did not compare to witnessing the raw pain the story in all its horror inflicted on Garrett.

  He rubbed his forehead, dropped his hand, and continued in a resigned voice. “Do you know Cardigan’s main concern after the battle was not over the bloody carnage or the loss of his men but to lodge a complaint against Nolan for trying to ride in front of him? Nolan had ridden out in vain, brandishing his sword toward the correct guns we were to take, but we were already under siege and he was killed.”

  He looked at her then, his features haunted. “The charge down the valley and back took less than twenty minutes. But for every man who participated, it will never be over because each one of us has to live with the question of our survival. They were my men, and I couldn’t save them, so why did I live?” He lifted his arms as in supplication, then dropped them to his side and straightened.

  “That question hangs over me like a guillotine, and I’ll never escape it because every breath I draw serves to remind me. And so I drank. I drank not just to forget the carnage, but to forget I lived when so many other men under my care had died.” He turned and walked away, wiping unsteady hands down his trousers legs.

  His body was strung so taut Alex feared a strong breeze could snap him in two. Garrett’s words had chilled her to the bone, the horror of them, of what he had carried all these months. Of the guilt he wore like the Grim Reaper’s bloody cloak of death.

  But he was wrong.

  By God, she’d be damned if she would let this wretched battle continue to bleed him. Unlike Garrett, she spoke distinctly, hoping her words would reach him.

  “I can answer that,” she said, struggling to suppress the tears that choked her. She waited until he turned to face her before she went on. “I know damn well why you lived. For them.” She gestured to the hops fields. “For Stewart and Gus and every single one of those wounded men who would have no place to go if not for you. For those veterans who gave everything to England but received nothing in return. You stand for them. Had you died, where would they be? And for Kit and Brandon. You are the only family they have.

  “You couldn’t save your men, but you didn’t kill them. Their fate was sealed when the English nobility chose blood lineage over military competence and put Cardigan and Lucan in commands they never should have held. You listened to your men, provided for them out of your own pocket, and rode beside them into hell. They could ask no more of you.

  “There are horrors from that day that will never be forgotten, but time should dull some of the sharper edges of their pain. You need no longer question your right to survive. You survived because it was meant to be.”

  Finished, she drew a deep breath and saw he watched her silently, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, his eyes dark and troubled.

  She waited for him to respond, not certain he would. He studied her in that heart-wrenchingly familiar silence of his. She didn’t believe her words would miraculously heal him; she wasn’t that naïve. She simply hoped for them to begin chipping away at the guilt-ridden fortress he had locked himself inside.

  She wished he would stop standing there and do something.

  “So it wasn’t my time?” He cocked a brow at her, a strange light in his eyes.

  “No, it damn well wasn’t,” she exclaimed and then nearly s
lapped her hand to her mouth. “I mean—”

  “I understand.”

  She blinked when she saw the barest hint of a smile. Her heart took flight. “Well, then.”

  “Well, then,” he echoed. He stared out past the paddock fences toward the distant hops fields. “I think I’ll take a walk and mull that over.”

  “I will come with you.” She refused to leave him alone with those horrid images.

  “No.” He held up his hand. “Thank you, but I’m all right. I need to walk some things off alone. Can you take the boys up to the house so Kit won’t worry?”

  “Are you sure? I can—”

  “I’m sure. Really. I’m all right. Or, thanks in part to you, I will be.”

  His smile was slow and gentle and twined around her heart. Undecided, she gnawed on her lower lip. If he wanted to walk and think, well, she’d give him something to think about.

  Before he turned to go, she raced over to him, jumped up, and flung her arms around his neck. She planted her mouth on his and kissed him with all the desire he ignited within her. She kissed him as he had taught her. Thoroughly. Deeply. Expertly. Her heart pounded fit to burst and her pulse rate skipped. And still she kissed him. She threaded her fingers into his hair and arched her body into his.

  After he recovered from his surprise, a groan escaped him and his arms snaked around her like welcomed steel bands. They molded her close, lifting her feet off the ground as he met her ardor with his own.

  She moaned as the familiar heat spiraled through her. Damn, but the man knew how to kiss. He wasn’t completely broken. Parts of him were very much alive.

  A long while later, she broke off the kiss and loosened her grip so she slid to her feet and stepped away. She smiled smugly at his expression. His hair was mussed and his eyes dazed. He held up his hands as if he didn’t know what to do without her in his arms.

  Good.

  “I thought you needed something else to think about.” She spun away. “Enjoy your walk.”

  She had almost reached the barn but couldn’t resist the urge to turn back. He stood where she had left him, a bemused expression on his face. Tall, heart-stoppingly handsome, and staring at her as if he waited for something.

  It took all her willpower to not race back, fling herself into his arms, and whisper what her heart had answered when he asked why he had survived.

  For me.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  LATER that evening, Alex paced a hole in her bedroom carpet.

  Where the hell was he?

  Damn him. He might have escaped the valley of death and two attacks on his life, but he would not survive her wrath. Garrett had never returned for dinner. Kit and Brandon kept the conversation going, but the strain of his absence had stretched taut.

  She understood Garrett had things to think about and he carried baggage no man should have to tote, but damn it, he was not alone. He needed to toss off some of those burdens from his arrogant shoulders and let others help.

  She didn’t know how a man could be strong yet at the same time be cobbled together by so many broken pieces that given a good shove, he’d fall apart. And she had shoved him today. Pushed him to change his perspective. Sometimes a person stood in the same place for so long, they were blind to any other views. Garrett had been rotting in place. No, she didn’t regret uprooting him. She just wanted to assure herself that he was able to pick up his broken pieces and string them back together much stronger.

  To make sure he was whole.

  She gnawed on her lower lip as her eyes strayed to the wall clock. It was nearing midnight.

  Where the hell could he be?

  A noise caused her to jump and she stared at the door separating their chambers. She heard a bang, and her breath caught. After a moment, flickering light seeped under the door.

  Was he all right? Was he sober? Unbidden the question rose, but she squelched the thought. He had said his drinking had not helped him to forget. She had to trust that he spoke true.

  It was late and she should retire. Her eyes drifted to her bed and back to the glow of light beneath the door. She would wait for Garrett to do so. Time dragged on and yet the light beckoned her close, like a moth to fire.

  Her feet moved of their own volition to the door. She wasn’t thinking straight, but Garrett’s husky words from ages ago resonated in the silence.

  Sometimes not thinking is good. Sometimes things are best felt.

  Her heart thundered, a wealth of feelings assaulting her. Concern. Desire. Need. Heat cascaded through her body and she closed her eyes. After a beat, she opened them and lifted her chin.

  By God, after this afternoon she was done thinking.

  Light was the sign she needed, not darkness. It meant Garrett remained awake. And alone. And thinking when he shouldn’t be.

  Today she had admitted her love for him. Tonight she refused to hide from it. Nothing mattered but that Garrett needed her.

  Her hand closed over the doorknob and she drew a deep breath. She opened the door.

  The room was bathed in dim candlelight. After her eyes adjusted to the ambience, she located Garrett lying in bed. His covers were draped over his waist, his chest bare, his eyes open and fastened on hers. The candlelight cast alluring shadows over him and her breathing became shallow. He didn’t move, and that patient stillness that so defined him excited her. It was too dark to gauge his expression, but not dark enough to dull the impact of those steel gray eyes.

  This heady rush must be what Garrett had felt before he’d ridden into battle. The warring emotions of excitement and fear. Like Garrett, she refused to retreat, but there would be no fight, for she planned to surrender everything.

  She glided across the carpet as her hands lifted to her nightgown. She wore no robe, had no need of one. Stopping, she undid the buttons to the front of her gown and when it gaped open, she gave a shrug and let it fall from her shoulders to pool at her feet. For the moment, she simply stood there, feeling Garrett’s eyes sweep over her naked body like a warm caress. A shiver swept through her.

  Garrett lifted the covers in silent invitation, moving over to make room for her.

  She stepped forward and slid into the welcoming warmth. A gasp escaped her, for she had anticipated him gently drawing her close, but there was nothing gentle about Garrett’s reaction. Before she could digest the shock of his beautiful body, long, lithe, and bare beneath the sheets, he crushed her to him and his mouth captured hers, hard and demanding. She arched against him, her tongue tangling with his in an erotic dance. Teasing and tasting.

  Thinking was the first thing she surrendered.

  He pulled back to draw breath, and his gaze, heavy-lidded and smoldering, met hers.

  She swallowed. “You’re beautiful.” Her words escaped her in a breathless murmur. His lips curved in that lethal smile that pierced her heart, had done so since he had first wielded it.

  “That’s my line for you,” he whispered and captured a long strand of her hair and watched as it slid through his fingers. “When you left the card table at Hammond’s, I told myself not to follow you. To let you go and perhaps learn from your loss.” His eyes met hers. “Thank God, I didn’t listen.”

  She ran her thumb along his bottom lip, soft and full. “At the time, I wished you had. You thought I was a spoiled, irresponsible boy! And you were quite horrible, swearing at me and shoving me toward the window.”

  “Perhaps I should make amends for my boorish behavior. After all, I have since learned the error of my judgment.” She drew in her breath as his hand slid down to cup a full breast. “No boy here.”

  “Very perceptive of you,” she said dryly. “But about making those amends for your boorish behavior…I rather like that idea. How do you propose to do so?”

  He grinned. “Did you have something in mind?”

  “I can think of something. Why don’t you place yourself in my hands, and I will tell you what I’d like you to do.” She leaned over and kissed him quite thoroug
hly, her tongue dancing and parrying with his.

  When she drew back, she was pleased to see his gaze was unfocused and he had to blink to clear it. She dropped her voice to a husky murmur. “That is…ah…that is until it gets to a point where I need you to tell me what to do.” His eyes flared, but when he leaned forward to kiss her again, she planted her hand on his chest to stop him. “After all, you’ve also said that you could teach me things when we knew each other better.”

  “I, ah…” He had to clear his throat before he could continue, “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did,” she confirmed.

  “Well, then.” He again caught a lock of her hair, and winding it around his fist, he drew her close. “Perhaps you should put yourself entirely in my hands.” Releasing her hair, he slid his hands down to cup her breasts as she leaned over him, his thumbs brushing over heightened peaks.

  “Perhaps that might be a better idea.” She gasped. After all, he did have fabulous hands, rough and calloused from his years in the cavalry. They kneaded and molded her breasts, and she squirmed in response. Her groans were swallowed up when his mouth plundered hers, kissing her senseless. He caressed her ribs and the curve of her hips, raising a trail of goose bumps along her flesh. When his hands squeezed her thighs, she drew back to gasp for breath. A soldier knew how to strategically stake out his ground, and Garrett did so with a finesse that left her panting. She collapsed on the bed beside him.

  Her body was the second thing she surrendered.

  “You need to tell me if I do anything you don’t like. More important, you need to tell me what you do like, what you want.”

  In the back recesses of what was left of her mind, she heard Garrett speaking. However, as he spoke, his mouth trailed molten kisses down the nape of her neck and distracted her, his breath hot and moist on her flushed skin. His lips drew a pliant peak into his mouth and she arched her back as his tongue lavished her breasts. She moaned out loud, her breathing quickened. Shivers spiraled down her body, bringing to life yearnings she had never felt before.