Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

by Helen Dickson

  ‘You cannot spend the English shilling where we are going. Our money will have to be changed into Spanish escudos. Unfortunately we’ll lose out, but there’s nothing to be done about that. It’s a particular hardship on the soldiers, who must take money with them wherever they are going, where another man can take goods. To a mercantile man it will often be a gain, instead of a loss.’

  As they rode through the cobbled alleys, Lucy was not enamoured of Portsmouth. It was dirty, smelly and crowded, and the oil lamps gave out small light. Nathan chose a popular inn close to the docks. They entered to the strains of a melancholy tune a sailor was singing. The man was tall and gaunt, but his voice was baritone. Some men around him sat quaffing ale and listening. The inn was devoid of women, except for a couple of serving girls carrying jugs of ale to the tables. A fire crackled in the hearth and an aroma of roast meat rose into the air, making Lucy’s mouth water. Nathan went to talk with the innkeeper as she went to sit at a table in the corner, sliding into the chair.

  Lucy looked around her. The inn had dark oak panelling on the walls with heavy beams running across the ceiling. A layer of sawdust had been strewn across the flagstone floor for warmth and to collect the mud and wet from people’s boots.

  Nathan came and sat across from her. They were served food and drink, which Lucy accepted gratefully as her stomach growled for nourishment. Despite her male attire and her wide-brimmed hat covering her hair, her flushed cheeks, soft lips and glowing eyes were impossible to conceal and were as tempting as any man could want. There was no disguising the fact that she was a woman.

  Lucy failed to notice the stares she drew from the men, nor the seedy-looking man who sat across the room from them, already well into his cups. Her attention was divided between her food and listening to the song of the sailor.

  Chapter Four

  After they had eaten, they followed the landlady to their rooms for which Nathan had made arrangements. The landlady made herself scarce, leaving them to settle down for the night. For a few moments Lucy waited for Nathan to leave also, but he lounged in a chair and seemed in no hurry to go. On a sigh she pulled off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair to smooth the curls. Aware of Nathan’s eyes on her, she turned and looked at him.

  ‘Nathan, it has been a long day and I am very tired. If you don’t mind I would like to go to bed.’

  Without a word he shoved himself up out of the chair. He touched one of her glossy curls before he strode to the door. ‘I’ll be just next door.’

  Then he was gone and Lucy sank on to the bed. Pulling off her boots and removing her breeches and jacket, she blew out the candle and climbed under the bedding. A dingy light from a lantern in the courtyard below, caught in a strong wind, cast its moving shadows in the room. Closing her eyes, she settled herself, secure in the knowledge that Nathan was next door. Sleep came quickly.

  * * *

  It seemed an eternity had passed when she was drawn from the depths of slumber. Terror goaded her to full awareness. A hand pressed tightly over her mouth, smothering the scream that rose to her lips. Her eyes flew open and in a frenzy she clawed at it. Then a face loomed up close above hers in the darkness and her fear increased. It was the drunken roué she had seen below.

  The air in the room turned cold somehow, lapping against Lucy like winter waves on a river. For a moment it held her in a circle of deathly chill and she could feel the blood in her veins freeze.

  ‘Don’t make a sound, lady, if you know what’s good for you,’ the intruder hissed, his liquor-soaked breath fanning Lucy’s cheek and almost making her retch. ‘Tease, that’s what you are, tryin’ to pass yerself off as a lad—though a mighty fetchin’ lad you make, deary.’ Removing his hand from her mouth, he waved a bottle in front of her. ‘I’ve brought somethin’ ter enjoy—afore we get down to business.’

  Lucy made a move to the other side of the bed, but his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, pulling her to him with a strength that almost snapped her bone.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said, relaxing his hold to remove the cork from the bottle with his teeth.

  Lucy regained her courage and snatched her wrist away, dragging herself across the bed. Standing up, she gave the man a crisp warning. ‘Get out. My friend is next door.’

  ‘Aye, I saw him. I figured ye’d be needin’ some company.’

  ‘I told you to get out,’ she retorted. ‘I will most certainly scream if you don’t.’

  ‘I’ll be well gone before he drags himself from his bed.’ The drunk set the bottle aside and his eyes fastened on her in burning lust. ‘If yer friend were any kind of man at all, he’d be ’ere with yer now. I wouldn’t leave a pretty little thing like you alone.’

  He lunged at her, but Lucy had avoided many a grasping plunge in the theatre from overzealous devotees and, scrambling across the room, she snatched her pistol from her bag and held it with both hands in front of her, pointing it at her assailant’s head. She had felt very safe and secure in the knowledge that Nathan was close by, but suddenly she felt very vulnerable.

  ‘I told you to get out. I assure you that blowing a hole in your head would give me the greatest pleasure.’

  The drunk froze, his eyes on the pistol. ‘Now listen ’ere—’

  ‘I said get out.’

  ‘You heard the lady,’ Nathan said from the doorway, his sword gripped in his hand. His sudden appearance and his towering, threatening presence in the small room had the drunk scrambling back in terror.

  ‘I meant no ’arm,’ he mumbled.

  At the same instant Nathan’s long sword went to his throat. The intruder saw the lethal power of the plain and shining steel in the light of the road lamps. The blade was held at Nathan’s full arm’s length, its tip barely quivering at the drunk’s Adam’s apple.

  There was silence in the room.

  Lucy sensed Nathan’s anger. Her own had not diminished. ‘What are you doing?’

  Nathan spoke softly, each word clear and slow. ‘I was thinking of running my blade through his neck or skinning him alive. However, it is with regret that I shall have to let him go.’

  Lucy looked at Nathan and the light from the street lamps lit the left side of his scarred face, a face implacable and frightening, and she felt the fear. She recognised his competence and hardness. She recognised, too, the temptation that Nathan had to kill the man at this moment and might have done exactly that had he met with a similar situation on campaign. The man must have seen it, too, for he trembled violently, his eyes darting around the room, as if searching for a hole in which to disappear. The sword arm moved at last.

  ‘Get out,’ Nathan said, his voice as cold as the steel blade of his sword, ‘before I change my mind.’

  The man didn’t need telling twice. In a trice he was across the room and through the door as if he had the devil himself on his tail.

  Nathan watched him go. He looked at Lucy, unable to tear his eyes off her. Her shirt barely reached the thighs of her long shapely legs, which he remembered had once been wrapped around his own. Her eyes glowed feverishly in the dim light. She had never looked more glorious and yet the glory as she watched the man stumble out of the room was cruel, as cruel as he could be when faced with the enemy. He stiffened uneasily, strangely disturbed by it.

  Her head was flung back, her lovely hair wild about her head, and her mouth, which every man, just a short time before, would have given a year of his life to kiss, curled in a snarl of something they would not care for.

  ‘He’s gone now, Lucy. You can put the gun down.’

  Nathan’s voice was slow but steady now. Placing his sword on the bed, he stood before her, holding out his hand for the pistol. His face was dark and inscrutable. His mouth was firm, his lips clamped tightly together. His eyes looked dark in the reflection of the candlelight, dark and as sombre as the deep swe
ll of the Atlantic Ocean they were soon to sail into. His eyebrows were drawn down above them and in the curve of his jaw a muscle jumped.

  ‘He should be punished, Nathan. He cannot go around trying to attack women in their beds.’ Her voice was quiet, steady now, with none of the impassioned wildness of the past few minutes.

  ‘Are you saying I should have run him through?’ She shook her head. He sighed. ‘Leave it, Lucy. The man was drunk and will no doubt sleep it off in some gutter.’

  She stared at him. ‘But—don’t you care what he—he—nearly...?’

  ‘What?’ Nathan’s eyes bored into hers. ‘Thank God I’m a light sleeper and I arrived before any real harm was done.’

  ‘Why—you conceited ass. By the time you came I had the situation under control. You could see that. You taught me how to defend myself. Don’t think you have to wet-nurse me.’

  ‘I don’t and I don’t intend to, but don’t go around thinking that because you know how to fire a gun you can shoot people willy-nilly.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that. I know this is what you warned me against. You taught me well.’

  Nathan looked at her hard before taking the pistol from her. Placing it on the bedside table, he lit the candle, more concerned by what had happened than he revealed. When he’d heard the man stumble up the stairs and heard a door open and close, he’d known instinctively what was afoot. Panic had beset him. Lucy was in danger, immediate and terrible, and with every instinct in him, he had leapt from his bed. He’d been ready to hold her close, to comfort her, for he had been profoundly moved to think he might not have been in time to stop the swine raping her.

  ‘I was furious when I realised that drunk had come into your room and what he might have done to you, but you also have my admiration for quickly overcoming your initial fear. I am proud of you, proud of the way you reacted.’

  Lucy’s look was wary. ‘But?’

  ‘The man was drunk. Did you intend to shoot him?’

  ‘No—of course not.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Save it for Portugal.’

  Irate because he didn’t seem concerned, plunking her fists in the small of her waist, she glared at him. ‘So is it your opinion that I should have done nothing, that I should have let that filthy drunk have his way with me?’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘Lucy, where did you get that notion? And don’t look like that. You’re like a disgruntled hedgehog and just as prickly. Of course I’m glad you put up a fight.’

  Lucy continued to glower at him, her fingers drumming upon her hips. Nathan’s face was taut, emphasising the scar on his cheek. The candle behind him made an aureole of light around his dark head. He regarded her in silence. Despite what had just happened she was profoundly aware of him and the state of her undress. He was an extremely handsome man and, no matter how she tried to fight it, she was not immune to him. There were too many memories, too many struggling to come to the fore to resurrect feelings and emotions, which was disconcerting.

  Too accomplished an actress to allow any of these emotions to show on her face, she folded her arms. ‘Just what does a disgruntled hedgehog look like? I really have no idea. I see there’s no danger of my head swelling from any compliments from you.’

  ‘Please forgive me,’ he said simply.

  She nodded. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she answered quietly.

  For a long moment Nathan’s gaze held hers with penetrating intensity. It was as enigmatic as it was challenging and unexpectedly Lucy felt an answering frisson of excitement. The darkening in his eyes warned her that he was aware of that brief response. Something in his expression made the breath catch in her throat and the warmly intimate look in his eyes was vibrantly, alarmingly alive. Not for the first time since he had come back into her life she found herself at a loss to understand him. Suddenly his presence was vaguely threatening. As they continued to face one another, she naked except for the flimsy shirt that hung down to her thighs, she craved his lips against hers, her body within his arms.

  ‘I—I think you should leave, Nathan. I’ll be all right now.’

  As if he had read her thoughts, bending his head, without thought to the consequences, he pressed his lips to hers. His arms slipped with infinite care about her. His embrace enfolded her, bringing her in close contact with his lean frame. Lucy felt the hard, manly boldness of him and she closed her eyes as his searing lips slowly traced along her throat and shoulder. His hands caressed her, leisurely arousing her, stroking her breasts and moving downward over her belly.

  Lucy’s whole body began to tremble as his lips descended to hers and she sought to forestall what her heart knew was inevitable by reasoning with him.

  ‘This isn’t what we planned,’ she whispered, shuddering as his lips trailed a hot path across her cheek to seek the inner crevice of her ear. ‘You promised...’

  He smothered what she had been about to say with his mouth, kissing her long and deep until Lucy shivered with the waves of tension shooting through her. The instant he felt her trembling response, his arm tightened, supporting her.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lucy,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I’ll stop whenever you tell me to.’

  Imprisoned by his protective embrace, reassured by his promise and seduced by his mouth and caressing hands, which had found their way under her shirt to bare flesh, Lucy clung to him, sliding slowly into a dark abyss of desire. Heedless of what he was doing, Nathan forced her to give him back the sensual urgency he was offering her, driving his tongue into her mouth until Lucy began to match the pagan kiss. Lost in the heated magic, she touched her tongue to his lips and felt the gasp of his breath against her mouth.

  Nathan kissed her again and again until her nails were digging into his back and she was gasping for breath. Lost in the exciting beauty of her, the same uncontrollable compulsion to have her that had seized him four years ago had overtaken him again and he kissed her until she was moaning and writhing in his arms and desire was pouring through him in hot tidal waves. Out of sheer preservation he forced his hands to stop the pleasurable torture of caressing her breasts, but his mouth still sought hers, sliding back and forth against her parted lips, but softer now.

  An eternity later he raised his head, the blood pounding in his ears. Lucy stayed in his arms, her cheek against his chest, her body pressed to his, trembling in the aftermath of the most explosive, inexplicable passion Nathan had felt in a long time.

  Gradually Lucy’s breathing became even and the sounds from the inn below began penetrating her drugged senses. Drawing a shattered breath, she gently disengaged herself from his arms, struggling valiantly to make the transition from heated passion to some semblance of normality.

  ‘That should not have happened,’ she whispered, combing her trembling fingers through her tousled hair. ‘You agreed we would not do this—we agreed. We are just two days into our journey and already you go back on your word.’ She spoke steadily, without reproach, for she could not deny that half the blame was attached to her.

  Nathan shook his head and his face became gentle. His eyes were steady and honest, and he did not avoid her gaze as he spoke. ‘Lucy, I will not lie to you and deny that I do not want you. There is something special, something fine about you, an indescribable magnetism which draws me to you. It always did, so nothing is changed. I saw the challenge in your eyes, though I am sure you were unaware of it.’

  ‘Yes—yes, I was. But I did want you to kiss me, to hold me. That I cannot deny.’

  ‘This was not premeditated. Men are weak creatures when their manhood is involved,’ he murmured with some bitterness, ‘and cannot resist it. But you are right. It should not have happened. If we are to fall into one another’s arms every time we are alone, then we are in danger of failing in our mission.’ Distracted by raucous voices raised in song from down below, he turned away and retrieved his sword
from the bed. ‘I think we should try and get some sleep. I doubt you’ll have any further trouble. The door has a bolt on it. Slide it when I’ve gone.’

  Returning to his room, Nathan knew he would get no sleep that night. He thought long and hard about what had just occurred, on the way Lucy had looked at him when he’d entered her room, her head thrown back in triumph, her eyes filled with some gladness—satisfaction—as though a promise had been fulfilled. It made him wonder why it was that her actions and her words, which should have pleased him, satisfied him, left him with a deep unease, which, though he would see no difference in her over the following days, he would carry with him in the coming days and weeks.

  He could not bring himself to believe she would have killed the man. To reach for a weapon was the kind of reaction everyone—men and women—would have in the heat of the moment and she’d had reason enough. Yes, he had taught her how to shoot, taught her well, yet she was so fine, bright and brave and true. He could not make her as he was, to see her tarnished by war and the corruption that war brings to a soldier—the death and the killing—and to feel the terrible guilt he would carry with him to his grave over the needless death of young Harry Connors.

  He would do his utmost in the coming weeks to guard Lucy from the hazards which would be strewn across her path. But he must stand back. He would not coddle her, spoil her as before. There must be no repetition of what had just occurred between them, which would only serve to weaken their resolve to see this mission through to the end.

  * * *

  Lucy awoke to find it was not yet fully light. She had slept heavily, and now she got out of bed and padded across the floor. Pouring water from the ewer into the basin, she splashed it on to her face. Shivering from the cold, she glanced at her male clothes draped across the back of a chair. Already longing for the day when she would be able to don her gowns, she quickly dressed, arriving downstairs as Nathan came in from the street.

  ‘You must have been up early. Where have you been?’