‘Have you been here before?’ she enquired casually, stepping out of the way of a one-armed man wearing the red jacket of an English soldier, the empty sleeve pinned to his tunic.
‘Once,’ Nathan replied. ‘The town is divided into upper and lower and is full of convents. Many of them have been converted into hospitals for our sick and wounded. Do you see that building up there?’ He pointed out a building of immense size and height on the skyline.
‘Yes. Is it a convent?’
He nodded and when he answered he had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the cacophony of bells. ‘As you can hear Santarem is as bad as Lisbon for bells.’
Lucy laughed. ‘I’ve noticed. The noise will hardly be a blessed retirement and solace for the sick and wounded when they are all going at once,’ she remarked, already tired of the constant ringing. ‘You were telling me about the convent up there.’
‘It’s of particular interest. On the top is a telegraph to communicate with Villa Franca and Abrantes.’
‘Telegraph? What is that?’
‘It’s the medium whereby Lisbon knows every transaction relating to the army, before any dispatches can arrive. Outside the town are the remains of some Roman walls, of particular interest to the historian. If we had the time to linger, I would enjoy showing them to you.’
‘I would like to see them.’ She smiled. ‘You will have to tell me about them instead.’
‘That’s not the same as seeing for oneself.’
‘Indeed not, but this is no holiday, Nathan, and we cannot allow ourselves to become sidetracked with other matters. We have to get on. The sooner we make contact with Gameau and find Katherine, the sooner we will get back to Lisbon.’
They stepped aside as two children bolted from an alley, a boy and girl, laughing and shouting their enthusiasm, a barrel hoop ahead of them. Each time the hoop wandered off course, one of the children struck it with a stick and sent the makeshift toy careering ahead. Lucy stopped as the children ran past them. Their faces begrimed with the dirt of the street, they stared with bright innocent eyes at Lucy, for her disguise did not fool them.
‘Olá, pretty lady,’ the boy said in broken English.
The hoop, with no one to guide it, rattled off to the side and interrupted a flock of feeding hens that squawked their dismay and scattered in all directions. The commotion broke the spell Lucy’s presence had woven around the children and they scampered back from them towards the safety of a nearby house.
Watching them go, Lucy laughed. ‘So much for my disguise. Those children weren’t deceived.’
They walked on in silence, emerging into a large plaza, humming with strident voices as people tried to make themselves heard over the noise of the bells. Displaced and wounded soldiers milling with the crowd all around them were a reminder of the war still going on, a war that was all about power and control, of winning and losing, of living and dying.
Lucy glanced at the man beside her. He wore his power lightly, but until this was over she would be subject to his will.
Sensing her preoccupation, Nathan regarded her, wondering not for the first time if he had been wise to bring her here. But she had shown such courage and presence of mind, and never at any time had she treated him to a fit of feminine hysterics. In fact, he thought that she had more spirit and more nerve than many men he’d met. She was remarkable in so many ways.
‘Are you all right, Lucy?’
She nodded, keeping her gaze fixed ahead of her. ‘Yes, perfectly.’
‘You seem uneasy.’
‘Of course I’m uneasy. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t. I want this to be over. Soon.’
‘It will be. I promise.’ His gaze settled warmly on her face. ‘I thought the journey might tax your strength. You are doing well.’
Lucy wanted so much to believe him, but she was dreading meeting Claude Gameau and his band of outlaws.
* * *
They shared little conversation as they rode away from Santarem and headed towards wooded hills to the north. After an hour’s ride they reached a narrow track. They nearly missed it altogether, so sheltered was it by looming oaks and pines and so untravelled it appeared. They rode on until they came to some tall, rusty iron gates that stood open. They followed a driveway lined with tall hedges, past a few decrepit outbuildings and a huge woodpile. The silence was complete. As the drive climbed upwards, nothing broke the stillness. So it was with some surprise that Nathan turned into a narrow opening and Lucy saw beyond a hedge overgrown gardens and a large ancient building standing four-square, its windows small, deep set and shuttered and barred in the evidently thick walls.
‘What is this place?’ she asked. It looked completely abandoned in appearance.
‘A convent—a dwelling for cloistered nuns. Because of its secluded situation, it’s escaped the fate of other convents that have been ransacked by the French. Many a pious soul in spiritual need have found their way to this place.’
He rode towards a stout wooden door and dismounted. Knocking a few times, he waited. The sound echoed behind it. At length a grille on the door slid open. Nathan exchanged a few words with someone behind it and then stood back as the door was opened. A nun peered out, dressed in black, her sombre costume relieved by a white wimple. Her holy attire had seen better days, but she contrived to look neat. She also reminded Lucy of one of those sturdy country women who fear neither man nor beast.
Nathan spoke quietly to her and only then did she deign to look at Lucy.
‘You can dismount, Lucy,’ Nathan said. ‘We will spend the night here.’
Lucy did as he asked. She had an odd suspicion that they were expected. A man suddenly appeared to take the horses. After helping Nathan to remove the saddlebags he led them away. Lucy followed Nathan inside with a vague uneasiness. She could not quite put her finger on it, but she detected a subtle change in him. Doing her best to shrug off her inexplicable misgivings, she looked around.
The room into which she stepped was dark with no light coming from the windows. Candles flickered in wall sconces, casting weird shapes around the white walls. She was aware of dark beams above her and a black floor beneath. And it was cold.
Nathan spoke to the nun in quiet tones. She said something in reply and looked at Lucy.
‘You are to go with her, Lucy,’ Nathan said quietly. ‘She will show you where you are to sleep and some food will be sent up to you.’
Lucy stared at him in panic. ‘Where will you sleep?’
‘There is a room above the stable. I will be comfortable there. Besides, do not forget that this is a convent. It is not accepted practice for a man to dwell within.’
‘But—are you saying I won’t see you until morning?’ Lucy asked, unable to hide the panic she felt at being left alone in this strange place.
‘That’s right.’ He grinned in an attempt to dispel her anxiety. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll survive. Take advantage of this time to get some sleep.’
Lucy was bewildered. Much as she wanted to know what they were doing at the convent, she did not ask. She felt detached and a strange passivity, as if everything was beyond her control.
Showing her impatience, the nun held up her arm, indicating Lucy should follow her in the direction she pointed. She followed her along several passageways and passed through several rooms, all small and dark and heavily beamed and with tiny windows. The atmosphere was sombre, the air rank and full of the pungent smell of cooked vegetables. Every now and then Lucy heard whispered sounds of feet treading lightly and fleetingly through rooms, and voices lowered as if in prayer, but she saw no other person. There was nothing welcoming about this place of darkness and shadows, and she was unable to understand why a woman would willingly shut herself away and devote her entire life to serving God in such a place as this.
Eventually th
ey came to a narrow flight of stone steps rising to the upper floor. The room she was allocated was small and square, with just one window overlooking the track that had brought them to the convent. There was a narrow pallet to sleep on and a sturdy chest, with a jug of water and a bowl, a candle and a small crucifix on its rough surface. As she was left alone, that strange feeling of detachment deserted her. Now, as her mind ticked off the minutes, her fear returned and mounted until every muscle and nerve in her was filled with dread. A nun brought her some food. It was basic, a bowl of stew and bread, which she ate slowly, watching the sun go down over the trees from her window, having opened the shutters.
Putting down the bowl, she looked out, hoping to see Nathan. She hated being parted from him, even though the distance was slight. Her gaze wandered to a copse where a flock of birds had risen and took flight. Wondering what had disturbed them, she fastened her eyes on the dark shadows between the trees. One of the shadows moved and she was sure she heard the soft whicker of a horse.
Sure enough, a moment later two men strolled at a leisurely pace into the open—one of them, muffled in a black coat, was leading a horse. His companion who was the taller of the two was Nathan. They talked for several minutes before the man mounted his horse. Lucy watched them carefully as they continued to converse, then the man began to ride away.
A tremor of fear rippled through her. What sort of dark business was Nathan up to that he had to be so secretive? He’d said nothing about arranging to meet someone. Panic threatened to rise with her sudden sense of having no control over anything, of being entirely under his control, but she quelled those feelings, determined to ask him what it was all about.
Without further thought she left the room and made her way down to the door through which she had been admitted. Letting herself out, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her to where she had seen Nathan speaking to the stranger, her heart beating wildly in her breast.
* * *
Nathan turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze immediately falling on her flushed cheeks and dishevelled appearance. He thought she looked beautiful—she was clearly so angry about something that her eyes glittered, and he wanted nothing more than to crush her into his arms. Something he knew he must not do. He watched her in silence until she reached him. As the breeze brushed her face and caught her hair, she could hear the high-pitched screech of an owl reverberating across the thicket. The man she had seen Nathan speaking to was disappearing down the lane.
Chapter Seven
‘Who was that man?’ Lucy burst out breathlessly, halting beside Nathan.
He arched a dark brow. ‘You don’t need to know that.’ Nathan saw her eyes narrow.
‘There is something, then, something I haven’t been told.’
She tossed her head. Nathan loved it when she did that. He found it endearing and spirited. ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you.’
‘Protect me? But I don’t need protecting.’
‘Very well. I had no wish to worry you.’
Her lips tightened to a pale line and he saw her hands clench. He had seen her angry in the past, and a veritable hellcat she could be, but never had her anger been so controlled as now. Controlled, he thought ruefully. She was—they both were—older now.
‘I need to know everything, Nathan, if I am to help you and Katherine. Do you understand? I cannot be caught asleep if there are plans afoot of which I know absolutely nothing. What have I not been told? Was that man a contact? You arranged to meet him here, didn’t you? Tell me. I’ve come too far with you to have the door slammed in my face.’
Nathan stared at her for a long moment. It was plain to see that she was not going to back down. At last, he gave her a grim and barely perceptible nod. ‘Very well. I will tell you. The man you saw is one of the partisans.’
‘He had a fierce look about him.’
‘With good reason. He hates the French with all the passion of his soul. They killed his entire family and he repays them by killing as many as he can find.’
‘You arranged to meet him here, didn’t you, Nathan?’
He nodded, folding his arms across his broad chest. ‘The convent, as you will have observed, is well hidden. Unless you know of its existence it’s an ideal rendezvous—a perfect retreat. The sisters are brave.’
‘I thought nuns were supposed to be impartial.’
‘They are. Like everyone else they want the French out of Portugal.’
‘Why has no one attacked Gameau’s hideout before?’
‘Because the place where they hide is too far from military lines. The partisans move through the mountains a good deal easier than the army. The difficulties would be too great. The partisans and a troop of British soldiers are planning to attack Gameau’s hideout. I want Katherine out of there before it all falls apart. If the deserters get wind of an attack, in all likelihood they’ll kill the hostages and escape into the hills. Wellington is not going to ignore the taking of captives by deserters, in particular women and children. An example has to be set. The partisans know the mountains. If they work together, they can take them.’
‘So we have to get there before they do.’
‘In exchange for information I’ll pass on, they’ve agreed to wait, but not indefinitely. Winter is almost here. It will be more difficult to launch an attack in the snow. What I tell them—such as where the hostages are kept, an approximate number of the deserters and anything I can glean about their weaponry—will be important to them. No one’s ever been inside the rebels’ hideout and come out alive.’
‘And you are certain that we will?’
‘I told you, Claude Gameau owes me.’
‘It’s a dangerous game you play, Nathan.’
‘I’m confident.’ His expressions softened. ‘I would not have made you a part of it had I thought otherwise.’
Looking up at him, Lucy met his look with a little frown, her body taut, every muscle stretched against the invisible pull between them. ‘I’m glad you did. It doesn’t matter, but I just wish you’d told me about your assignation with that man. I do understand that you need information. Just don’t keep me in the dark, Nathan.’
He uncrossed his arms and stared down at her. ‘I will tell you, the next time,’ he said, his husky voice soft. ‘It is not my intention to deceive you, only to keep you safe.’
‘I want nothing from you, Nathan—I only want to thank you for making me a part of this. It goes a little way to righting the wrongs of the past.’ She pushed a strand of her hair as she watched the throbbing of his tanned throat, trying to hide the pain in her heart, to forget what lay between them.
He glanced at her, his broad hands placed on his hips, a glint of approval kindling in his eyes. ‘That applies to both of us.’ He turned his head and looked along the path back to the convent. ‘We should go back. We must make an early start in the morning.’
She stood there, lost. Alarm rose within her, as if something infinitely special, something elusive, was escaping her. She felt the scalding tears spring under her eyelids so that he and everything around him grew indistinct. Resolutely she fought them back. In a terrible sharp moment of perception, she knew a sense of loss so strong it seemed to squeeze the breath from her body. Whether it was because she was at a low point in the journey, Nathan’s tendency to keep things from her, or the dark, sombre atmosphere of the convent, never had she needed him so much. It was a feeling almost too full, too powerful to bear, as passion and a deeper longing stabbed through her like a piercing pain. Why had she misread him all those years ago? She had missed so much not being with him then, so much of his life.
Nathan had taken a few steps away from her when he turned and eyed her closely, his brow slightly puckered. He walked back to her. ‘Is something wrong, Lucy?’
Some of the colour had faded from her fac
e. She saw his eyes brighten as if his thoughts were lifted in some eager anticipation. The steady eyes, the resolute, beautiful mouth had not for a long time been so close. She remained still, drawn into his eyes. Wanting him so very badly, she took a step closer, across the chasm of the years they had been apart. ‘Help me,’ she whispered fiercely. She laid a hand on his arm, the thick skin fabric of his jacket sleeve rough under her fingers.
His wariness, his distant, cool manner were now torn away. His eyes held hers in one long, compelling look, holding all her frustrated longings, her unfulfilled desires, everything that was between them. ‘I will always help you!’ he murmured, suddenly closing his arms about her.
Then his firm lips were on hers. He was wide and solid, with a strength that wrapped her with a satisfying reassurance. All she was aware of was heat, a blaze of power, the pressure of hard muscles in a strong body, a complete blending of passion and tenderness. There was a curious low roaring in her ears and through the sound she dimly heard the swift thudding of her heart.
Nathan deepened the kiss, feeling her change within his arms and there was madness and magic in the slender body he held and a hot glow in the eyes that looked up at him. For a timeless moment, they stood fused together as his lips took hers as if he could never have enough. Suddenly he was back in London. It was four years ago and the ease and indolence of summer, the careless desires of a young man were present. The long and bitter years since then fell away and the woman in his arms, her body melting into his, with her lips returning his kiss, was the only woman he had ever loved.
And then it was over. Nathan smiled crookedly, and tipped her face. He drew his fingers over the curve of her cheek and said, ‘You really are the most unprincipled young woman, Lucy Lane.’
‘I suppose I am, as far as you are concerned. You made me like that—years ago.’
He was watching her intently. Then he released her and took hold of her hand. ‘Come, I’ll walk back with you.’
‘Do I have to go back? I rather like it when we spend the night under the stars.’
Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant Page 14