“Thank you for thinking of me,” she said sincerely, and realized that Martha was not exaggerating the dangers she might have to face on the road.
“Here, I’ll get you summat special for supper tonight, and you and the Major can have one last night together on your own.”
Vevina tried to deny there was anything between them, but Martha just winked wisely, and once Vevina was alone, she thought to herself, why not? Tomorrow she was leaving, and God only knew if she and Stewart would ever see each other again.
Vevina recognized that Stewart had tried to hold back from making love to her out of deference for her rank and status, but what did all that matter out here in the wilds of Spain? It had never mattered all that much to her back home in Ireland, she recalled with a shudder of longing for the mysterious man dressed as a soldier who had made love to her in the garden. She had often thought with regret of what might have happened if she had allowed him to press his advances further.
Vevina sighed. In the past year, she had had nothing but regrets. The stranger had run away from her, obviously just out for a mild flirtation at her expense, but Stewart had stayed the course, day and night. Surely that showed his sincere regard for her. He had made no false promises, and though his lips denied love and marriage, impossible for her in her position anyway, they also pledged passion and devotion, sensual delights which she would be a fool to reject.
She was woman, he was man. They desired one another with a longing which it was impossible to deny. It might be the last night of her life, or his. There was no past or future, only the present, and the present was all she could give him at the moment. But give it him she would. For one night, Stewart would have the gift of herself, no matter how much he struggled to keep his distance from her.
Chapter Seventeen
True to her word, Martha came back later that afternoon with a plump juicy pheasant for supper. She helped Vevina pluck it, and even managed to secure some wine and herbs, so that it cooked slowly in a savoury sauce which made Vevina’s mouth water. Martha found a small bottle of cognac, and some marzipan which could serve as dessert.
Vevina thanked her for all her help.
The older woman gave a knowing smile and nudge. “You just enjoy yourself, dearie. You never know when the day is going to be your last.”
Vevina recalled her words, and went in search of her brother to explain her expedition.
Wilfred was reluctant to let her go, offering to go in her stead at once. She gave him the same reasons she had used to persuade Stewart to allow her to run the gauntlet of the long journey, and the meeting with Wellington. In the end he gave in and kissed her.
“You are an incredible woman, Viv. I just hope it works out for you and the Major, that’s all. I don’t like the idea of you leaving yourself so vulnerable, but you're right. If we are ever to clear the Joyce name of the charge of treason, the battle for Spain, and Wellington’s plans to defeat Napoleon, are the best chance we will ever get.”
“Not to mention that code book. I haven’t said so to Stewart, but I'm sure Samuel is the traitor. He saw how well the fortifications here were dug. If we move, we won’t have time to start more, and will actually be giving our defences to the French! That’s why it stated two days. But I'll be back soon. Until then make sure you don’t pack away a single weapon,” Vevina warned.
“Don’t worry, Bob, Beckett and I have been put in charge of operations. We won’t let down our guard for a moment. But I’m not sure we should even be moving at all. I’m certain the order is a fake.”
“I discussed it all with Stewart. If Samuel is going to make a move, he’ll only do it if he thinks we’re out of the way. When he moves, we must be ready for it. The French could swarm this place if Samuel makes a hash of his siege, Will. The battle for the Peninsula will be fought here if we don’t succeed in taking Cuidad Roderigo soon,” Vevina predicted grimly.
"I know. I hate the idea of you going, but you might be in even more danger if you stay here."
"You will be careful, won't you?"
"I have all our mates, Parky and the captains all looking out for each other. They're all becoming fast friends. I'll be fine, I promise. And I'll try to stay out of Samuel's way if he's lurking."
"I'm glad you seem to have landed on your feet so well, here. Despite Hawkes' persecution, strangely enough, army life seems to really suit you."
He nodded and smiled. "And you. Despite the Spanish senorita look, you're glowing."
She put her hand to her face self-consciously. "Oh, er, yes. Well, nothing like a bit of fresh air and the prospect of a forty mile to prove your innocence of the charge of treason to put a spring in your step," she joked.
"Still, be careful, dear sister, won't you."
She nodded, kissed her brother goodbye, and went back to her tent.
Due to the threat of snow in the air, the sky was pitch black by five o’clock. Vevina had little to do other than keep warm and stir the pheasant, so she huddled by the fire in her cloak, and wrote down her recent experiences at the hands of Samuel Fitzgerald.
She wanted to give Wellington time to understand and consider her desperate plight, and perhaps be able to get back her family home without provoking deadly enmity between the two Fitzgerald brothers.
She paused briefly, wondering what Samuel could be planning. If he wanted to get to France to claim some sort of inheritance, he would need safe conduct, some type of assistance from the French High command. Short of a huge sum of money, which Samuel didn’t have, certainly not after buying his commission, what could he hope to offer as payment?
Vevina thought again about her own estates in Cork, Dublin, and on the coast of Galway Bay. The houses were all lovely, the land good, but he could never have managed to sell them in so short a time. No one would have bought them, even assuming they believed her to be a traitor. Money was short everywhere. No one would extend themselves by buying up the vast Joyce estates.
Unless.... Cork, Dublin, Galway Bay.... The uprising.... the Fitzgerald estate in Cork was near the coast, but not on it. They had a house in Dublin as well, but up in the Wicklow mountains, secluded, but not ideal for a French invasion.
Vevina held her head in her hands. Was it possible….
Just then Stewart came into the tent.
Vevina jumped up, startled, feeling almost guilty for her shocking suspicions.
“What’s the matter?” Stewart asked, cupping her shoulder and staring down at her with obvious concerned.
“N-nothing, I thought I heard a wolf, that’s all,” she improvised, not daring to share her horrifying thoughts.
Stewart was a Fitzgerald. There would either be family loyalty, or family honor. Much as she wanted to share her concerns with him, the last thing Vevina wanted was for Stewart to stop Samuel from showing his full hand. The game had to be played out, and Samuel was dealing all the cards. Vevina only hoped she could find some way to expose any aces he might have up his sleeve.
“It’s miles away from here, so don’t be anxious.” Stewart smiled at her warmly, and then released her while he whisked off his snow-flecked cape.
He looked at her in the fire-light, and said, “Well, the face is much more like that of a Spanish beauty, but the hair is still a problem.”
“Boot polish,” Vevina said flatly.
Stewart chuckled.
“I might have known you would think of some way to carry this plan off. Now, I shall sit down and write some letters, and perhaps you can help me with a code of sorts.”
Stewart sat by the small candle, and Vevina admired his broad muscular back as he wrote out his messages.
He worked on for what seemed an eternity, until Vevina was certain the pheasant would fall apart if it weren’t eaten soon. She got out their two pewter plates, and two enamel mugs. She heaped a huge helping on Stewart’s plate, and a smaller one for herself, and then poured the wine. Again, she gave Stewart the lion’s share, for she wanted him to relax and enjoy their last ni
ght together.
Stewart looked up, surprised.
“My, you've been busy today,” he praised, pleased with the tempting food. “Aren’t you exhausted after that terrible training session?”
“Not at all. I enjoy cooking, and had little else to do today apart from get ready. The exercise was good for me.”
“Well, I doubt the fall off the horse was, but you've certainly taught me a valuable lesson about not underestimating you,” he admitted between mouthfuls of succulent pheasant.
Vevina was about to speak to him about it being their last night together, when Stewart continued, “Vevina, there's another matter which I wish you to bring to the attention of Wellington tomorrow, and before you become upset, just hear what I have to say.”
She stiffened. “If it's about my returning to England, the answer is no.”
Stewarf shook his head. “No, it isn’t about that, thought I have every intention of hoping you will see reason and do as I ask. No, I want you to take this sum of money, and this paper, and purchase a Captaincy for your brother.”
She stared at him in surprise. “But that’s far too generous, Major. Even if it weren’t, it is too great a risk. What if someone found out his true identity? He and I are the only two heirs to the Joyce fortune. If we die, Samuel gets it all. If he finds out Will is here...”
He reached out to pat her hand soothingly. “Vevina, I understand, but put yourself in my position. I've got to lead my troops into battle against the French, and need intelligent, reliable men I can trust. I've been fortunate in my officers thus far, but I can see how patriotic Will is, and though I can try to protect him, he's almost completely at the mercy of the winds of fortune, and even that bastard Hawkes, unless he has an equal or greater rank."
Vevina nodded. "It's true, and very kind of you to think of it, but still—"
"I can’t even trust my own brother. But I know I can trust yours. The skills that he possesses, like your own, are far too valuable to go to waste. I put him through the same paces as yourself today, and as you said, he's almost as good as you, certainly far better than any of the captains I currently have. I want him to pass on his knowledge to the others, drill them until they drop.
“If he is to teach and lead the men, he needs an officer’s commission. And if the worse should happen, and Samuel does find out Wilfred is here, he will think twice about moving against a officer, whereas an ordinary private could easily be murdered for only a coin or two."
"Still, the expense—"
"I can easily afford it, and it's the least I can do for you both after all you've suffered thanks to Samuel."
She lifted her chin proudly. "It's not your job to make restitution—"
He held up one hand. "I know, love, I'm not going to argue with you on that point. As I said, I'm being very selfish here. I need the best officers in my mess, and Will has the chance of being the best, given the chance and a bit more time.
“As for you being the only Joyce heirs, this is why I say you must go back to England. I will do all I can to see your fortunes are restored as soon as I can. Even if your father really were guilty of treason, the government cannot punish the daughter and son. You would have been mere children at the time of the rebellion in 1803 and so long as you have not put your name to any documents Samuel might have tried to force you into signing—"
She shook her head, "No, nothing like that, though he did try. Both of us held out because we knew it would be like signing our death sentence."
Stewart nodded grimly. "Just so. Good, then, I'm glad that's one less thing to worry about. So, as I was saying, I know you’re forcibly tied to Samuel, but he can hardly come looking for you in London if you know he’s here. You’ll be safer far away from him,” Stewart urged reasonably.
“And away from you?” she forced herself to ask, the hurt unmistakable in her voice.
Stewart reached out a finger to touch her cheek, and said, “Yes, safer from me too. I’ve already taken far too much advantage of your position here, your friendship for me. I think it is better for your own peace of mind and dignity if we recognize that for better or worse, you’re my brother’s wife, and I’m a professional soldier with a job to do. I’ve never had time for wife and family, now least of all with the war, even were it possible and you were free to marry me.”
Her heart turned over at his mention of marriage. She knew he had been more than passionate, but to pledge himself to her for life… “Are you so anxious to get rid of me then?”
The effects of the warmth and the wine and food left Stewart feeling relaxed and contented for the first time in ages. He decided there was little harm in telling the truth. “My dear Vevina, your leaving will be like tearing my heart from my breast. But it’s for your safety I must worry, not my own needs and desires.”
“Stewart, I—”
He reached across the desk to where she sat on the bed beside him, and pressed one finger to her lips. “No more words. We have one night left, and I would spend it in peace and contentment with you. No more squabbles, please. Come, lie down now, and we’ll just converse with each other until you fall asleep. You’ll have to be up very early.”
Vevina nodded and undressed quietly in the candlelight. She took off all but her petticoat even though the night as bitterly cold, and Stewart joined her several moments later. They couldn’t possibly move too far apart in the narrow bed, though Stewart did try at first to keep his distance.
Vevina curled one slim arm around him, and he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her curly head against his chest.
“I want you to go to London, and dance, sing, play the piano, do all the things young women of your age should be allowed to do. You would be the belle of any ball. Your fortune and name will guarantee you the best husband and home you deserve one day,” Stewart murmured drowsily.
“The money, the dances, they mean nothing compared to this war, Stewart. How could I be happy knowing I ran away from it, back to London, in order to continue a mindless pursuit of frivolous pleasures?” Vevina said quietly, looking up at him.
Almost unconsciously she found a gap in his shirt. Her fingers made contact with his warm flesh, and she could see him stop breathing before he finally exhaled a long sigh.
“Vevina, you’re young. You should enjoy yourself while you can. Many pretend this war doesn’t even exist, and I'm sure some would even like Napoleon to win. Mindless people love to be dictated to. Freedom is a great responsibility which not everyone wants.
"But Vevina, this is not the time to talk politics. This is life and death. You must go home, meet someone. Marry and be prosperous and happy,” Stewart urged bravely, though he practically choked on the words.
Her eyes flashed violet fire. “That sounds far too cynical, Major Fitzgerald. Even were I free to marry, which I'm not, you make it sound as though everything is to be had for the right price. But what of love, companionship? Can I not be free to choose the man I wish to spend the rest of my life sharing with and caring for, without all these ridiculous social codes about the right people, the correct behavior and etiquette?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “They're the rules of our society. You can’t flout them without paying the price. I grant there is very little love, only avarice and lust, but occasionally you meet someone who stands out in the crowd, and you think, ‘She’s the one.’ Then you wake up from your dream, and realize she’s like all the rest, vain, frivolous, not interested in a mere soldier,” Stewart explained, his voice suddenly turning hard.
“You sound very bitter. Do you want to tell me about her?” Vevina asked softly.
Stewart’s eyelids fluttered open wide, and he muttered, “No, Vevina, there isn’t really anything to tell. Except to say that I was disillusioned the one and only time I ever allowed myself to love and behave impetuously. But I don't want to be cynical. I loved and lost, but that doesn’t mean you'll be disappointed.”
Vevina swallowed hard, as she remembered the huge soldier who
had kissed her and held her to his thundering heart as though he’d never let her go.
Vevina’s violet eyes locked with Stewart’s midnight blue ones, and she confided softly, “My dreams were shattered too. I met someone at a ball, handsome, intelligent, gentle, kind. I thought he cared, but it seems I was duped too.”
Stewart tousled her curls as he began to drowse. He struggled against sleep, for he wanted to preserve his last minutes with Vevina by his side, in his bed, before she said goodbye forever. Suddenly her hand moved down to caress his thigh boldly.
She drew a deep breath, and then said, “Major, Stewart, I have one request to make before I go tomorrow.”
“Name it, and it shall be yours,” he breathed, half-waking as her hand slid even nearer to the throbbing seat of his desire.
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 14