“What have you got in mind, Viv?” Wilfred asked gently, knowing his sister had some excellent plan in mind.
“The first thing is to start catching rabbits and pheasants. And we need some French uniforms, and an eye patch, and twenty of your best riflemen.”
Wilfred and Stewart exchanged glances again, but they knew better than to argue.
Wilfred rose, and said, “I’ll leave you two alone now, Viv, but will visit in the morning. Rest now.”
He stooped to kiss her, and then vanished.
Stewart left the tent for a moment to issue orders to post double the guards that night, and then came back to her side.
“Vevina, why didn’t you follow my instructions, and go home to England?”
“I couldn’t, even if I had wanted to. Wilfred and I are wanted for the murder of Thomas Baines, Samuel’s secretary. Wellington believed some of my story, but Wilfred and I need an opportunity to prove our innocence. He sent me back with the message that we must put ‘God Save the King’ at the beginning and end of every message, so Wellington is sure they are genuine.
"He is sending reinforcements, but they won’t arrive in time. Even if they set out at the crack of dawn tomorrow, they are two days’ march away. We must try to avoid a disaster tomorrow, and you're the only man who can save the situation, maybe even save all of Europe.”
He shook his head. “I still don’t see how. You seem to have a vastly inflated sense of my abilities, Vevina.”
“Of course I think the world of you, my dear, but that isn’t what I'm saying. Think carefully, Stewart. It will all be confusion and chaos tomorrow, and with you, me, and twenty men, and some game birds, we can win the day.”
Stewart laughed incredulously. “If the cavalry really are there, we will never be able to defeat the French.”
“I don’t believe in the word never!” Vevina asserted angrily, and then patiently explained her plan.
“But how can you be so sure this will work?” Stewart said at length, his eyes still staring at her in complete incomprehension and disbelief that she could be serious.
“Trust me, I’m on your side, remember? Let the attack start, assess the strengths and weaknesses, and then we will see what happens. Hold the rifleman for the cavalry charge, and that will hopefully reduce the casualties on the plain. With any luck, releasing the rabbits and pheasants will cause the horses to rear, and they will be thrown, spread out, and their effectiveness reduced. Then be ready to slip on your eye patch, and take command, as Samuel,” Vevina summarized for the fifth and last time.
“You make it sound so easy.”
Vevina was suddenly weary. “Have you got any better ideas?”
“No, I must admit I haven’t, not without breaking Wellington’s express orders, and risking my own men.”
“This is what we’ve been waiting for, Stewart. Samuel is making his move, and Wellington said you must do whatever you have to to stop the French,” Vevina mumbled, as exhaustion and her injuries took their toll.
“You rest now.” He bent to kiss her on the forehead.
Vevina smiled and closed her eyes obediently.
“You know, you’re a wild little thing, Vevina, but I’m awfully glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad to be back, Stewart. Do you forgive me?”
“No,” he teased, “but I think I’m the one who need to ask your forgiveness. Look at all you’ve suffered, and yet I'm so glad you’re here.”
“Stewart, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, believe me,” she vowed, reaching up to stoke his ruffled hair.
“I’ll be back later. We have to get ready for tomorrow.” He stooped to kiss her once more and then left the tent.
Chapter Twenty-one
Vevina fell into a sound sleep as soon as Stewart left to go about his duties, exhausted by her long ride and near-death experience.
It was only in the early hours of the morning that she drowsily came awake, and felt Stewart’s hard body pressed up against her back. They were both naked in the bed, and in spite of the raging fire that burned in her arm, she groaned with passion.
Stewart felt a fire of his own sizzling, but he murmured, “We can’t. You’re not in any state to be pestered by me, Vevina.”
“I want you Stewart, please, I need you, need you now,” she moaned, turning her head for a sultry kiss as his hands fondled her breasts and stomach. She pushed closer to him, and soon he was able to fill her feminine centre.
She felt utterly possessed by Stewart as his hands roved all over her quivering flesh, and he moved inside Vevina assuredly, bringing her to peak after peak of quivering delight. It was dawn before they lay quietly again.
Stewart give her one last kiss, and then pulled away. “Damn it all, Vevina, you make my mind reel with desire for you. One touch, one kiss, and I lose all reason, discretion.”
“It’s like that for me, too, or didn’t you notice?” she teased, as she ran a hand over him boldly.
In the half-light Stewart saw her bruises, and pulled away. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you more.”
“I want you. You want me. Nothing could be more natural. Please, Stewart, you have enough to worry about with out treading carefully where I am concerned. I’ll mend, I promise.”
She kissed him full on the lips, and he smiled.
“Have I ever told you how lucky I am?”
“Almost as lucky as I am, I hope.”
"You were damned lucky last night, that's for sure." He held her close for a brief moment.
"I was. I found out more about Samuel's plan, got rid of Grimes and Hawkes, and found an ally in Francis Baines."
He gave a short snort of laughter. "I meant about nearly ramped and killed, and the bayonet not hitting any major blood vessel and you bleeding to death, pet."
"Oh, that," she joked.
"But seriously, love, you should stay in bed, rest."
"Strangely enough, I've never felt more alive."
He stroked one tousled curl back from her cheek. "A close brush with death will do that do you. So come on, get back in and—"
She shook her head. "There's too much to do. We all need to be ready. And I was talking about the fact that you making love to me makes me feel as though I can take on the world, and win, let alone the French."
Stewart stooped to kiss her. "Not too sore then?"
"No, everything is just perfect when we're together, and the arm feels bruised but not too bad. Trust me, if I get tired, I'll come back and rest. But for now, we both have duties to attend to."
He looked at her determined expression, and sighed. "Aye, that we do. So come on, if I can't dissuade you, let's go have breakfast. Only this morning, let me tend to you."
They got bathed and dressed in the cold light of dawn, and though it seemed warmer today, and esepcially after the hot bater Stewart brought in a couple of basins for a standing bath, Vevina shuddered with apprehension.
Today would be her best chance to trap Samuel. If her plan failed, she reflected as she watched every ripple of Stewart's muscles, they might never spend another night together. It was a thought too grim to bear, so she forced it out of her mind and finished brushing her hair, which she pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck with some ribbon.
"I still don't know what you can do with that arm in a sling—"
"Rest it, and use the rest of my body in the meantime."
"All right, then, young Miss, breakfast, and then chores."
"Lead the way, sir."
Stewart headed out of the tent, and as soon as they had eaten their porridge, bread and honey, he spent the day drilling his men.
Vevina persuaded Wilfred to let her do the same with some of his old comrades from the ranks. They did bayonet practice, and cleaned, loaded and fired their rifles all day, while Wilfred still carried on the pretence of the regiment packing up and leaving their fortified camp. Samuel would be all the more foolhardy if he thought he had tricked his brother into leaving himse
lf vulnerable to the oncoming French.
Wilfred paused in his work at one point as he saw Vevina pacing up and down, looking at the men she was drilling, but not really seeing them. He persuaded her to take a small rest, and to visit Doc Gallagher.
He checked her wound, and commented on how well it looked.
As they sat on their own in the medical tent for a moment, Wilfred said, “Vevina, I’m not sure what this is all about. I know you were holding back something from Stewart, but this is me you're talking to. Something happened at Samuel’s camp that you aren’t telling me. Please, whatever it is, no matter how terrible, you know you can confide in me. Please let me help you if I can.”
Vevina sighed. She had to tell someone the truth, and was fairly sure that he wouldn't overreact. Licking her dry lips, she said in a low tone, “I overheard Samuel making arrangements to go over to the French, tonight at ten when the battle is at its height."
Her brother's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "We need to stop him, or try to find out what he’s up to. With Samuel out of the away, Stewart might actually have a chance at victory. But even more important is to try to find out exactly what is at Grenoble. He's come all the way from Ireland to head there. It has to be something of great import, life and death for all of us.”
Her brother nodded silently, biting his lip, as the full implications of what she said began to sink in.
“There’s another thing. While I was standing around waiting, I saw the walls of the town. They must be mined or something, yet Samuel is going to send his men to breach them as if they were going on a picnic. I’m sure it’s a trap. If Samuel has his way, there will be wholesale slaughter. And I’m not just talking about the French cavalry in the vicinity, just biding their time. There is something going on behind those walls.
“Please, Wilfred, you know you can’t come with me, the Major has other duties for you, and if anything happens, you and the other officers have to stop the French. But let me have ten men, Mitchell, Beckett and a few of the others from our old mess to go with me to the south portal. If the Major lets you go with him to Cuidad Roderigo, whatever happens, watch the breach in the wall.”
Wilfred ran his fingers through his hair, and said, “I don’t like this, but your instinct has never let you down in al the time we've been here. What would you expect these men to do?”
“Keep Samuel busy long enough for Stewart to assume command. They’ll need loaded rifles, bayonets, and I must have four men who can speak the best French possible as well. Can you find anyone?”
His brows knit for a moment, then he met her eye. “I’ll scout around, and see what I come up with,” Wilfred promised. Kissing her briefly on the cheek, he went off to organize her support.
Vevina stayed in the surgery a few minutes longer, seemingly organizing bandages which she then slipped into her blouse. She went back to her tent, and gathered her collection of rags and sewing things, which she crammed tightly into a small pouch which she strapped to her belt.
Then Vevina returned to drill her men, including the four French speakers Wilfred brought to her.
In spite of all of her activities, the day seemed to drag on, and Vevina could only sit and brood. What was behind those towering walls? And who was Samuel meeting behind the portal? She felt like she should be doing more, but she had no idea what.
She rested for as long as she stand, then headed off to the cook tent to put together a huge meal to keep up all their strength for the battle ahead.
Once Stewart left to take a last minute check of his small force, and was safely out of the way, Vevina fed her own men out of the huge cauldron of stew, and left them cleaning their weapons and checking their supplies.
Finally, Stewart and his men were on the move. Marching out of camp as darkness began to fall, Stewart caught her in his arms one last time.
“I’ll be back,” he vowed, kissing her powerfully. “Look after yourself.”
“You too, Stewart. I’ll see you soon.” She smiled wanly, her heart filled with longing. “Good luck!”.
Vevina watched Stewart’s imposing figure for as long as she could discern it in the fading light, a small smile playing about her lips.
Then she squared her shoulders, set her mouth into a grim line which bespoke her steely determination, and returned to her small troop of men.
Chapter Twenty-two
As soon as Stewart was safely gone, Vevina put her letter for him on the table in the tent, and changed back in a clean pair of breeches and clean shirt. She donned a thick leather jerkin, and she threw her cloak over herself for warmth. The small force of men Wilfred had organised stood outside her tent, and waited for her orders.
“Right, you four, stay close to us, and don’t put on those French jackets until we're inside the camp. Make sure you get them off quickly when you take him outside. You must keep him busy. Lead him all around the woods, but don’t show up before twenty past.”
“We won’t, miss,” a tall young blond man with flawless French reassured her.
“The others must wait outside until I manage to secure the portal. If I’m not out in five minutes, leave me.”
“But, Miss,” Mitchell protested.
“Leave me, do you hear? Orders are orders, Mitchell, so you listen and obey,” Vevina insisted firmly. “I’ve left a letter explaining things to the Major just in case. No matter what happens, at twenty past ten you find Stewart, tell him his brother is gone, and make sure he leads all the troops. But no one is to go near the breach until you see a signal from one of us, a white marker of some kind. Understood?”
“Yes, miss, we’ll do as you say,” Beckett agreed.
“Right, let’s go. We have a long march ahead.”
Wilfred gave his sister one last kiss, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on things here. Let me know what happens.”
“Remember the code.” Vevina blew him and kiss, and then marched stoutly into the fields. Soon they were stumbling along in the pitch dark, until they finally found their way to the outskirts of Cuidad Roderigo and waited.
Stewart’s men, with their rabbits and pheasants, were already poised for the cavalry charge, which Vevina was sure would come from the south. It had to, for how else could Samuel hope to get to the gate unnoticed?
Vevina could hear cannons bombarding the walls, and gunfire, but when she squinted at the bright lights as the signal flares screeched overhead to illuminate the scene of battle, she could see that hardly a dent had been made in the thirty foot walls, and many of the soldiers seemed in no way prepared for the battle.
Many just lounged, as though it were part of a long-term bombardment. If they were ordered into the breach now, they would die by the hundreds within seconds.
Suddenly a huge flare was fired over the walls. Vevina felt her first surge of panic. It was starting. A dull rumble in the distance told her the cavalry were on the move, and with the sound of the mortars shrieking overhead, many of the British soldiers had no idea they were being charged.
“The rabbits, Somers, the rabbits!”
Vevina and her men helped Stewart’s small band with the struggling little creatures they were carrying in their sacks. The bunnies were loosed in the path of the charging horses. She held her breath as the cavalry charge was temporarily halted as they plunged and reared. One of Stewart’s men ran forward to shout a warning to Samuel’s oblivious men.
"Cavalry! Enemy attack! Fire at will."
The stallions reared and plunged, shedding riders, and scampering off wildly in every direction, including into the path of the other oncoming steeds.
Then they loosed the pheasants on those horses which still galloped along purposefully, until the French charge became a mass of tangled and broken flesh, both human and equine.
Vevina laughed aloud with relief at the unexpected success of her plan. The few remaining cavalry still mounted were being picked off cleanly by the rifles, and the whole operation was done so smo
othly and swiftly that most of the British waiting under the walls had no idea the skirmish had even taken place.
Once Vevina’s path was cleared, she headed cautiously over to the south portal, and knocked. She fingered her pistols in her belt, and then the door opened a crack.
“Who is there?”
“A friend,” Vevina responded swiftly in French, whereupon she was pulled inside. She cocked her pistol against the man’s throat in the dark, and a dim torch lit the scene for her. There were two astonished soldiers, and one rather dazed looking Captain, who blinked at her like a stunned owl.
“You’re a woman! Surely Major Montgolfier was not meeting with a whore at a time like this!” he said in a mixture of Spanish and French.
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 18