“We found ‘im below in the ‘old, sir,” the sailor who still gripped her responded. “Stowin’ away, ‘e was.”
“Do you know the fellow, Lord Belmont?” The captain, still holding the pistol, came a step closer and peered at Riki’s face.
Belmont drew a deep, ragged breath. “This, Captain, is Miss Erika van Hamel. She has been assisting our government, but it was the decision in Whitehall that it would be too dangerous for her to continue her assignment. You will note the rebellious spirit so common among the American colonists in her behavior.”
“American, is she?” That seemed to explain everything to the captain. He tucked the gun away. “What are we to do with her, my lord?”
Belmont cast a quick glance back the way they’d come. “It’s too late to turn about,” he said, not without considerable regret.
“You might try taking me with you.” Riki, annoyed at being left out of the discussion, shook off her remaining captor and faced Belmont squarely. “This is my affair—even more so than yours. I told you days ago I wouldn’t be left out.”
“Your damn precious cousin—”
“He deserves to be heard before you shoot him out of hand.”
Belmont grabbed her arm. “Excuse us, Captain. I’ll find something to do with her. She need not be your concern.”
He dragged her back toward the bow of the ship where they could continue their rousing fight without an audience. The men would be busy for some time still, coping with the sails as they advanced into the uneven currents of the Channel.
“Now, you will tell me where you got those clothes and how you got here—though I don’t suppose I really need to ask. Hillary’s?”
Riki nodded, refusing to look chastened. “He left quite a few things in his room. There was no trouble finding something that fit well enough. Nor would he grudge them to me.”
“That goes without saying. And how did you follow me?”
“I didn’t. I left first—last night, in fact. I’d won some money at cards, and your sister loaned me more, but between us we could only manage enough to hire two horses with the carriage instead of the four you’d have. Felicity said you’d probably overtake me unless I left hours ahead of you.”
“I suppose she even told you which ship I’d be on?” He spoke through clenched teeth.
Riki shook her head. “No, your Uncle Sylvester discovered that for me. He was only too delighted to be of service.”
“I can imagine.” Belmont glared at her and ran an agitated hand through his already windblown hair, changing the pattern of salt and pepper in a fascinating manner. “You’ll have to come with us,” he said at last.
“Thank you.”
“To Lisbon but no farther!” he asserted, exasperated. “I will leave you with some poor officer’s family there.”
“No, you couldn’t be that cruel to them.” She met his fulminating glare with a bland smile. “Only think how distressed they’d be when I vanished.”
“You—” Alarm flickered momentarily across his face.
“No, not back to the future. I fully intend to follow you. You realize, of course, it would be much simpler if you just took me with you. I don’t speak a word of Portuguese and my Spanish and French never got beyond high school. You’d probably have to turn back to rescue me from some ridiculous scrape or other before we’d gone ten miles.” She peeked up through her long lashes with a look calculated to disrupt his thinking.
He remained visibly unmoved. “You’re a damn nuisance,” was all he said.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Quit playing off your tricks on me, my girl.” A grim note crept into his voice and the lines about his mouth set in determination. “I’m not taking you into danger.”
“Why should you worry about me? Your sole purpose seems to be to murder my cousin. After all, neither of us belongs here. If I get killed as well, what does it matter?”
His hands clenched. “It matters too damn much and you know it does.” He barely breathed the words.
The intensity of his gaze held her spellbound. The movement of the deck swayed her toward him and she didn’t resist. He reached out and caught her, steadying, and his strong hand remained on her arm, his fingers caressing her borrowed coat sleeve.
“Gil?”
The throaty whisper sent a visible shiver through him. He drew her closer and she closed her eyes as his head descended toward hers.
Abruptly he released her. “Damn you,” he muttered with considerable heat.
“That seems to be one of your favorite occupations of late.” It was a struggle but she recovered her equilibrium. No easy task on the unsteady deck of a ship, she told herself by way of excuse.
“You bring out the best in me, I suppose.” He gazed down at her, and his expression softened. “Be reasonable for once, Riki. It’s too dangerous for you to venture into Spain.”
“No more dangerous for me than for you. No, listen, Gil.” She laid a hand on his arm and his own came up to cover it. “I am fond of David, but I don’t think I’m letting that cloud my judgment. Give me one last chance to save him. Please, Gil. I just can’t believe he’d intentionally try to change history. He knows the potential consequences. Marie Marley must have tricked him in some way. Let me talk to him. If you’re right…”
His fingers tightened over hers. “I must make certain he can’t aid the French.”
She nodded then mastered her voice. “If he really is tampering with history, and if he refuses to quit and return to the future with me, I understand he must be…stopped.”
“Killed, if there is no other way.” Belmont said the words deliberately, making her accept them.
“Killed,” she repeated, though it went dreadfully against her very nature to agree.
“All right then. I’ll take you with me. And may heaven preserve me from strong-willed females who thrust themselves into men’s business.” But the last was said with a touch of his more usual good humor.
Riki let it pass. He didn’t really want to spare David. Belmont considered her cousin a traitor—and possibly with good cause. For her sake, though, he had made that promise. And he would abide by it. With that she had to be satisfied.
The weather, which had been so stormy of late, turned fair and tranquil as if out of sudden perverseness. The ship lay becalmed on the seas with barely a breeze to move it slowly forward. The skies remained clear, without so much as a cloud to offer the promise of more favorable sailing conditions. The days crept by, slipping inexorably into a week and beyond.
Only the slightest touch of mal de mer troubled Riki at first, but she quickly emerged from the cabin Belmont had turned over for her use. They spent their time strolling about the deck for exercise, or playing piquet at night until Riki’s skill almost equaled Belmont’s. Always, the urgency of their mission hung over them, and they both chafed at the wasted hours.
Then at last they reached the Portuguese coast and rounded the tip of land that led to the mouth of the Tagus. Riki leaned eagerly over the side, staring into the darkness of night as they sailed silently along the river and into the wide estuary and the Mar de Palha beyond.
“We’ll sleep on board tonight.” Belmont joined her against the rail as the sailors ran to toss lines over the side to men waiting on the lighted docks.
“And tomorrow?”
“I will consult with military headquarters and arrange our transportation to wherever the army is currently advancing. And then we will find you something a little more suitable to wear.”
That brought a slight smile to her worried lips. “You don’t like your brother’s taste in clothing?”
“Minx,” he murmured. “It’s bad enough on him. On you it’s outrageous. As well you know.”
She cast him a sideways glance. “You don’t like them on me?” she pursued, deliberately provoking him further.
“Far too much. You’re an unconscionable baggage.”
“I’ve rather gathered you’re of
that opinion. And now I suppose you’ll lug me across Portugal and Spain like some extra saddlebags.”
“Not quite.” The smile sounded in his voice.
She looked up, but the torches and lanterns that illuminated the sailors scrambling over the deck and wharf didn’t penetrate to the dark fastness of his eyes.
“It will be a hard ride, I warn you,” he went on.
“I’ll be glad of the exercise after being cooped up for so long. Can’t I keep these clothes so I can ride astride? I can’t imagine anything worse than fighting with a sidesaddle for long stretches.”
“No!”
She glanced up at him, startled by his vehemence.
“You have been stared at quite enough by the sailors. I won’t have you walking around like that among an army on the march. You’d be taken for a common camp follower.”
“Not a common one, surely,” she responded promptly, though his words stung.
He pushed away from the rail and stood erect, towering over her. “You are the most shocking hoyden with whom it has ever been my misfortune to come into contact.”
“You’ve mentioned that before,” she pointed out in a spirit of pure helpfulness. “Look, we’ll compromise. If I can find a seamstress and something resembling a riding habit, I can have a split skirt made.”
“A what?” Suspicion sounded rife in his voice.
“A full skirt, only divided, like very loose pants—I mean breeches. When I’m on the ground it will look every bit as prim and proper as you could wish. But I’ll be able to ride astride.”
With that, he agreed, though he obviously held some reservations. Satisfied, Riki bade him goodnight and made her way to her tiny cabin, where she lay awake, wondering about the adventure to come.
She must have drifted off to sleep at last, for she awakened to a soft tapping at her door. Dragging herself back from the depths of a hazy dream, she yawned then struggled into a sitting position. Light streamed in through her porthole, announcing that the morning was already advanced. Another cavernous yawn prevented her from calling out in response.
“Riki?” Belmont’s muffled voice reached her.
“Just a moment,” she called back. She swung out of her bunk, steadied herself on the gently rocking floor and reached for her clothes.
“Pack everything and come up on deck.”
She heard his booted footsteps retreating down the narrow companionway. Picking up one of Belmont’s valises, she began to toss in the few articles of clothing she had borrowed from him. Not for the first time did she regret not bringing anything with her when she stowed away.
Today she would rectify that problem. Lisbon was no backward town, but a bustling city inhabited by any number of British officers’ families as well as well-to-do Portuguese nobility. There would be shops—provided Belmont would once again loan her some money.
This, she quickly discovered, he was more than willing to do. His only regret, which he expressed freely and with a certain amount of heat, was that she had to set forth in that scandalous costume. With amazing tact, she refrained from pointing out that Hillary hadn’t thought it scandalous, and instead promised to purchase a simple gown at her very first stop and pack away Hillary’s garments at once. To this Belmont agreed, and after handing her a sizable purse, he took his departure to visit Admiral Berkeley at his headquarters.
A tentative question of the ship’s captain set her in the right direction for the shopping district. This, she discovered, was already bustling with business. Not speaking one word of Portuguese proved a considerable drawback for a young lady garbed in men’s clothing, but she managed to purchase a plain gown of figured muslin that didn’t fit that badly. Wearing this and the pair of slippers she purchased at a cobbler’s next door, she set forth with the assurance that the proprietress of the next establishment she entered would not be shocked by her appearance. Only by her request for a split skirt.
But she found a seamstress not only able to understand her gestures, but also willing to make the necessary alterations to a riding habit that hung on display in her shop. Recklessly, since Belmont was footing the bill, she purchased an already made-up light woolen gown and pelisse as well.
She would still need a hat to suit Belmont’s notions of propriety. While the seamstress went to work, Riki visited a haberdasher’s to purchase undergarments, a toothbrush, a shawl and several other items of necessity.
Belmont, she found when she returned to the Sea Witch, had not wasted the morning either. She found him on deck deep in conversation with a slender middle-aged gentleman in scarlet regimentals. Belmont cast a glance over her demure muslin gown, the warm shawl and the chip straw bonnet and nodded approval, then introduced her to Captain Danvers, who would be embarking with a supply train to Spain the following morning.
He was delighted to include them on this expedition, the captain informed Belmont, obviously not meaning a word of it. Women, his glance said clearly, should stay at home where they belonged. Riki contented herself with smiling sweetly at him, then thanked him coolly for his help and stalked off to stow her new possessions in the saddle packs provided by the captain.
The following morning dawned crisp and clear with a promise of warmth by midday. Spring came early to the Peninsula, Riki thought, then the next moment it dawned on her it was no such thing. Somehow, between the parties in London and the never-ending voyage to Portugal, March had slipped away, becoming April without her realizing it.
Garbed in her new habit and Hillary’s boots, she rode easily astride her mount, though she shivered in the early-morning chill. Soon they left Lisbon behind. The company with which they traveled moved slowly, but the well-tended roads allowed them to cover more ground than she otherwise would have thought possible with supply wagons in their train.
Long before the commander finally called a halt at dusk, she had given way to exhaustion. Only with a concerted effort did she remain erect in her saddle. Every muscle ached and the approach of nightfall brought a harsh nip to the air.
Beside her Belmont swung off his mount, then came around and grasped her waist, more than half lifting her to the ground. “Tired?” he murmured.
She made a rueful face. “It’s been a few years since I’ve really ridden much—and never all day like this. I think I’ve discovered a few new muscles.”
His fingers brushed an errant auburn tendril from her cheek. “Rest while you can. It will be another long day tomorrow.”
“But my horse—”
“I’ll take care of him.” He pulled the reins over the bay gelding’s head and led both her mount and his own a short distance away, where the soldiers were engaged in unsaddling and rubbing down their animals.
Around her men busily set up their makeshift camp. Riki took a tentative step, found her legs supported her, and hobbled stiffly off to find the captain in charge. A tent had been provided for her use, she discovered, and when an eager young lieutenant offered to oversee its erection, she made no protest.
She felt as if she had barely had time to eat dinner and fall asleep before Belmont was calling her again to get up. In the dim early-morning light, she could barely make out the indistinct figures of soldiers leading their freshly saddled horses or breaking camp. The pungent odor of smoke from the breakfast fires that still burned filled her lungs. She stretched, discovered a couple of new muscles that had decided to jump on the bandwagon of complaint, and dragged on her riding habit. By the time she emerged, two soldiers were waiting to take down her shelter and Belmont had secured breakfast for them both.
“Useful man,” she declared. “I can’t believe how hungry I am.”
He grinned. “Unaccustomed exercise,” he explained over a slab of bread and cheese.
She took a plate from him and settled at his side on a rock. “How much farther?”
At the weariness of her tone his expression gentled. “We’ve come about a third of the way, the captain says. Badajoz is just over the border. We should reach it a little
before nightfall the day after tomorrow.”
“Do you think we’ll find him there?”
“I wish I knew.” He took a long drink of his steaming black coffee. “He had several days start on us, and we lost I don’t know how much time becalmed on the voyage. But we don’t know how he traveled, if he went to Paris first—anything!” He dashed the dregs of the powerful brew into the dirt at his side. “It’s most likely they’ll want him where they’re expecting a battle. Damnation! I wish I could be sure.”
Riki touched his cheek then quickly withdrew her hand. “We’ll find him as soon as we get to Badajoz, you’ll see.”
He directed an almost humorous glance at her. “It’s a city under siege, in case you’d forgotten. How do you intend to locate him? Ride into the town square and ask the French where they are keeping an American traitor to the British cause?”
She pretended to consider for a moment. “Well, I could, I suppose, but my French is rather poor, as I may have mentioned. Perhaps we’ll have to be more subtle.”
That brought an honest smile to his lips. “Let’s worry about it after we’ve seen what we’re up against. Mayhap the battle will already be over. I can’t remember the exact date written on Warwick’s displays, can you?”
“April the sixth.”
“That’s—” He broke off. “Today is the fourth, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
They finished eating in silence. As she stood and brushed off her skirts, the commander gave the order to prepare to mount, and Riki and Belmont hurried to where he had left their horses saddled and waiting.
The problem of finding David occupied her mind for most of that day and the next, at least whenever she could spare her thoughts from her aching muscles. If the first day had been agony, the next two were torture. After three days of being cramped in a saddle, she’d almost welcome a turn or two on a rack.
But just as she was about to abandon hope of ever again using her legs, an outrider who had ventured ahead returned with the news that Elvas, where the British had established their headquarters for this third siege of the city, was just ahead. Badajoz, the captain assured them, lay a bare ten miles farther.
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