Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3)

by Lily Silver

  “What of the men driving the carriage?” Jack asked.

  “They stopped as soon as they were clear of us and ran into the cover of trees, I’m guessing. I didn’t see our men with the scouts, so they weren’t taken prisoner. The scouts took the horses, though, Cap’n. Left the carriage sitting by the road.”

  “Fools. I told them to move on and if stopped say they were returning to their master after taking their lady north to El Quera. What direction did the scouts go?”

  “Back north, toward their camp, sir. Probably to report the abandoned carriage.”

  *

  They waited at the base of the felled tree. It gave them good cover. None could see them from the road above the ravine. As the sun began to lower in the sky, Jack noticed Chloe was shivering. He took off his jacket and covered her shoulders with it. She was sitting on the ground in her black silk mourning garb, appearing dejected.

  Her maid sat next to her, bored and antsy as she sorted rocks into little piles.

  “Morgan, stay here with the women.” Jack decided it was time to act. “Make a fire, a very small one, and keep behind this shield. See if you can snare a rabbit. Marta can help you.”

  Jack hated to leave Chloe’s side, but he needed to make sure they were safe and check on the horses. The soldiers were likely headed for the town of Rondo, a strategic position in the mountains that would make an ideal fort from which to guard the roads going through from either direction.

  They had spent two hours hunkered down in that ravine, waiting, losing light in their dalliance, but safe from view of any scouts searching the area above for them. No noises had come from the road above during that time. Jack wanted to be sure of his surroundings before they were shrouded in darkness in the deep ravine. Jinx followed him up the ravine. They moved quietly in case there was a scout standing at attention above.

  As they reached the summit, they checked the deep stone cavern in the cliff-side where they hid the horses and Chloe’s trunk. They could barely see inside the hundred-foot-deep cave in the gathering dark. The horses were gone and fancy dresses were strewn all about the cavern, petticoats, silk dresses, fans, and several pairs of shoes.

  “Damn it.” He strode about and started picking up the strewn clothing and tossing it into the trunk. “It couldn’t have been the soldiers. They would have kept searching for us if they found horses and a lady’s trunk, particularly after finding that carriage.”

  “Thievin’ sods!” Jinx remarked, glancing about. “Those curs from Cadiz must have doubled back and stole our horses and Mrs. O’Donovan’s money.”

  “Not her money.” Jack mused, smiling at the thought. “I made her put it inside her petticoat and I took several hundred-pound notes to store my boot shaft.”

  “Javier and Pedro swore they would see us through.” He kicked the trunk and then perched his foot on the edge of the opening. “I spent many nights drinking ‘em under the table in Cadiz. Thought they were solid blokes.”

  “What about the young fellow?” Jack asked, concerned now that his anger was spent. Do you think they took him with them? Or should we search for his body at the bottom of the ravine?”

  Jinx considered Jack’s inquiry. “He’s Pedro’s younger brother. A lad like that is likely to follow those older than himself. What now?”

  “We camp tonight night in the ravine. We’re hardly six miles from the villa, give or take a mile, the way I figure it. We’ll sleep by the river, away from the road, and continue on by foot in the morning.”

  Marta’s whining was getting to her. Chloe was not comfortable, but she was resolved to endure this setback the best she could. It could be much worse than being forced to make camp near a riverbed. It could be worse than having to eat roasted hare with their fingers around a crackling fire. They could be prisoners of the French, or lying at the bottom of a ravine, dead.

  “Stop it.” Chloe chastened the girl, pulling the carriage blanket Jack had brought back for her a little tighter about her own shoulders. “You should be grateful we have food.”

  “It tastes gamy.” Marta waved her piece before her with obvious disgust.

  “I’ll eat it,” Morgan offered, holding out his hand.

  That did it. The men held back so that Chloe and Marta could eat first. Morgan caught two hares, but they were small. Chloe and Marta had one hare between them, and the three men shared the other. While Marta whined the men were making due with less. “Yes, you shall have it, sir.” Chloe yanked the leg from her servant and leaned forward to hand it to the lieutenant.

  Marta started to cry. Chloe shoved her hard with the palm of her hand. “Stop this, now. We will not resort to high drama. I’m hungry, I’m tired, but we have a wonderful fire and three brave men to guard us. Be thankful you are not a guest of the French this night.”

  The girl rose and rushed away from them, into the darkness.

  “Don’t go off alone.” Jack’s gruff voice followed the girl. “If you do, I’m not searching for you in the darkness.”

  They heard her a few feet away, sobbing softly behind a tree.

  “Thank you, Captain, Mr. Jenkins, Lt. Morgan,” Chloe offered in a humble tone. “Thank you for taking care of us so well.” The men had made Chloe and Marta a bed of dried leaves to sleep on so they would have some protection from the cold ground. They were making an effort to see to her comfort, and that included her maid as well. Marta was turning out to be unsuitable as a maid. She was too young and too emotional.

  “So, we’ll have Marta with us on a return trip to St. Kitts after all,” Jack mumbled. “What joy is mine.”

  An indignant huff could be heard from the bushes as the object of their conversation made her displeasure known.

  “That remains to be seen,” Chloe remarked. “I will make that decision once we reach civilization again.”

  She studied the faces around the fire. Lt. Morgan’s was serene. He was not troubled by their circumstance, being a former soldier accustomed to roughing it. She wondered if he were thinking of his sweetheart back in England, the future Mrs. Morgan. Mr. Jinx, the school teacher turned first mate appeared thoughtful and resigned. He was gazing into the fire, his expression equally calm. He had his rifle cradled in his hands with the barrel pointed at the sky.

  Chloe glanced up at the trees above them. The branches were so thick it was impossible to see the stars. The trees formed a thick canopy above, hiding them and their fire from the French soldiers. She regarded Jack, the man behind this clever strategy. His face was carved in stone, rugged, deeply planed, like the steep cliffs and ravines of this hard landscape. His skin and hair appeared golden in the firelight.

  Gold. Like waves of sunshine. Hugs, much love I see …Warm hugs and gold.

  That had been Angelica Rose’s prophecy. Gold. Jack’s hair resembled liquid gold. He had it pulled back in a queue. Short strands hung about his face, bracketing it.

  Jack’s eyes lifted from his intense study of the flames between them. “Are you warm enough?”

  Chloe nodded. His look was filled with warmth. Warm hugs and gold. Much love.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They left their makeshift camp two hours after dawn. Morgan and Jinx returned to report that the soldiers were moving further north. Jack helped Chloe pack a small valise of clothing in the cave, and they started walking down the hill.

  It was hard going. They stopped frequently. Jack shot a guinea hen with his pistol, and they had roast guinea hen for their lunch. They made it to Villa Almendra in mid afternoon, a little past three.

  The house appeared to be abandoned. Chloe glanced about with growing despair. How could she have come so far only to be met with an empty villa?

  “There’s smoke coming from the chimney in the back of the house,” Jack said, as if he could sense her fear. “Stay here, both of you. We will investigate. And stay out of sight.” He added the last with irritation and a forbidding scowl. “We don’t need to encounter more soldiers.”

  “It’
s so hot.” Marta complained. She started fanning herself furiously with one of Chloe’s cast off fans.

  “I’d die for a nice cool bath.” Marta went on in her mumblings.

  “Don’t speak so. It’s bad luck. We could all die, very easily it seems,” Chloe snapped. She was tired, too. And hot. They all were from walking the rest of the way.

  Chloe fanned herself and wished for a cooling breeze. Spanish ladies must be most uncomfortable indeed if wearing heavy gowns, petticoats and shawls were de rigueur for a gentlewoman to appear in public. Chloe was wearing a light muslin traveling gown today and a wide brimmed hat. She was dressed in West Indian style out of practical necessity. Walking five miles on a dusty, winding country road required practicality.

  She heard the crunch of boots on the gravel on the road below the villa. Marta leaned forward to peek over the cliff.

  “Stay back,” Chloe cautioned through tight lips. “Don’t reveal yourself to them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Marta pulled back behind the tree again. “I wish I’d never left home.”

  “Shhh.” Chloe didn’t blame the girl for being so wilted and forlorn. She was feeling much the same but had the benefit of maturity to know to keep those feelings to herself.

  The crunch of boots continued. Chloe leaned against the tree trunk and closed her eyes, counting out the seconds with the sound. There had to be a regiment passing by on the road below. She heard shouts and chatter. The soldiers certainly weren’t trying to be quiet and keep their presence a secret. Were they French troops?

  Or was it the Spanish army? She yearned to lean forward and discover it to be brave men of her country in uniform, but she dared not peer out from her hiding place. It was probably the French. The Spanish were rumored to be hiding in the hills, but they’d encountered nothing but ragged Spanish bandits during their journey here.

  A sensation of being watched made Chloe start. She opened her eyes to find Captain Rawlings standing near her, silent as a statue. He had approached them with ghostly footsteps, as if he’d emerged from a nearby grave.

  She caught the concern in his crisp blue eyes, even before he gestured with a finger to his lips for her and her maid to be silent. He gestured for her to move aside and took her place behind the gnarled old tree trunk. Slowly, cautiously, Jack leaned forward to peer down at the caravan passing below. The trio remained still and silent as they waited for the last sight of the small regiment to disappear around the bend in the road going north.

  “French troops,” Jack said, his voice, although barely a whisper seemed to pierce the still, hot air and made Chloe instantly aware of the tension weighing on all of them.

  Chloe nodded. She found it difficult to speak after walking all day with little water.

  “Let’s get inside, under cover.” Jack suggested, seeing the maid’s fearful expression. “We’ll be safe here for a while. They’ve moved on past the house. If they intended to stop, they would have.” He placed an arm about her as if to escort her to the safety of the house.

  It was a strange feeling, being treated as something precious. She leaned into Jack’s protective embrace, allowing her head to droop onto his shoulder and all the terror over their cursed journey to flow out of her. His response was to place the other arm about her and hold her against him. They remained so for several moments, a dusty, weary Jack holding Chloe against him in a silent gesture of reassurance and comfort as her maid watched.

  “Come,” he said at last, whispering against her hair. “You must be exhausted … both of you,” he added with a quick glance at the maid. Stepping away from Chloe, he shooed the maid on to walk ahead of them with a wide wave of his arm. Marta took his cue without needing further encouragement. “Go around to the back of the villa,” he directed. “To the kitchen entrance. There is food and water waiting for us there.”

  Marta’s steps quickened at the mere mention of the lovely, silvery liquid. They were all hot and miserable, but Marta was young, unaccustomed to deprivation and want.

  “Your uncle has gone further south, to the seaside town of Marbella. He had business to attend there. His house woman and her husband stayed behind to keep the villa safe for his return.” Jack informed Chloe as the maid quickly raced ahead of them toward the promise of fresh water. “They spoke of French scouts combing the area, stripping the farms as they go of all food and valuables like locusts. The old woman is clever. She hid their foodstuffs and led the chickens and goats down to the hut at the opposite end of the orchard where the workers have their meals during harvest season.”

  The ground crunched beneath their feet. Chloe was dead tired. True, they had only been walking since breakfast, and it was an hour past noon. She wasn’t used to walking so much. She had spent the last ten years being Elizabeth Beaumont’s paid companion, and that position required her to sit with the lady, read books aloud to her mistress, join her on any social outings—essentially to keep milady company. It was a pampered existence.

  Chloe’s foot caught on a rock. She stumbled and struggled to right herself without falling.

  Jack’s arm shot out from his side and wrapped about her waist, pulling her up tight against his powerful form. “Careful, those stones are sharp. Jinx fell on one yesterday while scouting for troops and cut a nasty gash in his forearm trying to catch his fall.”

  Even as he uttered the excuse for preventing her fall, Chloe noticed his arm did not unwind from about her waist once she was steady again. She wouldn’t protest. His touch was soothing, like a cool balm against her lonely soul.

  “What has happened that made my uncle leave his home again?” she asked, attempting to steer her mind from it’s dangerous fascination with the man beside her.

  “The caretaker said he was meeting someone in Marbella. A distant relative from Portugal. After that, he was going to travel west again, to Cadiz. The old couple remained here to detour looters. I told them you were the owner’s niece and they put down their weapons and welcomed us.”

  Chloe stopped at his words. She glanced up at him. “They held weapons on you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Jack affirmed, grinning at her like a rogue. “An old blunderbuss and a flintlock that my papa might have used hunting deer some forty years ago when America was still a colony of the British.” He shook his blond, tousled mane. “I didn’t want to offend them or disabuse them of their feeling of security with such antiquated weapons, so I just surrendered to them. They’re old; what else could I do?”

  She giggled beneath her hand, amazed by Jack’s story of trying to be respectful toward two old servants who would offer him and his men about as much threat as a pair of kittens hissing at an approaching mastiff. “How noble you are, sir.”

  He shrugged off her praise with a roll of his shoulders. “We should rest here for a day or so, as you decide what you wish to do next. I’m all for heading to the harbor at Marbella and sailing away from this wretched place. We’ve stumbled into a private little war on this peninsula, my dear. It’s becoming a free for all between the French and the Spanish with the British leering down at the two, ready to join the fracas. We need to get back to the Pegasus.”

  They moved around the long white villa and hurried toward the kitchen garden as they spoke. Chloe pursed her lips together, not pleased by his blunt assessment of their situation. She came here to find her uncle. She was not leaving Spain without at least meeting him. Her dream of becoming a grand Spanish lady may have gone up in flames like dry kindling, but she wanted to make certain her uncle was still alive and aware of her existence. He was her only living relation, after all.

  “Dona Ramirez! Welcome.” A short, stooped woman with long white braids rushed forward with open arms to welcome Chloe as she stepped into the large kitchen. She kept speaking to Chloe in Spanish, in a rapid form that had the others baffled, and even Chloe had to struggle to keep up with the woman’s exuberant speech.

  She allowed herself to be embraced by Consuela Regina de Hernandez, the woman who had by her own adm
ission breast fed Chloe’s father many years ago along with her own son, Jorge. The long litany of history spewing from the woman was dizzying, but her wiry arms about Chloe’s shoulders and the swift kisses applied to her cheeks told more than her frantic speech.

  “Hmmm.” Jack moaned. “I’m wounded, no blunderbuss pushed under your nose, just hugs and kisses, as if you’re her long lost grandchild.”

  Chloe pulled away from her admirer. “Well said, Captain. Not far from the truth. She took care of my father when he was a baby. So, I’m like an adopted grandchild, I suppose.” The confession smarted a little. It seemed to be her lot in life to be perpetually adopted as an honorable something to someone. Honorable auntie to her benefactor’s children, honorable adopted sister to Elizabeth … and now a surrogate granddaughter to her father’s wet nurse!

  “Why that face?” Jack asked, quick to pick up on her mood. “What is she telling you?”

  “She’s giving me my father’s life story, before he left here, that’s all.”

  It wasn’t the truth, exactly, but it was easier than telling this perceptive and protective man that she was tired of being passed around as everybody’s surrogate something or other. For once, she just wanted to belong through ties of blood and the bonds of love.

  She was exhausted, disappointed, and too damned proud to admit to either condition.

  Jack stepped forward and physically extracted Chloe from the old woman’s charge. He took her by the upper arm like an errant child and rather abruptly led her to the nearest chair. “Sit,” he ordered, feeling angry with all for ignoring her obvious need. “And you!” Jack thundered, turning on his heel to regard her maid with rancor, “Get up off your arse and attend your mistress.” The girl was sitting with her now bared feet propped up on the low bench, appearing to luxuriate in the availability of both the shade of the kitchen and the pitcher of fresh water sitting on the table beside her.