She glanced around the grand ballroom and then looked up. Her eyes met those of Captain Nathaniel Storm. Her breath left her for a moment. His dark hair was neatly brushed, and his red regimentals were without a tear or a stain. He’d always been handsome, but she’d never seen him dressed so formally.
She’d not seen him in two days and had wondered what had become of him until one of the men mentioned that his older brother had come to Brussels. If one of her siblings had arrived, she would have also been spending time with them and nobody else. She’d still hoped that Petrucio would find his way to Brussels, but he hadn’t so far as she knew.
Her heart ached for a moment with the homesickness that sometimes plagued her when she thought of the brothers and sisters she’d not seen since Christmas.
Nate said something to the gentleman beside him and then made his way to the staircase, descending, coming towards her, never breaking eye contact. With each step that he took, her heart beat harder and her pulse picked up.
This night would be magical indeed.
Captain Storm stopped before her and bowed. She bobbed a quick curtsey.
“Isabella, you are stunning this evening.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Thank you, Captain Storm.”
His green eyes narrowed on her. “What happened to Nate or Nathaniel?”
She bit her lip, her face heating more. “We are not in the camps, but at a ball, Captain.”
“Our friendship cancels any formality.”
The word friendship was a small stab to her heart. Her feelings may go far, far deeper than friendship, but there could never be anything more between them. But, for this one night, and only tonight, how she wished it could be more.
He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, and the two began to walk through the guests crowded into the ballroom. “Besides, you’ve patched me up more times than I can count and laundered my clothing.” He leaned in close to her ear. “Any woman who has seen my unmentionables has the right to call me by my given name,” he whispered and then grinned at her.
“Captain Storm, you are outrageous.” It was almost as if he were flirting with her. Was this how he treated all ladies at balls? Or did all gentlemen tease at such functions?
He turned to look at her. “And, you are beautiful tonight.”
Her breath hitched. Tonight there was something different in his green eyes. A warmth and intensity she’d not seen before. “Thank you.” Her words were barely a whisper. “It’s Mary’s gown, if you must know.”
Her stomach tightened. Why had she just reminded Nate of the woman he loved? Why couldn’t she just pretend for one night that Nate loved her? That her past didn’t matter. They could dance, laugh, and drink champagne, and she’d return to reality when she woke tomorrow.
“It’s a shame Mary couldn’t have joined you.”
If Mary were here, Nate would divide his time between the two of them, as he always did. His heart would be with Mary, his time with Isabella because that was all he could have of the two.
“I asked her to join us, but she declined.” With those words, Isabella spotted Major Soares across the room with his latest mistress.
Nathaniel tensed and then turned away from the major before he nodded up to the gentleman he’d been speaking with when she entered. “Do you see the gentleman on the balcony?”
He looked much like Nathaniel. “Your brother, the Earl of Kenley?” Isabella asked. “I’d heard he had come to Brussels.”
“He was the only reason I haven’t called on you these past few days.”
His declaration startled her. Nate did not need to call on her daily, though she enjoyed her visits with him. Actually, she enjoyed them far too much, which would make it all the more difficult to return home with only memories of him.
“I always thought he and Mary would suit well, if she were free.”
“Mary?” Why should he wish Mary were married to his brother?
“If she were free,” he reiterated. “If I could pick my brother’s bride, it would be Mary. Unfortunately, she’s still tied to the major.”
Her mind could not make sense of his words. Nate loved Mary. It’s what Isabella always believed. It’s what she’d witnessed. Isabella turned to him. “I don’t understand. I’d always suspected your feelings for Mary were deeper than friendship.” Her face heated. It wasn’t polite to speak of such things. But, Nathaniel had carried Mary from a battlefield after she’d been injured, sat with her often while she recovered, and then bloodied the major’s nose. One did not do such a thing if deeper emotions weren’t involved.
His eyebrows drew together in confusion and his green eyes darkened. “As a friend. A younger sister, perhaps. I felt I should protect her, as I’d like my sisters to be protected. Though if any gentleman treated my sisters as the major did his wife, they’d not be long in this world.”
Isabella bit back a smile. Nathaniel had a protective streak that ran deep. It was also a relief to know Nathaniel considered Mary a sister. He probably didn’t feel any differently about Isabella, but the jealousy she’d felt so often simply slipped away.
He tilted his head and the side of his mouth quirked. “Were you jealous of what you assumed my feelings were, Isabella?”
Goodness, her face was going to go up in flames.
“Your blush is the only answer I need.” He drew close. “It might be forward of me, but in the year we were apart, it was you that I thought about. Not Mary, not other than concern that her husband was not treating her as he should.”
Her chest swelled with emotion and hope. How could she have misread the situation so wrongly? He’d thought of her, as she’d thought of him? Elation and near panic collided. He cared, but he didn’t know her. Not the ugly truth.
“Are you all right? Should I have not spoken?” he asked with concern.
Isabella blinked at him. “Surprised,” she answered quickly. “That is all.”
The intensity of his green eyes warmed her to her toes. Tonight the past and the future did not matter. She was at a ball and on Nate’s arm and he wanted her, not Mary. Isabella was going to enjoy herself and not think about any consequences.
“I’d thought you’d realized my intentions.”
“Intentions?” she blinked at him.
“I’ve been trying to court you and have apparently, gone about it miserably.”
Had he truly wanted to court her? “I thought you only considered me a friend,” she admitted.
“Well, I certainly mucked that up.” He chuckled. “But now you know.” The chords of a waltz began. “Shall we?”
She nodded and he led her to the center of the dance floor.
She’d never danced. At least, not officially in a ballroom. There’d been plenty of dancing at night, when the soldiers could relax. As the men far outnumbered the women, she’d never been without a partner.
This was much better than dancing upon the dirt in front of a fire. Plus, it was Nathaniel who held her close, a hand at the small of her back, his gloved hand clutching hers.
“Why did you bloody the major’s nose?” She’d always wondered, but if it wasn’t because he was in love with Mary, she could think of no other reason why he’d be so violent.
“He was trying to sell Mary to one of his men.”
She was aware of the circumstances and had been surprised when Nate hadn’t offered for Mary. She never dreamed that was the reason he’d struck the major.
“A man does not sell a wife like he would a horse he no longer wished to ride.”
For a moment his eyes widened and there was a rose tint to his cheeks. Isabella assumed it was anger, but he was correct, some wives were treated very much like horses or livestock.
Chapter 10
It felt good to have Isabella in his arms. He’d missed those rare days when there’d been dancing by the campfire. His opportunities with her were too few because so many men wanted to dance with the limited number of women available.
But, she was in his arms now, just where he’d dreamed she’d be when he thought about her.
In truth, dancing was not how he pictured her. Instead, he’d always dreamed of her in his arms while he kissed her.
Nathaniel stopped the train of his thoughts. It was one thing to imagine Isabella naked and welcoming him when he was alone at night in his bed or sleeping under the stars. It was quite a bit different in the middle of a ballroom with so many around who would witness what such thoughts did to him.
The music ended and with reluctance, he removed his hand from the small of her back and stepped back. When he turned, Nathaniel found his superior standing not far away, a grim look upon his face. Other officers were exiting the ball. A tension filled the air, higher than it had been before.
“What’s happening?” Isabella asked.
“I’m not sure,” he muttered under his breath.
Placing her gloved hand in the crook of his arm, he led her to the officers.
“Napoleon is on the move,” the colonel advised.
His gut tightened as Isabella tensed.
“We need to make ready. We head to Quatre Bras.”
This was it. Sooner than anticipated, but Nate knew, in his gut, that whatever occurred in the next few days would decide the future. Either they’d beat Napoleon, or once again, war would rage for years.
“I’ll gather my men.”
The major nodded then headed off in another direction.
“I must return to my brother.”
Nathaniel was not ready to let her go. Not so soon. She’d barely just arrived, and they’d only shared one dance. Plus, he’d begun to confess his feelings for her, but Isabella gave him no indication that she might return them.
Instead of leaving her and going to his men, Nate pulled her outside and away from anyone else. The music of the orchestra continued, and ladies and gentlemen danced as if all was right in the world. “I don’t wish to leave you yet.”
“We both have duties.”
“I didn’t lie, Isabella, it’s you who I have thought about when we parted. I’d hoped for more when I saw you again.” With that, he bent, placing his lips against hers.
At first, Isabella didn’t respond, then she softened against him, her hands going to his shoulders. As this might be the only kiss he was granted from her for days, weeks, or even months, Nathaniel pulled her tight against his body, angled his head and deepened the kiss. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and Nathaniel wished he was anywhere but outside the Duchess of Richmond’s ballroom.
Shouts were heard coming from the front of the mansion, and with reluctance, he pulled away.
“Wait for me. Do not give your heart to another.”
Her eyes widened.
“I will return for you Isabella. I’ve loved you for over a year and have never stopped.”
She took a step back, her grey eyes filled with fear. Was it the coming battle? Was she afraid something would happen to him?
Perhaps he’d simply shocked her since he’d said nothing of his heart until tonight, and he’d been so careful in courting her that she hadn’t even realized his intentions. And, she’d thought he loved Mary. Oh, if only he had time to fully explain and express his thoughts, all of his plans and dreams for her and them, but they were out of time. Napoleon marched and so would they.
Nate caressed her soft cheek. “When this bloody war is over, Isabella, I plan on making you my wife.”
With that he kissed her one more time. She clung to him, kissing him just as deeply then stepped away. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Be safe,” was all she said before she turned and ran from him.
* * *
Why did he have to kiss her?
He loved her?
As Isabella ran from Nate, her heart nearly shattered in her chest.
Yes, she’d fallen in love with him so very long ago and never dreamed he’d ever share the emotion. As much as she might feel the same for Nathaniel, it was impossible for there to be anything more permanent between them.
Of course, he didn’t know that, but she did and wasn’t about to confess to him why. Her shame was her own. One she would never share with another soul.
She should have told him. She should have rejected him, but Isabella couldn’t. Not tonight. She’d seen too many men return from battle, injured, and maimed, near death, many of them longing for a sweetheart. The most heartbreaking were those who had given up because before the battle started, they’d received a letter that their love had found someone else.
Isabella may not have told Nate that she loved him, even though it would have been the truth, but she would not let him go into battle having been rejected either. When it was over, she’d find the strength to send him away. The fear was, she wouldn’t be able to walk away when he was the one person she wanted more than anything in this world.
“We need to begin preparing for injured,” Orlando said as they traveled back to the hospital area.
“I’d thought we’d have more time,” she finally said. She thought she’d have more time with Nate, but that had come to an end tonight and it was all she could do to hold her tears inside. She couldn’t cry in front of her brother because he couldn’t ever know the truth. Never. Nobody ever would. This pain and longing would be her own. Besides, to tell any of her siblings would only welcome their comments about how foolish she’d been, and she already knew that, well enough. She’d been a fool to dream so large.
“So did I, but now we need to work quickly to prepare.”
Isabella nodded and bit her bottom lip, tender from the kiss Nathaniel had bestowed upon her.
Oh, if only.
Stop! It’s impossible.
Mary rushed forward when they arrived. “What do ye need me to do?”
“I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Soares.” Orlando strode past her. “We prepare the best we can until we receive orders as to what to expect.”
Isabella’s heart ached. She’d followed her brothers to the Continent because she didn’t wish to remain in Hampshire doing nothing and being supported by the aunt and uncle who had taken in her family. Not only would she worry about Orlando and Bertram in the coming days, but Nate as well.
She hated war. From the bottom of her heart, she hated it and prayed that one day soon it would finally be all over.
Chapter 11
Nathaniel shivered, not sure he’d ever been this cold. His clothing and boots were soaked. The rivulets of rainwater running down his uniform, mixed with the dried blood, gunpowder soot, and dirt from the fighting, pooled on the ground around the knapsack he sat upon. The night was darker than black, and he could barely see the soldiers gathered together to share warmth not a few feet away. He shared a circle with four others. Comrades who had spent many nights like this before, though Nathaniel couldn’t recall ever being this uncomfortable or frozen.
They’d fought at Quatre Bras two days ago and retreated back to await the enemy. Wellington had decided that this area, just south of the Village of Waterloo, would be where the next battle would take place.
“At least the French are as miserable as we are.” Hastings, a man he’d served with through the years, handed him a brandy.
Nathaniel took a deep drink. There was little food, they couldn’t light fires, and it had been raining since earlier in the day. They were soaked to the skin and becoming stiff and sore.
“And, we are alive.” Nathaniel handed the brandy back to his friend.
He nodded sadly.
So many had been lost at Quatre Bras, and once they began to fight again, more would be lost.
“My musket is saturated and the powder is useless,” Blaine, another friend, complained. “The weapons might be ruined for weeks if this rain keeps up.”
If they were attacked, there’d be little they could do. But, as the French were stuck in the same wretched weather, their weapons were most likely as unusable at this moment as well. Which gave Nathaniel some peace. There would
be no more fighting until everything had dried out.
At least Isabella was safe, and probably dry, helping her brother tend the wounded. It was thoughts of her that helped keep him warm through the long night. That and the brandy and rum being passed about. The rum was his. Since his brother, Sam, had first sent bottles, Nate had developed a liking for it, and his brother kept him well supplied.
It wasn’t just the alcohol keeping Nate warm but recalling Isabella’s kisses. The memory of her body pressed against him stirred his blood and kept it from freezing in his veins. As soon as this was over, he was going to find her, make his declaration once again, and take her way from this. Together they’d put the fighting, war, and death behind them and find a warm, safe place to live.
Samuel had such a place. A large sugar plantation on the island of Barbados. Recalling the letters from his brother, Nathaniel could almost feel the hot sun caress his face and his feet sank into the warm sand of the beach as the ocean breezes rinsed the stench of blood, death, and smoke from his memory. Yes. He would take Isabella there, and maybe buy a piece of land for himself and become a gentleman farmer of sugar.
“What are you smiling about?” Hastings asked.
Nathaniel grinned. “Thinking about a special lady and the island of Barbados.”
The men spent the night talking about the women they wished to return to and the warm places they wished to visit or live, and they slept little. Not only was it near impossible to get any rest in the rain and cold, but there was also too much tension for what awaited them on the morrow.
As the sun rose, Nathaniel stood and walked the stiffness from his muscles and joints, trying to warm himself the best he could and began to prepare for what was to come.
He and his troop of artillery were concealed, and there they waited. By mid-morning Nathaniel’s nerves were on edge as he wondered if Napoleon was ever going to attack. Finally, at approximately eleven-thirty, the first of the cannons were heard. Within two hours, buildings were on fire and a thick pall of gun smoke hung over the battlefield, burning his nose and eyes. With each moment that passed, the fighting became more and more intense. He reacted without thought. Self-preservation to survive and win.
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