A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

by Louise Allen

  ‘Adam, this is not sensible, not when we are both in such a muddle over what to do.’ Her protests sounded thin to her own ears.

  ‘Whatever else I am in, it is not a muddle.’

  ‘Well, it is academic anyway. We most certainly cannot go back to your rooms and I can hardly lower a knotted sheet from my window.’ It was as though she had drunk too much champagne. One minute confused and on the edge of angry, now yearning to be tangled in Adam’s arms, their bare skin—

  ‘It is a warm night. The grass is dry.’ He was eyeing the railings around the Parc with a speculative eye.

  ‘Outside? In a public park? Adam, that is wicked!’ A laugh escaped her, an excited, scandalised laugh. ‘Besides, I could not climb that fence.’

  ‘No, I suppose not, in that gown.’ His mouth curved into a wicked smile. ‘On the other hand, there are no railings to keep us off the ramparts walk.’

  ‘Outside?’ Rose repeated. ‘What if anyone were to see us?’ She was already halfway to agreeing, she realised. Adam started walking again, taking the side turning that led to the ramparts, now a grassy promenade lined with trees.

  ‘It is deserted. See?’ They stepped out on to the walk, the view of the forest beyond bathed in moonlight, tranquil and mysterious as though a battle had never been fought beyond its borders. ‘Besides,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘that little frisson of fear adds to the excitement.’

  ‘Adam, you are outrageous!’

  ‘I intend to be.’ He took her hand and led the way down a winding path down the outer bank, a thin dark line in the moonlight. It vanished into a patch of small trees and bushes.

  ‘How did you know this was here?’

  ‘Dog chased a rabbit into here the other day when I took him for an early walk on the way to headquarters. I thought then that I would like to make love to you on this soft grass.’ He swirled off his cloak. ‘Does that gown crease easily?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ She was excited, flustered and, Rose realised with a touch of alarm, aroused by the wicked risk. ‘I’ve never made love in it before.’

  She saw the flash of white as he grinned. ‘Let’s try this.’ Adam unbuttoned his falls, let his sword belt drop and knelt down, sinking back on his heels. ‘Just lift your skirts and straddle my thighs.’

  It was like an unbearably erotic exercise in deportment, Rose thought wildly as she gathered up her skirts and sank down, trying to concentrate on keeping her balance, not crushing her skirts. Then she forgot all about deportment as their naked flesh met.

  ‘Slowly,’ Adam murmured as he supported her with his hands at her waist and lowered her down until they were joined. The fabric of his uniform trousers rubbed against the bare skin of her inner thighs above her garters; the faint, musky perfume of their arousal mingled with the honeysuckle scent from the bush behind Adam’s broad shoulders; distantly, from the city, came the sound of music and laughter.

  ‘Don’t lean forward, you will crush your skirts,’ Adam cautioned. ‘I cannot move more than half an inch.’

  ‘Then how—?’

  ‘Squeeze,’ he said. ‘Just…squeeze. Like that—’ He broke off on a gasp.

  It was slow, exquisite, frustrating and wildly arousing. Rose caressed him with all the inner muscles she was just learning to control, dug her fingers into the epaulettes on his shoulders, panted with the effort to channel the rising excitement. Adam closed his eyes, rocked her gently, inexorably, pressed and withdrew until he was gasping with the effort of control.

  ‘Adam, I can’t…’

  ‘Now,’ he urged. ‘Let go, Rose.’

  So she did and felt him let go with her, hold her as they shattered together. When she opened her eyes they were forehead to forehead. ‘I may never move again,’ she whispered.

  ‘I think we must. Can you reach your reticule and find a handkerchief?’

  ‘It is still on my wrist,’ Rose said, surprised. ‘I never noticed.’ She found the linen square and stood cautiously, shaking out her skirts.

  Adam got to his feet, picked up his cloak, then kissed her, long and slow and tender. ‘I promised to show you the view from the ramparts,’ he said as he raised his head. ‘I hope you were paying attention.’

  ‘Idiot.’

  ‘At least I made you laugh.’ He turned and offered his arm. ‘We had best get you home before your father starts loading his shotgun.’

  The thought of Papa with a shotgun jerked her back to the realities of their situation. I should not have made love with Adam just now. She was not pregnant, she was almost certain. The shifts in her mood tonight, the slight dizziness, were all familiar symptoms.

  He doesn’t even need my money, so I cannot pretend I am making a fair exchange for his freedom. If she could only come up with a reasonable plan for her own future that did not involve marriage, then she was certain she could win her parents round. That might work if she was thirty-three, but not at twenty-three… And persuading Adam that his honour did not require it was another matter altogether. The inevitability of this marriage was beginning to loom larger and, heaven help her, she could not resist it as she ought.

  ‘That was a big sigh. Are you tired?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Rose rested her head against his shoulder as they strolled round the corner. ‘More…’

  ‘Feeling cornered?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. How do you know?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Of course, so are you.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Naturally. You had a whole world of choices before you and only yourself to please. Now you will have a wife to consider. You cannot deny that marriage changes a lot of things.’

  ‘Perhaps that is good. I find I rather like the idea of children and I most certainly do not intend to father any out of wedlock.’

  Oh, unfair! Now she had the image of sturdy little boys with a belligerent attitude and bright blue eyes clambering all over their large, patient father. She was not so sure what the girls would look like. Brown hair certainly. They would adore Adam and he would probably be putty in their hands.

  ‘I like the idea, too,’ she admitted. Her resolution was crumbling, she could feel it, just as she felt the sincerity of his words.

  ‘We are agreed, then? You are going to stop resisting me?’

  ‘I never was able to resist you, you infuriating man. But that is not what you meant, is it? I will agree to the marriage, I will stop arguing, on one condition.’

  ‘What condition?’ They had reached the house, but Adam stopped at the foot of the steps. ‘This is marriage, Rose, not a ceasefire negotiation.’

  ‘On the condition that you are honest with me. Promise that and I will marry you.’

  ‘Is this about mistresses, Rose? I keep my promises. I might be a scoundrel, but vows are vows.’

  ‘It is about everything. Secrets and feelings. Decisions. Involving me. Telling me when things go wrong. Telling me when you aren’t happy and why.’

  The drawing-room window was unshuttered and the light chequered the pavement, illuminated one side of his face and left the other in shadow. For a moment she thought he would agree, give her a simple yes, to what seemed to her to be the essentials for a true marriage. But it was taking him a long time to say that single syllable.

  ‘I will be faithful to you,’ he said when the apprehension about his reply began to knot her stomach. ‘I will involve you in decisions. I will protect you, and our children, with my life. I will not lie to you. Is that enough, Rose? Because you are asking me to become a different person from the man I am if you think I can open up my mind and my feelings like that. I’ve been alone too long.’

  Was she being unreasonable? Rose found she did not know. Then she realised what it was that she was really asking. Do you love me? Can you ever love me?

  ‘That will have to be enough,’ she agreed, then heard the disappointment in her own voice. ‘I’m sorry, I sounded grudging and I did not mean to. It was honest of you to say what you did and I respect that.�
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  ‘Thank you. You are a romantic, Rose. I am not, that is all it is. Now, may I have a kiss goodnight?’ He took off his shako, bent to touch his lips to hers.

  It was polite, sweet and quite unlike Adam. But at least it was the kiss of a man she could trust.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Whatever is the matter, Catherine?’

  ‘It’s The Times for last Thursday. Papa left it on the table, I suppose he picked it up at the Reading Rooms yesterday evening.’ Rose mopped her eyes, blew her nose and folded the paper down beside her breakfast plate. ‘It is the Duke of Wellington’s dispatch and reading it… Oh, dear, I can’t seem to stop crying.’

  ‘You know why, do you not?’ Her mother directed a swift glance at the closed breakfast room door. ‘The time of the month. Things will happen just as they should tomorrow. That is good news. I must confess that the thought of facing down all the gossip and arranging a hasty wedding was weighing on my mind.’ She reached for the coffee pot. ‘I think I will begin to drop hints about the major and then when anyone raises an eyebrow I will make it quite clear it is a love match and we are still discussing whether to hold the wedding here in a month or two, or perhaps in Paris if the major is ordered there, or England. Nice and vague and not at all concerned about haste.’

  A love match. Rose eyed her damp handkerchief and sniffed resolutely. Stop it. Stop wishing for the moon and be grateful for what you have. Be thankful you are marrying a man who will not lie to you for an easy life. ‘You seem quite reconciled to Adam, Mama.’

  ‘I must confess that I am, much against my better judgement. He is so reassuringly large and fierce. Not that I mean I have seen him being fierce, but he very obviously can be and I like that he is protective of you. And I had such a comfortable coze with him yesterday. I meant to tell you, but what with one thing and another it slipped my mind.’

  The thought of Adam having a comfortable coze with anyone, let alone her mama, was so improbable that Rose dropped her slice of toast, marmalade side down.

  ‘How? I mean, where?’

  ‘I met him just after I had left you at Madame Fanshaw’s for your dress fitting. He took me for tea at that darling little café off the Grand Place.’

  ‘And you had a comfortable coze? With Adam?’

  ‘I had to carry the conversation, of course. No man is at his most articulate in a bijou café full of society ladies while he is trying to eat dainty macarons without getting pistachio cream on his uniform. But I gave him great credit for not running away and for having very gentlemanlike manners and for not trying to do the pretty and persuade me he is not what he is.’

  ‘He did not mention meeting you,’ Rose said faintly, trying to imagine Adam perched on a tiny chair, faced with overly sweet pastries and fragile cups while a room full of ladies either ogled him or shot disapproving looks and his mother-in-law-to-be made lethally innocent conversation.

  ‘I am not surprised, poor boy,’ Lady Thetford said.

  Poor boy? Adam? ‘I am glad you like him, Mama.’

  ‘Now, Mrs Grace’s dinner party tonight. Will you feel up to attending or should I make your excuses?’

  ‘I will be quite all right, I am certain, Mama.’ Rose found a smile was curling her lips. ‘And I cannot wait to tease Adam about the macarons.’ They drank their coffee in companionable silence for a while before Rose recalled something she had been meaning to do. ‘I would like to call on Mrs Moss, Adam’s landlady, and return the clothing that she loaned me, now it is laundered. Might I take the carriage?’

  ‘Of course, dear. And one of the maids. Just send the carriage back straight away, I will be paying some calls this morning, dropping hints about the major.’

  ‘There’s no need for a maid, Mama. If Adam returns for luncheon he can walk me back or, if not, I am sure Mrs Moss will lend me her servant for half an hour.’ Lovely as it was to be on such good terms with her mother again, the phrase comfortable coze conjured up thoughts of letting her hair down with Maggie about things she could never discuss with Mama.

  *

  The clocks were striking ten when Maggie opened the door. Pierre, the coachman, carried the basket of clothes through to the kitchen then went whistling on his way to return the coach to Lady Thetford.

  ‘You look so fine, lovie!’ Maggie enveloped her in a hug, then stepped back to admire her. ‘Miss Tatton, I should say.’

  ‘Rose, please, Maggie. I’m still not answering to anything else without having to think about it. How are you? And Moss and Lucille? And all the men?’

  ‘Everyone’s fine, Rose.’ The older woman cast a glance upwards at the ceiling. ‘Excepting for the major.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Adam?’ Had she depressed him so much last night with her talk of love and trust that he was cast into gloom? ‘It isn’t that wound in his side, is it? It isn’t festering?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. He had to hold a court martial yesterday and the man was executed afterwards. Raped a nun in the hospital where he had been nursed, can you imagine? Anyway, the major’s fierce on that, especially since Badajoz, but he’s not the sort to go hanging and flogging with a light heart either. And then he sat up half the night drafting new guard rosters for the nunneries. None of that makes a man light-hearted, not when he’d rather be chasing the Frenchies back to Paris along with the Rogues.’

  ‘And he had to spend yesterday evening attending a vapid soirée with me and then listening to me agonising on the subject of marriage.’ And making love to me. ‘Why didn’t he say?’ Maggie opened her mouth, but Rose swept on. ‘Because he was doing his duty to me as well as obeying orders, I know. And now I’ve promised him for a dinner party this evening. Could you give him a message, Maggie? Say I will make his excuses.’

  ‘Tell him yourself,’ Maggie said as she reached for her bonnet. ‘I’m off to give Mrs Herring a hand with her new baby. It isn’t sleeping so the poor soul isn’t either, as you might imagine. You take the major a nice cup of tea and stay as long as you like. It’s Lucille’s day off,’ she added as she scooped up a basket and made for the door. ‘Kettle’s just off the boil.’

  ‘Maggie—’ But the other woman was gone. Rose took off her bonnet and spencer and began the familiar ritual of making tea in the homely kitchen. Adam liked his strong, black and sweet. She poured hers first and waited while the brew darkened. She was in no hurry now, content to know he was upstairs and they had the house to themselves.

  When she climbed the stairs the door stood ajar so she pushed it open without knocking and looked in. Adam was bent over the desk with his back to her. His boots were set neatly to one side and he had hooked his bare feet around the legs of the chair like a schoolboy, she thought with a pang of tender amusement. Dog lay beside him and as she entered he wagged his tail, two heavy thumps on the floorboards.

  ‘Quiet, Dog. Thanks, Maggie, can you just put it down here?’ He didn’t look up from the page he was covering in writing that looked as though he was constraining a naturally bold hand to fit the page.

  Rose put the mug on the table and rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘I could have been a French agent armed with a knife.’ It was a measure of his control that the quill did not blot. She laid her cheek against the crown of his head. ‘Have you got a headache?’

  Adam laid the quill across the standish and lifted his hands to cover hers. ‘Just the usual report-writing headache. What are you doing here, Rose?’ His big hands enveloped hers, his thumbs closed over the pulse points in her wrists and began to stroke gently back and forth.

  ‘I came to bring the borrowed clothes back to Maggie, but she’s gone out to help a neighbour so she left me to make your tea. I’ll go away again now, Maggie said you’d been up all hours working. I wish I had known last night.’ She slid her cheek lower so she could kiss the upper rim of his right ear. It was not a body part she had ever imagined might be arousing, but the strong curve and the intricate whorls were sculptural and sensual. What would he do if she fo
llowed them with the tip of her tongue? ‘There’s no need to come to the dinner party tonight, I can give your apologies, say you are on duty.’

  ‘But I won’t be. And this is finished.’ He released her hands, picked up the quill to scrawl his initials at the foot of the page and added it to the stack.

  ‘Are all your nuns safe now?’

  ‘They had better be.’ He swivelled round in the chair and pulled her down on to his lap. ‘They are doing impressive work. Very valuable work. Our medical facilities in England could learn a lot from them. Men will be walking out of their wards who would otherwise have left as cripples or in a coffin.’

  He broke off to remove Dog’s head from his knee where the hound had thrust it, slobbering gently, in an attempt to lick their linked hands. ‘Bed!’

  Dog slunk off to the door looking beaten.

  ‘Bed sounds a good idea,’ Rose said. ‘Come and lie down and rest, you’ve a ferocious dinner party to fight tonight.’

  ‘Bed, you and rest in one sentence?’ Adam’s gaze seemed to smoulder when it rested on her.

  ‘Rest to start with. Mama knows I have come to see Maggie and expects either you or Lucille to walk me home after luncheon. Maggie is working her magic on a fractious baby and its exhausted mother. We have the whole morning.’

  Adam stood up with her in his arms, which made her gasp. He set her on the bed, closed the door, turned the key in the lock and studied her as she began to unlace her half-boots and roll down her stockings. ‘Your mother knows you are here?’

  ‘Not in your bedroom. But she had her coachman drop me off just now. She thinks I am visiting with Maggie. You have quite seduced her, you know.’ She reached up her hands to unpin her hair.

  ‘Leave it.’ Adam’s voice had thickened. ‘Seduced her?’

  ‘I believe the sight of a big fierce warrior sitting in a dainty teashop wrestling with tiny sweetmeats quite won her heart.’ Her gown joined her stockings on the chair.

  ‘It seemed only courteous.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You are teasing me.’