‘Thank God.’
‘Amen to that.’
‘But how came you to be with El Cuchillo and Major Brudenell?’
‘By good fortune only. It seems that when Ramon located the guerilla hideout, Major Brudenell was already there on business of his own. When he heard the name of Falconbridge he brought assistance as fast as he could. They found me near the place where we fought with Machart’s men. I heard the French mention Castillo San Angel before they took you away. That is how our friends knew where to come.’
‘Where is Ramon now?’
‘Taking those papers to Lord Wellington. As soon as he knew aid was on its way to you, he set off.’
As the pieces of the story fell into place they brought about a feeling of relief so intense that Sabrina found herself trembling. Never in a thousand years could she have hoped that matters might have so happy a conclusion.
‘I am sorry to interrupt,’ said a voice behind them, ‘but it would be as well not to linger here.’ They turned to see Major Brudenell. ‘I will have my men bring you a horse, ma’am.’
‘I’m much obliged, sir.’
‘At least that won’t be hard to arrange,’ replied Jacinta as he walked away. ‘There are enough loose ones hereabouts.’
‘True enough.’
‘I will go and see that he provides something suitable.’
As Jacinta set off in Brudenell’s wake, Sabrina experienced a moment of surprise. Then she saw Falconbridge approaching and understood the reason for the sudden departure.
‘Can you bear the thought of another long ride?’ he asked.
Sabrina smiled. ‘If it takes us away from here I find I can bear the thought very well.’ She surveyed him critically. ‘But I think it is you who will find it hard going. Those cuts and bruises need attention.’
‘Presently,’ he replied.
‘Do you fear my ministrations?’
‘By no means, but Brudenell is right. We shouldn’t linger here.’ He grinned. ‘When we make camp I’ll submit willingly to your attentions.’
‘I intend to hold you to that.’
‘Indeed I hope so, ma’am.’
It was hard to know what to make of that and Sabrina decided it was safer not to pursue the matter. There was no time, in any case, for Brudenell’s men returned with mounts. She swung into the saddle of a cavalry horse and watched her companions mount, too. Then the entire cavalcade set off.
* * *
They made camp that night in the hills. Sabrina took the opportunity to fetch clean water and cloths, and asked Luis to find out if any of the company had any medicinal salves or embrocation. The enquiry proved positive, for some time later he returned with a small pot which he presented to her triumphantly.
‘Salve,’ he said, ‘and most efficacious for bruising.’
She sniffed the contents and wrinkled her nose. ‘How do you know it’s efficacious?’
‘Does it not smell terrible?’
‘Yes.’
‘That proves it. The worse the smell, the better is the ointment, eh?’ Seeing her dubious expression he added, ‘Trust me in this.’
‘Of course.’
He threw her a beaming smile and took himself off. Sabrina watched him go and shook her head.
‘Trust him in what?’ asked a familiar voice.
She turned to see Falconbridge and grinned. ‘In matters medical.’ Putting down the cloths and bowl of water on a nearby rock, she bade him be seated. He obeyed without argument.
‘I would trust Luis at my back in a fight any day of the week,’ he observed, ‘but I had no idea he was an expert in medicine, too.’
‘I think it self-styled expertise.’
‘Ah.’
She dipped a cloth and began very gently to bathe the cuts and bruises on his face. They looked painful, but so far as she could tell the damage was superficial. That anyone should have hurt him in that way brought a surge of anger. For men to fight each other in combat was one thing, to torture and maim quite another. Her hand moved to the cut on his lip and she saw him wince.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘No matter. Besides, if it hadn’t been for you, things would have been much worse.’ He paused. ‘When you dealt with Machart you saved both our lives.’
She shuddered visibly. ‘He is…was…an evil man.’
‘Yes. I could almost wish the brute here again just so that I could have the pleasure of killing him for certain.’
‘If he is dead then I hope he’s in the hottest part of hell.’
Her quiet vehemence took him by surprise and he eyed her speculatively. ‘I imagine that is his likely destination, and no man could deserve it more.’
Sabrina said nothing, merely dipped the cloth again and continued her ministrations. In spite of his injuries her touch was causing unexpectedly pleasurable sensations along his skin. Now that she was so close to him he could smell the scent of leather and horses on her clothing, but beneath it the scent of the woman. It was subtle and arousing. The last time he had been this close was when he had shared the cot with her in the cell back at Castillo San Angel. It had been a brief enough interlude but one he knew he would remember all his days. If she had given him any encouragement he would have taken it further, but she had not. Neither would she now, in all likelihood, for what woman could respect a man who had let her down so badly? He had gathered from previous conversations that something had happened in the past to make her exceedingly wary of giving her affections. His failure to protect her in her time of greatest need would only have reinforced that tendency.
Becoming aware of his regard, Sabrina kept her attention on her work. Having bathed his face, she laid down the cloth and reached for the pot of salve. Then, very lightly, she applied a little to the bruised areas of skin, taking care to avoid the open cuts. Falconbridge wrinkled his nose.
‘What on earth is that stuff?’
‘Goodness knows. Luis assures me it’s good for bruises.’
‘Good for embalming, too, from the smell of it.’
Sabrina grinned. ‘Perhaps it has a two-fold purpose. I must ask him.’
‘It might be better not to know.’
She completed her task and then paused. ‘Take off your jacket.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to check the bruising on your ribs.’
His initial reaction was to say it wasn’t necessary but just as quickly he decided against it. He didn’t want to lose her company or to end this unforced intimacy.
‘Would you mind helping me with this?’
‘Of course.’
She stepped in closer and gently eased the coat off his shoulders. Falconbridge winced again, and with perfect sincerity. The blows he had received earlier were now very painful. The other events of the day hadn’t helped either. Sabrina eyed him closely, wondering at the extent of the hidden damage.
‘Pull up your shirt.’
Gingerly he obeyed and heard her gasp. Glancing down he saw that his ribs were a mass of ugly red-and-black bruises.
‘Dear God, Robert, you should have said something sooner! These must be agony.’
He smiled wryly. ‘I’ve felt better.’
‘Let me put some of this on for you.’
‘I suppose it can’t do any harm.’
‘Luis says that a strong smell means an effective treatment.’
‘In that case I should be as right as rain by tomorrow, unless the French sniff me out first.’
She returned the smile and then set to work again, gently smoothing the salve onto the bruised areas of his back. She was careful, trying by all means not to hurt him, but once or twice she heard a sharp intake of breath. It occurred to her to wonder then just what he had endured before she had been brought onto the scene. Looking at the damage caused by that beating, she was even less sorry for the injuries she had inflicted on Machart.
Gradually, she worked round to the front again, kneeling beside him now to ensure
that no bruises were left untreated, applying the salve with light, deft touches along the muscles of his stomach and waist. Once, not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable to touch him or any man so intimately. Yet now it seemed quite natural and right. She could feel his leg warm against her side but the closeness did not repel her. On the contrary, what she felt now was melting warmth in the region of her pelvis. She drew in a deep breath of her own and finished the task.
He let the shirt fall. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He tucked the fabric carefully into his breeches and then reached for his coat.
‘May I importune you this one last time?’ he asked.
‘One last time?’ She tilted her head to one side, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘Really? Or was that just a figure of speech?’
He smiled. ‘It probably was.’
She took the coat from him, gently easing the garment onto his arms and then drew it up over his shoulders. He got to his feet and turned to face her. For the space of several heartbeats neither one of them spoke. He wanted so much to kiss her but after what had happened he feared that such attentions must be unwelcome. Instead, he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.
‘Thank you.’
‘You have no need to thank me.’
‘I think I do.’ His expression grew serious. ‘That is twice you’ve come to my aid today. I should hate it to become a habit.’
‘Should you?’
‘This reversal of roles is deucedly uncomfortable, I find.’
She nodded sympathetically but there was a familiar gleam in her eyes. ‘It must be, especially with so much bruised flesh.’
‘Wretch! I was serious.’
‘I know, but it is no use repining over what cannot be altered, Robert.’
‘True, but I hope one day to make it up to you somehow.’
‘It really doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does. It matters a great deal.’
‘Ah, bruised pride.’ She saw him stiffen slightly and went on, ‘I recognise it, you see, since my own has taken a heavy battering, too.’
‘Of course, forgive me. What happened today has hurt both of us, in different ways.’
‘Some hurts go deep, do they not?’ She sighed. ‘As deep as years.’
He regarded her intently now. ‘What hurts, Sabrina?’
She bit her lip, hesitating, wanting to tell him but fearing to, as well, dreading his reaction.
‘It seems to me that we have been here before,’ he said. ‘Will you not tell me what it is that so troubles you?’
She made no immediate reply and for a moment he thought she would refuse. Then she drew in a shuddering breath and nodded.
‘What happened with Machart.it happened to me once before.’
He stared at her, appalled. Whatever else, he had not expected that. ‘Oh, my dear girl.’
‘Today brought it all back, every last sordid detail.’
‘I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me, Sabrina.’
‘Yes, I do. I wanted to before but the time wasn’t right.’ She turned to face him. ‘Will you hear me?’
‘You know I will.’
‘You may think ill of me afterwards.’
He smiled gently. ‘May not I be the judge of that?’
Resuming his seat on the rock he gestured for her to join him. So they sat together and she told him about Jack Denton, of the way they had met, of their stolen moments together and her growing infatuation with him.
‘…and then one afternoon we went out riding to see some cave paintings that he said he’d found by chance, while out on patrol.’ She paused. ‘I was a little apprehensive; we were alone and the place remote, but he was…persuasive. Of course, when we reached the cave there were no paintings.’
Falconbridge was very still. ‘And then?’
‘I discovered how badly mistaken I had been in his character. He…he tried to kiss me…’ The memory had lost none of its power to chill. The kiss he took then was unlike those first chaste salutes. Hot, searing, demanding, it shocked her, like the tongue thrusting into her mouth and the crude hand exploring her breasts. When she tried to pull away his hold only tightened. ‘I tried to get away but he threw me down on the floor of the cave…tore my clothing.’
An expression of disgust crossed Falconbridge’s face. She quailed before it, but knew she had come too far to go back now.
‘I tried to fight him but he was too strong. I begged him to stop.’ In her mind she could still hear his reply.
‘Come now, you little tease. You’ve led me on for weeks. You know you want it as much as I.’
Furious and frightened, she fought Denton in earnest, biting, yelling, kicking. If anything it seemed to inflame him further.
‘You can’t get away, my sweet, so don’t think it. Besides, when I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.’ He smiled. ‘We have the whole afternoon before us and I mean to make the most of it.’
Panicking, she struggled harder, feeling his greedy mouth fasten on her breasts. She twisted in revulsion, got a hand free, clawed at his face. He caught her wrists and pinned them. His smile chilled her.
‘Like it rough, do you? Well, by God, Jack’s your man.’
His free hand shoved her skirts round her thighs and then unfastened his breeches. Terrified now, she screamed. His knee thrust her thighs apart…
Sabrina took another deep breath to steady herself. ‘Just when I was certain that…that all was lost, a hand reached out and dragged him away. It was Captain Harcourt.’
‘Harcourt?’ The name registered at once and Falconbridge was aware of other pieces of the puzzle dropping into place.
‘Yes, it seems he had noticed Denton’s attentions to me and, knowing the man’s reputation, had kept an eye on him. When he saw us ride off together, he followed.’
Her companion’s gaze hardened. ‘A fortunate circumstance.’
She nodded miserably. ‘He hit Denton several times before pushing him up against the rear wall of the cave with a sword at his throat. I don’t recall everything he said, but I heard him utter the promise of death if Denton ever came near me again or disclosed a word of what had passed. Denton swore to keep silence so the Captain let him go.’
‘Did he?’ The tone was icy. ‘And what of you?’
‘He carried me back to his horse and took me home. He was very kind and uttered no word of reproach or blame, but all his gentleness could not dispel the searing sense of shame and humiliation that I felt.’ She drew in a ragged breath. ‘He took a back route to town, riding by little-frequented streets to minimise the chances of meeting anyone we knew. When we reached his lodgings he gave me into the care of his wife. She tended me and mended my garments as best she could. When I was calmer and reasonably presentable, they took me home.’
‘Your father’s reaction I can well imagine.’
‘He never knew.’
‘What!’
‘Mercifully, he was elsewhere when we returned and I never told him what had happened. Nor did the Harcourts, at my insistence. Had we done so, he would certainly have called Denton out. Lord Wellington had expressly forbidden duelling among his officers, so even if he were not killed or injured, the affair would have put paid to my father’s career. I could not bear to think that such ill fortune might befall him on account of my folly.’
‘I see.’
‘At first, I thought the whole sordid affair was over but it seems that, one evening, when Captain Denton was in his cups, he revealed something of it to two of his fellow officers. It was enough to lead to speculation and rumour. Captain Harcourt learned of it in the officers’ mess and nipped the conversation in the bud. However, enough damage had been done by then to have an impact.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Nothing was ever said directly but there were covert looks and sly smiles from some of Denton’s acquaintance. Ladies who had been friendly before now grew cool or, in one or two cases, shunned me completely, and invitation
s to their houses ceased. Had it not been for the kindness of the Harcourts, I would have been lost. Being of excellent social standing and also generally popular, their continued friendship and public refusal to give credence to rumour did much to aid my cause.’
‘You seem to have been fortunate in your friends.’
‘I did not know how fortunate until then,’ she replied. ‘After that, my relationship with the Harcourts became much closer. They took on the role of guardians, particularly in my father’s absence, and saw to it that I came to no more harm.’
‘And Captain Denton?’
‘He was killed by the French in an ambush a few months later.’
Falconbridge’s face was expressionless, save for the cold anger that burned in his eyes. ‘How old were you when all this happened?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Good God!’
‘It is not a pretty story, is it?’
‘Hardly.’
Her heart sank as she looked at his expression. He was sickened all right. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell him, to be so totally frank. Perhaps she had lost his regard by doing so.
‘The blackguard should have been whipped at the cart tail,’ he went on. ‘What man worthy of the name takes such advantage of a young girl?’
‘I was very foolish.’
‘Weren’t we all when we were fifteen? In any case, foolishness is not a crime. Cold-blooded seduction of a minor most certainly is.’
‘Then you do not blame me for what happened?’
‘Good heavens, no. Why would I?’
‘I was afraid you would think me light.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I have never thought such a thing of you. Nor would I ever think it.’ He paused. ‘Is that what you believed when I kissed you before?’ Seeing she remained silent, his brow creased. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’
‘I couldn’t be sure. I’m sorry. I see now that it was foolish.’
‘I hope you do.’
‘I was so afraid of what you would think.’
‘Does my opinion matter so much then?’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘Then be assured that I hold you in the highest regard and always will.’
Part of her was glad, another part saddened. High regard was valuable but it was not the same as love; nor was it enough. Yet what man would want to marry a woman with such a history, even if it was not all her fault?
His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) Page 18
