“Oh, I will.”
She considered him, her studious air at lovely odds with her nakedness. Then she leaned closer until they lay skin to skin. Very gently she rested one hand against the side of his face and threaded the other through his hair. She kissed him on the lips, almost shyly, before moving on to kiss his nose, his forehead, his cheekbones, then returning to his mouth, this time with more passion, her tongue exploring the inside of his lips, his teeth, before plunging deep into his mouth.
Abruptly she broke the kiss. “Am I doing this correctly?”
“There’s no right or wrong way.”
“But do you like it?”
He closed his eyes. “Oh yes.”
“That’s all I needed to know.”
After that, her hesitation disappeared. She sat up, took his hands in each of hers, and pressed them down to the ground above his head. He sucked in a breath. Bracing herself against his hands, she lowered her mouth to his neck and kissed along his throat. Her delicate lips tickled as well as tantalized, and his skin twitched at her touch.
When she reached his collarbone she devoted herself to his scar, tracing its length with her tongue, repeating the action on his other saber scars. Will sent up a dizzy blessing upon the French trooper who had tried to carve him up.
She released his arms, fanning her hands across his chest and shoulders. She followed their path with her mouth, tasting his skin, teasing his flat nipples with her tongue. Will gasped and reached up to seize handfuls of her hair. Just because he’d volunteered to be taken didn’t mean he couldn’t participate. She began to rock her hips against him, inflaming his already heated body to near the point of explosion. Her breath grew short and gasping.
She sat back, now straddling his legs. He gazed raptly up at her and cupped and caressed her breasts with both hands. She inhaled sharply but remained in control. Her hands closed over his cock, sure and knowing now. It was his turn to groan at her touch.
Just when he thought he could take no more she leaned over him again for a passionate kiss. Then she rose up on her knees, and he gasped as he felt the slick welcoming folds of her womanhood brush the tip of his cock. All at once she ground down onto him and pulsed all around him, so hot, so inviting.
She moved her hips, ever so slightly. “Like this?”
He nodded, unable to speak and seized her hips to show her a faster, harder rhythm.
Anna turned intent and relentless, riding him, grinding herself against him. Will was spellbound, yielding to her need and her strength. Her kisses were rough, her grip on his shoulders fierce, and he’d never felt anything more glorious. He held her hard, too, his fingers digging into her hips, urging her on.
He felt her come, her inner muscles rippling around him, and he spent himself at the irresistible sensation.
When he drew her gently down to him, there were tears on her cheeks.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
She hid her face against his shoulder, her tears turning into sobs, and Will realized this must be the completion of a much-needed release. So he held her close, stroked her hair and waited out her storm.
When she had grown calm, she looked up at him, trepidation written on her features. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He brushed his lips over her eyes, tasting the salt of the tears that lingered on her lashes.
She smiled tentatively. “Before—Was I?—Was that…did you like that?”
“Oh, yes,” he assured her.
She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Good. I was afraid I’d been too ardent.”
“Believe me, there’s no such thing.”
She smiled again, but it was a serious expression. “Will,” she said, “before it’s too late, I want to thank you.”
“There’s no need.”
She shook her head firmly. “There’s every need. You saved me, took care of me and now this.”
While Will believed that most of the handful of women he’d lain with had found him satisfying, he’d never been thanked before, and he hardly knew how to respond. “The first was the right thing to do. As for this—” he allowed himself for one last time to run possessive hands over her naked curves, “—it’s not as though it was some kind of charitable act. It was sheer delight.”
In the advancing dawn he could see her cheeks color in a faint blush. “I know it wasn’t charity. But thank you, nonetheless, for showing me delight.”
There were tears in her eyes again, and he felt their sting beneath his own eyelids. “Oh, Anna.” He pulled her to him until their foreheads rested against each other, and they shared their anguish for all that must cease to be.
The sun had cleared the eastern horizon. Anna turned stoic as she sat up and twisted her curls into a prim knot at the nape of her neck, her lips set in a firm line. Will admired her control even though he suspected she’d learned it in the cruel school of her marriage. She would do what she must without flinching.
“We must go, mustn’t we?” she said.
He nodded. “We must.”
They kissed, pressing their naked bodies close against each other for one last time. Will tried to memorize the feel of her skin against his.
Too soon, they got up, retrieved their scattered clothing and dressed. Quickly they breakfasted on the last of the bread and ham, packed their gear and resumed their march.
Chapter Fifteen
They walked in silence at first, but as the morning progressed they slipped into friendly conversation. All that was different from before was that they talked of anything but themselves.
Will knew he would miss Anna in every way. Though he had vowed never to marry while he remained in the army, if Anna had been a common soldier’s widow, he would have broken that vow the instant he could find a chaplain to speak the words over them. But that was impossible. He had no right to drag her down to his level, no right to separate her from a family that would never accept her marriage to someone so far beneath her. If he asked, she might say yes—but he could not be so cruel to her.
They followed the stream until they reached a spot where a wide, dusty road forded it, then turned southeast on the road. When they met a peasant driving an empty oxcart in the opposite direction, Will asked if the British army was nearby. The man informed them if they kept following this road, they would find them within the hour. He had just come from the village of San Miguel, where ingleses were quartered—“some in green, like you”—where he had gone to sell choice fruits of his garden and his wife’s best handiwork—“beautiful mantillas, but I have none left for the beautiful lady.”
Will thanked him, and the man drove on.
“Well,” Anna said, “today it is.”
“It’s just as well,” he said. “Make a clean break of it.”
She nodded, stoic still. “And you’ll be back with your regiment.”
“I’m glad. I hope we’re the ones sent to relieve the convoy.”
“Do you think they’re still held prisoner?”
“Who knows? It all depends on what—or who—those Frogs were waiting for. For their sakes I hope they’re free, but—” He shook his head. “I’m not a bloodthirsty man. I couldn’t smother Colonel Robuchon while he lay senseless, but I almost hope the convoy is still captive, so I can have a chance at a clean shot at him in battle.” His hands curled into fists.
She considered that. “I hope you get it,” she said solemnly. They walked in silence for a few moments until she looked up at him with a slight frown. “May I keep one of the pistols?”
He hadn’t expected that. “If you wish, but are you sure you want that sort of reminder?”
“It’s not a souvenir. I mean to learn to shoot.”
“You shot very well two days ago.”
“That was luck.” She gave him a rueful glance. “I wasn’t aiming for Rodríguez’s head. Since my last shot had gone too low, I aimed high. I’ll ask Helen to teach me. She’s Colonel Isherwood’s daughte
r, and her father thought it right that his wife and daughters be prepared for any extremity.”
“I see.”
“Does it bother you that I wish to learn?” She threw down the question like a challenge.
“Not in the least. If I could, I’d teach you myself. The pistol is yours.”
They rounded a bend in the road and gazed down into a valley at a village that would have been peaceful had it not been surrounded by half a dozen encamped regiments.
“I think those sentries are from the Sixteenth,” Anna said.
He squinted, trying to make out the facing color on the blue-clad troopers’ uniforms. “I believe you’re right.”
“Good. Then Helen and Alec should be somewhere near.”
The sentries hadn’t spotted them yet—no laxity on their part, since he and Anna were still a goodly distance away. Will drew her off the road, beneath a tree he hoped would shield them from anyone who happened to pass by.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. The rifles slung across their shoulders rapped together, and Anna’s hands brushed awkwardly across his knapsack before she knocked his hat off and buried her hands in his hair, but Will only cared that this was the last time he could hold her and kiss her.
When they broke the kiss they still clung together. There was so much to say, and it would never be enough.
“I wanted to say a proper farewell to you, in private.” The words tumbled out, and he leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together. “You’re a wonder to me, Anna. There’s no one like you. Believe that. Live well. When I think of you, I want to picture you happy and beloved, so that’s the kind of life you must make for yourself, understand?”
She smiled shakily. “I’ll do my best. And you—you must live. You must survive the war and go home, and have a family for yourself, because that’s how I intend to picture you.”
“As my lady wishes,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.
“I’ll never forget you. I don’t have the words for what you’ve been to me.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
“I know.” Some things were well beyond the power of words. “And I’ll not forget you, either. Ever.”
One more long silence. “Shall we go back?” he asked.
Her face grew distant. “Yes.” Side by side but not touching, they returned to the road, to a world that would drive them apart.
***
Anna walked down the hill toward the army, sternly instructing herself on how she must behave. She could not slip and call him Will; it must be Sergeant Atkins. She must speak of him with the gratitude befitting a man who had rescued her from rape and guided her through the wilderness, but without giving away one iota more.
She hated this. She loathed having to pretend she thought herself above Will, especially with her lips still tingling from their last kiss and her body still throbbing from the intimacies of the night and the morning. But she squared her shoulders and set her mind to doing what must be done with all the grace she could muster.
The corporal commanding the sentry picket recognized her and exclaimed to see her when everyone had thought her halfway to Lisbon by now. But after Will gave him a cursory explanation, he told them where to find headquarters and sent a rider cantering ahead to alert the senior officers.
Will took the spare rifle she carried and gave her a pistol in exchange. For lack of any better way to carry it, she tucked it under her arm. They walked toward the village, drawing the occasional curious stare as they passed soldiers busy with washing, mending clothes and repairing equipment. They did not speak—what was left to say?
As they approached the tall stone house that held the encampment’s headquarters, Helen and Alec emerged and stood in its doorway. Anna picked up her pace, though she didn’t run, and Will trailed a few steps behind.
Helen met her in the street and swept her into an embrace, leaving Anna to stare blindly at her blue muslin shoulder and yellow-blond hair.
“Anna, darling, whatever happened? I’d strolled down to headquarters with Alec, and Private Jenkins rode in and said something about the convoy being captured and a French colonel being a nasty customer, but the man never made a coherent report in his life. Anna—my dear—I hope you are well.”
That much, at least, she knew how to answer. “I am. Footsore and dusty, but well.” Dear Helen. Anna longed to cling to her, but she feared if she showed any of her true emotions, she would end by revealing them all.
Alec joined them and took his turn to embrace her. “What’s this about a French colonel?” He looked over her shoulder. “And what’s your part in this, Sergeant?”
The question was probing but not offensive, and Will gave a brief account of the convoy’s capture and Colonel Robuchon’s assault against Anna. “It didn’t seem safe for either of us to stay there, sir,” he said.
“He would’ve been killed, and who would’ve protected me then?” Anna added.
Alec ran his hand through his hair. “Of course. You did the right thing. Thank you for your care of my cousin, Sergeant Atkins. I’ll make certain to speak to your commanding officer. We owe you a great deal.”
Will inclined his head. “Thank you, sir.”
Alec fumbled at his pockets. “If I might offer another token of our gratitude.” Several gleaming golden guineas shone on his outstretched palm.
Will’s eyes, a darker tawny gold, fairly burned with fury, and he drew himself up to rigid attention. He was a good hand’s span taller than Alec, and he made full use of his superior inches. “I never did it for a reward,” he said, his voice level and cold. “Sir.”
Alec gave Will an assessing look and put his coins away. “Very well. But if you ever find yourself in need, know that you can call upon us.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said, thawing a trifle.
“Thank you, Sergeant. I believe your captain would like to see you.”
Will nodded and moved to walk past them.
Impulsively Anna blocked his path and extended her hand. She hoped everything in her heart wasn’t written on her face, but she couldn’t let him walk away as though he were nothing to her.
Cautiously he took her hand. “Thank you, Sergeant Atkins,” she said, amazed how steady her voice sounded. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and good luck to you always.”
“And to you, ma’am. Goodbye, and safe journeys.”
And that must be that. Anna knew that to linger would arouse suspicions, so she released his hand, inclined her head and rejoined Helen. Will and Alec hurried into headquarters.
Helen hugged her again. “I’m taking you straight to our billet.”
“Shouldn’t I speak to Lieutenant-Colonel Kent?” Will had made brief mention of Mrs. Kent’s death, and Anna felt she ought to give the colonel a personal account of his wife’s last days.
Helen shook her head. “Alec can tell him. You’ve been through enough. We’ll call upon him tomorrow once you’ve rested.”
Anna surrendered. Mrs. Kent had been kind to her, and she owed her memory more than she could offer in her current exhausted, heart-sore state. “Perhaps that would be wiser.”
“Of course it would. You must be utterly done up and all but starved.” Helen took her arm and led her along the dusty street.
She smiled ruefully. “It isn’t so bad as that, but the last four days haven’t exactly ended with banquets and feather beds.”
“I daresay not.” Helen frowned at her. “Anna, why have you got a French pistol?”
She met Helen’s eyes. “I suppose you could call it spoils of war. I want you to teach me to use it. I can’t count on there always being someone to rescue me.”
Helen blinked. “I see. I’d be glad to. We can start tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I would. Thank you.”
“You’ll love our billet,” Helen said brightly. “It’s almost as good as home. There wasn’t room enough in the house where most of our officers are staying, so Alec and I and the children hav
e the sweetest cottage all by itself halfway up that hill west of the village. A widow lives there with her granddaughter, and they treat us like family.”
“That sounds delightful.” Anna sighed with relief that she need not live crowded together with all the officers of the Sixteenth just then.
“This way.” Helen turned down a little alley that ran between a pair of stone houses. Soon the village ended, but the path continued, winding up a steep slope terraced with olive trees. In the middle of the grove stood a solidly built two-story stone house. In England it would have done for a vicarage or the home of a prosperous farmer.
“I can’t believe you’re the only ones billeted there,” Anna said. “You’d think one of the other regiments would have claimed it.”
“We are lucky, but with only two divisions here, and this quite a large village…I’ll not question our good fortune.”
“Nor will I.”
“The first thing we’ll do is get you a bath,” Helen said, surveying her critically and wrinkling her nose.
Anna felt guilty relief that her filthy dress disguised the fact that she was clean underneath, smelling only of soap and Will. “A bath would be lovely, but I haven’t a stitch beyond what I’m wearing.”
“Don’t fret over that. We haven’t had time to make over the dresses you left for Beatriz yet. No black, but there’s a plain white and a dove gray. If we trim them with black ribbon, you’ll be proper enough until we can wash that dress and buy or make a few more.”
“Thank you.”
“Then we must feed you and let you rest. I expect Alec and the regiment will go out after your convoy, since they’re the only cavalry here.” She studied Anna, her eyes troubled. “I hope it wasn’t too dreadful, in the wilderness alone.”
“It wasn’t. Well, except when the hussars came after us and the next day the bandits, and we had to shoot them.”
“We?” Helen’s mouth fell open.
“Yes. We were outnumbered, and if I hadn’t shot while Sergeant Atkins reloaded…” She shook her head. “That was horrid. So was the skirmish when we were captured, and that—that odious colonel.” She shuddered. For the most part she had blocked the assault from her mind, but now the memories tried to return—the weight of the man, the taste of his blood. She shook her head.
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