Juliet let out a deep breath and tried to regain her bearings. The dream had been so real, so visceral. She raised her fingers to her lips, as if the kiss lingered there. But there was something else, too. Her body still burned with desire. An uncomfortable ache of need throbbed between her legs.
She considered rising from bed for some much-needed fresh air, but she didn’t want her guards to see her so shaken. Especially the man who had invaded her dreams—Captain Adams, who was sitting just outside the tent flap in a canvas chair, his pistol cocked, no doubt.
With a sigh of frustration, she settled back down and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. She tossed and turned most of the night. When she did sleep, she was once again tormented by heated dreams about her handsome English captor.
Chapter 7
After a quick breakfast of hot coffee, fresh bread and butter—compliments of Mrs. Madgers herself—Carver and Hackett were summoned to Major Nye’s tent.
As promised, Nye had new orders for Carver.
“You will be escorting Lady Blade to the town of Villarosa,” the spymaster said. “General Edgerton is there, and Wellington is en route. There are rumors of a new offensive which could change Wellington’s next move in the Peninsula. The documents hidden in the telescope are now of utmost importance. You will deliver that, as well. No doubt, Wellington will want to meet with Lady Blade before she is traded back to the French. Assemble the best of your men and be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour.”
Carver saluted his superior officer and returned to his tent. In truth, he was relieved at this turn of events. By the very nature of her sex, Lady Blade was in danger, here. There were rumblings of discontent amongst the men. Many of them would seek to take revenge upon a beautiful French spy if given the chance.
He had witnessed riots break out in the lower ranks, before, and it wasn’t pretty. It usually ended with many senseless deaths, injuries, and even hangings.
However, keeping Lady Blade from attempting an ill-advised escape would be a challenge all its own.
“Hackett, tell Tanner, MacAuly and Wilkins to gather their kits,” Carver ordered. “And Lieutenant Pitt, as well. Be ready in ten minutes. Be quick, now.”
“Yes, sir,” Hackett said, “Should I pack me kit as well, sir?”
“Yes, Hackett.”
The sergeant winked and gave a nod. “Aye, sir!”
Carver shook his head and turned his attention back to his kit. He packed the usual trappings—blanket, canteen, cup, bowl, tea, cigars, clean shirt and socks. As he added Wellington’s prized telescope to the mix, he looked over his shoulder at Juliet.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, finally.
“Not just me,” he replied. “You’re coming, too.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
“That’s not important, right now, Miss Reed.”
“I beg to differ, Captain,” she replied, curtly. “It is vitally important to me.”
“You need not be concerned regarding your safety,” he said. “In fact, you’ll be more protected away from this camp.”
“May I see Major Ganot before we leave?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“You’re being quite cruel,” she said. “Wouldn’t you want to say goodbye to an injured comrade?”
“Miss Reed,” he began, “your feelings regarding your comrade are none of my concern, at the moment. I have been assigned a mission and I intend to follow my orders. None of which include allowing you to pass along sensitive information to your partner, Major Ganot. That is the end of it. As you have nothing to pack, I’ll take along an extra shirt for you, should you need it.”
The thought of Lady Blade wearing his shirt was quite distracting, indeed. Carver had an image of her standing in the morning sun, wearing only his oversized linen shirt, and felt himself harden at the thought.
God help him, now was not the time to become distracted.
The sounds of soldier’s boots on the ground outside penetrated the walls of the tent, followed by Sergeant Hackett’s voice shouting the men to attention.
It was time they went on their way.
Carver lifted the tent flap and ushered Juliet out into the road, where his men were waiting. They stood at attention, waiting for their orders.
“About, face!” Carver shouted. “Forward, march!”
He glanced at his prisoner, and knew he and his men couldn’t let their guard down for a moment. If he were Juliet, he would see this journey as a perfect opportunity to escape. But she would know he’d suspect such a plan, so she would be on her guard, as well.
He suspected this next journey would challenge Carver’s skills as a soldier in ways he had never imagined.
Chapter 8
Juliet listened to the boots of the men around her, clomping along like the hooves of a team of horses, all in perfect rhythm. What was she doing here? This was not part of her plan, and yet, it might be a gift from Heaven, facilitating her escape.
She was Captain Adams’ prisoner, for the moment.
Juliet stole a glance at Adams as he walked beside her in the dark. Her eyes had adjusted long ago, and she watched his tall, muscular frame stride commandingly beside her. His red coat had turned a dark, bloody crimson in the night. In the moonlight, the white of his shirt glowed like snow. He flicked some hair out of his eyes, and turned his head, his penetrating gaze meeting hers. Then, he turned his attention back to the road before them.
He was a strange man, this Carver Adams. As an English soldier, she should feel nothing but contempt for him.
And yet the feelings he inspired within her were much different than contempt.
The worst part was that Juliet couldn’t blame it on his handsome face or strong, masculine body. She’d met and fought alongside many handsome Frenchmen during this war, including Etienne, but none of them had ever made her feel like this before.
Suddenly, her French Army uniform seemed out of place upon her lithe body. She wanted the feminine feeling of skirts floating about her legs. Her sturdy leather boots seemed like shackles, now.
A secret part of her desired satin dancing slippers on her feet and silk stockings on her legs, and for a man like Carver Adams to slowly peel them both off.
Good God, what was happening to her? Had she suffered a blow to the head during the last skirmish? No, she knew that wasn’t it, for these strange feelings had been brewing since the day she’d met Captain Adams and taken him as her prisoner.
“Halt!” Captain Adams shouted, and the group came to a stop. “We’ll bivouac here for the night, lads. I think we’re far enough away.”
They’d been walking for a few hours at the quick pace that the light infantry was famous for. Juliet guessed that they were near the hillside village of Ocampo. They’d climbed up into the hills an hour ago, and by her calculations, Ocampo was just a few more hours away.
“MacAuly, Tanner, go and fetch some firewood,” Adams said, taking off his pack and putting down his pistol. “Lieutenant Pitt, you, Hackett and Wilkins scout out ahead, and make sure we’re not making camp beside some French Voltigeurs. I’ll stay here and guard Lady Blade.”
“Don’t you think you better keep your pistol handy, Captain, if you’re on guard duty?” Juliet asked.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You won’t run just yet,” he replied, with a touch of arrogance. “You’re tired, and so am I. Besides, if you run, you won’t be able to smoke the cigar I’m about to offer you.”
He sat down on a boulder and pulled out a long, thin cigarillo and lit it, the smoke drifting into the air and teasing her nostrils. The smell almost made her salivate. Holding it in his teeth, he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out another one, lit it, and held it out to her.
She took it wordlessly and inhaled the spicy smoke. It tasted so sinfully good, Juliet thought she might moan in pleasure.
Tanner and MacAuly app
eared, carrying bundles of twigs and branches for firewood, and began to build a fire. Soon, it was burning brightly. The warmth was welcome and kept the cool evening air at bay.
Juliet sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and smoked her thin cigar, watching the men around her working efficiently to prepare the camp. The slightly treed area made a perfect place for an overnight camp, both shielding them from the wind and from the view of anyone approaching. But the trees were far enough apart so that they wouldn’t be trapped if there was an attack. Another good choice by Adams.
“All clear, sir,” Lieutenant Pitt called as he emerged from the darkness, with Sergeant Hackett close behind him.
“Good, now sit yourselves down, and dig out your cups,” Adams replied. “Private Tanner is brewing some tea. Eat whatever you’ve brought. We’ll stop tomorrow in Ocampo to purchase more rations.”
The men dug around in their packs, pulling out cups and bits of bread and cheese. Juliet wondered if they would offer her any, or wait to see if she would ask. She was no stranger to hunger, and generally, food didn’t concern her. It was nice to eat after a long journey, but no matter. She’d gone to sleep with a rumbling stomach many times before on her missions, and she would do so again.
“Miss Reed, I’ll share my bread and cheese with you,” Lieutenant Pitt said, holding out a thick hunk of brown bread and a hunk of golden cheese.
“I’ve got some beef here, ma’am, if you’d like,” offered the tall, red-haired MacAuly.
“And I’ve just made you the first cup of tea,” chimed Tanner, holding out his dented tin mug, the fragrant steam rising into the night air.
Juliet was rendered mute as she looked up into the shining faces of her enemies.
These were the men she fought against every day. She had killed many of them since becoming Colonel Arnaud’s protégée—and here they were, offering their meagre rations to her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then composed herself.
“Thank you, gentlemen. It’s very kind.”
The men beamed as they handed her their food, and Juliet nodded at each one of them in lieu of a smile. Then she looked down at the pile of food on her lap and hoped she could balance it all and not drop any on the ground.
“Well, the secret’s out, Hackett,” Adams said, looking at the sergeant sitting next to him. “Now I won’t be able to threaten her with starvation, with all you mother hens making sure she has enough to eat.”
The men turned to their captain, and chuckled sheepishly.
“I suppose it’s all right,” he continued. “Perhaps if we feed her well enough, and keep her supplied with enough cigars, we might even make her come over to our side, eh, lads?”
Juliet ignored Captain Adams’ remark, and ate the generous offerings his men had shared with her. It would take more than that to make her switch sides at this late date.
Much more.
Yet Juliet couldn’t shake the feeling that on this journey, she might learn exactly what that might be.
Chapter 9
Carver set down his tin mug and wiped his mouth. Tanner certainly did make a good cup of tea.
Yet something was making his stomach unsettled. Was it the mission to smuggle Lady Blade away from the British camp? He hoped his party wouldn’t encounter any other British battalions en route to Villarosa, and if they did, that the buggers wouldn’t know who they were. What a bloody mess.
Well, he’d faced worse odds in this war, and he would again. No use worrying about it like a schoolboy.
“Time for bed, lads,” Carver said, turning his head to address his men.
He stopped suddenly as his eyes met Juliet’s.
The truth was that saying those simple words aloud created a frenzy of images in Carver’s mind, and a physical yearning for the prisoner before him. He wished it was only the two of them out here in these hills, sharing a bed together under the stars.
“Tanner!” he barked, purging that thought from his mind.
“Yes, sir?” The young man stood at attention.
“You will take first sentry duty,” Carver explained. “Then Wilkins, then MacAuly. That should take us until dawn, do you think, Private?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take up your post, then. The rest of you, lay out your blankets and get some shut-eye. We’ve a long day, tomorrow. Miss Reed will borrow Private Tanner’s blanket for the night.”
The boy trotted over to Juliet and untied a woollen blanket from his pack, presenting it to her with pride.
“I should not want to take your only blanket, Mister Tanner,” Juliet objected. “I can do quite well without one.”
Tanner looked to Carver for guidance.
“You’ll need a blanket for the night, Miss Reed,” Carver replied. “It gets cold in these hills.”
“I know how cold it gets, Captain. I do not wish to deprive your men of their equipment. I will be fine without one.”
“You’d do well to take it, ma’am,” Lieutenant Pitt suggested. “Major Nye will have our heads in a noose if we allow you to catch cold on the way to Villarosa, not to mention risking Lord Wellington’s displeasure. Surely, you don’t want us to hang, ma’am?”
Pitt had a gift with words—he could talk anyone ’round. He would make a good politician when he returned home to England after the war.
Juliet studied Pitt’s earnest expression. “No, Lieutenant—hanging wasn’t quite what I had in mind for you.” She reached out and took the blanket from Private Tanner.
Now that that was settled, Carver began unbuckling his sword-belt, lifting the curved scabbard away from his body and handing it to Lieutenant Pitt.
“What are you doing, sir?” Pitt asked.
“I’m disarming myself, Lieutenant.” Next came the small dagger at his back.
“No offense, sir, but ’ave ye lost your mind?” Hackett questioned.
“No, Hackett, but if I have, it’s better than losing my neck. Tie Miss Reed and I together, please.”
“What?” Hackett and Juliet said in unison.
“Our wrists,” Carver replied. “Tie them together.”
“I protest, Captain,” Juliet said, her eyes blazing. “You will not tie me up again as if I were an animal.”
“The order, madam, is to tie us both like animals, so don’t act so offended,” he answered. “I do not relish the thoughts of you stealing my dagger while I snore, and trying to slit my throat with it.”
“You don’t give yourself much credit, Captain.”
“I give you the credit, ma’am,” he replied. “You see, though you might be able to lift the dagger, you would get it nowhere near my throat, and truthfully, I do not wish to injure you—which, knowing what a formidable opponent you are—I would surely be forced to do. So instead, I will tie your wrist to mine, so that you and I may both get some sleep. If you feel compelled to try to steal another of my men’s weapons during the night, I’ll surely be awakened as you drag me across the camp.”
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked finally, her mouth curving into a bewitching smile.
Carver answered her grin with his own. “Not any more than I trust Napoleon himself. Hackett, will you do the honors, please?”
“And what if I don’t trust you, Captain? she asked, challenging him to respond. “What if you attempt to have your way with me in the night?”
“We both know that only a foolish man would attempt such a thing, and even if I were a fool, I am not known for such brutish behavior. But, if it makes your mind rest easier, Sergeant Hackett and Lieutenant Pitt would deal with me if such an event occurred.”
“They’re your men,” she countered. “Why should I believe they’d protect me from you?”
“Because they are honorable soldiers, madam—even if they fight for the opposing side,” Carver said.
Hackett pulled a length of cord from his pack. Carver lifted his right wrist and looked pointedly at Juliet, hoping she would follow suit with her left. She locked him with an unforgiving st
are.
This beautiful, daring and resourceful spy was his enemy, his prisoner—but he would have given anything if it were not so. That nagging fact continued to unsettle him.
Slowly, she raised her left hand and held it next to Carver’s.
“By Jove, it’s like a hand-fast wedding!” Hackett proclaimed, proudly.
The other men began to chuckle, then quickly stopped when they saw both Carver and Juliet’s dark expressions.
“Get on with it, Hackett,” Carver ordered.
Hackett brought the cord under their hands and crossed the ends over their wrists.
“It’s an old Celtic tradition,” Hackett explained, looping the cord around their wrists a few times. “Me own parents and grandparents were married that way, and I expect most of me family tree, all the way back to Alfred the Great. The beauty of it is, there are so many variations to the ceremony. Sometimes the bride and groom speak vows, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there are witnesses, but if there aren’t any, that doesn’t get in the way of things. And it doesn’t even need to be consummated right away—the union is still as binding as if it were blessed by the Pope, himself. All that must be done, is the couple’s wrists need to be tied together, just like this.”
“What are you implying, Sergeant?” Juliet asked. “If what you say is true, you must untie us at once!”
“Well, no sense in untying you now. The damage is done, I reckon,” Hackett replied, then he grinned. “I’m just ribbin’ you, Miss. I’m sure it’s not legally binding. After all, you’re not a Celt.”
“Miss Reed is half-English, Hackett,” Carver pointed out.
“Oh,” Hackett replied, dropping his gaze. He finished securing the cord.
“Don’t listen to him,” Carver said, finally. “None of that is true.”
“It is true,” Hackett grumbled, walking away.
“Well, it’s not true today,” Carver said, forcefully. He looked down at Juliet. “You are my prisoner, I’m taking you to Villarosa, and that’s the end of it. We are not married.”
The Duke's Defiant Bride (Brides of Mayfair Book 4) Page 6
