‘I don’t know.’
‘Truly?’
‘Truly. I was in Spain a long time.’
‘But you’re not a humble soldier. You’re a spy, a man of intelligence, paid by Britain for information. Are you ever afraid?’
He smiled. ‘All the time. I am, after all, only human.’
They were just feet apart and Nathan knew that either could have moved away. Yet they stayed still, challenging each other, and Nathan knew she was challenging him to touch her and he was tempted suddenly to break the rules he had laid down for himself. The full mouth, the cheekbones, the curve of her cheek, the shadows about her throat were tempting.
‘What does it feel like to kill someone?’ she asked.
‘It depends. Sometimes good, sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes bad.’
‘When is it bad?’ She turned her head away.
‘When it’s unnecessary.’
He looked at her face, profiled against the broken moonlight, her beauty overpowering. His hand came up almost of its own volition, slowly, until his finger was under her chin and he turned her face towards him. She gave him a calm, wide-eyed expression, then stepped away from him so his arm was left in mid-air.
‘Do you enjoy killing?’
‘No. Some men’s deaths you can enjoy—the death of an enemy. Yet I do not wish the death of the French—even though we are at war. There’s more satisfaction in seeing a surrendered enemy than in seeing a slaughtered enemy. Death stops war from being a game. It gives glory and horror, and soldiers cannot be squeamish about death. There is a moment when rage conquers fear, when humanity disappears and makes a man into a killer. But that rage can keep a man alive.’
‘I suppose Claude Gameau enjoys killing. Will you kill him?’
Lucy looked at his face. She could see a pulse throbbing in his cheek beside the scar. His eyes were dark. She raised an eyebrow as if in question.
‘I can’t answer that. Although I think I would do the British and the French a great service by killing him.’
‘Does no one attempt to catch the deserters?’
Nathan shrugged. ‘The places where they hide in the mountains are far from both the lines of the French and the English. Besides, they would see a regiment of cavalry coming two miles away, which would give them time to move on. The partisans, who harry the French constantly, move through the hills a good deal easier and will do the job for the army.’
‘I expect the soldiers who abide by the rules must conceive a bitter hatred for the deserters.’
‘That’s true, but I think that hatred is caused partly by envy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Most soldiers, French and English, think at one time or another of desertion, but few do it. All soldiers dream of a perfect paradise where there is no discipline, a glut of wine and women. Gameau’s men have come close to realising that dream and the soldiers who go after them will punish them for daring to do what they can only dream of doing.’
‘And yet the deserters were like them once.’
‘And now they would murder for a few pence. They’re scoundrels, drunkards. They would steal off their own mothers for a pint of rum.’
‘Do you expect Claude Gameau to keep his word and let Katherine go in exchange for the gold?’
‘I’ve told you. The man is untrustworthy, but it has to be worth the risk.’ She closed her eyes and seemed to sigh. ‘Tired?’ he asked. She nodded. ‘Then try to get some sleep.’
‘You will wake me later? We should start as we mean to go on.’
He nodded. ‘Very well. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’
Lucy sank down on to her blanket, wrapping it around her and using her saddlebag for a pillow. Her bones and muscles were weary from the long day and jolting ride. She couldn’t remember being this tired. Everything was so strange, so new. Closing her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Checking that Lucy was sleeping soundly, Nathan flipped open his blanket and, wrapping it around his shoulders, he leaned against a tree, listening to the night sounds and questioning the wisdom of bringing her to Portugal with him. While he was proud of her courage and resilience, he was very much aware of her vulnerability.
Right or wrong he knew only one thing for certain—his assignment would be more difficult without her. The fact that she was going to have to live under a totally different set of conditions bothered him, but he would be understanding and patient. Deep down he felt sure that she was a woman fit for what lay ahead of them.
* * *
He didn’t have to wake her for her watch. She knew what she had to do and that he needed rest.
‘I’ve come to relieve you. You must be tired. Get some sleep.’
Reluctantly he nodded. ‘Very well. Wake me if you hear anything.’
He didn’t like having Lucy look out for them, but it was important that he rested. Rolling himself in his blanket, he dozed fitfully, his senses alert to the nuances of the night. Finally he slept, but restlessly, his dreams marred by premonitions, of what, he did not know.
* * *
Seated on the ground with her back propped against a tree, where she had fallen into a light doze when the first signs of dawn streaked the sky, Lucy listened to the strange sounds, only dimly aware of where she was. The snort of a horse brought her to her senses. The sun had risen just far enough to dapple the tops of the trees. She stretched herself, opening her eyes and looking across to where Nathan had slept. His blanket was rolled up on the ground, but there was no sign of him. Looking down the hill, she saw him leading the horses back from the stream where he had taken them to drink.
She shuddered a little in the raw air. The morning was pale and cool, the sun visible but still remote. She inhaled deeply, savouring the freshness of the air carrying the scent of shrub. Overhead, birds wheeled, their wings catching the sporadic golden flash of the sun before they dipped and vanished beyond the treetops.
‘Some use I’ve been,’ she said, reproaching herself for having fallen asleep, unaware how soft and vulnerable she looked, her face flushed from her doze. ‘I must have drifted off.’
‘I noticed,’ Nathan murmured without reproach. ‘Don’t worry. No one bothered us.’
‘I’ll do better, I promise. I won’t fall asleep again.’
* * *
After a short trip to the stream to wash her face, Lucy saddled her horse, making sure the saddlebags were well strapped before securing the stiff leather girth. Nathan moved to assist her. Aware of his nearness, Lucy turned her head, her breath soft and fragrant as she looked into his eyes. Her hands grew cold with sweat and her legs began to tremble.
‘Dear Lord, Lucy...’ Nathan whispered. ‘Dear Lord...this is going to be harder than I realised...’ His mind reeled and he pulled her slowly towards him. She came easily, each step unimpeded, until she leaned against him and yielded him her mouth with a long sobbing moan.
Their bodies strained together hungrily in a mindless rapture while the horse shifted restlessly. Lucy melted under his fierce, fevered kiss and she clung to him as she gave herself wholly to his passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning it with a wild and free abandon that amazed her as well as him. She felt him lift her in his arms and her heart streamed into his. She had no strength to pit against his will and her own need, yet as he laid her on the soft grass her hand turned against his chest and she twisted from him wildly and flung herself to her feet.
‘I cannot do this. I cannot.’ She sank to her knees beside him and covered her face with her hands.
Nathan lay quiet as she had left him and watched her, while his breathing slowed in time, and he said very low, ‘I want you, Lucy. I have tried to fight it, but I cannot pretend otherwise. You loved me once. I think you still f
eel something for me.’
He spoke her name so softly, as she had not heard it since she had left him all those years ago, and so piercingly sweet it sounded to her that the meaning of his other words came slowly. She could hardly think what to do, with her head spinning after that thrilling brush with passion. Events seemed to be whirling beyond her control, but at the same time she must remember that he had moved on with his life—and he had told her on the terrace at the house in Lisbon that there was no going back.
If she could not have the Nathan back that she had known, and his love had been a large part of that, she would settle for nothing less. She wondered how long it was going to take to break through his mistrust of her. If it took for ever—and after spending days dampening her body’s eager response to his, she prayed to God it did not—she would make him see he had nothing to fear, that she would rip off her own arms before she would do him harm in any way.
Raising her head, she cried with bitterness, ‘Yes, Nathan, I do still have feelings for you. I admit it and I, too, have fought it and will continue to do so until all this is over. Until then we must conquer our feelings.’
One of the horses whickered softly and the stream gurgled on its way. Nathan stirred and put his hand on her arm. ‘I agree. I did not mean this to happen, but it has. There will be no repeat of this—unless you wish it.’
‘I cannot,’ she whispered, though she dared not look at him. ‘I cannot,’ she repeated. ‘At this time, I would hate myself.’
‘And hate me?’ He spoke low and gentle.
She looked at him with pain-filled eyes. ‘Dear God, I could never hate you. Don’t torture me with these questions, and let me go’, for his hand had tightened on her arm and he put his face close to hers. She gathered all her strength and cried, ‘Have you forgotten why we are both here?’
* * *
Lucy’s words were like a douche of cold water. They brought him to his senses and he stared at her anew. She was right. Each day her hold upon his very thoughts had grown stronger, and he had been hard pressed to withhold his more amorous attentions. He wanted her, but he was too afraid to trust that she would stay with him. And where that mistrust had once led him only to anger and resentment, it now made his heart ache in a way he had not known possible.
My God, could he be falling in love with her all over again? he wondered, then firmly told himself, no, and after that repeated it to himself for good measure. He was not falling in love with her and firmly refused to do so. Her beauty and her closeness might be able to woo his body, but he would never willingly give her his heart again. He would not allow himself to set aside his worldly ways and self-esteem, not at this time when it was imperative that he kept tight hold on his self-control. He had suffered a moment of weakness and he must not allow it to happen again.
Damn it, he could not afford this distraction right now. Lucy’s very presence preoccupied his thoughts when he most needed to focus. He drew back sharply and got to his feet.
‘You are right, Lucy, and I apologise for allowing my ardour to get the better of me. We need to be focused. Katherine and her child are our main priority.’
* * *
All the time Lucy rode beside Nathan or followed him along narrow, winding paths, she was aware of him. All about them was the sweep of the landscape and a sky full of birds rising and wheeling in glittering formations against the puffs of cloud. The kiss had disturbed her greatly. She realised what had nearly happened between them. How simple it would be, she thought, to slip back into their old ways.
But things were different between them now. Nathan had, after all, made no pledge for the future. Although they knew each other as intimately as was possible between a man and a woman, when they had been young, confident, resilient and the future had held no fear for them, things were no longer the same. They were no longer the same. Better to keep him at arm’s length, prudence whispered. Then the heartache wouldn’t hurt quite so much when they parted.
Besides, if she allowed him to have his way with her and as a result got with child—which was something neither of them had given much thought to in the past—his freedom would be jeopardised. She didn’t ever want him to feel as if he was tied to her simply because he might be pressed to do the right thing by his offspring.
Deep down, she was beginning to learn that there was a part of Nathan that had escaped her, a part she could not reach no matter how hard she tried. And always, a small fear lurked in the back of her mind that this time that they were together, a time she would cherish, was too good to be true.
* * *
As they progressed with their journey, the Tagus never far from their sights, evidence of the conflict that had ravaged Portugal was everywhere. Villages were in ruins with few houses left standing. Lucy was glad Nathan didn’t linger in these places.
Portugal was a land of contrasts and after four years of war it was a land soaked with the blood of men, men who had battled for supremacy, for and against Napoleon.
As Lucy rode beside Nathan her admiration for him grew. He seemed to be made of solid steel. Apparently nothing affected this incredibly brave man. Having spent many hours in the saddle, she was tormented by weariness and cramps, but nothing in the world would have made her admit it. She gritted her teeth to stop herself crying out as the saddle chafed her sore legs and jarred her aching back. She said nothing as she struggled on, knowing full well that the success of their mission was more important than her discomfort. As she listened to the birds’ carefree singing, she eased her body into a new position with a tough strength, thinking that no matter how arduous the journey, she would bear it, for Katherine’s sake.
* * *
The sun was setting when they reached Villa Franca—yet another wretched place. Here there was an inn for the accommodation of travellers and also a rendezvous for all manner of miscreants. The landlord asked no questions, responded with a shrug to Nathan’s Portuguese, pocketed the generous coin he gave him for a bed and someone to take care of the horses and make sure they weren’t stolen, and after feeding them on sorry beefsteaks, bad bread and sour wine, allotted them a small chamber above. Lucy would have preferred a chamber to herself, but she was so tired she made no complaint.
Nathan indicated the bed. ‘Get in and go to sleep. You look done in.’
Unable to stifle a yawn, Lucy took off her hat before removing her boots and jacket. Aware that Nathan was watching her closely, she considered it best to keep her breeches on. Turning back the covers, she crawled into bed as he began to undress.
‘It’s best I sleep nearest the door,’ he said, ‘in case we have visitors.’
Lucy quickly moved to the other side of the bed. She was reminded of all the times they had occupied the same bed in the past, when sleep had been the last thing on their minds. Now, she was too saddle-sore and exhausted to be distracted by anything other than sleep.
Having placed the saddlebag with its precious gold on the opposite side of the room to the door, seeing there was no lock Nathan wedged the only chair firmly against it. With his pistol and sword close at hand, he blew out the candle and lay down beside her. A lantern outside swinging in the breeze cast its bouncing shadows dimly into the room. To her dismay, Lucy found her shirt was caught beneath him. She waited for him to move, but minutes passed and he did not and then she knew he had fallen asleep with his cheek against her soft curls.
With a sigh of resignation, she settled herself as best she could to pass the night in bondage, but with his presence close beside her, she found security and she sank into the realms of slumber.
* * *
Nathan came awake slowly, as if swimming upwards from the bottom of a deep pool. His mind was filled with the feel of Lucy warm and soft against him. Those tender breasts beneath her shirt were pressed against his back and her thighs were snuggled under his buttocks. His manhood rose as he thought
of taking her, not by force, but with gentle persuasion.
Her lovely face swam in a vision, sultry and soft, her lips parted and moist through which her breath came. In his vision her hair seemed to beckon him forwards, caress him as he kissed her. Her arms were welcoming, encircling him, taking him into her as he pressed his manhood home.
His manhood and his mind united to betray him. Honour, self-esteem and self-control became lost in a puff of smoke before the onslaught of his passions. He was about to turn over, to relieve his masculine persuasion, but on opening his eyes, in the cold light of dawn, his hot blood waned and a cold consciousness replaced it. He recoiled with some distaste at having nearly lost himself and, throwing back the covers, rose from the bed.
Hastily shrugging himself into his clothes, he gazed down at Lucy’s sleeping form, innocent and tender, still deep in slumber. He was reluctant to wake her, but he knew he must if they were to make an early start. Now wide awake, he was greatly disturbed. His body commanded him where his mind did not, and of late these visions were recurring with more and more frequency. If he wasn’t careful they would get the better of him and weaken him, and then where would he be?
* * *
Resuming their journey, they arrived at the small village of Cartaxo on the Tagus, which, Nathan told Lucy, had been Lord Wellington’s headquarters twice. The church was in ruins, as indeed were almost all the villages they passed through. They reached Santarem late in the afternoon. It was a fine, large town, surrounded with orange groves, but the streets were very dirty.
Nathan didn’t intend staying the night in Santarem. He had another destination in mind to the north of the town. Wanting to stretch their legs, they led their horses through the busy streets, strolling along in companionable silence. The saddlebags containing the precious gold were almost hidden beneath rolled blankets. Although Lucy looked about her with interest, she was alive to the man beside her. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had done this and she found it a pleasurable change from being bounced up and down on her horse.
Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant Page 13
