It Started at Waterloo

by Lynne Connolly

  Four hours later, Will caught Amelia as she staggered when he passed her his large saw after a difficult amputation. The patient’s condition, and the sight of gore didn’t concern her; this was exhaustion.

  Two more surgeons were present, and one nodded at Will. “Take her to a bed. There are some upstairs.”

  He would not put her to bed somewhere with bloodstained, worn sheets, a place where more than one man had died in the last few days. “I’ll see to her. Thank you, Guthrie.”

  Amelia would have protested, but before she could emit more than a squeak, he had her in his arms. He bore her off to the back of the farmhouse, where his servant had erected his private tent.

  Before he reached the small patch of canvas he called home, he smelled good beef stew. Normally he cared little what was in the food he ate. It tasted good and kept him alive. Robinson was a marvel at scavenging for food. Will had not only cut off Robinson’s useless arm after it had been damaged beyond repair at Badajoz, he had saved the private’s life. Not that Robinson ever showed gratitude. He was not a vocal person, but Will enjoyed the silence after a day or two day’s work.

  He set Amelia gently on his campaign chair, a collapsible piece of furniture of some ingenuity. She slumped down and closed her eyes.

  “No you don’t,” Will said, gripping her hand. “Food first. And drink. We have tea and good brandy, but I’d recommend the tea.”

  Robinson entered the tent bearing a tray with two bowls, brimming with steaming stew. “Beef and carrots, with a few potatoes, sir,” he said. When Will raised a brow, he added, “Real beef, sir, bought from a vendor in Brussels who happened to owe me a favor.”

  Good enough. If it turned out to be cat or even horse, Will would beat the man. This woman deserved the best he could find.

  Robinson balanced the tray on his false arm, his left, while distributing the food with the other. Will had amputated his lower arm below the elbow joint, something he had learned gave the patient much more mobility. Robinson made excellent use of the crude prosthetic someone had made for him. It terminated in an iron hook that Robinson was continually polishing to a high shine. He placed Amelia’s bowl on a table at her side, and gave Will his directly.

  Will made do with the bed as a seat. While he had collected some useful pieces on his travels, he did not have many. In fact, he’d managed to save on his salary. That and his smallholding in the country, currently leased to a local farmer, would keep him in reasonable state.

  Robinson had also come up with relatively fresh bread. A miracle.

  Amelia blinked herself awake and turned her attention to her food, plying the spoon as enthusiastically as Will. “Does this make up for missing supper on the night of the Richmond ball?” he asked between mouthfuls.

  “Yes, oh, more than makes up for it.” She sighed in pleasure.

  Something he barely recognized stirred inside Will. His libido. How could he even think about intimate relations when he was so dog-tired? And with this woman, who he had no claim on? However she appeared, she was a lady. He should not touch her. But he wanted her.

  Until now, he’d kept rigid control over his lust. The Spanish woman had been an aberration, one he’d regretted almost immediately. He had seen what indiscriminate overindulgence of that nature brought, and he wanted none of it. Better celibate than that.

  His feelings for Amelia superseded his iron self-control. It was not merely her body he wanted, but the whole of her. Her fine mind, her industry and her strength of character appealed to him on a level he had not been aware of before.

  Even watching her neat efficiency as she ate gave him pleasure. She would be a most amenable wife, if she accepted him, but more than that—she would warm his bed.

  Amelia kept her hands clean and her hair tidy, but she rarely bothered with anything else, even when she was not working. He would remedy that. Someone with her meticulous habits should have fine Castile soap and rosewater. He would make it his business to ensure she had those things.

  Amelia was so absorbed in her food and so tired that she took no notice of anything else. He knew those times, when the effort to concentrate on more than one thing at a time was not possible.

  When her spoon scraped the bottom of the metal bowl, he gently took the items from her and laid them aside on the tray. She drank the tea from a chipped pottery mug—his, in fact, only notable for its capacity. Will made do with his beer tankard, but he drank tea from it. Too tired even for weak beer, he forced himself to stay awake until he’d seen to Amelia.

  When they’d done, he admonished her to remain where she was and took the tray to Robinson, who had bivouacked outside. The fire, set at a decent distance from the tent, crackled, the only object that had any energy tonight, for he certainly did not.

  “I don’t want us disturbed tonight.”

  Robinson had seen Amelia before. His laconic nod and murmured, “Yes, sir,” told Will nothing.

  Will went into his tent, to discover that Amelia had slipped sideways and was sleeping on his bed.

  He had a choice. He could join her, or he could sleep outside with Robinson, wrapped in a blanket. That was undoubtedly what a gentleman would do.

  Sometimes Will didn’t behave like a gentleman.

  Amelia woke warm, between clean sheets that smelled of camphor and nothing else. They were good sheets, too, crisp and smooth. She blinked, to find the thick, buff-colored canvas of a tent before her eyes.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Her state didn’t concern her. In most lodgings, she shared a bed with at least one of her sisters. Her mind, fuzzy with sleep, refused to behave itself and tell her where she was and why. For a full minute she luxuriated in her state. She didn’t usually wake up with an arm curled around her waist, nor were her sisters quite so large or so—broad-chested?

  She came fully awake, realization springing her into consciousness. His breath warmed her neck.

  Chills prickled down her spine. Will had brought her here and she’d eaten something. Here, in his tent. She couldn’t remember falling asleep.

  With a strangulated yelp, she sat bolt upright.

  The man next to her moaned his protest. “This is but a small bed. Do come back or you’ll let out all the warmth.”

  Rain pattered on the canvas, but he was right, in here it was warm and cozy. But she could not just slide back down. She swallowed. “I—I didn’t expect…” She swallowed again, trying to find the words.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so missish,” he grumbled, and tugged her back down, covering them both with the two thick blankets. “It’s damned cold for summertime. Perhaps it’s not raining so much in Britain. Likely we’ll find out in a few weeks.”

  He opened his eyes. For a fraught moment, she met them, gazing at him like a rabbit caught by a snake. Then he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her.

  The kiss was a sweet one, like a friend greeting another by saluting them on the lips, but it did not have that effect on Amelia. The touch of his lips on hers made her tingle, right down to her toes. When she wriggled them, she made another discovery.

  She was not wearing her gown.

  Planting her hands against his chest, she pushed away, breaking the kiss. Will gave her a lazy smile. “Perhaps you should think of marrying me instead of Sir Henry. We make a good partnership, after all.”

  Amelia stared at him, wide-eyed. He did not mean it. He could not. They were both exhausted by their lack of sleep and the work of the last few days. Already she felt sleep claiming her again, seducing her back into warm oblivion.

  But—dare she think about something else? For years she had sustained herself with one ambition, one she might have to give up before too long. This might be her last chance to indulge herself.

  She wanted love.

  The one thing she had no right to expect. Her soul yearned for it. She had not received love from anyone, but she’d seen it in others. The way a couple smiled at each other, sharing a priva
te joke or reading one another’s thoughts. Never being alone again. And the other, sinful desires she knew far more about than a simple maiden should.

  She’d seen men’s privates, and she knew how they worked, because sometimes a soldier would come into the hospital in rags, or he would need stripping and washing. Usually she left that task to the orderlies, but after a battle, when everyone was needed, she would help. Nobody commented on it, at least not to her face.

  Desire took her, strong and hard. She wanted to feel this man’s skin against hers, his body curved around her as they were when she awoke, but with both of them bare. Tomorrow, when her mother would ensure she was betrothed to Sir Henry, it would be too late.

  The cocoon of warmth, and the privacy here gave her a dreamy sense of wanting, her usual barriers gone.

  Amelia had long known her feelings for him were more than she should allow, but she could not help herself. She wanted him badly, and here was her chance.

  She wriggled uncomfortably, trying to find some space in this small bed, but in doing so she came into contact with his—member? The men called it a cock. Secretly she liked the word, but doubted she could ever say it aloud.

  He made an essentially male sound, a kind of grunt, and moved closer, snuggling it against her thigh. “Much though I’d like to, we cannot. I’m so tired, for one thing.” He paused, and froze into position. “Amelia.” As if reminding himself who she was.

  “Yes, it’s me,” she said steadily.

  “You’re warm and safe, so let’s take advantage of that. Sleep.”

  “Who removed my clothes?”

  “I did.” He opened his eyes wider. “I only got rid of your stained dress and your shoes, so rest easy. Oh, and your stays. How women can sleep in those things defeats me.”

  Yes, he was right. Her gown had been horribly marked, and when she wriggled her toes she realized she was still wearing her stockings, shift and petticoats. She could almost walk down the main street of Brussels like this. Except being without her stays made her feel vulnerable. She squirmed against him, savoring his warmth and essential maleness.

  Will groaned. He swung up, lying over her, his shaft pressed into her stomach. “You want this?”

  “Yes.”

  He blinked down at her. “You were supposed to say no. Perhaps one more kiss will not do any harm. God knows we both deserve it. Then will you go back to sleep?”

  Happily, she nodded. What harm could one kiss do?

  They must not do more than this. But even as the thought crossed her mind, he flicked his tongue against her lips. She trembled at the intimate touch and did what came naturally. She opened her mouth and he surged in.

  Her gasp of shock drew him in further. His articulated sigh swept through her, and his body surged lasciviously against hers. Scandalous. The consideration, instead of deterring her, added spice to the encounter.

  Will tilted his head, sealing them together. He worked his lips against hers, sliding his tongue around her mouth, tasting and exploring. When he touched his tongue to hers, she shuddered.

  This was a dream. It had to be. How could it be anything else? Tiredness lapped at the edges of her mind. But such a good dream that she gave herself up to it.

  He brought his hand up and cupped her breast, moving a little so he could reach it. His lips left hers for the bare moment it took him to murmur, “Pretty.” He was back again before she had time to protest.

  Not that protest had formed the uppermost thought in her mind. When she dared to curve her arm around his neck and spread her hand over the back of his head, he groaned into her mouth. The sound added to the sensations rocketing through her body.

  Yes, rocketing. She’d seen rockets, the way they fizzed before shooting off at unimaginable speeds and exploding in enemy lines. At a siege somewhere, Badajoz, maybe.

  Her thoughts scattered as fast as she tried to collect them. He massaged her breast, his fingers finding her nipple, tweaking and pulling, increasing sensitivity with each touch. She pressed against him, pushing into his hand, her body climbing to a peak she’d had no idea was possible.

  Was this why people risked everything? Did intimacy feel like this every time?

  She had no idea, but she wanted to find out. Longed to, with an urgency that shocked her.

  Will kissed her again and again before touching his lips to hers in tender caresses. He moved to kiss over her ear, lingering on the rim. When he nipped it, she jumped, bringing her into closer contact with him, caressing his shaft with the warmth of her body.

  “Amelia, you have hidden depths,” he murmured, his voice so soft anyone standing at the tent flap would not hear him. “I am privileged that you chose me to explore them.”

  A noise outside disturbed her, then sent her into shock. A man cleared his throat, his voice coming from directly outside the flap. “Mr. Kennaway, sir?”

  Will closed his eyes and pulled away from her. His mouth was swollen and wet, his gaze slumberous. “We will resume this later.” He blinked and shook his head. She was so close she saw the blue of his eyes return.

  He raised his voice. “Yes, Robinson?”

  “Let me through!”

  The strident tones of her mother came clearly through the tent flap, and before either had time to move, Lady Hartwell had shoved her way through. Robinson followed.

  “Am-e-li-a!” Every syllable of her name sounded like anathema on her mother’s lips.

  With a strangled cry, Amelia hid her face in the nearest object, which happened to be Will’s broad chest. His arms went around her in a protective gesture and he cursed in a low voice.

  “You saw us last eve, madam. We were neither of us capable of rational thought.”

  “I am appalled, sir! I thought you a gentleman!”

  “So did I,” Will said, gazing ruefully at Amelia. “I must apologize most profusely, ma’am.”

  So formal! She touched her swollen lips. No dream, this. She had always known it would not be, but wishful thinking had gone a long way to persuade her.

  Will turned his attention to her mother. “I can only offer the excuse that three days and nights with very little sleep will drive a man to follow his natural inclinations. I had only the idea of keeping Amelia safe here. What you saw was relatively innocent, I swear.”

  She hoped not. Amelia had wanted more, although she feared that Will’s essentially gentlemanly nature would have driven him to stop long before they took the final step. Perhaps that was why she felt so safe giving herself into his hands. Not to mention taking what she’d dreamed about for so long. If he had not been so tired, Will would never have accepted her acquiescence. Lord, he would never have kissed her in the first place.

  “Now, ma’am, if we kept our voices low, we might not be overheard,” Robinson said.

  Lady Hartwell must have listened, because her next words came out as a low growl. “How long has this been going on? All the time you told me you were sleeping in a small room in the farmhouse? How true was that? I have Sir Henry waiting to ask her a most particular question, and I find you in this manner?” She tapped her foot and stared at them in silence for a minute. When she spoke again, it was in a more reasonable tone. “Come now, we may brush past this. Meet Sir Henry, accept his offer and all will be well.”

  When Amelia would have responded, Will touched a finger to her lips. His brows rose slightly, warning her. “I fear I have preempted Sir Henry. Amelia must answer my question first,” he said to her mother without taking his attention off her. “In the meantime, if you would do us the courtesy of giving us a little privacy, we will be with you directly.”

  Amelia had to trust him. Did he mean it? Her heart throbbed so hard she feared it must burst through her chest.

  “All I can say,” her mother whispered, “is that you have a choice. Make it fast, girl, because you will not have the luxury much longer.”

  With a swish of silk, she turned and left the tent.

  With her gone, Amelia could think again. T
he onslaught of sensual demand Will had subjected her to, and the sudden unexpected advent of her mama had her thoughts in a whirl.

  Will still lay close, although he’d rolled off her when her mother had entered the tent. Her state of undress must have been scandalously apparent. “Breathe,” he said with a smile. “So what do you think? Should we make a match of it?”

  Chapter Four

  “How can you smile at a time like this?” she demanded hotly. “I would never have thought it of you!”

  Will had never seen this side of his efficient assistant before. Her temper intrigued him. She was adorably flustered, although the level of her distress made him regret his rash actions of last night and this morning. But if he had not climbed into bed with her and removed her gown, they would not be in this situation. Much though he should feel sorry for it, he could not regret his offer. And with her mother’s willingness to forget the matter, Amelia still had a choice. “Amelia, remember what I said. Breathe. And while you’re doing it, listen to me.”

  He watched her until she obeyed him and forced a couple of deep breaths into her lungs. “Why should we not marry? You need a husband if you are to continue the work you love.”

  “But I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You are not. Last night I considered the possibility. When your mother said you had received a proposal from Sir Henry, I knew he was not the man for you.” He touched her chin, making her look at him. “He will never allow you to continue with your work. You will be an adjunct. The mother of his children and a pretty accessory.”

  She choked a laugh. “Then he would be disappointed in one of those ambitions at least.”

  He firmed his mouth. “Allow me to differ. You would make him a perfect wife because your pride would not let you be anything else. Amelia, do you think for one moment I would have allowed myself to make love to you if I did not intend to ask you to marry me?” He shook his head. “I fear my weariness and your proximity led me into unwise actions, but I would not have you believe I didn’t want you. Together we may continue the discoveries we made here.”