by Sara Orwig
“You may freshen up, then join us to eat. I’ll go back with the men.”
With a rush of cold air, he was gone. She turned to look at the small, primitive house. A fire blazed in the stone hearth; the furniture was made of rough logs laced together into chairs, a table, and a bed made from a hide stretched and lashed to a wooden frame. Guanaco hides and a bright red comfort were piled on top, red curtains covered the windows, and gray wolf hides covered the stone floor. Light from lanterns flickered, adding a rosy glow to the room. It looked like paradise after the hard climb on the cordillera and the hours before when she had expected to spend her days in prison, or worse, with General Farjado.
She shivered, remembering the battle, the chase; then hunger stirred her to move. Water was heated in a pot near the fire and a tin tub stood in a shadowy corner. Lianna poured a scant amount in the tub to bathe, relishing the bath, but moving swiftly so she could join the men to eat.
After she had dressed, she heard a rap on the door.
Ducking his head to get through the door, Josh stepped inside. “Ready to eat?”
“I could eat something live, I’m so famished.”
“I’ll clean up quickly.” He crossed the cabin to touch the water in the tub.
Startled, she realized he intended to bathe. “There’s more water heating,” she said, and turned her back, sitting down in front of the fire. While she warmed her feet, she became conscious of every sound he made.
She heard Josh pull off each boot; she heard his clothing rustle and drop. Water splashed and she knew he was in the tub. And it was impossible to fight the images that rose in her mind, the all-too-clear pictures of his body.
She heard him splashing and clenched her fists, burning with desire, fighting the urge to turn and go to him.
“I talked with Collo, one of the patriots,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll ride ahead to join the army. You’ll stay behind with Simms. When Santiago falls, I’ll send word or come get you.”
She sat in silence, fighting her own battle.
“I’m hurrying. The meat is ready and smells delicious. Lianna, would you please bring the kettle of warm water? I’ll rinse off with it.”
She drew in her breath, and reluctantly picked up the kettle. She kept her gaze focused on it, fighting the impulse to look at him, hating the raging need she felt.
His strong hands reached out to take it. He slanted her a look. “Mind pouring it over me?”
She wanted to fling it at his head. When he asked, she glanced up, and her sweeping gaze took in his glistening wet shoulders, rivulets of water running across his chest, the dark hairs twisted and matted wetly, the muscles beneath more fully revealed. His knees were bent, his strong arms resting on the sides of the tin tub.
“You can manage, Josh!” She handed him the kettle so swiftly that it almost fell. Josh caught it, and Lianna went to stand near the fire.
“Ah, Lianna, women are so damned difficult to understand. You’re angry because I asked for a kettle of water. Now, what harm was there in my request?”
She burned with embarrassment, wanting to tell him he was teasing her beyond endurance.
“Maidenly modesty?” he persisted, and she heard the laughter in his voice.
“Will you hurry!” she snapped. “I’m famished.”
He chuckled. “Do I hear fires crackling in your voice?”
“Of course not!”
“Any chance of a back scrub from you?”
“No! Great grief, you can be difficult!”
“I’m difficult?” he asked innocently.
“No, you’re marvelous company! You’re teasing me and you know it!”
He laughed. “Come on, Lianna, let me hear you laugh.”
“You’re not stirring my amusement with your remarks. I don’t feel like laughing.”
“And what do you feel?” he asked in a husky drawl that changed the atmosphere at once.
She drew a deep breath and turned to look at him. “You know the sight of you makes me want you!” she said swiftly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I love you.”
“If I change my life,” he said bitterly, all humor gone from his voice.
She turned her back. “It’s an impasse, Josh. I can’t live with you going into battles constantly.”
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” he said gruffly. Great splashing sounded behind her, then clothing rustled. Listening to him dress, she bore the agony of more mental images.
Finally he said, “I’m done.”
She turned around. He stood with his hands on his hips, white shirt open at the throat, breeches snug on his thighs, his booted feet spread apart slightly.
His gaze was stormy and unsettling, and she felt torn between love for him and hatred for the life he lived. “Can we go?” she asked quickly. “I’m hungry.” But all need to eat had gone with the sight of him.
“Of course.” He placed her coat around her shoulders. Did his hands linger? Or was it her imagination? His coat was made of sheepskin with matted curls, giving his shoulders even greater breadth.
Silently they went out. When they stepped into the cool night, Lianna saw a man mount a horse and ride around a bend of the creek, where he was hidden by tall willows.
“Someone’s leaving?”
“He’s going to stand watch, merely a precaution. The loyalists will be inflamed over their general. We don’t want to be taken by surprise.”
She shivered and pulled the coat tighter, watching where the lone figure had disappeared into the shadows.
Inside the house, Josh introduced her to the patriots, then left her talking to one while he moved to a corner to talk to two men. She caught him watching her once and wondered what had happened. His brow was furrowed in a frown and he looked angry.
Josh listened to the patriots, returning to sit down across the table from Lianna. They had a meal of maté, a green tea, served in gourds and sucked through a tube called a bombilla. Also, flagons of wine, pale white tortillas, and roasted corn sat on the long table. There was a pot of meat and beans, which was ladled out by a stocky bearded patriot named Collo. Lianna met Pablo and thanked him. His large brown eyes were warm as he flashed a smile and said, “Sí, Señora Raven.”
All the time Lianna ate, Josh was aware of her. He could remember her words in Santiago, her statements that she no longer loved Edwin Stafford. Could he believe her? Collo had ridden swiftly from Santiago only an hour ahead of Josh, and just before dinner Collo had told him that an English mercenary had joined them, dropping anchor off Valparaiso—Captain Edwin Stafford.
Torment gnawed at Josh over whether to tell Lianna or not. He held only a tenuous thread of her love, because she demanded he give up the sea—and he had nothing else. Yet, did he want to tell her Edwin had sailed to Chile and given his pledge to support the patriots’ cause for her?
What a fool he was over her, Josh thought. He didn’t want to tell her about Stafford, yet he couldn’t give up his life at sea for her either. Farming was foreign to him after all these years; the sea was his life, but without Lianna it looked incredibly empty.
As he drank the maté, he wondered too about Stafford. A captain—he was damned young to be in command, whether he was a mercenary or not. He watched Lianna, brooding over the latest turn of events. The man had to have sharp wits if he could go from groomsman to captain that swiftly. She hadn’t fallen in love with a simple country lad.
Josh ate heartily, consuming wine with a vengeance. Lianna wondered why, but then dismissed it, as he showed no sign of becoming foxed. The men made their plans, deciding that at dawn they would leave.
Lianna wanted to go while Josh was occupied. She stood up and said, “I’m tired. I’ll say good night.”
Instantly Josh was on his feet. “I’ll see you to the house.” He caught up a sheepskin coat and came around the table to take her arm while the men politely told her good night.
They stepped out into the cold and hurried next door. Nagging worries over
their future, his safety, were replaced by the intimacy of the moment. Her heartbeat speeded when he dropped the latch in place.
“I’ll be safe. Go back and make your plans with your men.” She pulled off her coat swiftly so he wouldn’t touch her.
With a cynical smile he walked past her, his spurs jingling slightly. “The fire has died down. I’ll build it again.” He shrugged out of his coat and knelt to place more logs on the glowing orange embers and gray ash.
His features, highlighted by the fire, were marred by a bruise on his cheek that had turned dark blue. His tight breeches molded to his legs, pulling tautly over his muscles, and longing tore at her. At dawn they would part. At dawn…Would it be forever?
He poked the logs, sending a spray of red embers dancing up the chimney. Then a tongue of flame curled over the brown logs, and the corner of one blackened, catching fire.
Josh turned, and at his unwavering gaze a tongue of flame curled within her. She couldn’t breathe or move or speak. Her heart thudded in her ears and her gaze was pulled as if by an invisible force, drawn inexorably down over his open-throated shirt, the white pleats lying on his tanned skin, short curls of chest hair revealed in the neckline. Her gaze lowered over his narrow hips, then jerked upward as she exhaled swiftly, her cheeks flaming.
He crossed the room. She tried to look anywhere except at him. “Josh, the men are waiting…”
“What’s the matter with your voice, Lianna?” he asked huskily, unable to go or to resist moving closer to her, holding back the words she might want to hear about Edwin.
She looked down at the floor, then at the fire roaring in the grate. “My voice…” The words came out a whisper. She tried again. “My voice is fine.”
“Ah, what a little liar you’ve become,” he teased, his blood heating when he saw the reaction she was having to him.
She closed her eyes. “We are at a hopeless impasse, Josh. I don’t want a future with a pirate—and you won’t change.”
He raised her chin. Lianna squeezed her eyes more tightly closed. She felt as if she stood on the brink of one of the ridges they had ridden along tonight, as if she were poised beside a fatal, breathtaking drop, buffeted by the winds of passion…
Her hands wanted to reach out, to touch him. Her breasts felt heavy, needing his caresses. Her lips felt swollen, and to her very soul she burned with an ache that only Josh could assuage. He would ride out of her life tomorrow, taking all her love.
“Josh,” she whispered, then bit her lip. How close she had come to pleading desperately with him to change his life for her. Tears stung. She wanted this man’s love as she had never wanted anyone’s.
“Look at me!” he commanded.
Her eyes flew open at the harshness of his words, and she saw the stormy tempest in his eyes.
“Look at me, Lianna. Don’t close your eyes.” His fingers tangled her hair and caught it up to pull it over his face while he breathed raggedly. “How sweet you smell.” He dropped the strands and looked down at her. “Lianna, I want to say I’ll give up everything for you, but I don’t know any other life! I can’t give up the sea.” He grimaced as if in pain. “And I wonder if you really know what your heart wants. I gave you so little choice.”
Tears stung her eyes and she fought them back. “Don’t torment me. Go! Go fight your battle!”
He drew a deep breath. “Lianna, Edwin is in Valparaiso.”
29
Lianna’s eyes widened as she stared at him and frowned. “Edwin?”
“Dammit, yes! He’s waiting to take you home to England.”
“How do you know?”
“I learned from Collo,” Josh said bitterly, feeling as if she had already forgotten him. He turned abruptly, and slamming the cabin door, left her alone.
“Josh!” She ran and opened the door, but he was already walking away. Calling to him again, she started out after him, but froze when a man rode out of the shadows and began speaking to him. She waited a moment, then, shivering with cold, returned to her cabin, where she sat by the fire, trying to fathom why Edwin would be in Santiago. Dawn would come soon enough, she told herself. Dawn, and farewell.
Later, in the darkness, Lianna’s eyes opened as a shot echoed across the valley.
“Soldiers!” a man yelled as more shouts accompanied the sound of horses’ hooves.
Pulling on her boyish clothing, Lianna swiftly pinned her hair up and put on her boots. As she drew on gloves, Josh arrived.
“Good, you’re ready! Here, Collo sent this to you,” he said, holding out a vicuña coat and a flat black hat. “You’ll need the coat in the mountains. And put this in your waistband.” He handed her a pistol. When she fumbled with it, he took it, tucking it against her waist so that the muzzle angled away from her.
“Captain!” Someone pounded on the door. She recognized Fletcher’s voice. “Spanish soldiers are coming down the mountain. Collo, two of his men, and I will hold them off while you and the others go.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No. Your wife needs you—go.”
They ran to the shed, where a man saddled horses for Simms, Josh, Lianna, Pablo, and four men. Mounting the horses, they rode swiftly, galloping along the stream while shots rang out behind.
As they raced, gunfire echoed through the valley. Then suddenly all was quiet. Lianna glanced at Josh’s furrowed brow and realized he was worried about Fletcher and the others.
Josh turned when they heard hoofbeats; then Fletcher, Collo, and Pérez rode around a bend into sight. Pérez was slumped in the saddle, a dark red stain showing through his coat.
Josh and the others halted until Fletcher reached them.
“Juan was killed.”
“Damn!” Josh muttered bitterly. “Pérez, how badly are you hurt?”
“It’s my shoulder,” he answered. “I’m all right. Soldiers aren’t far behind.”
“Let me wrap your wound,” Josh said.
“No. Let’s ride while we can. We’ll have to go south to reach a pass, then turn north to Mendoza.”
Collo rode ahead. Josh turned his horse, and they continued. Soon they left the valley and began the ascent, occasionally glimpsing the Spanish soldiers trailing behind them.
Josh wheeled his horse around to ride beside Pérez only once, but quickly fell back to join Lianna. “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached out to squeeze her arm.
“Yes,” she said over the sound of hoofbeats. “Will we stop tonight?”
“If we lose the soldiers.”
“Do you know how many are following?”
“I’ve counted about a dozen.”
“Pérez looks as if he may fall out of the saddle.”
Josh watched him a moment, then reached over again to pat her hand before flicking the reins and riding ahead.
As they traveled over increasingly steep and uneven ground, Pérez groaned, causing Josh to turn and gallop back.
Lianna saw Pérez slump in the saddle and start to slide just as Josh leapt off his horse and caught him. “I’ll wrap his wound,” he said, lowering the man to the ground. “All of you continue, I’ll catch up.”
“I’ll help you,” Lianna said, dismounting. For the next quarter of an hour they worked swiftly to get the wound bound and Pérez on horseback again.
Days later, when they rode into Mendoza, a town on a high plain, the streets were still strewn with flowers, and blue-and-white flags waved because of the celebration of the departure of the Army of the Andes. But an eerie tension prevailed. San Martín, Bernardo O’Higgins, their Army of the Andes—all the able-bodied males—had left a day before Josh and Lianna’s arrival.
Lianna could sense Josh’s impatience despite his attempts to appear composed. Collo had relatives and made arrangements for Lianna and Pablo to stay with a family while Josh prepared to leave to catch up with San Martín.
It took a day before they had secured four pack mules, food, and scanty equipment. Josh, Fletcher, and the others left
at dawn, but Lianna waited half an hour before she followed, leaving a note of thanks to the family who had given her shelter.
Tugging her hat down over her head, she wrapped a red woolen shawl around her shoulders, then galloped away from Mendoza toward the sheer eastern wall of the Andes. Within an hour she caught sight of the men riding ahead of her. And it took only a few more minutes before she recognized the figure that turned around and headed back in her direction.
Raising her chin, determined to go with Josh across the mountains, Lianna braced herself for his anger as she watched him approach. He sat straight and tall on a sorrel stallion, the sheepskin coat making the width of his shoulders enormous. A few feet away he halted. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m coming with you,” she answered calmly, hoping her breathless voice didn’t reveal her apprehension.
“You can’t fight in a war! Go back to Mendoza.”
“I’ll stay behind when the fighting begins. There’ll be some place I can wait.”
He swore. “You can’t cross the mountains with us. The trail won’t be anything like the one we followed to Mendoza. There won’t be any riding through valleys on charted paths. We have to cross this…” He swept his arm out and she glanced at the cordillera, its peaks obscured by clouds but its treacherous cliffs quite visible.
“If I don’t go, you’ll have to come back to Mendoza. It could be a year or more,” Lianna protested.
His horse pranced and snorted, pawing the ground as if sensing his master’s anger. Josh’s brows narrowed and his expression was as formidable as the cordillera. “You’re in haste to get to the ship, to get back to your precious Edwin!”
She drew in her breath sharply. “I am not rushing back to Edwin,” she said firmly. “But I don’t want to wait in Mendoza.”
“Turn back, Lianna.”
“I have a right to come,” she said raising her chin. “If you don’t come back for me, no one will.”
“You mean if I’m ki—”
“Don’t say it!” She reached out swiftly to touch his lips.
He frowned, looking at her while she yanked her hand away. “Don’t say things like that!” she said. “I’ll take care of myself.”
