A shadowy woman in a flowing blue gown sprang to mind again unbidden, and he laughed aloud derisively.
He should have learnt his lesson there. No woman was ever to be trusted with his heart, his secrets, his intimacy. Yet here he was, with Viv in his tent, sharing their days and nights for nearly a month.
Now he had to face the fact that on the basis of what he had heard, she appeared to be no better than a liar, and perhaps even a traitor too.
True, she hadn’t told him too many details of her background, but these were lies of omission. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Viv and Will away by probing too deeply.
But the one lie which had become most glaringly obvious of all, so obvious in fact that he wondered why he hadn’t seen it ages ago, was the fact that Will and Viv certainly weren’t married, and they weren’t lovers either.
As Stewart recalled both their faces in his mind, lingering longest on Viv’s, he could see the similarities in the eyes, the shape of the nose, so that even though their coloring was very different, he was sure they had to be brother and sister.
So why pretend? To ward off unwanted attentions, certainly, but perhaps there was more to it than that? Maybe she was already married, had an unsuitable husband somewhere forcing her to flee, or work for the French?
His anger and despair grew in equal proportions. He had trusted her. She had betrayed him.
Almost more painful was the thought that Viv didn’t trust him enough, even after a month, to confide in him about whatever trouble she was in.
And all this time, she had been holding off his increasing desire for her by throwing Will in his face as the wronged husband, when they weren’t even married.
He thought they were growing more intimate. Yet she had lied repeatedly.
Even worse than that thought was the notion that the seeming closeness which had been developing between them day by day was only a ruse, an attempt to trap him?
Trembling with anger, Stewart walked into the tent, where Vevina was undressing, and spun her around to face him. Her bosom heaved under her chemise, and all his fury melted as he desperately sought the truth in her eyes, while his mouth descended upon hers with a blistering kiss.
Vevina had no idea what she had done to provoke this display, but after standing stiffly for several seconds, she began to yield, and even return his kiss as he pressed his hands firmly against her rounded hips and pulled her to him so tightly she could scarcely breath.
“Do you want me, Viv?” he demanded urgently.
Her hands reached up to touch his face, stroking his stubbled chin as she struggled to reach his mouth and kiss him again.
“I can’t lie to you, Stewart. I do want you, but you know I’m already married,” she sighed.
She felt his arms release her as he stepped away. Her reply partly quelled his anger, but the word ‘lie’ burned into his brain, and he blew out the candles and lay down on his pallet by the door without another word, his mind teeming with questions he dare not ask now. Not when his entire world felt as though it were collapsing under the weight of his awful suspicions.
He heard her sigh and move to the bed. After her whispered good night, they both lay in the dark, wondering why their relationship always seemed to be so complicated, such a mindfield that even one word or gesture could blast their whole foundation to rubble in the blink of an eye.
Chapter Thirteen
Throughout his sleepless night, Stewart formulated a plan which he believed would be the best way to sot fact from fiction, truth from lies.
After rising early,, Stewart informed Vevina and the others at headquarters that he was riding over to see for himself the situation under the walls at Cuidad Roderigo.
As he told each person in turn, he began to think he was developing some sort of paranoia, for nearly his entire staff, including the humble Martha, suspiciously offered to accompany him.
He noticed that Viv and Will remained silent when he told them the news last, but he did see them exchange looks with each other.
"Sir, is that wise? I can come—" Will began to offer.
“No, I’m going alone,” he insisted. He swung out of the secretary's tent and mounted up his waiting steed before any one could prevent him.
Stewart galloped out of the camp, then made sure he was far out of telescope range before doubling back towards his headquarters through the woods, and waving to the sentries on his return.
"A bit of hunting today,” he explained after giving the password. They put down their rifles, nodded and let him pass.
Once back near his tent, he changed his clothes, and crept about the camp unnoticed in his borrowed private’s coat and hat, slouching in order to make himself look shorter and less obvious.
He observed the two tents as he worked on some ramparts being built close to headquarters, and noticed that Will moved his papers out into the bright sunlight, and sat scribbling away ceaselessly.
Occasionally some soldiers came to chat, but Will wrote no letters, merely kept transfering receipt details into a ledger. Nor could he see any papers being passed from one to another.
Satisfied that nothing looked amiss with Will, Stewart next focused his attention on Vevina, busy doing a huge tub of washing with Martha Beckett, and then skinning and preparing some of the rabbits she had bagged the day before.
Then she and Martha took some of the old skins they had accumulated and dried. They sewed them together to make several large covers that could be used as cloaks or bedding.
Vevina dandled the baby with evident pleasure, and fed it from her medicine bottle tenderly as Martha continued to stitch the thick rabbit skins.
All seemed well, and completely innocent, so much so that he almost thought he would just give up his masquerade and head back himself.
But a sudden commotion near Ensign Parks’ tent brought them all running.
Stewart stood above on the ramparts anxiously watching the dumbshow as Vevina practically dropped the baby when Parks shouted for the Major, then had to be reminded that he had ridden from the camp.
Several captains came running at his shout, and Wilfred. Then he observed his small, blue-coated navy signalman assigned to the telegraph tearing his hair out in despair as the older men shook him angrily.
Stewart felt a pang of fear as he began to piece together the pantomime in his mind. A Naval ensign had been assigned to every one of Wellington’s outposts to use the simple telegraph which the Navy had developed to facilitate communications at sea. The Naval officer and the commanding officer and his second were the only ones with access to the code book Wellington had modified from the Navy one. Without the code book, they could not decipher the messages being sent.
If the book were missing, Stewart’s camp would be cut off from Wellington’s headquarters forty miles away, with the French less than ten miles away, and eager to advance to Lisbon if the British showed the least sign of weakness.
Without thinking, Stewart charged down to the scene of confusion. He heard the Naval officer bawl, “I can’t understand it, I just saw it! When I turned around, it was gone.”
“Calm down, man, and tell me what happened,” Stewart ordered.
The crowd of people gathered around him as he appeared.
Stewart sensed their unspoken question: what was he doing there out of uniform, sweaty and unkempt, without a horse, when he was meant to have ridden to Cuidad Roderigo?
Mitchell and Beckett both asked if he were all right, the concern and puzzlement in their voices unmistakable.
Vevina was suddenly petrified. Why was he back, when he had made such a show of leaving that morning.
Was he spying on them? Had something happened with Samuel?
As his eyes glittered coldly, searching her face, Vevina quaked with fear. He had betrayed her, she was sure. And Will?
While Stewart was questioning the signal man, she rushed over to her brother, and whispered hurriedly as she pretended to give him a wifely peck on the cheek, “He’s af
ter us for something. We must go.”
“We can’t!” her brother whispered frantically. “It’s desertion!”
He clung to her arm desperately.
She shook him free and hissed, “Not if we go back to Lisbon! Someone stole that code book, we’re all in danger,” she insisted.
He stared at her, and opened his mouth to reply, but she was already moving towards the Major’s tent.
Stewart caight sight of her flight, and broke off his conversation to tear after her in hot pursuit.
She just made it inside to grab some warm clothes when Stewart seized her, tearing her shirt in the struggle as he searched her body with shaking hands.
"Where is it!"
"What?"
"Give it to me now!"
"What are you—No!"
She tried to slap his hands away, but he was relentless, sure of her guilt. In the end she moved from defense to offense, clawing and scratching, terrified at his sudden violence, until they tumbled to the floor, sending the furniture flying.
Images of another assault panicked Vevina, and she battled her former ally Stewart desperately as she struggled to escape and rescue her brother before it was too late.
Chapter Fourteen
Vevina’s eyes widened as his hands continued to search her person in a shockingly intimate manner, until his superior strength forced her to stop her pointless exertions.
Terror made Vevina drop her guard, and the truth she had struggled for so long to conceal swiftly emerged. “Let me go, Samuel! I'll never give into you, no matter how much you hurt me,” Vevina rasped as they thrashed around on the ground.
Suddenly Stewart pulled the upper half of his body away from her and stared down at her with something akin to fury. “Why did you call me Samuel?” he demanded.
She stared at him with wide-eyed shock.
He shook her by the shoulders until her teeth chattered. "Answer me. Why did you just say that and call me Samuel?"
“I-I c-couldn’t remember your first name, I guess I got it wrong,” Vevina stammered out, realizing at last the stupid slip she had made in her terror, and hoping Stewart would believe the desperate lie. “I’m sorry, I had no right to presume such intimacy and use your given name.”
He hauled her up off the floor and deposited her on the bed unceremoniously, and then brought his face close to her own. She could feel his hot breath fanning her cheeks as he panted, “But it isn’t my name. It’s my brother’s. I’m Stewart Fitzgerald. So don’t waste any more of my time. Just tell me who you are, right now, or I'll have you taken out and shot as a spy.”
Vevina gasped as his hand dug into the soft flesh of her arm, and she saw from the glint in his midnight blue eyes that he was serious.
All pretence at an end, she took a deep breath, and prayed to all the gods that she was making the right choice in trusting her whole life and Will's to their worst enemy's brother.
“All right, Stewart, all right. I’m not Vivian James, I’m Lady Vevina Joyce of Cork, your neighbor.”
Stewart blinked, stunned, then blinked again as vague recognition finally dawned. He gasped, “But that’s impossible. How could this have happened to you? A camp follower here in Spain! You were one of the wealthiest women in all of Ireland!”
Stewart let go of her at last began to pace up and down the tent, staring at her as though he had seen a ghost.
Vevina blushed, wondering just how much of their past encounters he remembered, when she was a nine year old girl and had followed him about with an obvious adoration in her eyes which she was ashamed to recall.
“You're right to use the past tense. I was the richest woman in Ireland, from one of the wealthiest families, but not any more,” she sighed, as the tears began to spill down her cheeks.
Stewart paced up and down in the tent for several moments more, and then began to call out orders to Bob for a bath to be prepared. He began to hand the boy gold coins to purchase some ladies’ articles of dress, but Vevina burst out, “No, you mustn’t!”
Stewart was puzzled, but could see the earnestness in her eyes, so he signalled Bob to see about the bath only, and saw him out of the tent.
“Please, no one must suspect. I could still be in great danger, and so could Wilfred, my brother.”
“But Lady Vevina, surely you don’t expect me to allow this farce to continue. I knew you weren’t married to Will already, but waited for you to trust me, and explain your subterfuges. Whatever the game may be, you cannot think I would be so ungallant as to continue treating you like a camp follower. My God, I’ve had you doing my laundry like a common kitchen wench,” he groaned, coloring with embarrassment.
Vevina stood up, and reached over to take his hand reassuringly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I've found your treatment of me to be beyond reproach, even when you thought I was a peasant, or an impoverished sempstress. You've treated me kindly, and I have appreciated your regard for me. But I can't permit you to alter your treatment of me in any way without risking exposure. All of our lands and estates have been confiscated, my father executed, and the people responsible will not be secure in their title until the Joyce name is wiped out forever.”
“Lady Vevina....”
“Please, Vevina will do, but for my safety I think you must continue to call me Viv.”
She could see his reluctance, and insisted, “Trust me. These are not the idle fantasies of some bored young aristocratic girl. The stakes are far too high.”
“I think you need to tell me the truth now, Vevina,” Stewart pleaded softly.
She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, but it's not possible. I can't trust anyone at the moment, least of all you.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and Vevina swallowed hard.
He could see his attack had given her a bad shock. She was looking away unseeing;y into some far corner of the tent to avoid his blazing blue eyes.
Stewart felt as though he had been struck. After all they had become to each other, he refused to be shut out, and argued hotly, “I'm sorry I was so angry a moment ago, but I know you’ve been lying to me, and I was sure you had the stolen code book."
"I deserve that, I suppose," she sighed. "So if you're going to turn us in, please get it over with. You don't know what it's like to live on tenterhooks every moment, waiting for death to come."
"Death? I'm not handing you over no matter what you've done. I mght suspect you, but I also know you. Even if you have done wrong, circumstances obviously forced you to do it. I won't let you hand, do you hear? I wonder at you ever thinking I would when I've done nothing but try to protect you!”
Vevina could not bear the look of hurt longing on his face, and sighed. “I'm sorry. I want to trust you, I wanted to tell you the truth, but, well…."
"Go on," he urged.
"For all I know, you may be involved in my disgrace.”
“Now wait a moment. I know we're neighbors in Ireland, but....”
He took hold of her hand more firmly, as understanding dawned in his eyes. “Of course, Samuel! And you thought I was him! How could you!” he asked in disbelief.
“We had only ever met a few times when you were home on leave, and it was long ago. It was an easy mistake to make, and I never was sure which of you was which. Until of course now, with that battle scar on your jaw.”
“So that's why you tried to run away from me, when I rescued you from Hawkes. You saw my face, and were convinced I was Samuel,” Stewart said flatly, thrusting her hand away as he turned his back to her in an effort to contain his anger.
“I am sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was weak, injured, and you represented everything that terrified me most in the world. Please forgive me for having mistrusted you, but I’m not safe. Your brother wanted our land, would stop at nothing to get it. He even....”
“My God, he didn’t—” Stewart stormed, pounding his fist on the table as he wheeled around to look at her.
“No, not quite,” Vevina hastened to reassure him, as the un
spoken thought caused him to gaze at her with pity and horror, “but I'm not sure of my position now.”
“What do you mean?” Stewart asked, looking at her sharply.
Avoiding his penetrating gaze, Vevina hung her head in shame. “He forced me to marry him.”
He felt as though his heart was about to burst in his chest. “It can’t be true!” Stewart raged.
She nodded miserably. “It is. I’m legally bound to Samuel, though I ran away before the marriage could be consummated. He hasn’t touched me in that way, though his henchman was cruel enough. He didn’t get the chance to force himself upon me."
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 10
