Vevina trembled with barely suppressed desire, but she could read Stewart’s eyes, and knew he was only telling her part of the truth. She trusted him, and oh, how she loved him. She knew she could never leave him, unless she had no choice.
She kissed him gently on the cheek, and stated, “Stewart, you've made it impossible for me to go back to the ranks. So if you're trying to frighten me into going back home, it won’t work. I'll stay for as long as you need me. As a gentleman, you will not take advantage of a lady, and there's no lack of women who would be pleased with your amorous attentions. You’ve got another soldier in your army whether you like it or not.”
Stewart towered over her as he pulled her to him even more fiercely. “Soldiers always follow orders, or they're hung for insubordination,” he growled. “I order you to go home.”
“No,” Vevina said stoutly.
“Then I order you to share my bed,” he taunted, hoping she would back down.
Six months ago she might have quailed at his passion, even six weeks ago, but not now. However, it wouldn’t do to tell him so openly.
Vevina smiled coyly. “I have no objection, so long we both keep our clothes on. The nights can be very chilyl, in spite of the heat of the day.”
Stewart stooped to kiss her, tasting, exploring, and Vevina felt a surge of delight run through her veins. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and Vevina found herself twisting and turning in an effort to get closer. A shout from outside startled them, and they sprang apart guiltily.
Stewart gave a shaky laugh, and then stretched out one hand to stroke Vevina’s hair.
“All right, I shall let you stay. But you keep out of sight if any messengers come riding into the camp, and don’t go anywhere on your own.”
“Thank you, Stewart, for everything,” Vevina managed to squeeze out.
Stewart laughed. “I like hearing you use my name. It’s so much nicer that Major all the time.”
“I’m glad you approve, Major.”
He slapped her on the rump playfully. “I’m going to have to search the camp and the woods for the code book, so you tidy yourself up, stay close, do some chores around the tents for the rest of the day, and I promise to control my manly desires in bed tonight.”
Vevina was delighted to be allowed to stay, and determined that Stewart would not regret his decision to help herself and Wilfred. But the missing code book still puzzled her, and as she removed her ruined shirt, yet another casualty which disappeared into her rag bag, she contemplated the problem.
Samuel must have a spy in the camp, but why? Because he knew his brother was alive, and a threat? Or because the army here was a threat? If Samuel’s own troops were lost, there would be nothing between the French and Guarda except a few small posting stations for supplies. The British could be overwhelmed before they even knew the enemy was on the move again.
Stewart might not be able to act according to Wellington’s instructions if he couldn’t follow the code. Worse still, false signals sent to each camp along the front line might result in a complete victory for Napoleon, before the British had any notion that something had gone wrong.
Vevina finished all her chores, and though she waited patiently until late that night, Stewart didn’t come back to the tent. She told herself that there was nothing to fear, that he had taken their side despite the grave accusations against them. He wouldn't betray them, he wouldn't, she thought with a wistful sigh, biting off one last thread on her darning, and reaching for the candle to blow it out.
She got in bed, but still tossed and turned for some time, wrestling with the problem, trying to remember if there was anything Samuel had ever said which could help her solve this puzzle.
At about midnight, Vevina drifted off to sleep, so that when Stewart came in after turning the entire camp upside down with the help of the Becketts, Mitchell, Bob, and Will, he found her curled up like a kitten under the covers.
Ever so cautiously, so as not to disturb her, he lay down his huge frame on the narrow bed, and put his arm around her slender waist.
An overwhelming flood of desire flowed through him. There were one hundred rational excuses for him not to make love to her, and of one Stewart was more and more convinced. In spite of his cynical comments, he had come to care for her deeply.
Love? He wasn’t sure what the word meant. Hell, he had fallen in “love” with a nameless, faceless woman at a silly costume ball after only five minutes, a complete stranger.
But Vevina was married to his brother, and though he knew it had been a forced marriage, he could sense her reluctance to fly in the face of convention and do anything dishonourable.
Moreover, what would happen if he couldn’t protect her, if Samuel found out they had become intimate? He couldn’t risk it.
Even more obvious was the fact that in his heart Stewart knew Vevina ought to go back to England. But it would be difficult, not to say impossible to let her go. He didn’t want to, but for her sake he had to. If she didn’t want to go willingly, he would have to force her to, by making her conditions so unbearable that she would want to go of her own free will.
Stewart resisted the urge to bury himself in her softness as she turned in her sleep and nestled up against him trustingly, their bodies an almost perfect fit. His desire burned like a red-hot brand, and he was astonished that she didn’t wake up.
He thought about getting out of bed, sleeping on the pallet again, but in a moment of indulgence, he decided to stay. He desired her, and perhaps she would be scared enough of that to run away.
Stewart smelled the clean fragrance of her, became acutely aware of her heartbeat against his side, and felt a surge of tenderness such as he had never known before even amid his welter of passionate longing.
He felt the need to protect her and treasure her come what may. He prayed for both their sake’s that Vevina would see reason, and go home. But oh, how he would miss her once she had gone. And once she had, would they ever meet again?
Chapter Fifteen
Vevina awoke with the dawn, and found herself fully entwined with Stewart’s long limbs. His steady breathing told her he was sound-asleep, so she allowed herself the opportunity study him.
There was definitely a strong resemblance to his twin brother Samuel, but Stewart was far more handsome, and Vevina wonder dreamily how she could ever have failed to tell them apart. Stewart exuded a warmth and humor his brother could never possess.
Stewart shifted in his sleep, and she could feel his desire for her. Vevina thought she should have felt revulsion, for she certainly had when Samuel and then Hawkes had tried to force her, but Stewart was different. In the past few days, they had become inseparable. Vevina knew his mind and body well, even if she could not yet read his heart.
She reflected that he must have been badly treated by some woman in order to have become so sceptical about love and marriage. Vevina sighed. Whoever she was, she had been a fool. What she wouldn’t give to be loved by this incredible man.
But Vevina wanted to be loved for herself, not because she was a prize morsel to be fought over by two squabbling brothers. Furthermore, for better or worse, she had been married to Samuel in front of witnesses. She dreaded to think what Samuel would say if he ever discovered the two of them together.
Suddenly Stewart’s midnight blue eyes were gazing warmly at her, and she gasped in astonishment. Vevina’s open mouth was too tempting, and his lips plundered hers, his tongue exploring her own with a forcefulness that sent shivers up and down her spine.
“This is all you fault,” Stewart sighed, as he kissed her all over her face and throat. “You should look appallingly ugly in the morning like most women, and then you wouldn’t drive me so wild with desire.”
“Sorry to disappoint you by not being like all your other women,” Vevina replied, trying to sound cool, but as his kisses deepened, she couldn’t hold his past against him.
She knew he was reputed to be a womaniser, a gambler and man about town. But then,
those rumours had been spread by Samuel.
On the other hand, what if it were all true? How could a young girl like Vevina, barely out of her teens, ever tame him?
But did she really want to? Vevina’s mind raced wickedly, as she began to imitate his own caresses by running her hands all over his body fleetingly.
“Damn it, Vevina, you’re playing with fire,” he growled, as he tried to pin her down.
She managed to wriggle out from under him, and the hand clasping his manhood continued to stroke him until he grabbed her wrists, rasping, “Enough!”
Vevina look at him innocently. “But I thought....”
“Yes, my dear, but there are limits to my endurance, and you have definitely reached them. So before I behave like an adolescent schoolboy, I had better get out of this bed and go for a swim in the stream.”
“But it’s freezing!”
“I certainly hope so,” he barked, as he disappeared out of the tent.
Vevina giggled contentedly as she worked her way back down into the warmth of the covers, and breathed a deep sigh. She could smell the scent of Stewart in the sheets, and feel the imprint of his body where they had lain together so intimately only moments before.
But lolling around in bed was not going to get all her jobs done, and there was still the burning question of all the missing items in the camp.
Hawkes had maintained his innocence, said he had found the telescope and pocket watch in the woods. The theft had been general, throughout all the officers and camp members, but was that merely a blind to conceal the most important theft, that of the telegraph code book?
Vevina now knew that Samuel was definitely not all he seemed to be, but the question was how to prove it, and attempt to restore her lost family fortunes.
What would happen now that the book had been stolen? Messengers would have to carry everything by hand, or, of course, Samuel might work under the assumption that Stewart would consider the missing book to be just an ordinary theft.
Samuel could use the codes himself to feed false information to Wellington and all the other British troops in the area, and blame Stewart for his missing code book if any messages were questioned later.
When Stewart finally returned, she voiced her concerns.
Stewart shrugged. “It is of course far more risky sending out messengers, which can be intercepted at any time. If Samuel really did want to misinform us, why not just use his own code book?”
“Maybe to cut us off, so that we also can’t interpret any of the messages that are being sent up and down the line.”
Stewart contemplated this for a moment. “I must admit, Viv, you do have a point. But there's nothing to be done at the moment. I think we're going to have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I want you to do your chores around here, and I shall return in an hour.”
“Why?” Vevina asked suspiciously, suddenly wary of the secret little smile that turned up the corners of his mouth.
“Because all the soldier are on drill today, and you are no exception. If you foolishly insist on staying here, then you are going to be subject to my military discipline,” Stewart asserted firmly.
Vevina looked squarely at him. “If you're trying to convince me to go home, Stewart, you’re wasting your time.”
“We’ll see,” Stewart said, his mouth setting in a grim line, not even bothering to deny his motives.
Vevina shrugged, and hastily started her work. She made the breakfast, shook out the pallet bed, did some washing in a large tub, and then tended some women with fever with doses of quinine. She was just finishing with the last of them when Stewart returned.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” he demanded, his brows knitting.
“Ready, sir!” She clicked the heels of her boots smartly together.
Stewart looked curiously at the women walking away from the tent, and the medicine bottles, but he was trying to treat her harshly, and the last thing he wanted to show was admiration for her many talents.
The washing and mending also caught his eye, but Stewart forced himself to be professional. He wanted her to return home for her own good, though inwardly he admitted to himself that with all she did around the camp for everyone, he had no idea what he would do without Vevina once she was gone.
“Fencing practice first,” Stewart insisted.
Vevina smiled to herself. Here at least she was going to surprise him.
“Do you have any idea how to use a sword?” Stewart barked.
She opened her lips to say yes, but before she got a chance to reply, he asserted haughtily, “You can’t survive on the battlefield without a sword and a bayonet.”
Vevina had received fencing lessons along with her brother when they were growing up, and even had a few surprises up her sleeve.
As for the bayonet, she had been in the army camp long enough to know how to use a rifle, a musket, and a pistol, loading them with a swiftness many professional soldiers envied.
Stewart handed her a sword tipped with cork, and said, “Now, en garde! Parry, thrust, not so fast Vevina,” Stewart suddenly cried out, as she let her training take over.
Before he knew it, he was pinned up against a tree with her sword point at this throat. The joy of the fight and physical exercise sang in her ears, and she barely missed a breath after the effort as she declared, “Thank God for the cork, Major, or you’d be a dead man now.”
“This isn’t a game, some chivalrous duel, we're talking about life and death here,” he growled, rubbing his throat.
Vevina looked at him coldly as she released him. “It was you duelling with me, remember, and your idea to set me a test which you assumed I would fail. So which of us is playing the game, Major? You think that if you win, that I will bow to your superior strength and get on the next ship home, don’t you?”
Stewart shrugged.
Her amethyst eyes sparked with fury. “Then you’re going to lose, Major. I refuse to go back!”
“All right, you win that round, Vevina, but now I'm going to show you what it is really like to fight!”
Vevina knew he would give her no quarter, so she stepped back into a defensive posture. “I’m ready.”
Stewart hesitated, and then struck. She parried each blow easily, and got in two quick hits in rapid succession.
“Touché!” she called.
Stewart shook his head in disbelief.
“You’re fast, I’ll give you that. Is Will as good?” he asked, with undisguised admiration.
“Nearly. Being a man, he has strength, so a woman has to have superior skill,” Vevina responded easily.
Stewart noticed resentfully that in spite of the blazing sun she hadn’t even begun to perspire. “One more time?”
“Do your worst, Major.”
He suddenly lunged, but Vevina neatly side-stepped him, before locking blades with him. Stewart tried to pulled her up against the tree and smash the blade out of her hand, as he felt his determination to send her home increase. Vevina ducked under his arm and scored a hit right in his midriff which would have impaled an enemy had the sword been untipped.
Stewart glanced down, and stepped back, but he lunged again, and this time, the sword swung singing through the air. Vevina knew he was running the risk of cutting her, but that would be exactly the risk she faced in the battlefield.
So she parried, thrust, and just when he thought he had the advantage, attacking on her left, undefended side, she neatly flipped the sabre into her left hand, and fought on, again pinning him up against the tree.
“All right, you win! I’m impressed,” he panted.
One last time his sword leapt out at her, and he pulled hard on her shirt to swing her around. Her hand went numb as he crunched her wrist down, bending it backwards over his hard thigh, trying to get her to drop the sword.
Without scruple, Vevina brought her right hand up and punched him squarely in the nose as hard as she could.
Then once more the sword was at his throat, and Vev
ina felt a small twinge of shame when she saw his nose bleeding.
“Well, the French don’t fight fair, so why should we?” Vevina argued, as she released him.
He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Quite right, Viv.Brothers, certainly. I wasn’t being fair there either. I concede victory to you. But now I want to see you shoot, a musket and a rifle,” he declared, as he mopped his sweaty face, and stanched the flow of blood with his sleeve.
He led her over to the practice range, where there were cloth bodies stuffed with straw. Each one had targets painted around the heart area, the head area, and the stomach.
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 12
