Fortune's Bride (10 page)

“After all,” he said, as he looked with satisfaction at the
pretty ring on her finger, “one doesn’t have an adventure like this every day.
You’ll want something to remember it by. I’m sorry the something can’t be
better, but this is at least attractive.”

Again Esmeralda could find no more to say than a simple,
“Thank you.” Her emotions were too tangled to make speech safe, for the joy of
Robert’s desire to please her was poisoned by the flat statement of his
intention that the relationship would be temporary. However, Esmeralda’s
immediate feeling that she really could not bear a life of this kind of
unintentional brutality was considerably diminished by Robert’s thoughtful gift
of a posy of white camellias delivered to her at the door of the church and by
his cheerful demeanor during the wedding ceremony.

Having adjusted to the situation, Robert was clearly no
longer distressed by it. Esmeralda remembered that he had put on full-dress
uniform even before he had seen her in her new dress, and the way he blushed
when he kissed her made her wonder if he might not be almost as innocent as she
was. That blush restored all her determination to remain his wife if she could
manage by any means to do so.

Nothing occurred during the remainder of the day to shake Esmeralda’s
resolution. Robert seemed pleased by her willingness at his suggestion to
choose her own mount, then was impressed both by the animal she picked and her
reasons for her choice. Esmeralda had pointed out a light chestnut mare, which
she judged could carry her well but might be too small for a heavy trooper and
was certainly unsuited for cartage. Robert agreed heartily and had the animal
led out at once so he could examine her for soundness.

The mare seemed perfect on this score and in temper. She withstood
Robert’s probing most equably but did not seem to be broken-spirited for she
stared with prick-eared interest around her and at anyone who spoke. Moreover,
she responded to being stroked by Esmeralda by nuzzling at her and then took a
tidbit from Esmeralda’s hand with accustomed care.

“What will you call her?” Robert asked.

“I’ll call her Boa Viagem,” Esmeralda said, smiling. “Boa
for short.”

Robert grinned. He knew that much Portuguese, and it seemed
characteristic of Esmeralda that she would choose a name like “Good Journey”
rather than something silly like “Fairy.”

The next step was the saddle, and by the time that was
examined, placed on Boa Viagem, and both Robert and Esmeralda had agreed that
it was unfortunate that her riding dress was not ready so that she could try
the mare’s paces, it was time for dinner.

In the most natural way possible, without specific
invitation or any indication that it was not already an established pattern,
they dined together. Then, since neither had any acquaintances in Oporto,
Robert obtained a pack of cards, and they whiled away the evening in the most
pleasant way playing piquet. At first, Robert had deliberately underplayed, but
he soon discovered there was no need for holding back, and they lost and won
huge imaginary sums with a great deal of laughter.

Both were surprised when the mantel clock chimed nine, and
it was with obvious regret that Robert rose and said that they had better
retire for the night because they would have to be on the road as soon as the sun
was up. His voice was just a trifle constrained as he spoke, but Esmeralda did
not notice. It was not until that moment that she remembered her order to the
dressmaker.

Her mind was immediately filled with the need to have her
riding dress ready, so it was only when she and Robert were parting at the door
of her chamber that she recalled her wedding and the briefest flicker of regret
passed through her because Robert was not coming in as he would have done had
the marriage been real. But by the time the dress was finished, Esmeralda was
too tired to think of anything. She could barely stay awake long enough to
ascertain that Robert had paid the dressmaker the preceding afternoon. She
brushed her teeth and tumbled into bed.

Like a good soldier, Robert could sleep anywhere and at any
time. However, this night when he got into bed he lay awake for a full fifteen
minutes thinking over the events of the day. He felt considerable surprise at
how much he had enjoyed himself. Miss Talbot…no, Esmeralda, was a delightful
girl. No one could be more rational, and her pleasure, without cries of
surprise or embarrassing flattery, at the most common polite attentions was
most gratifying. She said thank you with genuine sincerity, and that was that,
God bless her. She didn’t go on and on about things or giggle or bat her eyes,
and she knew horses and played a vicious game of piquet…

Without realizing what he was doing, Robert sighed as he
wondered why he had originally thought Esmeralda so plain. She had looked very
attractive in that new dress. Of course, her nose was too little and too round
and her mouth was too wide, but it had been pleasant to kiss. Robert sighed
again as a strong sexual urge caught at him.
Wrong time, wrong place
, he
thought. Not the kind of hotel where such girls worked, and even if it were, he
just couldn’t, not with Esmeralda in the place.

He uttered a last sigh and tried to fix his mind on the
duties of the next morning. Instead he found he was thinking about Esmeralda
again, and it wasn’t calming him down at all. Damn! Women, even the best of
them, were always a nuisance. He
wasn’t
married to her, and he had
better remember it, especially since she clearly hadn’t liked the idea and had
only accepted it when she realized there was no alternative. Robert flopped
over on his belly with an irritated grunt and determinedly began to calculate
the probable cost of fodder and compare it with his available funds, which was
so fruitless an exercise that he was soon asleep.

Although it was still dark when a maid wakened Esmeralda,
she suffered no fright or disorientation. Nor, although she had had far too
little sleep, did she feel in the least reluctant to rise. She hopped out of
bed at once, washed, and donned her new riding dress with a delicious sense of
excited anticipation. It took her only a few moments to roll her toilet
articles into her new undergarments, fold her morning dress around those so
that it would not crease excessively, and then wrap the bundle in a blanket
Robert had sent up with the maid.

The fact that Robert’s greeting was barely civil and that he
promptly buried his head in a newspaper did not trouble Esmeralda, either. She
assumed that he was bitterly regretting what he had done because he was
imagining all sorts of horrors on the journey stemming from her presence. Owing
to past experience, she was perfectly confident that there would be none. Thus,
his grumpiness made her feel like giggling. That, however, would be most
unwise, Esmeralda knew. One does not laugh at a gentleman at breakfast,
particularly not a predawn breakfast, a time when the male sense of humor is at
a low ebb.

In decorous silence, then, Esmeralda herself consumed a very
substantial meal, interrupting her own stoking only to butter toast, refill
Robert’s teacup, and add slices of cold beef, ham, and eggs to his plate
whenever the tide ran low. She also instructed the waiter to pack two hampers
with additional cold meats, bread, and cheese, several bottles of wine,
sufficient crockery, eating utensils, plus glasses for two, and a couple of
flasks of water.

Realizing at last that his plate was exhibiting the
characteristics of the miraculous loaves and fishes, Robert looked up. “Thank
you,” he said snappishly, “but there is no need to serve me anymore.”

“I should hope not,” Esmeralda replied too gravely. “I was
beginning to wonder whether you had hollow legs.”

“I meant in a general way,” Robert retorted sharply.

Apparently breaking his fast had not restored Robert’s good
humor, but Esmeralda was still unable to resist teasing him. “But,” she said
most innocently, widening her eyes, “it would be most peculiar, indeed, if a
wife did not do so.” She saw his nostrils flare with temper and was aware he
was about to say, “You are not my wife,” so she went on hurriedly, “You did
tell me, did you not, that we must behave as unexceptionally as possible to
avoid talk?”

His guns effectively spiked, Robert rose from his seat in
dignified silence. He was somewhat ashamed of behaving like a boor, but there
was no explanation he could think of immediately to offer Esmeralda that would
not be offensive. It was impossible, after all, to say he had found her company
sexually stimulating and was annoyed at himself, not at her. Had they really
been married, it would have been a compliment. As it was, to say such a thing
would only alarm the poor girl needlessly since he meant her no harm and was
scarcely
so
attracted as to be in any danger of ravishing her.

Still, it was annoying, particularly since he could not
blame Esmeralda for doing anything deliberately to cause the effect. Even
worse, the situation was not likely to improve. Robert thought she looked very
handsome indeed in the tight-fitted, bright-blue jacket of her riding dress. A
nice figure… Damn!

Esmeralda also rose with unimpaired calm, since she could
not read Robert’s mind and still believed him to be distressed about the coming
journey. “I have ordered food for the trail,” she said. “Would you prefer to
have a pack mule brought to the hotel so the hampers can be loaded here, or
would you like me to instruct them to send a servant to wherever the animals
are being assembled?”

Jolted out of his bad humor by her practical forethought,
Robert exclaimed, “Good God, I had forgot! Thank you, Miss…er…Esmeralda.”

“Not at all,” she replied, smiling at him. “I am sure you
have far more important things to worry about than picnic lunches. Papa always
left the food and drink for our journeys to me, and I will be very happy to
take that burden from you. I only arranged for our own needs, however. If you
wish me to order for the cattle drivers—”

“No. Why should you? They are being handsomely paid, far
better than they would be by their own people. We are not responsible for their
keep.”

“I’m glad of that,” Esmeralda admitted. “I did provide for
our Indian servants, but to speak the truth, I have no idea what would be
proper here in Portugal.” Robert turned to go, and she laid a hand on his arm.
“Will you send a mule? And what of your baggage?”

Robert barely controlled an urge to jerk his arm away. It
was not that he found Esmeralda’s touch unpleasant. He was merely surprised by
the odd little quiver that ran up his arm. He wondered irritably what the devil
was wrong with him and reminded himself yet again that the wedding ceremony was
meaningless—certainly meaningless to Esmeralda. Her behavior could not be more
natural or unaware.

“Yes,” he said, “I will send one of the men with a pack
animal. The hotel porter has my portmanteaus. Can you be ready in an hour’s
time?”

“I am ready now and will gladly come with you if that will
save time,” Esmeralda replied.

Robert had to smile. “You are entirely too agreeable and
efficient.” Then he pulled out his purse and extracted several coins from it.
“Since you have more time than I, would you see to the vails for the servants?
And you had better keep whatever remains, in case there is something you wish
to purchase on the road. I will not be able to be with you much of the time,
I’m afraid.”

Esmeralda accepted the coins and assured him she would not
only see that the tips were distributed properly but understood completely that
his first duty was to the animals under his care. Obviously it would be
necessary for him to range the line of march, making certain the beasts were
not allowed to roam or that their drivers did not decide to accept the small
prepayment as a sheer profit and go off to sell the horses and mules all over
again.

Robert shook his head, smiling. “You are going to ruin me
for dealing with ordinary women, Esmeralda—that is a pretty name, but quite a
mouthful.”

She laughed, her voice a little too high-pitched with the
shock of hearing Robert put his finger so accurately on her plans. However, it
was clear that he was not thinking of what he had said in the same terms she
was, and she managed to keep her voice controlled and natural when she spoke.
“Call me Merry, then. Most of my friends did so when I was a girl.”

“When you were a girl?” Robert’s brows rose. “You aren’t
exactly an aged crone now, but Merry it is—and very appropriate, too, for you
certainly like your little jokes.”

He went out without saying any more, and this time Esmeralda
let her eyes follow him, knowing he would not look back. Merry…no one had
called her that for many years, nor had the name been appropriate since then. But
it was just right now, for there was a well of joy bubbling inside her. For
now… For as long as she could hold him… Esmeralda shook herself. She would not
think about that. She would enjoy every minute as long as she could, she vowed
to herself.

Esmeralda had no trouble at all fulfilling her vow. Despite
the heat and dust and the stench of the animals and sweat-drenched men, she had
never in her life been so happy—not perfectly happy. There was a worm in the
heart of her rose and she knew it, but it was sleeping now and she did nothing
to disturb it. Instead she blessed her father over and over, often chuckling
when she thought that she would learn to love him at last not for the luxury
she would someday enjoy at his expense, but for the hardships he had inflicted
on her. Whatever the discomforts of this ride, they were nothing compared to
those she had endured in India, and the company was much better.

The journey had set out on the right foot. When she was
informed that her mare and the pack mule had arrived, Esmeralda went out at
once. For a moment she was very startled because it looked as if the animals
had come to the hotel on their own. Then she noticed a pair of small, bare
brown feet between the two sets of front hooves. Curious, she went around to
the front, where a diminutive Portuguese boy with large, bright black eyes
regarded her soberly. He was completely dwarfed by the two animals, but his air
was one of confidence. Esmeralda smiled. Shyly he smiled back.

“I have brought your horse and the mule,
senhora
,” he
said.

“I thank you,” Esmeralda replied formally. She glanced at
the boy and repressed a smile. Clearly he could not lift her to the saddle.
“Would you be so kind as to take the mule to the kitchen entrance?” she asked.
“There is food to be loaded, two portmanteaus, and a small parcel.”

When he returned with the loaded animal, Esmeralda was
already mounted. She noted with approval that two large flasks of unglazed and
porous clay were slung on either side of the mule. The clay was already dark
with moisture. This would evaporate under the hot sun, keeping the water within
relatively cool. Seeing her mounted, the boy led the mule forward, and
Esmeralda followed without comment until they turned south toward the bridge.

“Wait,” Esmeralda said. “Where is Captain Moreton?”

“He will meet us at the bridge,
senhora
,” the boy
replied. “The cattle go by barge and ferry, but we will go ahead of them so as
not to be choked by the dust.”

“We!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “Surely you will go home to your
parents.”

The brightness of the boy’s eyes dimmed. “I have no
parents,” he said softly, “and my sister, who I lived with, was…was taken away
by the French. I was hiding Luisa here in the hills to keep her safe from them,
and Theresa was not there when I came back. She never came home, although I
waited many days. So when the bishop’s men came to ask for mules, I brought
Luisa. I go with you to fight the French.”

“Have you spoken with Captain Moreton?” Esmeralda asked.

The boy’s eyes dropped. “He chose Luisa,” he said
stubbornly. “Where Luisa goes, so do I.” His voice trembled just a little on
the last words.

Esmeralda bit her lip. The mule was probably the only thing
in the world he owned besides his breeches, his shirt, and the brown cloth
jacket flung over one shoulder “Have you no aunts or uncles?” she asked gently.
“You are a fine, strong boy. They would be sad if any harm should come to you.
You will surely be needed for the flocks or the farm. It is not right that
you—” The expression in his eyes, now turned up to her again, choked off
Esmeralda’s words.

“The French, they fed their horses and mules—no, our
mules—on the standing grain. They killed our sheep. There is no time to grow
new crops and no money to buy what cannot be harvested. If I eat, someone else
will starve.”

His mouth was set in lines of bitterness far too old for it,
and the trembling of his voice was more apparent, but there was no pleading in
it. Esmeralda knew he had stated the case exactly as it was. The boy’s village
must have been close to Oporto, and the French had stripped it bare. Old
Pedro’s village had suffered, too, but being farther from Oporto and supplied
with fish from the sea, its condition was not nearly so desperate. She also
knew she should tell him at once that it was impossible for him to accompany
them.

“If there is no feed,” the boy said more softly still, “they
will sell Luisa. Or if no one will buy, they will slaughter her for meat. So I
took her. I must go with Luisa.”

Esmeralda’s breath drew in. He had taken the mule without
permission. Probably the animal was his, or had been his sister’s, but the
adults of the village would not care about that, not in a time of extremity. If
he went back without the mule, he would be terribly punished. Esmeralda looked
down at the bent head, and all the misery of her own youth after her mother’s
death welled up in her.

“Luisa is a very fine mule,” she said, “and I am sure you
know best how to care for her. I think I will keep her for my baggage and my
husband’s. You may call me
Senhora
Moreton.” Esmeralda’s voice trembled
just a little over the last two words. It was the very first time she had said
them, and she was a trifle concerned over Robert’s reaction when he heard the
boy speak of or to her that way. Then her lips firmed. Whatever Robert’s
initial reaction, it was best that he become accustomed. She brought her eyes
back to the boy’s face and asked, “What is your name?”

Great shining black stars filled with a passion of gratitude
were turned up to gaze on Esmeralda. “I am Carlos Cerca,” he said, “and I am
twelve years old and very strong. I will care well for Luisa and for the
baggage. I can find firewood and do many other things for you. Also, I have
good eyes and ears. I watched and I listened. That is how I knew they were
coming to rob us again and had time to take Luisa away.”

The words tumbled out in a torrent of joy, and Esmeralda
felt a dreadful pang of guilt. If Robert forbade the boy to go with them, it
would be worse for him because she had given him hope. Down the long avenue,
the bridge was in sight. To her relief, there seemed to be no one waiting
there, although some traffic was already passing over the river.

“You go to the other side of the bridge and wait for me
there,” Esmeralda said. “I must talk to Captain Moreton before he sees you.”