Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) (28 page)

They moved around the long white villa and hurried toward the kitchen garden as they spoke. Chloe pursed her lips together, not pleased by his blunt assessment of their situation. She came here to find her uncle. She was not leaving Spain without at least meeting him. Her dream of becoming a grand Spanish lady may have gone up in flames like dry kindling, but she wanted to make certain her uncle was still alive and aware of her existence. He was her only living relation, after all.

“Dona Ramirez! Welcome.” A short, stooped woman with long white braids rushed forward with open arms to welcome Chloe as she stepped into the large kitchen. She kept speaking to Chloe in Spanish, in a rapid form that had the others baffled, and even Chloe had to struggle to keep up with the woman’s exuberant speech.

She allowed herself to be embraced by Consuela Regina de Hernandez, the woman who had by her own admission breast fed Chloe’s father many years ago along with her own son, Jorge. The long litany of history spewing from the woman was dizzying, but her wiry arms about Chloe’s shoulders and the swift kisses applied to her cheeks told more than her frantic speech.

“Hmmm.” Jack moaned.  “I’m wounded, no blunderbuss pushed under your nose, just hugs and kisses, as if you’re her long lost grandchild.”

Chloe pulled away from her admirer. “Well said, Captain. Not far from the truth. She took care of my father when he was a baby. So, I’m like an adopted grandchild, I suppose.” The confession smarted a little. It seemed to be her lot in life to be perpetually adopted as an honorable something to someone. Honorable auntie to her benefactor's children, honorable adopted sister to Elizabeth . . . and now a surrogate granddaughter to her father’s wet nurse!

“Why that face?” Jack asked, quick to pick up on her mood. “What is she telling you?”

“She’s giving me my father’s life story, before he left here, that’s all.”

It wasn’t the truth, exactly, but it was easier than telling this perceptive and protective man that she was tired of being passed around as everybody’s surrogate something or other. For once, she just wanted to
belong
through ties of blood and the bonds of love.

She was exhausted, disappointed, and too damned proud to admit to either condition.

Jack stepped forward and physically extracted Chloe from the old woman’s charge. He took her by the upper arm like an errant child and rather abruptly led her to the nearest chair. “Sit,” he ordered, feeling angry with all for ignoring her obvious need. “And you!” Jack thundered, turning on his heel to regard her maid with rancor, “Get up off your arse and attend your mistress.” The girl was sitting with her now bared feet propped up on the low bench, appearing to luxuriate in the availability of both the shade of the kitchen and the pitcher of fresh water sitting on the table beside her.

He didn’t understand why Lady Elizabeth pressed this feckless creature upon Chloe and insisted the girl come along on their journey. Marta was an indolent sloth, just like her father, who'd sailed under Jack for more than a decade.

Marta made a face, childish brat that she was, but stood and hurried to pour her mistress a glass of cool water. She came scurrying over to Chloe and handed the glass to her. The older woman again started her frantic Spanish speech, leaving all but Chloe out of the conversation.

Seeing his annoyance at the woman, the elderly man shuffled forward. “Consuela,
ingles, por favor
!
El Capitan es Ingles
.”  The old man winked at Jack, as if he commiserated with the stranger over his wife’s verbose assault upon them in a tongue they found hard to understand.

“
Si
!” The old woman gazed at Jack with curiosity. “
Est tu marido
?” she asked Chloe.

“No, he is my companion, my guard on this journey.”

Jack cocked his head at Chloe. The woman was asking her if he was her spouse. Perhaps it seemed so, with him ordering her about as he had.

Jinx and Morgan returned from their reconnaissance of the villa outbuildings. “It’s empty, sir, save these two.”

“Good. We will set up a small camp in the rooms upstairs. Mrs. O’Donovan needs to rest.” He said Chloe’s last name with emphasis so the couple harboring them would make no further mistake as to their connection. “I promised the count that I would see her safely to her family, and it appears we have been detoured in carrying out our mission a second time.”

“Count?” The old man was quick to pick up on the term. “A Frenchman?” His tone betrayed his belligerence. The old woman, too, picked up her ears and glowered at him.

“No,” Jack said firmly, giving Chloe a hard look. “My lady’s kinsmen is
Irish
. Count Donovan, si?
Don-o-van
.” He pointed to Chloe. “Mrs. O’Don-o-van.”  It was clear they would not be well received here either if he used Donovan’s true title, as it was French. Count Rochembeau would become
Count O’Donovan
, just for these simple people, at least.

Jinx regarded Jack with quiet understanding. He gave a slight nod. 

The woman crossed herself with religious fervor. Obviously, these people had much reason to despise the French. 

Chloe was given a room on the second floor. It was a well-appointed room, with ancient furniture that must have endured through the centuries. A heavily carved canopy bed with rich gold brocade coverings dominated the room. It wasn’t a spacious suite, but it did have a stately appeal. It was a guest suite, as there were no personal furnishings in the room to betray the absence of an owner. She rummaged through the small valise Jack had provided for her since they had to leave her trunk and most of the lovely dresses behind in the small cave. She laid the light cotton bed gown on the bed.

The room overlooked an orchard in full bloom. It was a breath-taking view, a forest of delicate pink blossoming trees set before a backdrop of misty blue-gray mountains.

She felt a little sad and wistful at the thought of her dear papa romping amid the stately almond trees, and perhaps climbing them with his elder brother. It felt good to be here. And yet, the emptiness of the place was palpable, as if the very beams of the roof were mourning the absence of the Ramirez family, and had been mourning it or some time.

Marta was given a room across from her. As for the men, Jack, Lt. Morgan and Jinks, she wasn’t sure where they would take their repose. Jack was edgy, wary. She could sense his distrust of their surroundings, despite the welcome they had been given by her uncle’s servants.

Did Jack suspect some betrayal was in the offing?

A light knock on the door made her start. She quickly moved to the heavy, ornate wooden barrier to unlock it. As she peered out, a smile curled about her lips. It was Jack, come to check on her. “What is it?” she whispered, although there seemed no need for faint voices as the house was vacant, aside from Consuela and her husband.

“I asked them to give you a room at the back of the house, away from the road. May I come in and peek around?”

Chloe raised her brows at the question. “It is empty, I checked the wardrobe myself.”

“Let me have a look, just the same.”

She could feel the agitation in his body, even without a touch. He was alert and ready to do battle with some unseen force.

As he filled the small room, his height nearly reaching the wooden beam, Chloe felt herself relax. Odd, that his wary presence could have the opposite effect upon her.

“Where are you and the men sleeping?” She was curious as to his proximity to her.

“Jinx and Morgan are taking turns keeping watch outside. One will sleep while the other patrols the perimeter around the house and keeps watch over the road below.”

“I see,” Chloe remarked, not seeing clearly at all. Her mind was tired, too absorbed in admiring Jack’s trim backside. He stood with both hands on either side of the window frame, bracing himself against it as he gazed out at the almond blossom landscape. “And where are you sleeping, Captain Rawlings?”

“Outside your door.” His blond profile was highlighted by the light of the setting sun. “Making sure you enjoy a full night’s sleep in a civilized bed.”

“You must sleep, Captain. Take a room near this one.”

She saw a roll of his shoulders, and then her gallant hero turned to her. “I’ll be just outside. Do you have what you need for the night?”

No, I need you beside me
. 

“Consuela is bringing up water for a bath. Perhaps you’d like to bathe when I’m finished?” She eyed his dusty clothes, taking in the tight fit of his trousers over solid thighs and the curve of his hips beneath his short jacket. “And a shave?”

“Embarrassed to be seen with me, a simple sailor, Mrs. O’Donovan?”

“You are bedraggled, Captain,” she teased, looking him up and down with mock disdain. In truth his scruff of a beard and unbound blond hair loose about his shoulders was oddly appealing. The rumpled clothing completed the portrait of a wild and dangerous man, as did the sword at his belt and a rifle over his shoulder. He claimed not to be a soldier, but in truth, he was a warrior, a mercenary warrior. He could be an ancient Viking about to invade the coast instead of the civilized sea captain she’d known for many years. “I suppose I should not complain, when you’ve taken such care to protect me.”

The grin splitting his lips was her reward. And a generous one, that. Chloe wanted to go to him, hug him and hold him close. She wanted to stroke his tawny mane, rub her fingers over his roughened gold stubble, and taste his wet mouth upon her own.

The sharp rap at the door brought an end to her silent admiration of the man. Consuela entered, with Lt. Morgan and Jorge following her, bearing wooden pails. The woman quickly gestured for the men to set their burdens down on the floor and to follow her from the room.

As Chloe watched the trio retreat, she glanced in Jack’s direction. To her surprise, Jack stood with his pistol drawn. He had his elbow crooked and his fist holding his weapon, pointed upward at the ceiling, but ready just the same should a threat present itself. His look was stony, no longer amused. Wary, so wary, as if he expected they would be set upon by soldiers.

Consuela returned, with the men bearing a large copper bathing tub. They set it in the middle of the small room, and began pouring the water into it for her bath. The sight of a steaming basin just for her made Chloe sigh. It looked lovely, positively heavenly. Walking today and sleeping on the cold ground last night made her body scream at such abuse. She wanted to soak her poor feet, her aching calves and tense thighs in this delightful bath, and then sleep in the sturdy bed for the next week.

“Would you like me to stay,
senora
?” the woman asked in Spanish. Her dark coffee bean eyes glanced from Chloe to Jack and back again, quickly but with an unspoken disdain for the burly seaman who lingered with his pistol at the ready. “I can assist you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Chloe responded in Spanish. She made a sweeping gesture toward the door. The men had retreated. Only Consuela and Jack remained. “You might send Marta to me,” she said to Jack. She’d let Marta bathe after she finished.

Left alone, Chloe removed her shoes quickly. She rolled down her torn and snag-riddled stockings and tossed them across the room. She examined her sore feet. They were angry, swollen slightly, and so red and chaffed from the extensive walk today.

Marta entered, with Jack behind her. The girl squealed with delight and rushed to the steaming tub to dip her hand in it. Jack stood in the door, looking from the exuberant, childish Marta to Chloe with open disdain. Chloe merely shrugged and smiled at him. She understood how Marta felt at the prospect of a hot bath and envied the girl’s freedom to express herself as she wished. Jack nodded to her and closed the door, leaving them to their private delights.

“Come, help me with this gown.” Chloe said, asserting herself to bring the girl back into line. She understood Marta’s feelings, but she also expected a maid to earn her keep. “You can bathe after the captain.”

That brought a hiss of disgust. “Me, after the captain? I’d rather bathe in a horse trough in the stables.” Marta scoffed, yet came to help Chloe unlace the back of her gown.

“Do so, then, with my blessing. The captain has been good to us. His protection is worth all the layers of dust and perspiration you and I have endured. Perhaps I should let him bathe before me.”

“I will wash in my room, if you’ll allow it, ma’am. I’ll just fill a pitcher from your bath water and take it to my own room. I can make do with that.” Marta cajoled, “As long as it’s fresh and clean water. I don’t mind following you, mum, but after you
and
the captain!” She shivered, as if asked to bathe in a rancid pool full of green slime.

“Do as you will,” Chloe replied, anxious to have the annoying child out of her way. “Take a bucket,” she gestured to those wooden pails left behind near the door, “And fill it half full with water from my bath. I’m sure I can manage without a maid again this evening.” She meant the last as a jab, an insult.

“Oh, thank you, mistress!” Marta said, as Chloe’s sarcastic barb went right past her. “You are too kind.” The girl rushed to the door, snatched a pail and lowered it into the tub.

“A failing, it seems. One I shall have to overcome,” Chloe muttered, stepping out of her dress and standing in her petticoat. Marta didn’t hear her or didn’t care. The girl lifted her portion of steaming water from the bath and jaunted to the door.

The door remained ajar at Marta’s retreat. Chloe didn’t bother to cross the room to close it. She was too tired and dirty to care. She just wanted to bathe and go to sleep in a clean bed.

It didn’t take much for her to shrug out of her camisole and petticoat. She left them in a pool of white on the rug and stalked across the cool tile floor to the copper bathing tub. One leg was lifted over the rim and dipped into a near scalding bliss. It hurt for a second, and then her skin seemed to sigh with pleasure. She placed her other foot into the basin and sat down, slowly allowing the fresh, clean, warm water to embrace her sticky skin. It was so exhilarating she let out a small gasp of surprise. Nothing compared to this sweet indulgence after a full week and a half of traveling through the Spanish countryside.