Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant (11 page)

‘It is a chance we will have to take.’

‘Did you bring the money with you from England?’

He shook his head. ‘It is here. The duke has been in contact with Sir Robert. He has the matter in hand.’

Lucy frowned, suddenly thoughtful. ‘Perhaps they won’t let us go. After all, we will have seen their faces and be able to identify them. As deserters, if captured, the penalty is death. How do you know they won’t take the ransom money and kill us both?’

‘Gameau owes me. I am relying on that. These men are cutthroats, rapists and murderers—a gang of scum. Because Katherine was wounded when she was captured, caught in an ambush when she was in a convoy returning to England, it will make our task more difficult. Since the Duke of Londesborough lost his eldest son in Spain, followed closely by James, the child is his heir. Gameau is unaware of this, otherwise he would have demanded a king’s ransom. The child is no more than a baby. I have no idea of Katherine’s condition—she might not even be alive still.’

He sighed heavily, brushing back a lock of hair from his brow with his fingers. ‘To be perfectly frank, Lucy, when I learned she had been taken, I would have returned to Portugal anyway to try to rescue her, without being ordered to do so. James was my closest friend. It is the very least I can do to try to find his wife and son. I knew from the beginning that I was going to need help to get them both out of the mountains. That was when I thought of you. I suggested this to James’s father and he agreed that under the circumstances it would be a sensible move—if you were willing. It is the Duke of Londesborough who is paying you the money for the assignment.’ He was studying her closely. ‘How do you feel about being dragged from hearth and home and forced to endure the hardships that will test your courage to the point of madness?’

‘I was not dragged. I came of my own accord—although not without some coercion from you. The loss of my job and mounting debts had much to do with it.’

‘Not to mention the five thousand pounds,’ he reminded her lightly.

She smiled. ‘That was the decider, I admit.’ Turning from him, she walked slowly across the terrace deep in thought. Suddenly, when she thought about Katherine and how she and her young son must be suffering at the hands of her captors, the money didn’t seem important any more. But where did she go from here and how could she turn her back on Katherine now? She could see what she had to do, knew what she must do. She bowed her head.

‘How far away is she?’

‘Several days’ hard ride. The terrain will be difficult.’ Nathan looked at her, steadily assessing her. ‘I understand if you are afraid.’

‘Of course I’m afraid,’ she said, turning to face him. ‘I would be lying if I said otherwise—and you would know.’

‘But?’

‘I am deeply sorry for what happened four years ago, but you must understand why I behaved as I did. Despite all that I want to help you secure Katherine’s release.’

‘So, you are willing to sacrifice yourself for a cause which is not even yours?’

‘You have just made it my cause. I am a professional in all that I choose to do. I have a job to do now and I will see it through to the end. What do I have to do?’

He looked at her for a long moment. ‘We have to stick together. You have to stay alert and aware, but I will tell you if there comes a point where you should be afraid.’ He shook his head, staring wistfully into her eyes. ‘Initially I had no intention of involving you or any other woman in this. Believe me, Lucy, when I tell you that I did not want you to have to live in fear.’

Lucy was deeply affected and touched to hear this. ‘No—well—if things go to plan I may not have to. When do we leave?’

‘In the morning.’

‘But what about the horses? They are still on board the
Harris
.’

‘They will be well tended. I’ve arranged for them to be brought to the house tonight.’

‘But the poor things have spent the journey in the hold. Don’t they need time to recuperate?’

‘They’re tough. They’ll soon pick up again,’ Nathan assured her. ‘We’ll make an early start.’

‘I’ll be ready.’ Clutching the shawl about her, she turned to go. About to enter the house, she turned and looked back. ‘I can only say that I am sorry, Nathan—for what happened.’

‘So am I.’

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, but the look in them was inscrutable. She turned from him. ‘I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight, Nathan.’

‘Lucy?’

‘Yes.’ She paused and looked back at him.

He smiled at her. ‘I’m an ungrateful wretch and I don’t think it even occurred to me to thank you.’

She smiled back at him, happy to see a softening and friendliness in the blue eyes. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

Grim-faced, Nathan watched her go. Then he cursed under his breath. He shouldn’t have let her go like that. She’d tried to make a conciliatory gesture which, after all that had passed between them, must have taken a good deal of courage and he’d behaved churlishly.

* * *

Lucy went to her room with mixed emotions. An uneasy feeling of doubt about what Nathan had told her about his relationship with Katherine was nibbling away at her. In the past, before they had become lovers, Nathan, a red-blooded male, had been unable to resist a pretty face. That thought made her yearn to be in his arms again, but she could not relent completely, not until she knew the whole truth. She wanted to believe him, to trust him, but what he’d been doing that morning when she had seen him leaving Katherine’s house still remained a mystery.

She stood at the window and looked out at the night. But neither the cool breeze that lifted her hair away from her flushed face, nor the moon shining silver on the Tagus or the sighing trees that fringed the house, could act as an unguent to her aching spirit.

* * *

The following morning she rose before dawn. Slipping into her masculine attire, she was surprised how good it felt to be without the restrictions of female clothing. Before leaving her room, as Nathan had taught her to do, she checked the priming of her pistol and thrust the weapon into her belt, sliding the knife she carried into her boot.

Please, God
. She prayed she would never have occasion to use either.

After eating a hasty breakfast with a quietly focused Nathan, he carried the saddlebags outside, securing the one containing the gold to the spare horse. The other bags were packed with food rations, blankets and a change of clothes, and a few necessities they would need for the journey. There was also a soldier’s greatcoat for Lucy, which would provide added warmth when they reached the hills.

Lucy stood back, watching Nathan. Maria came up quietly behind her.

‘You had a good evening, yes? You found your room comfortable?’

‘Yes, thank you, Maria. I left the dress on the bed. I doubt I shall get the chance to wear dresses again until this is over.’

‘A woman should not need an excuse to wear beautiful things. I look forward to seeing you on your return, with Katherine and her child.’ She studied her closely. ‘You and Nathan talked last night—about his assignment?’

‘Yes. He left me in no doubt of the dangers that may beset us on the journey.’

‘You are apprehensive, yes, about what is ahead of you?’

‘I would be lying if I said no,’ Lucy confessed quietly.

‘Nathan will keep you safe, you must know that.’

When Lucy flushed, Maria knew she had been right in her assumption that these two had feelings for each other. Perhaps they would do something about it since they were to be alone together for some time.

‘Would I be right in thinking that you still have feelings for Nathan, Lucy?’ When Lucy cast her a sharp look, she smiled. ‘I know the two of you were close before he went to Spain—that you were to be married.’

The truth showed on Lucy’s face. ‘Yes, we were, but I ended it. I do still care for him, deeply, but so much has changed.’

‘But you are still the same two people who fell in love!’ Maria waved her hand in the air. ‘When two people love each other, they should be together.’

‘As much as I ache to bridge those lost years, to reach out to him, to hold him close, to somehow make it right again, too much has happened, Maria. I hurt him very badly—he hurt me. I’m not sure how he thinks, how he feels any more.’

Maria raised a finely plucked eyebrow. ‘Then it is up to you to put things right. Nathan can be as obstinate as all the mules in Portugal, but he has a soft heart beneath that fearsome manner of his. Perhaps if you love him enough to accept everything and live only for the moment that will bring him back to you, you might have a chance. However obstinate he may be, the day will come when he can no longer struggle against himself and you. Some things are meant to be, Lucy, and life is too short for regrets.’

Lucy agreed with Maria, and the compulsion to learn more about the enigmatic man who had turned her life upside down from the moment she’d set eyes on him long ago was so strong it couldn’t be denied. ‘Four years is a long time. I know nothing about his life after we parted.’

‘I only know what Robert has told me and that Nathan was the one of the best of the British intelligence officers who rode far behind enemy lines, riding brazenly on the flanks of the French forces. He sent back a stream of information about enemy movements, entrusting his messages and maps to Spanish messengers. It was a lonely, brave life he led, until he was wounded in October last year at the Battle of Arroyo dos Molinos in Spain.’

‘Yes, he told me. Was he very badly hurt?’

Maria nodded. ‘A French sword in his side. He was brought to Lisbon, to this house, afterwards. He was very ill. For a time we thought he would not make it. But he is strong and he recovered.’

Lucy turned her face away, feeling a lump of constricting sadness in her chest.

‘It happened months ago, Lucy. He seems to be over it now. I hope your journey into the mountains is successful and you bring Katherine and her child back home. My prayers go with you.’

Her emotions under control again, Lucy nodded thoughtfully as she watched Nathan walk towards them. An image of him lying wounded dug viciously into her battered senses and she knew that if she dwelt on the image and the pain he must have suffered, she would be lost.

Recollecting herself, she thought of what was ahead of them. Her heart began to hammer with a mixture of hope and dread, for although she had grown used to the idea of the journey they were about to embark upon, she still dreaded the thought that it could all go wrong.

Chapter Six

T
hey spoke little as they left Lisbon behind. The horses were frisky and eager to exercise their legs in a gallop after their confinement on board ship. The third horse carrying the gold, it was hoped, would provide a mount for Katherine and her son, if the Frenchman, Claude Gameau, kept his word and released her on payment of the ransom.

The scenery was a glorious feast for their eyes. They passed the end of the lines made by Lord Wellington—fieldworks stretching along the top of a range of hills, which, Nathan told Lucy, extended many miles, as far as the seashore, so as to completely shut off Lisbon from the French.

Nathan had carefully planned the route they would take to the Sierras. Heading north-west, at mid-morning they had stopped to take refreshment and to rest the horses. Dusk found them camping in a clearing of tall trees close to a stream, water being an essential consideration for both horses and humans. Nathan tethered the horses to a misshapen, stunted tree. They bent their heads, cropping at the grass. Stars were set against the velvet sky, the air clear. The stream bubbled along the shallow valley floor and beyond the camp to the lonely hills to the north which rolled far away into the distance.

With her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees, in silent fascination Lucy watched Nathan, glowing with strength, energy and vigour, go down to the stream for water. Her eyes took in the flexing of the iron-hard muscles of his wide shoulders and the length of his sturdy, powerful legs. She remembered how it had felt to feel the warmth of his body close to hers, how his lips had felt on hers, his hands sliding down her eager body, and her whole being reached out to him, yearning for him to hold her and possess her as he had done so long ago.

When he walked back to where she sat, she took a deep draught of fresh, night air in an attempt to dispel her wanton thoughts.

‘I’m sorry I can only offer you water to drink,’ he said, handing her the water flask.

Hearing the howl of an animal in the distance, Lucy shuddered. ‘Are we going to light a fire?’

‘No. If there are enemies around, a fire is the last thing we want.’

Lucy stared into the darkness. ‘There are some enemies a fire will keep away,’ she said, wolves and other things filling her mind.

Nathan’s mouth became a hard line. ‘No fire, Lucy. We’ll manage without.’

‘Will we be safe here, do you think?’ she asked, looking about her into the gathering shadows.

‘Safe enough,’ he replied, his gaze doing a quick sweep of their surroundings. She looked at him. ‘What is it?’

‘I thought you would wear a uniform.’

‘No. This is a private assignment. A red military coat would attract unnecessary attention to us. Common travellers attract less notice.’

‘Of course. I should have known better than to ask. As I recall you were never one to seek to draw attention to yourself.’ As soon as she had said the words she wished she hadn’t. Nathan had always been a quiet observer of life and the world in which he lived. Attention always came to him, as if the very light from the sun and every candle fell only on him. It had nothing to do with his looks or his rank, but from his own demeanour and the quiet strength within.

‘That is true and it’s a fact that the countryside is full of marauders—men dispossessed by war, desperate men, who will go to any lengths to survive,’ Nathan said by way of an explanation. ‘I’ll take first watch while you get some sleep. You can relieve me for a couple of hours later. I’ll wake you. Tomorrow we should reach Villa Franca.’

‘How far is it?’

‘About fifteen miles. We should do it before nightfall. The accommodation should be an improvement. At least you won’t have to sleep under the stars.’

‘I don’t mind,’ she murmured, touched by his concern for her comfort. But despite this he was tense, watchful, his eyes constantly on the surroundings. ‘We have blankets and at least we are warm so we will be moderately comfortable. I’m so tired I could sleep anywhere.’

All around them the undergrowth was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. Lucy got to her feet to unroll her blanket. Despite what she had said, she was wondering how she was ever going to get comfortable enough to sleep.

Nathan propped his shoulder against a tree, folding his arms across his chest. He looked at his companion. Her eyes were large in the dimness. He watched her, entranced by the line of her throat, the wide mouth, the shadows on her skin above the collar of her jacket.

Sensing his eyes on her, Lucy straightened and turned her face to his. Her eyes were dark in the moonlight that threw shadows beneath her high cheekbones.

‘How long has Katherine been a captive of Claude Gameau?’

Nathan’s gaze was unwavering. He was aware of her body beneath the male attire, of dark shadows that promised softness. ‘She was captured in late July.’

‘Why—that’s three months ago.’

‘Yes.’

‘And the child? How old is he?’

‘I believe he was six months old when they were taken.’

‘That will make him nine months. It must be horrendous for her. What is he like, this Chien Noir?’

‘He is clever. He speaks English like a native.’

‘How will we know where to find him?’

‘We don’t. When we get into the mountains, he’ll find us. He knows we’re coming and will have lookouts posted.’

Reaching up to remove her hat, Lucy stopped what she was doing and looked at him, realising how little she knew about this man. ‘What is it like, being a spy? Were there many of you?’

He nodded, shrugging himself away from the tree. ‘There’s a network of intelligence agents—in Spain, Portugal and France. It all goes on behind the scenes. In a way it’s a bit like the theatre. What the audience see on stage is nothing to what is going on backstage, the people, silent and invisible, who work to put on the show.’

Lucy thought it strange, on this perfect evening, the light fading into translucent grey and the screech of an owl sounding somewhere in the trees across the stream, to think of the vast, secret war that shadowed the war of guns and swords.

‘How many men have you killed?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Truly?’

‘Truly. I was in Spain a long time.’

‘But you’re not a humble soldier. You’re a spy, a man of intelligence, paid by Britain for information. Are you ever afraid?’

He smiled. ‘All the time. I am, after all, only human.’

They were just feet apart and Nathan knew that either could have moved away. Yet they stayed still, challenging each other, and Nathan knew she was challenging him to touch her and he was tempted suddenly to break the rules he had laid down for himself. The full mouth, the cheekbones, the curve of her cheek, the shadows about her throat were tempting.

‘What does it feel like to kill someone?’ she asked.

‘It depends. Sometimes good, sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes bad.’

‘When is it bad?’ She turned her head away.

‘When it’s unnecessary.’

He looked at her face, profiled against the broken moonlight, her beauty overpowering. His hand came up almost of its own volition, slowly, until his finger was under her chin and he turned her face towards him. She gave him a calm, wide-eyed expression, then stepped away from him so his arm was left in mid-air.

‘Do you enjoy killing?’

‘No. Some men’s deaths you can enjoy—the death of an enemy. Yet I do not wish the death of the French—even though we are at war. There’s more satisfaction in seeing a surrendered enemy than in seeing a slaughtered enemy. Death stops war from being a game. It gives glory and horror, and soldiers cannot be squeamish about death. There is a moment when rage conquers fear, when humanity disappears and makes a man into a killer. But that rage can keep a man alive.’

‘I suppose Claude Gameau enjoys killing. Will you kill him?’

Lucy looked at his face. She could see a pulse throbbing in his cheek beside the scar. His eyes were dark. She raised an eyebrow as if in question.

‘I can’t answer that. Although I think I would do the British and the French a great service by killing him.’

‘Does no one attempt to catch the deserters?’

Nathan shrugged. ‘The places where they hide in the mountains are far from both the lines of the French and the English. Besides, they would see a regiment of cavalry coming two miles away, which would give them time to move on. The partisans, who harry the French constantly, move through the hills a good deal easier and will do the job for the army.’

‘I expect the soldiers who abide by the rules must conceive a bitter hatred for the deserters.’

‘That’s true, but I think that hatred is caused partly by envy.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Most soldiers, French and English, think at one time or another of desertion, but few do it. All soldiers dream of a perfect paradise where there is no discipline, a glut of wine and women. Gameau’s men have come close to realising that dream and the soldiers who go after them will punish them for daring to do what they can only dream of doing.’

‘And yet the deserters were like them once.’

‘And now they would murder for a few pence. They’re scoundrels, drunkards. They would steal off their own mothers for a pint of rum.’

‘Do you expect Claude Gameau to keep his word and let Katherine go in exchange for the gold?’

‘I’ve told you. The man is untrustworthy, but it has to be worth the risk.’ She closed her eyes and seemed to sigh. ‘Tired?’ he asked. She nodded. ‘Then try to get some sleep.’

‘You will wake me later? We should start as we mean to go on.’

He nodded. ‘Very well. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’

Lucy sank down on to her blanket, wrapping it around her and using her saddlebag for a pillow. Her bones and muscles were weary from the long day and jolting ride. She couldn’t remember being this tired. Everything was so strange, so new. Closing her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Checking that Lucy was sleeping soundly, Nathan flipped open his blanket and, wrapping it around his shoulders, he leaned against a tree, listening to the night sounds and questioning the wisdom of bringing her to Portugal with him. While he was proud of her courage and resilience, he was very much aware of her vulnerability.

Right or wrong he knew only one thing for certain—his assignment would be more difficult without her. The fact that she was going to have to live under a totally different set of conditions bothered him, but he would be understanding and patient. Deep down he felt sure that she was a woman fit for what lay ahead of them.

* * *

He didn’t have to wake her for her watch. She knew what she had to do and that he needed rest.

‘I’ve come to relieve you. You must be tired. Get some sleep.’

Reluctantly he nodded. ‘Very well. Wake me if you hear anything.’

He didn’t like having Lucy look out for them, but it was important that he rested. Rolling himself in his blanket, he dozed fitfully, his senses alert to the nuances of the night. Finally he slept, but restlessly, his dreams marred by premonitions, of what, he did not know.

* * *

Seated on the ground with her back propped against a tree, where she had fallen into a light doze when the first signs of dawn streaked the sky, Lucy listened to the strange sounds, only dimly aware of where she was. The snort of a horse brought her to her senses. The sun had risen just far enough to dapple the tops of the trees. She stretched herself, opening her eyes and looking across to where Nathan had slept. His blanket was rolled up on the ground, but there was no sign of him. Looking down the hill, she saw him leading the horses back from the stream where he had taken them to drink.

She shuddered a little in the raw air. The morning was pale and cool, the sun visible but still remote. She inhaled deeply, savouring the freshness of the air carrying the scent of shrub. Overhead, birds wheeled, their wings catching the sporadic golden flash of the sun before they dipped and vanished beyond the treetops.

‘Some use I’ve been,’ she said, reproaching herself for having fallen asleep, unaware how soft and vulnerable she looked, her face flushed from her doze. ‘I must have drifted off.’

‘I noticed,’ Nathan murmured without reproach. ‘Don’t worry. No one bothered us.’

‘I’ll do better, I promise. I won’t fall asleep again.’

* * *

After a short trip to the stream to wash her face, Lucy saddled her horse, making sure the saddlebags were well strapped before securing the stiff leather girth. Nathan moved to assist her. Aware of his nearness, Lucy turned her head, her breath soft and fragrant as she looked into his eyes. Her hands grew cold with sweat and her legs began to tremble.

‘Dear Lord, Lucy...’ Nathan whispered. ‘Dear Lord...this is going to be harder than I realised...’ His mind reeled and he pulled her slowly towards him. She came easily, each step unimpeded, until she leaned against him and yielded him her mouth with a long sobbing moan.

Their bodies strained together hungrily in a mindless rapture while the horse shifted restlessly. Lucy melted under his fierce, fevered kiss and she clung to him as she gave herself wholly to his passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning it with a wild and free abandon that amazed her as well as him. She felt him lift her in his arms and her heart streamed into his. She had no strength to pit against his will and her own need, yet as he laid her on the soft grass her hand turned against his chest and she twisted from him wildly and flung herself to her feet.

‘I cannot do this. I cannot.’ She sank to her knees beside him and covered her face with her hands.

Nathan lay quiet as she had left him and watched her, while his breathing slowed in time, and he said very low, ‘I want you, Lucy. I have tried to fight it, but I cannot pretend otherwise. You loved me once. I think you still feel something for me.’

He spoke her name so softly, as she had not heard it since she had left him all those years ago, and so piercingly sweet it sounded to her that the meaning of his other words came slowly. She could hardly think what to do, with her head spinning after that thrilling brush with passion. Events seemed to be whirling beyond her control, but at the same time she must remember that he had moved on with his life—and he had told her on the terrace at the house in Lisbon that there was no going back.