Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant (9 page)

Swallowing convulsively, she looked for Nathan. He was looking out at the hostile sea when he saw her. Concern for her safety made him angry.

‘Lucy! What are you doing! Don’t you know you could be washed overboard?’

She could scarcely hear him for the howling wind. As he was speaking, the ship heeled to one side. She lost her hold and was driven with amazing force against the capstan, and from there to the other side of the ship against one of the main beams. It proved her protection from the sea, for it saved her from being plunged into the abyss, without the faintest probability of rescue, but her head made contact with something hard.

She levered herself upward, but her legs remained twisted beneath her. The deck seemed to reel about her and she saw it as through a long, dark tunnel. It was Nathan who moved first to assist her. All his anger had drained away when he saw her predicament.

‘Lucy! Dear God, Lucy.’

Before she could accept or reject his assistance, placing a strong arm beneath her back and sliding another underneath her knees, he lifted her from the deck and stood her gently on her feet. She teetered unsteadily, unable to stand alone.

‘Lucy, are you hurt? Damn it, look at me!’

She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his large body shielding her from the worst of the blinding rain, his fingers cupping her face.

‘Are you in pain?’

‘Not much,’ she mumbled, taking stock, ‘except for the ache in my head.’

‘My God, you gave me a fright.’ His breath was warm against her cheek. ‘Here, let me help you.’

Quickly he slipped an arm about her shoulders and half supported her against his broad chest. She was glad of his support when she had to negotiate the wildly rolling deck again. Carefully he helped her below to her small, low-raftered cabin, where he made her sit on the bed. He risked lighting a lantern, securing it to keep it from falling and setting the ship on fire.

Nathan drew in a breath. Her hat had been whipped from her head by the wind. She looked pale and bedraggled, even pitiful, as she huddled there, shivering. Something in his chest tightened. In the glowing light, he could see at once that her wound wasn’t fatal. There was a small amount of blood caused by a superficial laceration on her brow.

‘Lucy,’ he murmured, sinking down before her, ‘are you all right?’ Placing a gentle finger under her chin, he compelled her to meet his gaze. ‘What is it?’

‘Would you...’ Lucy whispered, her teeth chattering, ‘do you suppose...you could hold me?’

Wordlessly he opened his arms, and when she came into them, he could feel her body trembling. ‘There’s nothing to fear now,’ he said gently, stroking her sodden hair. ‘You’ve suffered nothing more serious than a cut to your head. Already it has stopped bleeding. I dare say you’ll have a headache, but it will pass—as will the storm.’

‘It wasn’t the storm. I thought...I was afraid I might be washed into the sea—that I would drown.’

Nathan pressed his cheek against her hair. He had been afraid, too. Afraid that he had lost her to the sea. ‘Don’t ever,’ he breathed, remembering that devastating moment when he had looked down to see that mountainous sea sweep over the deck, remembering the helplessness he had felt, ‘disobey me again.’

‘I won’t. I’ll not venture out again until the storm has passed.’

Nathan repressed a smile, suspecting her docility was a measure of her fatigue.

‘Come now,’ he urged, ‘if you will allow me I will help you out of those wet clothes. You’ll be warmer without them, then you must get into bed.’

He knelt before her and began chafing her cold hands. He saw she was watching him quietly with wide, expressive eyes that looked trusting and vulnerable. She sat unresisting as he pulled off her boots. He hesitantly unfastened her breeches and peeled them off, stripping off her stockings in the process and rubbing her shapely calves to bring the blood back. Fortunately the rain hadn’t penetrated to her undergarments so he left them alone. He then removed her jacket and unfastened her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. He stood up, bringing Lucy with him, his head brushing the rafters.

His gaze was drawn to her face, to her cold, trembling lips. Slowly he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, warming her. When he heard her sigh, he deepened his kiss, thrusting gently into her mouth, warming her tongue with his. When she shivered, he didn’t think it was from the cold, but he left off kissing her to finish peeling the wet shirt from her shoulders. Leaving the chemise she wore next to her skin, she stood before him, pale and cold, and he could see that gooseflesh covered her bare shoulders and that the nipples of her high, firm breasts were chilled and rigid beneath the fabric that covered them.

His blue eyes darkened at the sight. Lucy tried to cover herself with her arms, but Nathan caught her hands and pulled them away, scrutinising her carefully for further injury. In the lantern light he could see a reddening on her shoulder and his mouth hardened. Gently, he reached out to touch the faint discoloration. She raised an eyebrow as if in question. He hardly dared speak, he hardly dared breathe. He moved his hand, sliding it gently on to her back so that his fingertips touched the skin of her spine. She closed her eyes, seemed to sigh, and he pulled with his hand and she came, so easily, into his chest.

The restraint they had both forced on their nature since leaving Portsmouth broke, as they again felt the fierce thrill of being in each other’s arms. Lucy was overcome by her ardent desire to surrender herself to him once more. As his lips touched hers, she gasped, the sound betraying her longing for him. The force between them had grown powerful and impatient in its long captivity and the longing could not be denied. His kiss was long and deep, with all the ardour and passion of his being.

Lucy could think of nothing but the urgency of his mouth and the warmth of his breath, the feel of his arms about her and his strong, muscled legs pressed against her own. Her body quickened with the sweetness of overpowering surrender—that incredible remembered joy. The blood pulsating round her body obliterated all reason and will as her whole being burst with heat threatening to overwhelm her. Lost in that wild and beautiful madness, Lucy ran her hands up over his chest, her fingers brushing his neck.

With iron control, Nathan straightened his body, and through the haze of heated passion she was aware of his strong and surprisingly gentle hands taking hers and drawing them away. That one kiss had been too much and too little, leaving both of them hungering and aching. Then, without conscious intention, his hand moved up to the curving swell of her breast to brush a hard nipple with one finger.

Lucy’s reaction was immediate—she pushed his hand away and stepped back. ‘Please, Nathan, don’t do this. We can’t go back. We said we wouldn’t.’

* * *

Nathan stared at her, remembering with a surge of desire that her reserve hid a woman of passion and he wanted her. Wanted to draw her back into his arms and fill himself with the feel and taste of her, to span that impossibly narrow waist with his hands and draw those inviting hips beneath him, to have those long, lithe legs wrapped around him.

The fierceness of his wanting startled him. It was with a tremendous effort of will that he stepped away from her. ‘I apologise, Lucy, and you are right to remind me. Any minute now I am likely to forget I shouldn’t be here, alone with you...like this. I think you’d better get into bed,’ he forced himself to say in a voice that was deep and husky.

Unable to look into her wide green eyes a moment longer without dragging her down on to the bed and making love to her, he opened the door and went out. He should not have kissed her, should not have resurrected those feelings and emotions so long repressed.

In the past Lucy had loved him with a pure and simple love that forgave, that understood. She had loved him, laughed with him, teased him. When he had gone to war he had taken with him a picture of her in his mind. She had been a memory that had not faded, a passion he could not forget. She had seethed with life and possessed a childlike faith in love. She had given herself to him and never doubted the wisdom of the gift as he had sometimes doubted it.

He was aware that the days of being around her, of wanting her, of self-denial and frustration had finally driven him beyond restraint. She had torn the heart out of him when she’d left him, so that she became a painful, humiliating memory, and he’d sworn that he’d never get close enough to anyone to let them do that to him again. On reaching Spain his restless spirit had driven him from one achievement to the next, but the achievement never seemed to satisfy.

* * *

Staring at the closed door through which Nathan had disappeared, Lucy wanted to call him back. He represented safety, warmth and security, and she did not want him to leave her alone. But they had put down ground rules, rules that must be kept if they were to see this assignment through to the end. Extinguishing the light, turning back the covers on her narrow bed, she crept beneath them, pulling the blanket over her head, seeking the haven of darkness and solace from the turmoil of her emotions.

* * *

The next day the weather cleared a little. The
Harris
continued on course, the sun appearing at intervals. After making sure that the horses had suffered no ill effects from the storm, Nathan went in search of Lucy. She wasn’t in her cabin so he concluded she had gone up on deck. He found her at the stern. Having retrieved her hat, it was pulled well down on her brow.

Lucy was watching the work of the crew. Some of the masts had been damaged during the storm and she watched, fascinated, as the seamen clambered up and down them, as sure-footed as monkeys as they tried to repair them. She gave a start when Nathan came up behind her and whirled to face him.

‘So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself. I didn’t expect you to be up so early. How are you feeling?’

He thought she had simply been startled by his taking her unawares, but she visibly stiffened at his words. She didn’t look all that pleased to see him.

‘I was not hiding,’ she said stiffly, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. Her mind burned with the memory of what had occurred between them the previous night. She wouldn’t humiliate herself further by letting him know how much she craved his kisses, his touch. ‘I believe I mentioned that I prefer being on deck than being confined down below. I am feeling better. I have a bump on my head, but otherwise I am unhurt.’

Her tone, her very posture, was cool and aloof. She knew he was watching her, trying to read her expression. No doubt he hadn’t been sure what to expect. An acknowledgement of what had passed between them, she supposed. She decided not to reopen the subject and she was relieved that he felt the same, for he made no reference to it.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said quietly. ‘As you said, you could have been washed overboard.’

‘But I wasn’t, so we can get back on course and do what we set out to do. At least the storm seems to be behind us. In fact, I’m sure I saw land in the distance when I came on deck.’

She was right. They had their first glimpse of the coast of Spain, and later they could see the entrance to Corunna. At first the coast appeared as a mist on the edge of the horizon. They could distinguish the broken mountains and then the trees and houses. Then the wind shifted in their favour and they ran before it.

* * *

Two days later, they came within view of the Rock of Lisbon, which at first seemed to be only a blue speck.

They had lost sight of the fleet some days before, but now fell in with numbers of shipping crowding in and out of the Tagus. Here the river was about a mile wide, but after it passed the city it widened to four or five miles, where it separated into many small divisions, one of which ran as far as Madrid, the capital of Spain.

As they approached the shore, they found it dotted with pretty villages and they could distinctly make out the oranges on the trees. To add to all this, the day was fine and the weather inviting.

A large pilot boat shaped like a canoe and painted in gay colours with about thirty men at the oars guided them in. Nathan told Lucy that the city of Lisbon was about eight miles up the river, with Belem Castle projecting into the river. The landscape was enchanting and Lucy was surprised to see a large number of windmills, which were a feature of the country. They eventually dropped anchor midafternoon.

Having collected their baggage, Nathan and Lucy left the ship and climbed into one of the boats that came alongside to carry the passengers ashore. When Lucy asked about the horses, Nathan told her they were to be taken off the ship later.

The weather was pleasant, the sun shining and the temperature as warm as it was in England in August. When at last they arrived in Lisbon to a cacophony of church bells—Nathan informed her how the Portuguese were very fond of the bells—they were relieved to put their feet on dry land once more.

Chapter Five

N
athan hired a carriage to take them to their destination, Lucy looked about her with great interest. In this part, close to the port and the river, the streets were narrow and crooked and on the whole unclean. The city was built on a hill, many of the streets steep, some of the houses seven-or eight-storeys high. The journey became more pleasant as they left the port behind. Lisbon was surrounded with a number of fine gardens, well stocked with orange, lemon, lime and fig trees. The carriage climbed several hundred feet above the river to an area which commanded stunning views. Nathan informed her that it was a place where all persons of note resided.

Eventually they arrived at the home of Lieutenant Colonel Sir Robert Connors in his Britannic Majesty’s army. It was a large square house standing high above the Tagus. With whitewashed walls, the shutters painted blue, it was bathed in sunlight reflected from the river and framed by orange trees.

‘We are expected,’ Nathan told Lucy when they got out of the carriage and he paid off the driver.

Sir Robert Connors, a man of medium height and in middle age, appeared on the front porch. He looked with some fondness at the tall nephew of his good friend Lord Wilmslow, who did not enjoy the best of health. ‘Nathan, good to see you. I thought you might be on the
Harris
. How’s the wound?’

‘Totally mended, Robert. As you see I’m as good as new, which is why they’ve sent me back to work.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Come inside. Maria will be glad to see you.’

‘I trust you are both well, Robert?’

‘In excellent health, dear boy. I only hope those two sons of ours are safe. At present they are with Wellington in the south. Cadiz, I think, but one can never be sure.’

‘They will be,’ Nathan replied with a confident air. ‘They take after their father.’ His expression became sombre, his voice quiet. ‘I’ve already expressed my regrets about young Harry’s death. If I could have done things differently I would have. You know that, Robert.’

Sir Robert nodded. ‘I know that,’ he said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘It’s war, Nathan. These things happen. We miss him, but for the short time he was in the army he did us proud.’

Lucy had been silent throughout this exchange. She assumed they were speaking of one of Sir Robert’s sons who had perhaps been killed in battle and her heart went out to him. She would have expressed her sympathy, but she didn’t want to intrude. Nathan turned towards her. ‘Robert, this is Miss Lucy Lane, and this is my old friend, Lieutenant Colonel Sir Robert Connors semi-retired—who in my opinion is still fit enough to lead the troops on a winter campaign.’

Sir Robert laughed heartily and clapped Nathan on the shoulder. ‘I could inscribe my name in glory, if I felt so inclined, or consign myself to the eternal torments of warfare, but I’ve become rather partial to idling my time away in semi-retirement with my dear wife.’ He smiled at Lucy, his eyes twinkling as he took her hand and raised it to his lips in an old-fashioned manner. ‘I’m happy to meet you, my dear. I suppose Nathan has been completely neglectful of telling you anything about us.’

Lucy glanced at Nathan with wide uncertainty. ‘I’m afraid he has.’

‘You must forgive him, my dear. As ever he will have much on his mind. I trust the voyage wasn’t too rough?’

Lucy returned his smile. Sir Robert had a strong face, deeply lined, dominated by brown eyes topped with busy grey eyebrows. He might give the impression of age, yet his twinkling eyes and ever-willing smile were the epitome of eternal youth. ‘For a while—in the Bay of Biscay.’

‘It invariably is, I’m afraid. I’m sure it must have crossed your mind that this is a strange time to be travelling abroad—during a war.’

‘What is life without a little danger?’ Nathan remarked, flashing a very dangerous smile indeed at Lucy.

She dropped her eyes, severely reproaching herself for the pink flush she could feel stealing into her cheeks. ‘I have travelled extensively in England, but I have never been out of the country before.’

‘Then I hope you won’t be disappointed in Portugal and that your mission will bring you safely back to Lisbon. Come inside and meet Maria. She is Portuguese, but speaks English like a native. She’s been looking forward to meeting you.’

Robert ushered them inside the house. It was simple, white and spacious, and, as Lucy was to discover, the surrounding garden was an earthly paradise in miniature—a paradise in which nature, almost unaided, had played the role of gardener. Maria hurried to join them, a broad smile on her face.

‘Maria!’ Nathan hurried forwards to hug the woman and they spoke in Portuguese, a language that Lucy did not understand.

Lucy thought Maria to be in her fifties. She was still very beautiful. Her skin was olive-coloured and flawless, and her hair, which cascaded down her back, was coal black and wavy. Her light, filmy clothes, in spite of an abundance of delicately coloured ribbons, did little to conceal her perfect figure and served, in fact, to bring out something of the Portuguese quality of her dark beauty. Her eyes were dark, too, and as Lucy watched her, Maria suddenly turned her attention to Nathan’s companion and smiled a radiant smile that revealed small white teeth.

‘Welcome to Lisbon,’ Maria greeted her warmly in perfect English. There was an air of kindliness and generosity about her and Lucy liked her immediately. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Lucy. I have a room prepared for you—and a gown,’ she said, her eyes passing over Lucy’s apparel with disapproval. ‘For one night at least you can drop these gipsy ways Nathan has imposed on you and become a lady.’

Lucy laughed. ‘That I will never be. I am an actress and have been for many years.’

‘And a good one, I’ll warrant, otherwise Nathan wouldn’t have recruited you to assist him in this venture.’ Maria put a gentle arm around the younger woman. ‘My dear, you must be simply famished after that long voyage, with nothing but ship’s biscuits and dried meat to eat. Come, I will show you to your room. Hot water will be brought so you can bathe.’

* * *

Left alone, the two men went out on to the jasmine-covered terrace where they sat to discuss Nathan’s assignment over a brandy. Sir Robert had been one of Nathan’s contacts for secret work in Portugal before he had been wounded and sent back to England.

Crossing his legs in front of him, Sir Robert looked at Nathan, at the fine lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes that had been absent before. He was as cool and aloof as if he were a nomadic king holding himself back from a distasteful event.

‘When you went back to England to recuperate, I feared you were too ill to return to Portugal.’

‘And therefore you would get no more work out of me?’

‘That is what we thought. But it is agreed that you were one of our best operatives. When Lady Newbold and her son were taken hostage by the rebels, it was partly down to your close friendship with her husband and also because you have first-hand knowledge of the mountainous terrain in the north that you were chosen for the assignment. I am glad you are recovered sufficiently to take it on. There will be no bugles, battles or bags of glory this time, Nathan. You will be working alone.’

‘How many hostages are being held?’

‘That we don’t know and it is for you to find out. It is true that Lady Newbold and her child are not the rebels’ only hostages, but they are the ones you must concentrate on. The Duke of Londesborough is to pay the ransom. I must also inform you that the partisans and the British army are to launch an attack on the rebels’ stronghold after you have secured the release of Lady Newbold. If all goes to plan, the remaining hostages will be freed and the gold will be reclaimed and returned to the Duke of Londesborough.’

‘And the partisans?’

‘You will make contact with their leader—a man by the name of Arturo Garcia, at the convent north of Santarem. You know the place?’ Nathan nodded. ‘It is known the rebels are holed up in some ancient fortress in the Sierras, but little else. Once you have secured Lady Newbold’s release, you will meet with Garcia again and give him information of the rebels’ hideout: the number of men, their arms and where the hostages are being held and their condition—in short, anything you can glean that will be useful. You understand they want to minimise the risk of injury to the hostages.’

‘If they let us go and don’t kill us once they have the ransom money. They may be deserters, but they are not fools. They are trained soldiers. They know how to fight.’

Sir Robert fixed his gaze steadily on the younger man. ‘That is right. Deserters are dangerous. They know their lives are forfeit if they are captured, so they will not flinch from any crime, no matter how cruel or vile. There is another reason why you were our first choice for such a vital and delicate operation.’

‘Oh?’

‘Because you are familiar with the leader of the deserters.’

‘Who is?’

‘A Frenchman. Claude Gameau—also known as Le Chien Noir—the Black Dog.’

Nathan went cold, his expression grim. ‘So, Gameau has deserted.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not surprised. He’s a man violently inspired who didn’t think much of soldiering.’

‘You saved his life.’

Pain filled Nathan’s eyes. ‘For him to go on and kill Harry—reason enough for me to regret ever letting him live and granting him parole to be exchanged.’

‘I’m sure you do—and I do know how deeply Harry’s death affected you. But you must stop torturing yourself, Nathan. It wasn’t your fault. You allowed Gameau to live. It must count for something. He owes you. For that reason alone we believe he will allow you to leave unharmed.’

Nathan’s lips twisted with irony. ‘I fear Gameau is off the map of chivalry, Robert.’

‘He may not mind his manners, but you must mind yours if you are to carry it off.’

‘Is he aware I have been given the assignment?’

‘No. I have to ask you about Miss Lane. Is she up to the task, do you think?’

‘I hope so. Lady Newbold and Lucy are...old friends.’

‘And you think that is enough?’

‘Miss Lane has courage and good sense. I can trust her, trust in her integrity. She is also reliable and will stay the course, I am sure.’

‘And she cares enough about Lady Newbold to help rescue her.’

‘I have yet to tell her it is Lady Newbold we are going to rescue.’

Robert gave him a quizzical look. ‘And—is that likely to be a problem?’

Nathan shook his head, swirling his brandy round his glass. ‘I don’t think so—not when I explain everything.’

‘That is something. I told you Lady Newbold was wounded when she was taken. Unfortunately we don’t know how badly. She may not make it to Lisbon unaided. We felt we had to suggest that you found a woman who is trustworthy, someone who would be up to the task. You cannot care single-handedly for an injured woman and an infant.’

* * *

Maria showed Lucy into a room that was low-ceilinged with pale blue curtains and bedspread. It was a charming, restful room and what delighted Lucy was the balcony overlooking terracotta roofs and the River Tagus.

Hot water was brought and she bathed and changed into a lovely pale blue dress laid out for her by Maria. Lucy could not help giving a shiver of pleasure as she touched the soft material. Maria, quite rightly, thought she would appreciate disposing of her breeches, if just for one night.

* * *

For what was left of the day, they were entertained in a manner Lucy had not thought possible by strangers. Maria had met Sir Robert when her parents had taken her to London when she was a young woman. When Sir Robert had retired from the army after serving in India and later in Spain, and having become used to warmer climes, he and his wife and their three sons, all military men and serving with Wellington, had decided to settle in Lisbon. They still grieved for the loss of Harry, their youngest son, but they put on a brave face for their guests.

Maria was as gracious and kind as she was witty and warm. Her light-hearted charm was infectious and Lucy felt the tension melt away with the laughter. The evening swept past in a relaxed and congenial atmosphere. In the presence of the older couple, whom he had known for many years, Nathan seemed at ease. While dining, Lucy even managed to remain calm beneath his unwavering stare.

Nathan was the one who felt the bite of discomfort as he admired Lucy in the pale blue satin gown, the gentle sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him to the flower-decked terrace and the incredibly narrow curve of her waist.

Sitting on the terrace with the cicadas chattering, breaking the stillness of the evening, Lucy felt she was in heaven as she sipped chilled wine and nibbled on olives and cheese.

* * *

Later, when Sir Robert and his wife rose to seek their bed, Nathan held back.

‘We have to talk.’ She met his gaze and nodded. Picking up a cashmere shawl Maria had left, Nathan went to where Lucy stood and draped it gently about her shoulders. ‘You’re shivering.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, drawing the shawl around her gratefully. ‘It has turned cold. I always imagined Portugal to be a hot country.’

‘And so it is in summer, when the sun bakes the plains into dust, but in winter it can be freezing.’

It was a beautiful starlit night, and as Lucy strolled to the edge of the terrace her mood lightened. The moon was a great golden orb in the sky and the sounds of the town below hung on the air.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she commented.

‘So it is,’ Nathan agreed, watching her. ‘Would you like more wine?’

‘No, thank you. I drank enough over dinner. The food was delicious and your friends have made me feel very welcome. So,’ she said, turning to face him, ‘now we are in Portugal, perhaps you would like to tell me more about this assignment you have been given? I would like to know what is facing us. I have to know if all this is worth it—I sincerely hope it is because when I return to England nothing will be the same for me.’

A tiny smile twisted one corner of his mouth although his eyes remained without warmth. ‘In what way?’

She gave a brittle laugh. ‘My life, my career, everything I have worked for.’