The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride (8 page)

‘You’d better wash your face before your father sees you,’ Babette said. ‘Say nothing to Sir Matthew. Perhaps one day we may think of a way to bring you to me, but until then you must be meek and attend to what he tells you.’

‘Yes, for otherwise he would lock me up and give me only bread and water to drive out the evil,’ Angelina said. ‘I shall smile and be as meek as always—but I’m angry at what he has done and as soon as I can I shall escape and come to you.’

Babette made no answer. Her cousin was talking wildly. She was too young to wed yet and her parents would not dream of letting her leave them until the right husband was found for her. Had Sir Matthew not taken his niece in dislike he might have allowed his daughter to visit her, but in the circumstances it was unlikely—nay, it was impossible.

As Angelina gave her a small secret smile and turned away, Babette went into her own room and began to pack. As she folded her clothes and put them into her trunk, she saw that some of her things had been disturbed. Someone had moved the book of recipes that her mother had given her—she suspected that it had been read in the hope of discovering that she was using some form of the black arts, perhaps. They would find nothing incriminating in her notes. Her mother had been a good woman, a woman who gave selflessly of her time and knowledge to help others and she’d taught Babette to be the same—but she was not and had never been a witch.

Why her uncle should think it she had no idea, but it seemed fixed in his head and there was nothing she could do to change it.

* * *

Captain Colby ventured down to the parlour that evening. He looked pale and Babette guessed that he was in some pain, but he bore himself well and gave no sign of it. Babette’s aunt had told her that her uncle wished her to take her place at table and be waited on. She was not to serve any of them with food or to help in the preparation of their supper. It was as if her touch might contaminate others. While it hurt her, she sat proudly and let her aunt wait on her.

‘May I pass you some bread, Mistress Babette?’ Captain Colby asked and passed the plate so that she could take a piece. She thanked him and selected a chunk, taking care not to touch the rest of the bread. ‘Would you like cheese? Perhaps I may cut it for you?’

Babette thanked him for the attention. Her uncle had taken his bread first and she noticed that he turned the plate so that his wife selected from the opposite side to the one Babette had taken hers from. Aunt Minnie was pale and silent throughout the meal. Angelina defiantly took bread from the side her cousin had touched, her eyes flashing with pride as she looked across the table.

‘Will you have more ale, Cousin?’ she asked and got up to serve Babette. Her father gave her a reproving look, but she tossed her head and filled her own cup before taking her seat. ‘I think the apple pie will not taste as sweet this night, Babs. Mother’s pastry is not as light as yours—and it is so stupid—’

‘Be quiet, Daughter.’

Angelina glared at her father, but before she could speak Babette shook her head, reminding her. She subsided into sullen silence, making her father look at her reprovingly.

‘I shall be leaving in the morning,’ Captain Colby said. ‘Mistress Babette has granted me the pleasure of escorting her to her home. I must thank you for your hospitality, sir—and you, Lady Graham. You have been most generous to my men and me.’

‘We were glad to have you, sir.’ Aunt Minnie looked close to tears and, after one glance in her niece’s direction, kept her eyes on her plate. ‘I shall miss...’ Her words were lost in her emotion. She was speaking to Babette, but dared not say what was in her heart.

* * *

Babette rose when the meal was ended to help clear the table, but Aunt Minnie shook her head at her. Feeling close to tears, she turned away and went out into the hall, intending to return to her room before she gave way to a storm of weeping.

‘Mistress Babette.’ Captain Colby’s voice stopped her as she would have gone up the stairs. She hesitated, and he took hold of her arm. ‘Do not let him distress you. He is not worth weeping over.’

‘I am not weeping,’ she said, her head up, though the tears were burning behind her eyes. ‘It is mere foolishness...and so unfair.’

‘It is my fault,’ he said. ‘I brought out his worst fears.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she cried. ‘Had you not come here it would not have happened. You are my enemy and you have ruined my life.’

Wrenching away from him, she won free and ran on up the stairs. When she reached her room she gave way to the storm of emotion that shook her, but later, when the tears were spent, she regretted what had been said. Captain Colby would be within his rights to abandon her to her fate—but she knew that he would not.

He was her enemy, but an honourable man.

* * *

Babette was up early the next morning. She ate before anyone was down and then went back to collect the small pack, which was all she could carry on her mare. The trunk she’d packed would go in the wagon with Jonas and be pulled by the old grey cob, as it had been on the way here.

She spoke to Jonas in the yard, telling him that her brother and his friend would make their own way to the castle and that he must take her trunk and she would see him there.

‘But how will you fare alone, mistress? You cannot travel on horseback by yourself.’

‘Captain Colby will see me safe to the village and from there I can reach the castle alone.’

Her groom frowned, clearly disturbed by the idea. ‘I mislike it, mistress. He is an enemy.’

‘Of the King, yes—but he is not truly my enemy, Jonas. I helped save his life and he is grateful. Besides, I am no longer welcome here. My uncle thinks...’ She could not bear to say the word. ‘He does not want me in his house.’

‘I’ve heard what they say. You are no such thing, mistress. If your father were alive, he would challenge that devil to a duel...and run a sword through his evil heart.’

‘You must not speak so of my uncle,’ she remonstrated. ‘He is foolish, perhaps, but not evil. He is a godly man and much respected.’

‘I’ve seen the likes of him before,’ Jonas muttered. ‘I mind when you were a lass... Evil comes in many forms, mistress. Sometimes it wears a smiling face, sometimes a frown, but behind the mask is a black heart. Your uncle speaks of justice and fairness, but he beats a servant for speaking out of turn and makes them go to church whether they will or no—and if they refuse, he turns them off without a hope or reference. If that be justice, I be the king of angels.’

‘Oh, Jonas...’ Babette laughed ‘...I thank God to have such a good friend in you. Go to the kitchen and my aunt will give you food for the journey and I shall see you in a few days.’

She turned as Captain Colby came into the courtyard, leading her mare and his own horse. He walked up to her and smiled.

‘Are you ready to leave, mistress?’

‘I said goodbye to my cousin earlier and to my aunt. You must not think ill of her, sir. She had tears in her eyes—but she must obey her husband.’

‘I know she has no choice,’ he agreed. ‘Come, Mistress Babette. I shall put you up on your horse and we’ll leave at once. I shall be glad to shake the dust of this place from my feet. Your uncle was fair enough to me, but I am angry at the way he has treated you.’

‘It hurt me at first,’ she said, ‘but since you offered me your protection I shall come to no harm. Thank you for your kindness, Captain Colby. I should have found it harder to reach my home with only Jonas as escort.’

‘His wagon can trundle in our wake,’ he said and smiled. Reaching her into his arms, he swung her up into the saddle and then gave her the reins. They were about to move off when a shout stopped them and Aunt Minnie came flying from the kitchen, a small parcel in her hands.

‘I’m sorry you have to leave us, dearest Babs. I’ve loved having you here—take this. It was a gift from your mother to me, but I have never been able to use it for Matthew forbade it. You should have it—and try to forgive me, if you can.’

‘I have nothing to forgive.’ Babette pushed the soft parcel into her bundle and smiled down at her aunt. ‘I am sorry to leave. If ever you are in trouble, come to me—or send Angelina, if I can be of help.’

‘He would beat us both,’ her aunt said and looked fearfully at the house over her shoulder. ‘Go now. If he saw me talking to you, he would be angry. He will make us pray on our knees for forgiveness this night for harbouring a disciple of the devil.’ She crossed herself. ‘Forgive me...’

‘Come, Mistress Babs,’ Captain Colby called to her. ‘We should leave now.’

Aunt Minnie stepped back, tears in her eyes. Captain Colby led off, Babette close behind and his men following. She was not tempted to look back and thus did not see her cousin’s mutinous face at the window, nor could she know that her uncle had locked his daughter in her chamber for safety’s sake, lest she be tempted to follow her cousin into the darkness of evil.

She had come here out of loneliness and her aunt and cousin had been a delight to her. But now she knew she could never return to this house. She was saddened, regretting that her uncle could no longer trust or tolerate her near his family. She must forget the comfort of the manor house and return to her home and the bitter cold that was ever present within its thick walls.

Babette could only be grateful that her brother had taken his wife to the castle, for at least she would have company. She had been happy living with her aunt and Angelina and she would miss them very much. She hoped that Alice would like her and they could be friends, for life at the castle would otherwise be lonely again.

Would her brother be angry with her for accepting the escort of a rebel captain? He’d bidden her stay at the manor house until he sent for her, but how could she when her uncle would not have her beneath his roof another day?

John might be annoyed and feel that she had betrayed her principles, but surely he would understand?

She almost wished that she had never come to her aunt’s home in the first place, but then...she would never have met Captain Colby.

Realising where her thoughts were taking her, Babette tried to control them. She could not be falling in love with a rebel captain. It would be so foolish, yet in her heart she knew it was exactly what was happening to her.

No, she would resist, for nothing could ever come of such foolish thoughts. They had opposing beliefs and this war had made it impossible for them to be friends.

Soon they would part and she might never see him again, but for the moment they had the journey and who knew what might happen before its end?

Chapter Six

T
hey had been riding for some hours when Captain Colby called a halt. Babette was feeling tired, for she had slept little the night before and she was relieved when he came to help her down, lifting her in his strong arms and smiling up at her in a way that made her heart race. Looking down into his attractive face, she felt a melting sensation inside, but resisted. She must not like him too much. It would be foolish.

‘You are weary,’ he said in a gentle tone. ‘I should have stopped sooner, but I wanted to reach a safe house by eventide, for the inns are seldom to be trusted in these times.’

The look in his face was concerned and it made her throat tighten with emotion. ‘Only a little,’ she replied, touched by his care for her. The seeming tenderness in his voice made her throat tighten and she wanted to stay within that charmed circle for ever. But he recalled his thoughts and let her go. ‘I think my aunt sent food for us in the saddle bags—just simple fare, some cold pie, cheese and bread.’

‘Her pies were not as good as yours. She will miss you, I think.’

‘And I shall miss her. I was happy to cook for her—but my uncle thought I might poison the food and would not eat anything I touched.’

‘The man is a fool.’ He frowned. ‘I once suspected you...that mushroom, but I was wrong.’

‘You were right to think it dangerous. Jonas picked it in error.’

‘While he waited for you?’ Captain Colby looked at her hard. ‘Who were you tending in the woods? A wounded Royalist? No, do not answer. It does not matter. I acquit you of trying to harm me—or anyone else. No doubt you were there on an errand of mercy.’

‘I fear this is but poor fare,’ Babette said, ignoring his question as she took him a parcel bound in linen. ‘Not what you are used to, I think.’

‘I am a soldier and eat what comes my way, mistress. You shall eat well this night, I promise you,’ he said. ‘The house at which we shall stay belongs to friends of mine—a gentleman who knows how to treat a lady. I did not like to see you treated little better than a servant in that man’s house. You are better away from there.’

‘Please do not, sir. I would not have had my aunt wait on me—and I took pleasure in baking.’

‘Any woman may do that—but you were not shown the respect you deserved.’

Babette flushed, for she knew his anger was for her uncle. He had been furious at the way she’d been treated, though he had contained his anger while he needed to stay beneath her uncle’s roof.

She had thought at one time that he liked his cousin, but now she saw that he had been forced to politeness by the need to humour Sir Matthew so that he had access to the local farmers. Was he then ruthlessly devoted to his cause? He had used Sir Matthew to help him purchase the stores he needed for the rebel army, but he’d admitted that if his stratagem had not worked he or another would have come in force and taken what they wanted.

Were all men ruthless when it came to the cause they served? Babette knew that his smile sent her heart on a dizzy spiral, but what kind of a man was he truly?

No, she must not question. Without his help she would have been forced to travel alone, with only Jonas for protection—and in times like these there was no telling what might have happened to her.

Once left to herself, Babette unpacked the food from the saddlebags, which was just bread, cheese and some cold pie left over from the previous night. She spread her cloak on the ground and a rug and then set out the food, inviting the men in Captain Colby’s command to eat. They thanked her, treating her with the respect her rank deserved, which she knew was because of their leader’s attentions to her. Everything he said or did showed him to be a true gentleman and his care for her was all that she could ask.

Babette acquitted him of fault in the matter of his dealings with his cousin. He had a job to do and he had done it fairly, treating others with respect. Yet someone hated him enough to want him dead—someone who shot from the safety of trees and did not show his face.

After the men had taken food and moved away, Captain Colby sat down on the dry grass next to her and took bread and cheese himself. Babette watched him eat it and smiled. He had a good appetite, but he ate in a mannerly way, even when using his fingers.

‘Do you have an enemy, Captain Colby?’ she asked as he wiped his mouth on the linen napkin her aunt had sent with the food. ‘Do you know who tried to kill you?’

‘We are a country at war. Any number of men might have tried to kill me.’

‘Yes, that is true—but surely a Royalist troop would have attacked all of you. It seems to me that someone who shoots but remains hidden and does not show his face is a murderer. You were his intended victim—not my uncle or any other of your men.’

‘Yes, it would appear so.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You are intelligent, Mistress Babs. I had not truly considered it. I thought mayhap some Royalist fugitives might be hiding in the woods and sought to kill an enemy.’

‘Why pick you out? It was foolhardy in the extreme for, had your men chosen to follow, the fugitives would surely have been caught and hanged. I think they would not risk it for the sake of killing one man—besides, it is not their way. Had it been Royalists in any number they would have attacked you and tried to take your stores—a fugitive by his very nature seeks to evade. No, I think whoever tried to kill you wanted you alone dead.’

Captain Colby was thoughtful for a moment and then he frowned. ‘Yes, perhaps. I had not thought he would resort to such a sly trick...but perhaps...’

‘So you do know who it might be?’

‘There is a man I know to be jealous of me. I have been fortunate and earned praise from my superiors, while he was reprimanded—and he blames me for reporting what happened. He made a foolish mistake when we were attacking an enemy position and when I was asked for my report I told what I saw. Though I laid no blame on him, it was clear that he was in command, and the mistake that got men killed was his. Yet he thought I should have lied for him, because we were once close. He was Jane’s brother.’

‘Jane?’ Babette saw the look of grief in his eyes and her heart caught. What could make him look like that—as if his heart had been torn from his body?

‘Jane Melchet was the lady I was to marry, but she passed away. We were childhood friends and sweethearts, and I loved her very much.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, sir.’

Babette could not trust herself to say more, for she saw by the raw grief in his face that he still loved the girl he should have married. She wanted to ask the question, but could not—and then he looked at her and she saw the nerve flicking at his temple. He was in such grief that her heart went out to him. She longed to hold him and kiss away his pain, but knew that he would not want such sympathy from her. He was grateful to her for saving his life, but she was just a Royalist girl—an enemy.

‘She died of a fever just a few days before her seventeenth birthday—the day we were to marry.’

‘Oh, how tragic,’ Babette said, touched deeply by his pain and the thought of a young woman on the verge of marriage struck down and taken by a fever. ‘What a terrible waste of life—and how sad for you all.’

Her words sounded so trite and could never convey the feeling that took her by the throat and made her want to weep for the pity of a young life wasted and love lost.

He inclined his head, his manner distant, as if he were lost in the past. ‘Yes, it was a waste of life. She was bright and pretty and gentle—and we were all unbearably sad. Her brother was my friend. At least I thought him so, but he seemed to change after she died. I do not know if he blamed me.’

‘Surely he could not?’

Captain Colby shook his head. ‘I do not see how he could, yet he changed. He certainly blamed me for speaking of what I saw that day when he led his men into a trap. I spoke only the truth, but it led to his disfavour.’

‘Would he try to murder you for such a thing?’

He shrugged. ‘I do not know. If not Melchet, I know not who it should be, for I did not think I had enemies—except for those who ride under the King’s banner.’

He had risen to his feet, and Babette did the same, gathering up the remains of the food and the rug and cloak. It was time to ride on if they were to reach their appointed destination that night.

He had told her so much and yet so little. She was not sure whether she wished her question unasked. His answers had revealed much that she had not known...a secret hurt that hurt her, too, because she knew that he could never love her as he’d loved his sweet Jane.

How foolish of her to care! He was merely a man she’d met by chance who was escorting her to her village. Once there he would say farewell; she would ride on to the castle and she would never see him again.

It was what she knew must happen, what she expected and wanted—wasn’t it? Surely she would not wish him to declare feelings for her—to be asked for in marriage.

And yet he had said it was in his mind that day when they quarrelled. Had he said it in temper or merely in jest—in the same way as he’d called her a witch? It did not matter. To imagine a future that held him was ridiculous, for it could never be. She must put such dreams from her mind. He had been kind and courteous when she needed comfort, but there was no more to it—and she would be foolish to hope for more. Yet, when he looked at her sometimes, when he touched her, lifted her down from her horse, something leapt to life within her and made her long for...something she did not understand, something wanton and forbidden.

Such immodest thoughts!

Babette tried to forget the things he’d said and the way he’d looked at her, the feel of his arms holding her safe, the gentle caress of his voice when he took her from her uncle’s house. All these things meant nothing, were probably her imagining. He could not love her, because his heart was in Jane’s grave—and even if he did, she could never marry him.

They were enemies. Her brother John was this man’s enemy. If they met on the field of battle, they would try to kill one another—how could she even think of marriage?

It was ridiculous. She did not know where the thought had come from or why. His smile made her heart race, but that did not mean... And yet she knew that she had begun to feel so much more for this man than she ought.

No, she was being emotional and foolish. Just because her uncle had turned her out and this man had rescued her.

She would put all such nonsense from her mind.

Looking about her as they continued their journey, Babette thought it was odd or perhaps fortunate that they had not met with any Royalist soldiers. Although no large battles had been fought of late, there were often skirmishes between local troops, and she knew that the nearer they got to the castle, the more likely it would be that they would run into a troop of the King’s men.

* * *

James glanced at the woman’s face as she rode. She was lovelier than he had thought at the start; even when sad her face had something sweet and haunting about it. Her bold eyes could flash with temper and when she defied him he wanted to tame her. But most of the time he wanted to kiss her, to take her down with him to the dry earth and love her.

Had he believed in such things he would truly have thought she had bewitched him. The feelings he had for her were so different to those he had held for Jane for such a long time. Jane had been gentle and mild, a girl who would always seek to please, full of doubts and anxious to do what he wanted. Perhaps her anxiety had contributed to her illness? Was that why her brother hated him?

He and Herbert Melchet had been friends from childhood, learning to ride their ponies at the same time, fighting, playing, growing up in the same woods that bordered their parents’ estates. Did Herbert think that he’d put pressure on Jane to make her agree to wed him? Could it possibly be he who had tried to kill him?

Mistress Babette thought he had an enemy and, when he considered, James could only agree. Someone had wanted him dead—but was it Jane’s brother?

He dismissed it from his thoughts, looking about him as they rode. They had been fortunate not to come up against a Royalist troop. The closer they got to Babette’s home and the Royalist stronghold, the more likely it became that they would meet an expeditionary force. He did not have enough men to fight so he would have to take avoiding measures. Much as that went against the grain, he would do it rather than risk Babette’s life.

His brow creased as he thought of the future. When they got close enough to her home, he must say farewell to her—and that would not be easy. Somehow the barriers between them had crumbled since she saved him from being left to bleed, perhaps to death. He did not doubt that Lady Graham might have tried to patch him up, but it was Babette’s skill that had undoubtedly saved him weeks of suffering. If the ball had been left in too long it might have led to putrid flesh and perhaps the loss of his arm. He had seen it often enough when a man had been neglected—or butchered by the surgeons with their infected knives that were used time and time again without cleansing.

He undoubtedly owed the fact that he was able to ride to Babette, even though his wound had begun to pain him. Frowning, he knew that he ought to have asked her to renew the bandage when they stopped. He would do so later, because it was becoming very painful and he did not wish to succumb to a fever now.

Yes, he would ask her to bind his wound again. The thought of her hands touching him made him breathe harder. He struggled to control the burning need that spread through him like wildfire. She was an innocent, and he could not despoil her—even though he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any other woman.

More than Jane? James faced the truth. He had never felt this way when he was with Jane. Yes, he loved her, but he had not felt this burning physical desire.

His thoughts were sombre. Was he betraying Jane in his thoughts? He must not! She was all he had loved and wanted—and yet a tiny corner of his mind was telling him that had they married she would not have welcomed James to her bed.

No! He was wicked to have such thoughts and must put them from his mind. The Royalist girl deserved his gratitude, but nothing more. He would forget her as soon as they were parted.