His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) (18 page)

‘In that case I should be as right as rain by tomorrow, unless the French sniff me out first.’

She returned the smile and then set to work again, gently smoothing the salve onto the bruised areas of his back. She was careful, trying by all means not to hurt him, but once or twice she heard a sharp intake of breath. It occurred to her to wonder then just what
he had endured before she had been brought onto the scene. Looking at the damage caused by that beating, she was even less sorry for the injuries she had inflicted on Machart.

Gradually, she worked round to the front again, kneeling beside him now to ensure that no bruises were left untreated, applying the salve with light, deft touches along the muscles of his stomach and waist. Once, not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable to touch him or any man so intimately. Yet now it seemed quite natural and right. She could feel his leg warm against her side but the closeness did not repel her. On the contrary, what she felt now was melting warmth in the region of her pelvis. She drew in a deep breath of her own and finished the task.

He let the shirt fall. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He tucked the fabric carefully into his breeches and then reached for his coat.

‘May I importune you this one last time?’ he asked.

‘One last time?’ She tilted her head to one side, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘Really? Or was that just a figure of speech?’

He smiled. ‘It probably was.’

She took the coat from him, gently easing the garment onto his arms and then drew it up over his shoulders. He got to his feet and turned to face her. For the space of several heartbeats neither one of them spoke. He wanted so much to kiss her but after what had happened he feared that such attentions must be unwelcome. Instead, he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.

‘Thank you.’

‘You have no need to thank me.’

‘I think I do.’ His expression grew serious. ‘That is twice you’ve come to my aid today. I should hate it to become a habit.’

‘Should you?’

‘This reversal of roles is deucedly uncomfortable, I find.’

She nodded sympathetically but there was a familiar gleam in her eyes. ‘It must be, especially with so much bruised flesh.’

‘Wretch! I was serious.’

‘I know, but it is no use repining over what cannot be altered, Robert.’

‘True, but I hope one day to make it up to you somehow.’

‘It really doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it does. It matters a great deal.’

‘Ah, bruised pride.’ She saw him stiffen slightly and went on, ‘I recognise it, you see, since my own has taken a heavy battering, too.’

‘Of course, forgive me. What happened today has hurt both of us, in different ways.’

‘Some hurts go deep, do they not?’ She sighed. ‘As deep as years.’

He regarded her intently now. ‘What hurts, Sabrina?’

She bit her lip, hesitating, wanting to tell him but fearing to, as well, dreading his reaction.

‘It seems to me that we have been here before,’ he said. ‘Will you not tell me what it is that so troubles you?’

She made no immediate reply and for a moment he thought she would refuse. Then she drew in a shuddering breath and nodded.

‘What happened with Machart.it happened to me once before.’

He stared at her, appalled. Whatever else, he had not expected that. ‘Oh, my dear girl.’

‘Today brought it all back, every last sordid detail.’

‘I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me, Sabrina.’

‘Yes, I do. I wanted to before but the time wasn’t right.’ She turned to face him. ‘Will you hear me?’

‘You know I will.’

‘You may think ill of me afterwards.’

He smiled gently. ‘May not I be the judge of that?’

Resuming his seat on the rock he gestured for her to join him. So they sat together and she told him about Jack Denton, of the way they had met, of their stolen moments together and her growing infatuation with him.

‘…and then one afternoon we went out riding to see some cave paintings that he said he’d found by chance, while out on patrol.’ She paused. ‘I was a little apprehensive; we were alone and the place remote, but he was…persuasive. Of course, when we reached the cave there were no paintings.’

Falconbridge was very still. ‘And then?’

‘I discovered how badly mistaken I had been in his character. He…he tried to kiss me…’ The memory had lost none of its power to chill. The kiss he took then was unlike those first chaste salutes. Hot, searing, demanding, it shocked her, like the tongue thrusting into her mouth and the crude hand exploring her breasts. When she tried to pull away his hold only tightened. ‘I tried to get away but he threw me down on the floor of the cave…tore my clothing.’

An expression of disgust crossed Falconbridge’s face. She quailed before it, but knew she had come too far to go back now.

‘I tried to fight him but he was too strong. I begged him to stop.’ In her mind she could still hear his reply.

‘Come now, you little tease. You’ve led me on for weeks. You know you want it as much as I.’

Furious and frightened, she fought Denton in earnest, biting, yelling, kicking. If anything it seemed to inflame him further.

‘You can’t get away, my sweet, so don’t think it. Besides, when I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.’ He smiled. ‘We have the whole afternoon before us and I mean to make the most of it.’

Panicking, she struggled harder, feeling his greedy mouth fasten on her breasts. She twisted in revulsion, got a hand free, clawed at his face. He caught her wrists and pinned them. His smile chilled her.

‘Like it rough, do you? Well, by God, Jack’s your man.’

His free hand shoved her skirts round her thighs and then unfastened his breeches. Terrified now, she screamed. His knee thrust her thighs apart…

Sabrina took another deep breath to steady herself. ‘Just when I was certain that…that all was lost, a hand reached out and dragged him away. It was Captain Harcourt.’

‘Harcourt?’ The name registered at once and Falconbridge was aware of other pieces of the puzzle dropping into place.

‘Yes, it seems he had noticed Denton’s attentions to me and, knowing the man’s reputation, had kept an eye on him. When he saw us ride off together, he followed.’

Her companion’s gaze hardened. ‘A fortunate circumstance.’

She nodded miserably. ‘He hit Denton several times
before pushing him up against the rear wall of the cave with a sword at his throat. I don’t recall everything he said, but I heard him utter the promise of death if Denton ever came near me again or disclosed a word of what had passed. Denton swore to keep silence so the Captain let him go.’

‘Did he?’ The tone was icy. ‘And what of you?’

‘He carried me back to his horse and took me home. He was very kind and uttered no word of reproach or blame, but all his gentleness could not dispel the searing sense of shame and humiliation that I felt.’ She drew in a ragged breath. ‘He took a back route to town, riding by little-frequented streets to minimise the chances of meeting anyone we knew. When we reached his lodgings he gave me into the care of his wife. She tended me and mended my garments as best she could. When I was calmer and reasonably presentable, they took me home.’

‘Your father’s reaction I can well imagine.’

‘He never knew.’

‘What!’

‘Mercifully, he was elsewhere when we returned and I never told him what had happened. Nor did the Harcourts, at my insistence. Had we done so, he would certainly have called Denton out. Lord Wellington had expressly forbidden duelling among his officers, so even if he were not killed or injured, the affair would have put paid to my father’s career. I could not bear to think that such ill fortune might befall him on account of my folly.’

‘I see.’

‘At first, I thought the whole sordid affair was over but it seems that, one evening, when Captain Denton was in his cups, he revealed something of it to two of
his fellow officers. It was enough to lead to speculation and rumour. Captain Harcourt learned of it in the officers’ mess and nipped the conversation in the bud. However, enough damage had been done by then to have an impact.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Nothing was ever said directly but there were covert looks and sly smiles from some of Denton’s acquaintance. Ladies who had been friendly before now grew cool or, in one or two cases, shunned me completely, and invitations to their houses ceased. Had it not been for the kindness of the Harcourts, I would have been lost. Being of excellent social standing and also generally popular, their continued friendship and public refusal to give credence to rumour did much to aid my cause.’

‘You seem to have been fortunate in your friends.’

‘I did not know how fortunate until then,’ she replied. ‘After that, my relationship with the Harcourts became much closer. They took on the role of guardians, particularly in my father’s absence, and saw to it that I came to no more harm.’

‘And Captain Denton?’

‘He was killed by the French in an ambush a few months later.’

Falconbridge’s face was expressionless, save for the cold anger that burned in his eyes. ‘How old were you when all this happened?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘Good God!’

‘It is not a pretty story, is it?’

‘Hardly.’

Her heart sank as she looked at his expression. He was sickened all right. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell him, to be so totally frank. Perhaps she had lost his regard by doing so.

‘The blackguard should have been whipped at the cart tail,’ he went on. ‘What man worthy of the name takes such advantage of a young girl?’

‘I was very foolish.’

‘Weren’t we all when we were fifteen? In any case, foolishness is not a crime. Cold-blooded seduction of a minor most certainly is.’

‘Then you do not blame me for what happened?’

‘Good heavens, no. Why would I?’

‘I was afraid you would think me light.’

His jaw tightened. ‘I have never thought such a thing of you. Nor would I ever think it.’ He paused. ‘Is that what you believed when I kissed you before?’ Seeing she remained silent, his brow creased. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

‘I couldn’t be sure. I’m sorry. I see now that it was foolish.’

‘I hope you do.’

‘I was so afraid of what you would think.’

‘Does my opinion matter so much then?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Then be assured that I hold you in the highest regard and always will.’

Part of her was glad, another part saddened. High regard was valuable but it was not the same as love; nor was it enough. Yet what man would want to marry a woman with such a history, even if it was not all her fault?

Before either of them could say more, a redcoated figure appeared in their line of vision. He stopped a few feet away and saluted.

‘Beg pardon, sir, but Major Brudenell asks if you would be good enough to attend him.’

Falconbridge cursed mentally. Aloud he said, ‘Very well. Tell him I’ll come presently.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The soldier departed. Falconbridge looked at Sabrina. ‘Forgive me. I must find out what Brudenell wants.’

‘Of course.’

‘We will speak again later.’

She watched him walk away and thought sadly that there could be little more to say on the subject. He had assured her of his regard and she had believed him, but he had not spoken of anything deeper than regard. For her to admit to her own feelings, while being unsure of his, was impossible. It did not pay to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve. To make a fool of herself again after her previous experience would be foolish beyond permission. Better they remain as friends instead.

* * *

Falconbridge listened with close attention as Brudenell outlined his plans for their collective return to Ciudad Rodrigo.

‘For it will be safer if we return as a group. El Cuchillo’s men will guarantee us safe passage out of the Gredos, of course, but there is still some way to go before we can consider ourselves in friendly territory.’

Falconbridge nodded. ‘You’re right, and I accept the offer.’

‘Good.’

‘Miss Huntley has been exposed to enough danger already. I would spare her any further risk, in so far as I may.’

‘She is a courageous young woman.’

‘The bravest I ever met.’

Brudenell did not miss the tone in which it was said, or the accompanying expression on his friend’s face.

‘She is also very attractive.’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Some fellows have all the luck when it comes to assignments.’

Falconbridge met his gaze. ‘My brief association with Miss Huntley has been a privilege.’

‘I should say so. If I’d known beforehand, I’d have asked Ward to swap our roles. Then I could have spent three weeks in close proximity to a pretty girl.’

‘Damn it, Tony.’ The grey eyes turned steely. ‘What exactly are you implying?’

‘Nothing at all.’ With a sense of shock Brudenell saw the glacial expression. ‘My dear fellow, I was joking.’

‘I don’t much care for the joke. Nor will I suffer Miss Huntley’s name to be used in such a way.’

‘Good God, Robert. You cannot seriously think I meant anything by it? If so, then I apologise.’

For a moment Falconbridge remained quite still, his gaze locked on the other man. Then, suddenly, the tension left him.

‘Apology accepted.’ He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘I beg you will forgive my ill humour. It has been a trying day.’

‘Forget it.’

‘It’s just that Miss Huntley is a most esteemed…colleague.’

‘Of course she is, my dear chap.’

Falconbridge managed a wry smile. ‘Well then, I’ll relieve you of my tiresome company. A good night’s sleep will no doubt cure my foul temper.’

Having bidden his companion farewell, Brudenell followed the departing figure with his eyes. Then he whistled softly.

‘I think it’s going to take more than sleep to cure what’s wrong with you, my friend.’

* * *

Having left Brudenell, Falconbridge walked apart a little way, needing time to think. Finally he found a tall pine and eased himself down onto the dry grass beneath. Annoyed with himself for what had taken place just now, he admitted that his response had been an overreaction. Of course his friend had never meant to slight Sabrina. It was just that following so close on the heels of her confidence to him, he had been instinctively protective. She was vulnerable in so many ways, and so strong in others. It was part of her considerable charm. She had told him that she valued his good opinion, an admission that caused both surprise and delight. Then he told himself not to attach undue significance to that remark. It meant only that she had come to value him as a colleague. He smiled in self-deprecation. A colleague? When he’d seen her in Machart’s clutches he’d realised she meant a lot more than that, but he’d been powerless to help her. So far from acting the hero, it had been he who had needed rescuing. It was hardly the stuff of romance. Yet it seemed to him that their adventures together had forged a friendship between them at least, for she had trusted him with her confidence. Her tale made a lot of things much clearer and he could only look on his earlier behaviour with regret. Though well intentioned, he realised it had not done him any favours.