Lady Emma's Campaign (18 page)

“You can come out now.
It is safe.”

When Emma heard Sidney’s voice, tears sprung to her eyes. She placed Nico on the ground and darted through the opening, barreling into Sidney and nearly flinging both of them from the ledge. Sidney’s arms wrapped around her, and the tension she had not realized she held in her shoulders relaxed.

“There is no need to fear now. It is over.”

“I was not afraid for myself, Captain,” Emma said. She stepped back and examined him for injury. There was blood on his clothing, but he assured her it was not his. Emma didn’t allow herself to dwell on the implications of his words. Aside from appearing completely exhausted and disheveled, Sidney looked to be unharmed. “Thank goodness you are well.”

Sidney’s eyes softened, and he looked as if he were about to say something when a voice interrupted him.

“
Capitán
Fletcher, if we had known such beauty was hidden among the rocks, my men would have fought much more fiercely.”

Emma looked up and saw a man standing on a boulder above them. A Spaniard, according to his accent. He was young and quite handsome. He wore mismatched, patched clothing with straps and buckles crossing his chest, and his belt bristled with weapons. Emma’s first impression was that of a storybook hero. Or perhaps a pirate.

“Marcos de Costales, Señorita,” he said. When he smiled, white teeth flashed against his tanned skin.

“Lady Emma Drake.”

“Señor de Costales is the
comandante
of the ‘Tarifa Volunteers,’” Sidney said. “He has offered to lead us as far as Sierra del Niño.”

“I am sorry I cannot take you all the way to Tarifa, Señorita,” Marcos said. “But for the safety of my band, we must remain in the hills. Tarifa is less than a day’s journey from Sierra del Niño. We will travel by way of Alcalá.”

“Alcalá de los Gazules?” Serena asked. She had scooted to the opening and stopped, as there was not sufficient space for her to emerge while Emma and Sidney still stood upon the ledge. Serena’s eyebrows were pulled together, and her lips tight with worry. Emma wondered why her friend was concerned.

Marcos’s gaze rested upon her. His eyes widened, and he was silent for a moment, then he bowed graciously and spoke to her in Spanish.

Serena nodded, although she did not look convinced.

“Is your injured comrade still inside the cave?” Marcos asked in English.

“Yes,” Sidney answered.

Marcos called out orders, and the hillside came to life. Men and some women dressed in the same haphazard manner as their leader scurried around. Some tended to the injured. A group at the base held the reins of the French horses. Emma allowed her gaze to travel around the slope. Bodies were scattered about beneath the cliffs. She turned quickly, not wanting Nico to see what lay below them. The boy was still inside the cave.

“Come,” Marcos reached his hand to Emma. “We will treat your companion at our camp. It is not far, but we would like to arrive before dark.”

Emma looked up at Sidney. They had left the barn without any of their supplies. “Nico’s bag . . .”

Sidney nodded and turned back to Marcos. “I must return to the farmhouse, Comandante. We were forced to abandon our equipment when we fled.”

“Of course, Capitán.” Marcos called out to a man who waved in response. “José will accompany you. You will travel much faster upon one of my new horses.”

Sidney hesitated for a moment, his lips pursed tightly together. Emma could not believe their luck. Marcos was accommodating and would help them reach Tarifa. He said they would even help Jim, yet for some reason, Sidney still seemed edgy.

“You fear to leave your women alone with strangers,” Marcos said.

A slight raise of Sidney’s brow was his only answer.

“Be assured, Capitán, that I am a man of honor, especially when it comes to protecting a lady. I give you my word that they will come to no harm under my care.”

Sidney nodded, but his face did not soften.

“I will return as quickly as possible,” he said to Emma. “Help the others.” His eyes darted back to Marcos before he climbed down the cliff and ran to the horses.

Nico emerged from the cave, and Emma lifted him, making sure to shield his eyes from the bodies below. She handed him up to Marcos, who passed him higher up the cliff to another volunteer. Marcos took Emma’s hand, and she winced at the pain. He cupped her elbow and helped her climb up. Once she stood on the boulder next to him, he looked closer at her palms, holding them near enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. His scrutiny caused her cheeks to burn.

“We must get this treated when we arrive at camp,” Marcos said.

“Thank you.” Emma withdrew her hands and looked up to check on Nico.

Marcos flashed his white smile again and called to somebody above, who threw down the end of a rope. He offered it to her. “Shall I carry you? Or do you prefer to climb alone?”

“I can do it alone,” Emma said, though she knew it was far from the truth. Until the last two days, the only climbing she had ever done was in and out of carriages.

He tied a series of loops and helped secure the rope around her waist and beneath her bottom like a swing. When she grasped the rope, he called back to the cliffs above them, and with a jerk, Emma began to rise. The ride was uncomfortable, and Emma knew she was completely at the mercy of whoever was pulling her up. The thought that she had no control of her situation caused a few moments of panic, but by the time she had gotten her fear under control and figured out how to use her feet to keep from crashing into the rocks, she had reached the top and strong hands had reached to pull her over the edge.

She had not realized how tall the cliffs were until she stood at the top of them with Nico, watching as the rest of her group was pulled up along with the injured members of the irregular band. It seemed that most of the volunteers did not need the rope, they simply scrambled up the steep rocks like spiders.

Emma and Nico sat on the ground next to Serena and Jim. Marcos brought them water and fresh oranges to eat. It was not long after the last members of the party had been pulled to the top that Sidney joined them. He gratefully accepted the food and water Emma gave him and handed her the bag from Nico’s house and a shawl for both of the women.

The group continued to care for their wounded, wrapping limbs and building litters and stretchers to transport the injured.

When Marcos was certain they were ready to travel, he gave the order for the group to move out. Jim was placed on a stretcher and lifted by two of the volunteers.

For the next several hours, they marched over the tops of the rocky hills. For most of the journey, Emma and Serena each held on to one of Nico’s hands and Sidney walked behind them, but as the boy became more tired, Emma lifted him.

Sidney quickly took him from her, swinging Nico up onto his shoulders.

Emma’s heart warmed to see Sidney talking to Nico, pointing out different sights to keep his interest. The pain in her palms became more pronounced, and she tried to work the larger pieces of wood out of her skin with her fingernails.

Emma slowed her steps to keep pace with Serena. “Why do you fear to travel to Alcalá?” she asked the Spanish woman.

“I do not fear it. It is a sad place. Nearly a year ago, the French general, Manbourg, took revenge on the town for an attack upon his company. Every person in the village, including the children, was murdered. Their throats cut. And the castle was blasted to bits.”

Emma’s skin tightened. She did not know how she still managed to be surprised after the things she had seen, but Serena’s story was so terrible. How many more innocent people had suffered—would suffer—in this war?

“The comandante assured me that we will not go into the town, just the lands near it.”

“We are getting close.” Sidney stepped between the women and nodded toward the sentries in the rocks on either side of the path. They walked a bit farther, between large boulders and trees, and finally emerged in a valley hidden high in the mountains. Tents and campfires were spread across the rocky ground.

As the group snaked their way down the path into the valley, Marcos joined them. “How are your hands, Señorita?” he asked.

Sidney stopped and looked at Emma’s hands, his head tilted slightly.

“Muy bien, Señor,” she said.

Marcos’s brow raised, and his face flashed a dashing smile. “My native tongue is beautiful upon your lips.”

Emma lowered her head as heat seared her cheeks.

“I will bring someone promptly to see to your injuries.” He turned to Sidney. “Capitán, your wounded man has been taken to the medical tent.” He pointed to a large white tent in the middle of the valley. “José will show you where your company will bivouac, and he will arrange for food and water and anything else you might require. I have some matters to attend to, but I hope to meet with you and Señorita Alvarez as soon as possible.”

“Of course. Thank you, Comandante,” Sidney said curtly. His gaze was still upon Emma’s hands. “Your hospitality is more than generous.”

Marcos inclined his head and left them.

As Emma watched, Marcos walked slowly to a waiting group of women. His shoulders drooped. She could not hear his words, but she could tell that he spoke gently, embracing a few of the women as they began to weep. She realized that he must be informing them of the losses from the battle.

After José led the group to a comfortable campsite on the edge of the valley beneath a cluster of trees, Sidney and Serena left to meet with the comandante.

Enrique gathered some firewood, and Emma settled a drowsy Nico upon his blanket, making sure he ate some of the stew that José brought.

It was not long after that Marcos joined her, informing her that Sidney and Serena had gone to the medical tent to check on Jim. Marcos brought with him a woman who he introduced as Isabella. She quietly took Emma’s hands and, using surgical tools, began to extract the splinters of wood. Emma inhaled sharply as one of the woman’s tugs was particularly forceful.

She turned her attention to the comandante, who sat casually upon a log nearby, his legs crossed at the ankles. “I must thank you, Señor
,
for rescuing us and for the generosity you have shown.”

“It is my pleasure. In España, hospitality is an obligation we do not take lightly. It is
muy importante
to us. I am sorry you have to see my country at such a time as this.”

“I am sorry as well,” Emma said, wincing as Isabella spread some sort of salve upon her palms.

“I do wonder how a young British lady, clearly a noblewoman, comes to be hiding from enemy soldiers in the Spanish hills.”

Marcos’s question seemed pleasant enough, but Emma thought there was something beneath his polite curiosity. Of course he would wonder what sort of people he had allowed into his camp and whether or not he could trust them. She did not know how much information to give him and so settled for the bare minimum. “My brother came to Cádiz to see to the release of Captain Fletcher from Matagorda prison. The ambassador thought I might have more success negotiating a prisoner’s release, so I went alone. While I was there, the army attacked, and the five of us managed to escape. We found Nico at the farmhouse near the cave. His parents had been murdered there.” Emma looked up to find Marcos studying her through half-lidded eyes. “I suppose one is never fully prepared for the surprises life has in store for us.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. If it weren’t for this war, I would have certainly made your acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances. It may surprise you to know that not long ago my life was quite similar to yours.”

“It does not surprise me at all, Comandante. You possess the mannerisms of nobility and speak as though you are well educated. Your English is perfect.”

Marcos inclined his head, acknowledging her compliment. “My father was the
conte
of Alcalá de los Gazules.”

Emma’s breath caught, and her stomach clenched as she remembered what Serena had told her of the fate of that city. “I am so sorry. Your family?”

“My family, friends, virtually everyone I ever knew was killed while I was having the time of my life traveling abroad.” Marcos let out a slow breath. A muscle worked in his jaw, and the skin around his eyes had compressed ever so slightly, but that was all the emotion he showed. “I have found that I am of more service to my country hiding in the hills and planning attacks than I ever was dancing around a ballroom or attending dull assemblies. It is good to have a purpose, and this one has suited me.”

Emma remained silent, contemplating, wishing she could take away the pain that he undoubtedly felt. How did he endure such a terrible tragedy? At the same time, she wondered how he could possibly prefer hiding in the hills and attacking Frenchmen to the life of a gentleman? She remembered Sidney’s appraisal of the idle life of the gentry. After the life he had lived, could Sidney ever be content with a peaceful existence on an estate somewhere, commanding servants and attending parties? Could
she
?

Her attention was recaptured when Isabella stood. She had wrapped cloth strips around Emma’s hands. Emma thanked her, and the woman left. Not wanting to wake Nico with their talking, Emma moved closer to Marcos, but still an appropriate distance away from him upon another log near the fire pit.

Sidney and Serena returned, and Sidney’s eyes narrowed when he looked at Marcos.

Enrique entered the camp and dropped a load of firewood in his haphazard pile.

Marcos rose, and Emma wondered if he had been offended by Sidney’s expression. She wondered what caused Sidney to act so unfriendly toward the comandante. Marcos bent forward in a bow. “I did not mean to occupy so much of your time tonight. You must be exhausted, and we have a long journey if we are to reach Alcalá tomorrow.” He bowed to the rest of the group and then turned back to Emma, who had also stood. “I hope your injuries heal quickly.”

“Thank you again. Good night, Comandante.” Emma dipped in a curtsey.

When Marcos had gone, Emma sat back next to Nico.