Lady Emma's Campaign (19 page)

Serena arranged her bedroll on the other side of the boy.

Sidney watched Marcos walk across the valley. His jaw was set, and his expression pulled into a scowl. When he saw Emma looking at him, he stepped toward her. He folded his arms across his chest, looking down at her. His expression seemed stern. “Stay close tonight.”

“Are you angry with me, Captain?” Emma said, feeling small as she sat upon her bedroll with Sidney towering over her.

Sidney’s expression softened slightly. “No. Of course not. I am only trying to keep you safe.”

Emma lay down, pulling the blanket over her. She felt as though she’d been reprimanded but had done nothing wrong. For the first night since she’d found Sidney, she felt cold and lonely as she fell asleep.

The next day, Sidney and
his company were awake, fed, and marching within an hour of sunrise. The irregular militia’s knowledge of the mountain was evident as they guided the group up and down hills, over peaks, through narrow ravines, and across mountain streams. Sidney knew there was no way he’d have been able to lead his small party so smoothly through the rugged terrain.

Jim rode a burro and remained conscious much of the time.

As they marched, Sidney was again overwhelmed by the beauty of Andalucía—the rugged cliffs, the lush valleys, the fields covered with wildflowers, and groves of olive trees. It seemed that every time they crested another hill, a prospect more breathtaking than the last greeted them.

He remained behind his group, not quite understanding why he was wound as tightly as a spring. He could trace the onset of his unease back to the moment Marcos had laid eyes upon Emma and commented on her beauty. The fact that Sidney had not been able to protect her, and they’d instead been rescued by Marcos and his band grated at him. A sound much like a growl had rumbled deep in his throat at the sight of Emma’s once soft and constantly gloved hands wrapped in bandages.
He
was her guardian. Not the blasted Spaniard.

Sidney’s feelings were bewildering to him. Marcos was typically the sort of person with whom he would feel a camaraderie. He was well-spoken, brave, and honorable, but Sidney could not help but feel the deepest loathing for the man.

The presence of the band of irregulars apparently had the opposite effect on his companions. The comfort of traveling in a larger group had raised their spirits considerably. Emma, Serena, and Nico took turns choosing songs and teaching words to the others. Nico burst out in giggles when Emma attempted to pronounce the Spanish words. Even through his tension, Sidney was relieved to see a smile upon the boy’s face.

Marcos slowed to walk with them and joined in singing the Spanish folk song. When they finished, Nico ran ahead to find Jim and the burro, and Serena went after him.

“Señorita,” Marcos said, offering Emma his arm, “since we shall be traveling companions for a short while, might I ask you a personal question?”

Sidney’s hands clenched into fists from his position a few steps behind them.

“Of course, though I cannot guarantee that I will answer.” Emma slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him.

“How is it possible that you are yet
una señorita
and not married to the happiest man in England?”

Even without seeing her face, Sidney could tell the question made her uncomfortable. What was the blasted Spaniard thinking, asking a lady such a thing? Perhaps it was time he had a lesson in basic propriety.

“I . . . Unfortunately, I have yet to receive an offer I am willing to accept,” Emma said.

“Ah. It makes sense to me that you have rejected many suitors.”

“Not
many
. But some.”

Sidney walked closer, unable to take the man’s obvious flirting any longer.

Emma glanced behind her at Sidney. “It is a decision I do not take lightly.”

Marcos’s glance followed hers. “I see,” he said, pinching his lower lip with his thumb and finger.

Sidney tapped her upon the shoulder. “Lady Emma, if I might speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course.” She turned back to Marcos, who was looking between the two of them with an odd expression. “Please excuse me.”

Marcos halted the group for food and rest, and Sidney led Emma a short distance from the company.

“Emma, what happened to your hands?” he asked when he turned to face her. He lifted her arms and examined her palms that were still wrapped with bandages.

“I slipped and scraped them on a tree, but it was nothing. Certainly such a minor injury should not warrant so much attention.”

“The severity of your wounds is not the point. As your guardian,
I
am the one who should be taking care of your injuries.”

“My guardian? I do not remember you being appointed as such, and I hardly think it is your fault I have a few splinters.”

Sidney swiped at the lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead, and his eyes darted to Marcos. He was slightly surprised that the sight of Marcos talking to Serena did not bother him in the least. He turned back to Emma. “Whether you realize it or not, in your brother’s absence, I am responsible for you. And I feel it is my duty to warn you that the comandante’s intentions toward you may not be entirely pure.” Even as he said it, he knew he sounded like a ridiculous old woman.

Emma frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I simply mean to warn you, Emma, that you are possibly too trusting of those who may do you harm.”

Emma’s eyes darkened. Sidney should have recognized the warning of a coming storm. He knew he was acting foolishly, but blast it all, he didn’t want the man around Emma.

“Do you mean to say, Captain, that you do not trust Señor de Costales? The man who risked his own life and those of his men, many of whom he was forced to bury in the Spanish mountains, to save us? The same Señor de Costales who cared for Jim and who is even now escorting us through the mountains to safety? Is that the case, Sidney Fletcher? Or is the truth that you do not trust
me
?”

“Emma, I simply wish to put you on your guard. You are a lovely young lady . . .” Sidney swallowed as he tried to think of something to say to her that did not sound completely prudish and condescending.

Spots of red rose in Emma’s cheeks. “Thank you, Captain. But I assure you I am quite capable of handling myself around a gentleman. You and my brother, as my
guardians
would both do well to realize I am not a child any longer, and I would consider it a personal favor if you did not treat me as such.” Emma turned on her heel and walked back toward Serena.

Sidney watched her go, wondering when their relationship had changed from one of comfortable companionship to something that caused him teeth-grinding frustration.

The remainder of the day did not improve Sidney’s temperament as Emma seemed to be avoiding his company.

As they climbed yet another hill, Marcos began to make his way back through the group. He reached Sidney and fell into step next to him. “We are nearly to Alcalá. There is a clearing near the town where we can halt for the night.”

Sidney nodded. “Thank you, Comandante.”

The scorched ruins of the castle appeared first, high above the valley. As they got closer, they could see the white stone buildings of the town set against the lush green of the Sierra Cádiz Mountains.

Emma and Serena joined Marcos where he stood gazing across his family lands. Dotting the far side of the valley, mounds and crosses indicated the extent of his loss.

Emma wished she could think of something to say. Instead, she laid her hand upon his arm, deciding that comforting her friend was more important than the breach of etiquette.

“It is so beautiful, no?” he said.

“Yes. I am so sorry, Señor de Costales.”

As they walked around the outskirts of Alcalá de los Gazules, the mood was somber. The group circled the town, giving it a wide berth, and climbed the hill on the far side. They made camp next to a burned orchard near the edge of the forest. Marcos sent a detachment into the town to draw water from the well, and within an hour, they had prepared and eaten a hearty meal of stew and bread.

Shadows from the surrounding hills spread over the valley, plunging it into premature darkness. Emma arranged a bed for Nico, and Serena told him stories until he fell asleep.

Marcos made his rounds, admonishing the group to rest. They would be well guarded. They had a full day of marching before they reached Sierra del Niño, and the terrain would be difficult.

“Emma, if I might speak with you for a moment?” Sidney said, not missing the look of trepidation in her eyes. She must be concerned that he meant to chide her again. He smiled, hoping to reassure her.

Sidney took her bandaged hand carefully, and they walked away from the group. The setting sun combined with the shadows cast strange light through the charred branches. Emma shivered and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. They found a rusted wrought-iron bench near a crumbling wall, the view of the destroyed town spread out beneath them.
Not the most charming prospect
.

He turned toward her, pressing her bandaged hand gently between both of his. “Emma, do you mind very much if we sit for a moment?” he said, gesturing to the bench. “There is something I should like to ask you.”

Emma stilled, perhaps realizing the importance of the conversation, and he continued, “I have very much come to depend upon you these last few days. You have constantly surprised me with your bravery and determination. Your ability to act under the most desperate of circumstances, not to mention your compassion, has led me to believe that you are the very person . . .” He leaned close to her, lowering his voice. “Emma, would you—”

“Yes, Sidney,” she burst out. “Of course I will.”

He blinked, slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Perhaps you should hear what I am asking before you agree to it.” He had made a good decision; Emma was dependable like no other. Her eyes shone in the light of the sunset, and at the sight of her, heat spread through his chest. “I do not know what will happen between here and Tarifa. Jim is still ill, and he has entrusted me with Serena’s care should anything befall him. If I am unable to perform my duty and conduct her safely from Spain, will you do so?”

Emma pulled back. Her face paled and then flooded with color. “Serena?”

He did not know to what he might attribute her strange reaction, but he continued on. “Yes, Serena is not who she claims to be. She is, in actuality,
Princesa
Serena de Talavera, niece to King Fernando. You can, of course, see how crucial it is to keep this information from our enemies.”

“You want me to ensure that Serena arrives safely in England.” Emma’s voice sounded strangely dull, and she kept her gaze fixed upon the ground. “Of course I will.”

“I knew I could depend upon you, Emma,” Sidney said. Only a slight sense that something was wrong niggled into his feeling of relief at discharging the assignment.

Emma stood abruptly. “Please excuse me. I have left Nico too long.” She didn’t wait for an answer but rushed away through the orchard.

Sidney moved to follow her, puzzled, but the sound of a snapping twig drew his attention. He cautiously approached the wall, looking as far up and down both sides as he could in the dwindling light. He saw nothing. Returning to the bench, he sat, studying his hands. He would never understand women. How had Emma progressed through so many emotions in one day? It had only been fifteen minutes earlier that she’d seemed delighted to assist him, even before she knew what he’d intended to ask of her. What had changed? What had she thought he would say? He pondered on every possibility, and his confusion only increased—until he thought back to Marcos’s conversation with Emma earlier that day in regard to the suitors she had dismissed.

Sidney’s head jerked up, and his heart thumped in his chest so hard he was afraid it had stopped.

Could Emma have mistaken his intentions for a proposal of marriage? He drove his fingers through his hair. And more astonishingly, she had said yes. Not simply yes. He thought of her precise words.
Yes, Sidney. Of course I will.
She would marry him? After turning down others, she would agree to marry a man with no title and limited family holdings, who was literally afraid of the dark?

He stood and, clasping his hands behind his back, began to pace as if he were upon the quarterdeck of the HMS
Venture
. How could he have been so blind? The truth of the situation settled around his heart like a warm blanket. Lady Emma Drake loved him. She had stowed away aboard William’s clipper, snuck away to an enemy prison, escaped through a battlefield, marched across rugged terrain on blistered feet wearing a dead man’s boots, all the time witnessing atrocities no person should have to see. And all for
him
.

He continued pacing. Forcing himself to be honest, admitting to himself something he’d known all along. He had fallen in love with Emma. He’d stupidly attempted to explain his feelings away as nostalgia or friendship or even brotherly affection. The warmth that had begun in his chest spread throughout his body, and he allowed himself to experience the sensation for a moment until it was doused by the cold waters of reality.

He couldn’t permit himself to love Emma. He had promised to take care of his family, and the only avenue available to him was that of a sea captain. He’d made up his mind long ago not to marry. Emma deserved more than a husband who merely visited every year or so.

The moon had risen above the mountains and illuminated his path as he walked back to the campsite. He pondered what to say to Emma. If he told her his true feelings and his inability to act upon them, it would undoubtedly hurt her. But if she believed her own feelings were not returned, would it be even more painful?

Still turning these thoughts over in his mind, he glanced over his small group. Jim slept deeply. Enrique’s bedroll was empty. He must be in the woods, attending to personal business. Nico slept between Emma and Serena. Stepping closer, he saw a strand of hair stuck to Emma’s cheek. He bent to brush it away and found that it was wet. She had been weeping. His throat constricted as he crossed the campsite to his bed roll. Enrique still had not returned, and just as well. He was quite high on the list of people Sidney wished to avoid.

Sidney wrapped himself in his blanket, but it didn’t take long to realize that his mind was too occupied for sleep. Stepping quietly across the camp, he sat against a tree and began to clean his weapon.

Emma shifted in her sleep, pulling her blanket over her shoulder and resting her knuckles against her lips.

Sidney spent the next hour debating whether he would rather possess the fingers that touched her soft lips or the lips that kissed her delicate fingers. Either prospect seemed immensely appealing.