Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) (17 page)

“That was my thought,” Athena said, remembering the sweetness of first love. Sofia deserved that even if she and Justin didn’t have a future. “If we’re lucky, they may even remember to bring back some firewood.”

Will grinned. “There’s some kindling over by that boulder. I’ll get a small fire started. Maybe we can have some good English tea before dinner and wine?”

“You’re a mind reader,” she replied. “Or perhaps just English. There is indeed tea.”

As she pulled food and cooking utensils from her saddlebags, a chuckling Will moved across the clearing to collect the kindling. Her gaze followed him. She loved watching him move. He was all smooth, efficient power, both purposeful and relaxed. And she would never, ever tire of admiring those broad shoulders.

She gave a small, private smile as she pulled out the packet of tea leaves. Even if they didn’t speak or touch, it was satisfying to breathe the same air.

Chapter 23

S
ofia.
Justin’s fond gaze rested on her elegantly curved form as she led the way through the maze of boulders. He’d wondered how a princess would deal with trail conditions, but Sofia was obviously having a wonderful time. Not only was she a splendid rider, but she demanded no special treatment. That was rare in well-bred young ladies, much less princesses. Though admittedly, he hadn’t met any other princesses.

He was glad to see that the stiffness that had been between Will and Athena was gone. There was a different kind of tension that both kept firmly tamped down. He saw no sign that Athena Markham was inclined to accept Will, which was regrettable, but he did understand her reservations about an unequal marriage that would take her into the heart of the British aristocracy.

His own family was regarded as vulgar nouveau riche in some circles. They laughed about it among themselves. The Ballards had worked hard, with energy and intelligence, and they had a fortune to rival that of most aristocrats, but they took pride in being hardheaded Scottish merchants. They could afford to laugh at aristocratic arrogance because they had success and, even more important, loving family bonds.

Athena Markham had none of that, and he suspected she carried more than her share of hidden scars. If he could wave a magic wand to heal those scars and bring her and Will together, he’d do it in a heartbeat, because they seemed so well suited.

He smiled wryly. At least he and Will would be able to commiserate with each other about the loss of the women they loved. Because Justin did love Sofia, and knew he always would. Neither of them had said a word or made an improper touch, yet when she was near, he felt . . . happy. More whole.

“That dead tree can supply all the wood we need.” Sofia pointed at the gray skeleton of one of the scrubby trees that grew among the boulders. “I trust your axe is sharp?”

“Like me, the axe is ready to serve.” With a couple of swift chops, Justin severed a branch. “Nicely seasoned, too. Not many people come this way looking for firewood.”

Sofia gathered fallen branches as Justin chopped more from the tree, then cut them to manageable lengths. When they had a good-sized pile, he straightened and brushed bits of wood from his hands and clothing. “That’s enough wood to last all night. I’ll have to make two or three trips to get it all back to our campsite.”

“I’ll help.” Sofia stared at him, her dark eyes huge and shy. “Justin?”

“Yes, my princess?” he asked, puzzled.

“Will you kiss me?”

He felt as if she’d clubbed him with a heavy branch. After swallowing hard, he said, “There is nothing I would like better, but is this wise?”

“No. But it is necessary.” Sofia bit her lip before continuing to speak. “If I was not who and what I am, our situation would be very different. But San Gabriel must come first. My marriage prospects are being discussed all over the country, and no one less than the son of a high-ranking Spanish or Portuguese nobleman is being considered. When Colonel da Silva returns home, a short list will be chosen and negotiations will begin to find the best and most appropriate royal consort for the queen of San Gabriel.”

His heart tightened. “So soon?”

“I’m twenty-four. It’s time I married and began a family, because it isn’t right that the direct line of the Royal House of Alcantara has dwindled down to me.” She raised her chin, her gaze defiant. “I shall do my duty, but I want one kiss with you to . . . to cherish through the long years and nights ahead.”

Awed that she shared his feelings, he said, “I want to kiss you too much,
meu anjo,
my angel. Perhaps it’s best if you kiss me instead.”

She nodded and stepped shyly forward. He was no more than average height, but her petite frame made her seem rare and fragile. Having seen her ride, he knew that she wasn’t fragile at all, but rare she was. So very rare.

She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and studied his face intensely, as if to memorize his features and this moment. Then she rose on tiptoes and touched her mouth to his. Her lips were exquisitely soft.

Unable to resist, he clasped his hands on her waist below her short jacket, holding her in kissing distance. She was ripe with life and sensuality; her mouth sweet as strawberries. Knowing they must not allow the mood to intensify dangerously, he murmured, “We both smell of horse.”

Instead of being insulted, she laughed. “Since both of us do, I didn’t even notice.” Then she leaned forward into another kiss, and this time her lips parted against his.

Their tongues touched and desire jolted through him.
“Meu anjo,”
he whispered again between nibbling kisses across her lips, her satin smooth cheek, her delicious little ear. “My bonnie, bonnie lass.”

She whispered endearments back, moving closer and closer so that she was pressed against him. His hands moved of their own volition, shaping the curves of her waist and hips. She was exquisite, perfect, and, for this brief moment,
his.

Realizing how close he was to losing control, he hid his face against her sleek dark hair and enfolded her in his arms, inhaling her scent, feeling her heart beat against his. She sighed and relaxed against him, her arms going around his chest.

“You know I’d marry you if I could, don’t you?” he whispered.

“I know.” After a long silence, she said hesitantly, “I’ve wondered if this is what the English call ‘calf love’ and if it would last. I’ve not had the opportunity to meet many interesting, attractive men. You’re the only one I’ve met that I wished I could marry.”

She was seven or eight years younger than he was, and though in some ways, she was wise beyond her years, in others she was an innocent. “I can’t speak for the depth of your feelings,
meu anjo,
” he said, choosing his words carefully. “For your sake, I hope what you feel is infatuation that will pass and that fate grants you a husband you can love completely and forever.”

“I’ve hoped for that, too,” she said wryly. “But princesses are seldom so lucky.”

“Then I shall pray you have good luck.” He moved back, still holding her but able to look down into her dark eyes and exquisite features. “But for me . . . I’ve had the usual experiences for a man of my station. That has included calf love and brief infatuation. But I’ve felt nothing like what I feel for you. I believe it’s the forever sort of love.” In fact, he was sure of it.

Tears glinted in her eyes. “My hope for you is that you marry for love and have strong, beautiful children.”

He brushed a kiss on her hair. “I hope that, too, my princess. But you will always be in my heart.”

“And you in mine.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then stepped away, her expression composed. “I’ve considered making you a count of San Gabriel to make you more eligible,” she said teasingly. “Uncle Alfonso would agree to such a charter if I asked him.”

“Lord Ballard of Porto?” Justin chuckled. “I suspect that no one would be persuaded that would make me a suitable consort. My father is likely to be made a baron soon for his services to Britain—in other words, running several successful businesses—but that is even less likely to impress anyone in San Gabriel.”

“British titles don’t count, I fear. Only ancient Iberian titles will do,” Sofia said with a smile. “Now we must return to the campsite before Athena sends a search party.”

“Agreed.” He bent and scooped up a large armload of firewood.

Sofia added more pieces, then lifted a smaller load for herself. “One more trip after this should suffice.”

They retraced their steps. Carrying a pile of firewood made holding hands impossible, which was just as well.

When they reached the camp, Athena glanced up from a small fire. “Good timing. I was about to run out of firewood.”

“About the same amount of wood is waiting to be brought here.” Justin released his load in a pile by Athena, then transferred Sofia’s kindling to the pile.

“I’ll go with you to bring it back,” Will said.

Knowing he shouldn’t be alone with Sofia again, Justin led the way back to the rest of the firewood. As they picked up pieces, Will said with mild amusement, “You cut a lot of wood, considering how short a time I heard chopping sounds.”

“I worked fast so Sofia and I could have time to talk.”

“Talk,” Will murmured. “Of course.”

“I’ve done nothing to compromise her,” Justin snapped.

Will looked surprised. “Of course not. It’s obvious that you’re yearning for each other, but you’re both too wise to do anything foolish.” He reached down for more wood. “Only a high stickler would consider a kiss to be ruination.”

“You know me too well,” Justin muttered as he picked up the last chunk of firewood. Straightening, he said, “Are we going to end up as two old men mourning over our glasses of port about the girls who got away?”

“Quite possibly,” Will said as he started back toward the camp. “I haven’t entirely given up hope yet, though I suspect it will take a miracle to persuade Athena that she wouldn’t regret marrying me.”

Justin grimaced. “I need rather more than a miracle, I fear.”

And yet, it was impossible to suppress a faint whisper of hope.

* * *

As Athena built up the fire with the new kindling, she asked, “Did you find anything interesting while foraging for fuel?”

“Only more rocks and boulders and a few sad little trees.” Sofia settled on her folded blankets, her legs tucked to one side. Athena had arranged their saddles and blankets around the fire, the two men on one side and the women on the other. Quiet chaperonage. She added, “I didn’t do anything very shocking.”

Athena glanced up with a smile. “I didn’t say a word.”

“My conscience is bothering me,” Sofia admitted ruefully. “Attending a convent school left me with the belief that a single kiss outside legal matrimony is a mortal sin, and one shouldn’t enjoy kisses too much even if married.”

Athena sat back on her heels. “Passion is powerful and can have dire consequences,” she said seriously. “Young people in particular burn with desire, so churches do their best to keep unruly passion under control. But desire is natural and without it, there would be no humankind. As with so much in life, it’s finding a healthy balance.” She grinned. “I’m told that marriage eventually reduces mad passion from a fever to a more manageable part of life. Not that I’d know about that.”

Sofia sighed and pulled the pins from her hair, then massaged her tired scalp with her fingertips. “Do you think there is any chance that San Gabriel would accept Justin as a royal consort? It will take my country years to recover from the damages of war and lost young men. I couldn’t bear to set my subjects at war with each other.”

Athena considered before answering. “Your country values tradition greatly, but you are very popular, so people might be more accepting of your choice. The world is changing. I won’t say it’s impossible that he could be accepted. You should discuss this when the time comes to weigh the possibilities.”

“But the chances are vanishingly small. Being popular means people want ‘the best’ for me, and to many, that means a Duke Toad.” Sofia stood and dusted off her riding skirt. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Slice the cheese and bread and ham.” Athena pulled a large cast-iron griddle from her saddlebags and set it over the fire on three piles of stones she’d stacked outside the coals. “A griddle is too heavy for a serious trip, but I thought that for only a night or two on the trail, it was worth bringing. These will be special days for both of us, Sofi. I’m glad you suggested this holiday.”

“So am I.” Sofia ducked to hide a blush as she pulled a large chunk of cheese and a loaf of bread from her saddlebags. She and Athena had divided food and utensils between them. For two days, she could enjoy being a kitchen maid rather than a princess.

By the time the men returned, Athena had the simple dinner prepared. Admittedly, Will in his scarlet uniform coat was stunning, but it was Justin who held Sofia’s gaze. His eyes widened when he saw her loose hair spilling around her shoulders. The nuns would say she was tempting him. Sofia was glad that she could.

As Will added his load of wood to the pile, he said, “I believe I’m seeing a sandwich of some sort, but one that smells particularly fine. Will you explain, or make me guess?”

She laughed. “It’s more or less what you’ve been eating since you arrived in San Gabriel, only toasted on a griddle.” She flipped two nicely browned sandwiches onto a platter, where half a dozen were already stacked. “Slices of bread layered with smoked cheese, smoked ham, and a Gabrileño pepper sauce, then heated on the griddle till the cheese melts and the bread is toasted. After, toasted almonds to round out the meal.”

“The wine is a light red that will go nicely with these sandwiches,” Sofia added as she passed filled tumblers to the men. “This would be a modest meal in the castle, but quite nice for trail food, don’t you think?”

Will settled on a folded blanket in front of his saddlebags and bit into one of the hot sandwiches, then swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Excellent! I didn’t realize that you’re a good cook, Athena.”

“I’ve had to cook often enough that I’ve learned a few dishes that are more or less foolproof,” she explained as she sat cross-legged in front of her own saddle and belongings. “This is one of them.”

“Simple pleasures are so often the best.” Justin raised his tumbler of wine in a toast. “To good food and good company!”

Everyone leaned forward to clink their wineglasses. Sofia wished this expedition with friends could last forever. Since that wasn’t possible, she’d enjoy every moment they had. “To friendship and Saint Deolinda!” She tossed back half of her wine.

Justin drank the toast, then reached for one of the sandwiches. “Sofi, you said you’d tell me the story of Deolinda. The name means Beautiful God?”