Susan Johnson (22 page)

“We might see the Austrians by the end of the week. Von Hotze seems to be moving,” Duras replied. “And then we’ll have some excitement.”

“It’s about time, sir.”

Duras smiled. “Guard duty too tame, is it?”

“Well—no offense, sir, and the countess is right nice and all, but it ain’t fightin’, sir.”

“She hasn’t kept you busy enough?”

“She’s teachin’ us how to read with the others, so it’s busy enough what with carting the children back and forth and their mothers and such from the camps, but I’m lookin’ forward to puttin’ Archduke Charlie in his place.”

“Children?” Duras inquired. His daily letters from Teo had been without mention of children or reading or anything beyond the bed rest he expected of her.

“The countess’s school, sir. What with those of us in the guard who can’t read or write much, and the troopers’ children who follow the drum and a good number of their mothers—I’d say a couple hundred, give or take.”

“Here?” Duras said, repressing an urge to gasp.

“Here and at the camp down by the river. Didn’t you know, sir?” the soldier hesitantly asked. “She told Major Lindet that you’d authorized it.”

“I may have forgotten,” he murmured.

“Well, she’s doin’ a right fine job, sir. Greer here and me can write our names almost perfect.”

“Congratulations. What time does the, er, school begin?” Duras queried, wondering how much time he had in the morning to cancel the scheduled activities.

“Eight sharp, sir. The countess says she expects everyone there bright and early.”

“I see. Thank you …”

“Hebert, sir. I been with you since Rivoli, sir.”

“We’ve seen a lot of Europe since then,” Duras pleasantly declared.

“We’ll take them once and for all now, sir.”

“We’d better, hadn’t we?” Duras said with a faint smile.

“No problem, sir, with you in command.”

“I’ll see you men in the morning.”

“At the school, sir?”

“Perhaps,” Duras neutrally replied.

*  *  *

“A school?” Duras admonished the majordomo he’d left in charge when he walked through the door. He was scowling as he stripped off his gloves.

“The countess assured me of your approval, General.” A former employee of the Duc d’Orléans, Ollivier wasn’t easily discomfited.

“She did, did she?”

“Very emphatically. I recall her saying you’d given your wholehearted blessing.”

One dark brow lifted in reproof. “Quite a few of them come here, I’m told.”

“Three days a week, sir.”

“Where, for God’s sake?”

“The furniture has been moved out of the reception rooms.”

“Good Lord. How many?”

“Two hundred, sir.”

“Two hundred camp followers. What were you thinking?” Duras brusquely queried. “My lady could catch some disease.”

“The countess sees that baths are available, sir. The children and their mothers are quite clean.”

“I’m flabbergasted, Ollivier.”

“I can see, sir. Dare I assume, the countess failed to mention this to you?”

“The countess had me believe she lay abed every day.”

The majordomo couldn’t repress his smile. A man of great dignity, he apologized for his lapse of manners.

“Never mind, Ollivier. I won’t sack you for showing some human emotion,” Duras said, his mouth twitching into an answering smile. “I may, however, dock your salary for letting the countess bamboozle you so easily. Where is the new schoolmistress?” Duras sardonically inquired. “I can but hope school is out for the day?”

“Oh, yes. She feeds them at four and sends them all home with their lessons to memorize for the next class.”

“The countess appears extremely well organized.”

“She is, sir. Very competent. You’ll find her in her sitting room, sir.”

Duras mounted the polished marble stairs at a run, restless, mildly perturbed, impatient to see Teo. And when he opened the door and stepped into the room, Teo greeted him from a chaise longue near the windows.

She opened her arms and smiled. “I heard you’d returned.”

“You’re resting,” he said, moving toward her, his boots sinking into the plush Aubusson rug. “You look marvelous.”

“I feel marvelous. Kiss me, darling, I’ve missed you so.”

Sitting down beside her, he gazed at her for a moment as though assessing her appearance.

“Is a ribbon askew?”

He shook his head.

“You’ve forgotten in three weeks what I look like.”

Another small negation.

“You’re angry with me?”

“Should I be?” he murmured, taking in the sudden flush on her cheeks.

“I’m in perfect health, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good. Do you have something to tell me?”

Her lashes lowered for a moment and when she looked up at him, the green of her eyes showed through the lacy fringe of her lashes. “You heard.”

“From several people. I’m surprised I didn’t get wind of it while I was gone.” He paused. “What if something had happened to the baby?”

“Mingen gave me a clean bill of health. It was that brutal ride, that’s all. I’ve been perfectly fine ever since. Not a twinge or ache or anything. I’m very strong, darling, I always have been. Ask Tamyr.”

“She also allowed this?”

“She knows better than to try to stop me. She’s been feeding me herbs and potions to make me strong. She wants a boy.”

“Good God.” He smiled then, helpless against the overwhelming conspiracy that included Tamyr’s Siberian magic.

“I knew you’d understand.”

“I don’t understand at all but you’ll explain everything, I’m sure.”

“You’ll love them, darling. The children are so sweet, so eager to learn, and their mothers are so grateful to you.”

“To me.”

“You funded the school.”

“How did I do that?”

“Ask Lauzun. I’m not quite sure. He even found me enough books for everyone. Did you know he was a Jesuit priest before the Revolution?”

“Half the politicians were priests. The clerical hierarchies were their training grounds. My only concern is you. The conditions in the camps could be dangerous to your health. Are you sure you should do this?”

“I have to do
something
. I’d go stark raving mad if I had to languish in bed all day. And the children are so needy. You mustn’t stop me.”

“How could I anyway?” Duras affectionately countered. “Or at least I haven’t been able to so far.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I want a full report from Mingen in the morning on the sanitary conditions. I’ve seen fevers race through those camps with calamitous results.”

“We’ve handed out soap to all the families. And Tamyr is helping with some of the simple medications. Her knowledge of herbs is extensive. I helped deliver two babies last week too. It’s truly magical.”

“Jesus, Teo, you shouldn’t do that. It terrifies me. Do
you realize how dangerous the camp conditions are? Something could happen to you. How can I protect you?” The memory of her bleeding still haunted him. He’d felt so powerless.

“I’m careful, darling. Tamyr has us wash our hands a thousand times a day. And we don’t drink the water in the camps. She’s even more cautious than you. I’ll be fine.”

“We need some guidelines here,” he gruffly said.

“Guidelines or orders?”

He softly swore.

“I want this child so much,” she appeased. “I’d never do anything to harm it. Don’t be angry, darling. Just love me.”

His mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “That’s the easy part.” All the rest—her husband, his wife, the archduke’s army, the thousands of miles that separated their countries, the peril facing France—didn’t bear thinking of.

“I’ve missed you terribly and you haven’t even kissed me yet, only chastised me.”

“Can we talk about the school in the morning?”

“If we do before eight when it opens.”

“Could we compromise?”

“On what?” she warily asked.

“Have the school here and not in the camps.”

“We’ll have to clear out more rooms.”

“I don’t care if you clear out every room. Except this one,” he added with a grin.

“You’re so adorable.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Only from me,” she said in a teasing murmur.

“Of course,” he said with grace and charm.

“Now you must hold me,” she whispered, “and kiss me and make love to me,” she finished in a lush purr.

Brief inches from her mouth, he went still, arrested by her last words. Moving upright again, he quietly said, “I’m not making love to you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course you are.”

He shifted away marginally on the narrow chaise. “No, I’m not.”

Stirring from her lounging pose, Teo sat up, bewildered. “You can’t mean it.”

“I might hurt you.” His voice was restrained.

“Andre,” Teo exasperatedly cried. “I’m absolutely healthy. You won’t hurt me.”

He shook his head.

“Ask Mingen,” she insisted, her voice rising. “He’ll tell you I’m fine.”

“I don’t have to talk to Mingen,” he retorted, an unnatural constraint in his posture, his expression a mirror of tightly curbed emotion. “I’m not going to take any chances.”

“I’ll die of desire,” Teo lamented, her gaze imploring. “I wake at night wet from dreaming about you. Do you know how many days you’ve been gone?” Her voice was a husky whisper, and irresistible need shone in the green depths of her eyes. Touching the buttons of his tunic, she began to unfasten one.

His hand closed hard over hers. “No.”

Leaning forward, she pressed closer, her soft breasts enveloping his hand. “You could go very slowly and I’d hardly move. I just want to feel you inside me …”

His eyes shut briefly against his lust. He’d never before practiced restraint, yet the past weeks he’d been entirely celibate. He’d not wanted other women when his men had entertained themselves at night. Not out of principle—he didn’t believe much in ethics after fighting France’s wars for twenty years—but other women held no appeal. His staff had teased him unmercifully. “No,” he harshly said, lifting her hand away, abruptly coming to his feet, not sure he could stay in the same room and resist.

“Andre, please,” Teo pleaded. “Please … for me …”

He should walk away, he thought, but that would have required more will than he had at the moment with the
warmth of her body only inches away, tempting him, with his own desires sharp-set, agonizing.

“Talk to Mingen,” Teo urged. “Please, darling. He’ll tell you.”

Immobile, driven by carnal urges so flagrant he was near orgasmic, Duras deliberated. And when Teo rose from the chaise, walked across the short distance separating them, wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him, he said, raspy and low, “I’ll see what he says.”

Torn between humiliation and need, Duras found his way to Mingen’s small office at the back of the villa. Opening the door, he stood in the doorway, silent, irresolute.

Mingen looked up from his desk and smiled. “You’re back.”

“A few minutes ago,” Duras tersely said.

“I suppose you’re angry with Teo’s school.” Mingen assumed that that was the cause of Duras’s mindful regard and brevity.

“Yes. You should have known better.”

“Will you stop her?”

Duras’s flashing smile was more of a grimace. “No more than you could. Which brings me here with a”—he drew in a breath—“damnable dilemma.
Merde
,” he softly swore, bracing himself with outstretched hands against the door-jambs, rocking for a second on the heels of his boots. “I just spoke to Teo,” he began, hesitating briefly before adding, “and we’re in disagreement on a point.”

“About the school?”

Duras ran his fingers through his cropped curls. “It’s not about the school.”

“But something I could help you with.”

“Well … that’s where we disagree—although Teo thinks you can. Oh, hell,” Duras exploded. “Good God, this is awkward.”

“This is a sexual dilemma,” Mingen said, surmising the topic from his discomfort.

“I’ve never asked permission before,” Duras gruffly said, “not even when I was a youngster.” He stood arrow straight, filling the doorway with his height and power. “I’m afraid to touch her.”

“You needn’t be,” Mingen gently said. “She seems to have recovered completely.”

“Really.” A discernible calm indicated his relief. “You can recover from that much blood loss?”

“Teo wasn’t permanently damaged, nor was the child. They’re perfectly fine.”

“You’re sure now about a child?”

“Reasonably sure. Nothing’s certain with a pregnancy.”

“Which is the point. I don’t want to risk anything with Teo.”

“She’s very healthy, General. Rest assured, you won’t injure her. And now since you lost the argument,” he said with a smile, “you must apologize to the countess.”

“Gladly, Mingen. I don’t consider it a loss. And thank you … thank you very much for taking care of Teo,” Duras added with genuine appreciation.

“Thank you,” Mingen responded, “for helping to maintain Prussia’s neutrality.”

“My pleasure, Herr Mingen.” Duras sketched a brief bow. “Have a pleasant evening.”

“You as well, sir,” Mingen quietly said to Duras’s back. He’d already disappeared down the corridor.

“He assured you, didn’t he?” Teo maintained when Duras reentered the room, her nervous pacing abruptly coming to a halt.

Duras’s voice was temperate. “You’re right. He said you’re healthy.”

She walked toward him with a beaming smile. “I told
you I was. I feel wonderful, not a day of sickness, not a second of indisposition.” Taking his hand in hers, she twined her fingers through his. “With the exception of missing you terribly,” she said, her voice suddenly hushed.

Lifting her hand, he gently kissed it. “Give me a little time though,” he soberly said, dropping her hand, “to get used to all of this.” Moving away, he crossed to the windows overlooking the lake.

“Don’t you want the baby?” She stood very still, watching his rigid back, her heart pounding.

“Of course I do,” he neutrally said, gazing out on the glistening lake, the stern reality of a child having struck him on his walk back from Mingen’s office.

“Such enthusiasm.”

“What if problems develop? Even Mingen said there’s no certainty.” He’d never forget the bloody sight of her in the ditch.