His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) (19 page)

S
abrina ate with Jacinta that evening and then retired early. Sleeping under the stars was not a new experience and she made the best of it, using the cavalry saddle as a pillow and the attached blanket roll for warmth. Although she was tired, sleep proved elusive, for her thoughts kept crowding in. Soon now their mission would be over and, God willing, her father restored to her. That day could not come too soon. But what of Robert Falconbridge? Would she see him again afterwards, or were their lives destined only to touch briefly?

No answer to this presented itself and eventually she fell into a fitful doze, only to wake in the early hours feeling chilled and stiff. Once when she had been cold, a man had warmed her, but that had been in a special set of circumstances that would never be repeated. A lump formed in her throat. How much she would have given just then to feel his arms around her. Mentally she gave herself a shake. It wasn’t going to happen. To her horror she felt a tear slide down her cheek and hurriedly dashed it away. Then, pulling the blanket higher, she turned over.

* * *

It was dawn when Jacinta woke her with a cup of coffee. Gratefully she accepted the offering, feeling the warmth carve a path to her stomach. Jacinta joined her, eyeing her critically.

‘Did you sleep well,
Doña
Sabrina?’

‘Yes, very well, thank you.’

‘Neither did I.’

Sabrina threw her a swift sideways glance, and then smiled ruefully. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Dark shadows under the eyes give away the game, no?’

‘The ground is very hard when one has become used to a bed.’

‘So it is.’

‘To say nothing of hours spent in the saddle.’

‘That, too, is guaranteed to make the muscles stiff.’ Jacinta took another sip of her coffee. ‘Or a beating like the one Major Falconbridge received.’

Sabrina lowered her gaze. ‘Yes. The bruising was very bad.’

‘Machart?’

‘He.’

‘Puerco!’

‘That is an insult to pigs.’

‘Luis said it was you who killed the swine.’

‘I do not know if he is dead, only that I injured him.’

‘A good thing if he were dead. The world would be well rid of such a one.’ Jacinta paused. ‘May I ask how you hurt the brute?’

‘With a sharp knife between the ribs.’

‘Así?
You make me proud.’

‘It was not about pride; it was about survival.’

Briefly she summarised what had occurred. As she spoke, her companion’s face paled.

‘If I had not stabbed him he would have raped me and killed us both afterwards,’ said Sabrina. ‘I had no choice. Even so, it is no easy thing to live with the knowledge that one may have killed a man.’

‘Yet you shot men before.’

‘I know, but it’s different somehow. A gun lends distance to the act; a knife brings one horribly close.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not explaining it very well.’

‘You need feel no guilt over this matter. Be thankful you had the chance to be avenged.’ Jacinta’s dark eyes glittered. ‘I was not so happy.’

Sabrina frowned. ‘When your village was destroyed, you mean?’

‘The French soldiers looted it first. They killed all the men, even the very old and the sick. After that they rounded up the women, my mother and sisters among them. They were taken to a barn where the soldiers took it in turns to rape them.’

‘Oh, Jacinta, no.’

‘Oh, yes. When they had finished, they closed up the doors after them so that none could escape. Then they set the barn alight and burned it to the ground, along with every house in the village.’ Her companion paused. ‘The only reason I didn’t die with the rest was because my mother had sent me out earlier on an errand. I was on my way back, but when I saw the soldiers I hid in a ditch until they went away. By then, all my family were dead and our home gone. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but I knew I could not stay, so I set off for the hills. A week later your father found me. I was half-dead from lack of food. If it had not been for his intervention, I would have perished.’

‘Dear Lord.’

Sabrina’s throat tightened as she struggled with the enormity of it. Never until now had she known the full story of Jacinta’s past. Having being told she could only stare at her in horror. Jacinta met her gaze and held it.

‘The soldiers who did those things were led by a man just like Machart,’ she went on. ‘You need feel no guilt for his death. Only remember what he would have done if you had not thrust that blade between his ribs.’

Sabrina shivered inwardly. ‘When I agreed to come on this mission I knew the risks, but they seemed unreal somehow, as though they could never happen to me. I cannot believe I could have been so naive.’

‘And yet, these things will make you stronger.’

‘I hope so. As I hope all this will achieve my father’s freedom.’

‘I pray for it, too. He is among the best of men.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘And Major Falconbridge?’

‘I did not think so when first we met. Now…yes, I believe he is.’

‘Good. Then he is worthy of you.’

‘You mistake—our relationship is not of that kind. We are merely friends.’

Jacinta lifted one dark brow. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’

‘If you repeat it often enough, you may come to believe it, but it won’t alter the truth.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Do you need me to tell you?’

Sabrina sighed. It was impossible to feign anything with Jacinta. ‘No, but I cannot reveal my feelings until I know his.’

‘They are written all over him.’

‘Are they?’

‘Ha! The man is transparent.’

Before the remark could be explored further, Luis hove into view. He greeted both women and then informed them that the column was due to move out.

‘El Cuchillo’s men like to make use of the cooler hours,’ he explained.

‘Do they come with us then?’ asked Jacinta.

‘Until the far edge of the sierra. There is safety in numbers, eh?’

‘I expect there is, even though the numbers be comprised of bandits.’

‘Never look a gift horse in the eye.’

‘Mouth,’ amended Jacinta. ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth.’

Luis frowned. ‘That is nonsense. How can one look a horse in the mouth? It cannot be done.’

Jacinta muttered something under her breath. Sabrina grinned and got to her feet.

‘Frankly, I’m not looking forward to seeing any part of a horse today, but needs must.’ She glanced at Jacinta. ‘Come on, let’s pack our things and saddle up.’

Luis nodded and took his leave. They watched him walk away and then set to. It didn’t take long to roll up the blankets and stow the mugs in the saddlebag. Then, hefting saddles and bridles, they walked to the picket line where the horses were tethered. It took a relatively short time to tack up and mount. Sabrina stifled a groan as her aching muscles protested. Jacinta read her expression correctly.

‘Are you ready for another delightful ride through the mountains,
Doña
Sabrina?’

‘I can hardly wait.’

In fact, the pace was slow and easy, for which she was
grateful. Moreover, now that she was in the centre of so large a company, the fear of a surprise attack receded. She estimated that El Cuchillo’s force numbered at least fifty. They were rough, silent men who rarely spoke and whose expressions gave nothing away. Occasionally she intercepted the odd glance towards Jacinta and herself, but that was all. Never by word or deed were they shown the least discourtesy. Every man there was armed to the teeth and all looked as though they could kill without a qualm. It was reassuring to know that they were allies, and she was glad of their protection. No French patrol was going to take them on, assuming any such were in the vicinity. It left her at leisure to admire the mountain scenery and to think.

She saw little of Falconbridge that morning, for he was riding at the head of the column with El Cuchillo and Major Brudenell. She missed his company and their lively conversations and thought that it was impossible to be bored in his presence. It also occurred to her that life was going to seem very dull without it when all this was over. Perhaps they might meet sometimes, until the army moved on. At a guess, Wellington would try to take Salamanca; the city was of great strategic importance. That implied another battle to drive the French back. She bit her lip, unwilling to think of the implications. Captain Harcourt had once told her that a man’s luck could only hold so long. The idea of anything happening to Falconbridge was deeply unsettling. She thought she could bear his absence as long as he was alive and well somewhere in the world.

* * *

The column halted at midday by the edge of a wide creek. After the horses were watered and tethered, the men broke out provisions. While they were thus
occupied, Sabrina made a necessary trip into the undergrowth and then strolled down to the water’s edge to bathe her hands and face. The sun was hot now, and the water wonderfully refreshing. Had she been alone she’d have been strongly tempted to strip off and bathe. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option just then.

She was so engrossed in thought that she failed to hear the quiet footsteps approaching until a man’s shadow fell across her. She turned with a start and then felt her heart give a little leap as she recognised him.

‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘Not your fault. I was miles away.’

‘So I gather.’

She eyed him critically. The cuts on his face and lip had scabbed over but the bruises were livid, particularly the one around his right eye. He noted the scrutiny and sighed.

‘I look like a pirate, don’t I?’

‘Not quite so bad. You must still be very sore.’

‘Somewhat,’ he admitted, ‘though I have to say that salve you applied did help considerably.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I would hate to think you had undergone the treatment for nothing.’

‘Far from it.’ He held up a small cloth bundle. ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got some provisions here. We could share them if you wish.’

Feigning a calm she was far from feeling, she smiled acceptance, so they sat together by the water and she watched as he unfastened the cloth and examined the contents.

‘Hmm. Half a loaf, at least two days old; a chunk of chorizo, possibly rancid; an onion and a wedge of dry cheese.’

‘A veritable feast,’ she replied.

He smiled ruefully. ‘I regret that I cannot offer you something better.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘What shall we essay first?’

‘Some bread and cheese?’

He took out a pocket knife and sawed into the loaf. Several minutes later he was still only halfway through it. ‘Maybe I should use a sabre instead.’

Sabrina smiled. ‘Better not. It might dull the edge.’

He persevered and finally succeeded in dividing the bread, handing her a portion before setting to work on the cheese. This proved marginally easier. He sniffed the chorizo.

‘It seems all right. Will you chance it and have some?’

‘Why not?’

‘We won’t go into that.’

She laughed and suddenly he found himself staring. Yet she seemed quite unaware of the effect she was having. Making a conscious effort to get a grip on himself he turned his attention to the food.

Of necessity they ate in silence for a while, the loaf demanding serious effort. Eventually Sabrina dunked her portion in the creek to soften it a little. He watched her quizzically.

‘Better?’

‘It doesn’t do a great deal for the texture,’ she admitted, ‘but it tastes all right.’

‘That’s good enough for me,’ he replied, and immediately followed suit. Having done so, he tried the bread again and rolled his eyes in mock appreciation. ‘Absolutely divine.’

‘And to think you once told me I was easily pleased.’

For answer he held up the onion. ‘Can I tempt you?’

Sabrina shook her head. ‘I draw the line there.’

‘I think you may be right.’ He discarded it and regarded her with another rueful smile. ‘This must rank as the worst meal I have ever offered you.’

‘By far the worst,’ she agreed.

‘Will you allow me to make amends and treat you to a better one when we return?’

Her heart gave another peculiar little lurch. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Then I promise that you shall be wined and dined in style.’

‘With a fresh loaf?’

His grey eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Loaf and cheese. I guarantee it.’

‘I look forward to it, sir.’

‘And I,’ he replied. ‘Besides, after all the dire culinary experiences you have been forced to endure, it is the least I can do.’

‘Only one dire culinary experience to date.’

‘You are generous.’

He reflected that it was true. Never once had she complained about the fare or indeed any of the trying conditions on this trip. She was truly a gem among women.

Keenly aware of that penetrating gaze, she wondered at the thoughts behind. If he had meant the invitation, then she would see him again after they got back. The thought made her happy and anxious together. Was it a token gesture, an acknowledgement of services rendered on their mission? Or was it because he genuinely wanted her company? How much she hoped it was the
latter, that they might truly remain good friends. Then another, more pressing, thought occurred to her.