His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) (24 page)

The green eyes danced. ‘That is shockingly unprofessional, sir, but I must tell you that the feeling is mutual.’

His heart performed a dangerously original exercise. ‘It’s clearly hopeless so there’s only one thing to be done.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Marry me.’

The words brought a sudden surge of joy so intense that for a moment it eradicated all else. Sabrina reached up and brought his face down towards hers for a long, lingering kiss. Then she drew back a little in her turn. ‘In case I’m not making this plain enough, the answer is yes.’

He grinned. ‘Would you do that again, please, for the sake of clarity?’

The matter was clarified several times more before they came up for air.

‘I would like us to be married as soon as possible,’ he said then, ‘but I know that there are other considerations.’ He paused, choosing his next words with care. ‘Perhaps you want time to get used to the idea of marriage. We have known each other only a short while.’

‘How long does it take to know your own heart?’ she replied.

‘I think I did not know mine until I met you.’

‘We have learned more about each other in those weeks than most people discover in years.’

‘Then you would not object to our marrying sooner rather than later?’

‘I want to be your wife, Robert. It cannot come soon enough for me.’

‘Nor for me, either.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I gave you a wedding ring once before, and with precious little ceremony as I recall.’

‘I still have it.’

‘I’ll give you a much finer one, set with diamonds perhaps.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like it to be the original. It has more significance to me than any diamonds ever could.’

‘Are you sure, Sabrina?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘So be it.’ He rose, bringing her gently with him. ‘May I speak to your father?’

She nodded. ‘It will doubtless come as a shock to him.’

‘Then we will allow him some time to get used to the idea.’ He grinned. ‘A little time, that is.’

T
he wedding was to be a simple ceremony performed by the chaplain before a small number of witnesses. Falconbridge arrived early with Brudenell, but found it impossible to sit still and wait. Instead, he paced slowly the length of the hallway outside the chapel to try to dissipate the knot of tension in his gut. He heard the clock strike the hour but there was still no sign of his bride. The knot in his gut tightened. Was it all going to happen again? He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, telling himself not to be a fool. Brudenell eyed him shrewdly.

‘She’ll be here, Robert.’

He forced a smile. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘It’s a bride’s privilege to be late on her wedding day.’

‘I know.’

‘Then stop wearing out those stones and let us go in.’

He nodded and they walked up the aisle to take their places. Around them the assembled guests smiled, but he saw only a blur of faces. His throat was dry. With
an assumption of calm he was far from feeling he took his place with his friend. As he stood there he found himself praying silently.

It seemed an age that he remained there thus, but in reality only a minute or two, before they heard a noise behind them, gasps and murmuring voices. Both men glanced round and then remained thus, staring.

‘By heaven and all the saints,’ murmured Brudenell. ‘You lucky.’

Falconbridge hardly heard him and could not have replied anyway, for he had no breath to do it. For a moment he was quite still, his gaze taking in every detail of the woman who walked towards him, leaning lightly on her father’s arm. She was exquisite, every detail perfect from the long-sleeved gown of white satin and lace, to the pearls adorning her ears and throat and the silk flowers nestling among her gold curls, to the small bouquet of red roses that she was carrying. His heart swelled with love and pride. Then, gathering his wits again, he stepped forwards to meet her.

From among the assembled guests Wellington surveyed the proceedings with a keen eye. ‘Damned handsome couple, what?’

Beside him Albermarle nodded. ‘Indeed they are, my lord.’

‘Good man, Falconbridge.’

‘Oh, unquestionably, my lord. I’ve always thought so.’

The ceremony was simple and short, a brief exchange of vows and the placing of the gold ring to bind them together as man and wife. Sabrina stole a look at the man who was now her husband and received an answering smile.

The chaplain smiled, too. ‘You may kiss the bride.’

Robert Falconbridge drew his wife close and for a moment looked down into her face. His heartbeat accelerated as he read the answer in her eyes. Then he bent his head and brought his mouth down on hers in a tender and lingering embrace.

Sabrina closed her eyes. For a moment she felt lightheaded, dislocated from reality. Yet the warmth of his hands was real enough, like the scent of leather and cedar wood from his uniform and the pressure of his lips on hers. Her blood tingled and, deep within, a flame kindled in her body’s core. Its glow remained even after he had drawn back. In shy confusion she became aware of voices raised in congratulation and good wishes. Then his hand closed around hers and squeezed it gently.

‘Come, Mrs Falconbridge.’

* * *

Colonel Albermarle had arranged for the wedding breakfast to be held in a private room adjoining the officers’ mess where they were joined by a larger group of friends and colleagues. Carried along on a wave of happiness Sabrina was yet keenly aware of the goodwill emanating from those gathered around them. Many were Falconbridge’s colleagues who had managed to arrange a few hours off duty and who thronged around to wish him well. Over his bride they were positively foolish, and she found herself the recipient of numerous compliments and gallantries.

Her husband smiled and, seeing he had no chance of claiming her for a while, turned his attention to Ramon who, with Luis and Jacinta, had been watching the proceedings with approbation. All three offered their congratulations. Luis blinked away a tear.

‘You must forgive me. I always cry at weddings.’

‘It is true,’ said Jacinta. ‘He does.’

Falconbridge grinned. ‘It is a tradition, I believe.’ Then, seeing his chance, he turned to Ramon. ‘There is something I would like to ask, if I may.’

The other man nodded. ‘You can ask.’

‘How did you persuade El Cuchillo to help us?’

For a moment Ramon was silent. Then he smiled faintly. ‘I called in a favour.’

‘I see. You’ve known him some time, I collect.’

‘We go back a long way, he and I. We grew up in the same village.’

‘Ah, you were old friends then.’

‘We were never friends. I might even say we detested each other. Certainly we had numerous fights when we were boys. By the time we were young men we each had a healthy respect for the other.’ Ramon paused. ‘Then, one day, his family’s house caught fire, trapping his mother and sister within. I had been working nearby and saw the smoke. When I went to investigate I heard the screams, so I broke in and managed to help them to safety.’

‘And so you and he became friends in the end, eh?’ said Luis.

Ramon smiled ruefully. ‘No, we were never that exactly. All the same, he saw the rescue as divine intervention and believed himself obligated to me as a result. He went to the church and swore a sacred oath before the altar that one day he would repay the debt.’

Luis frowned. ‘How long ago was that?’

‘Twenty years.’

‘His memory is long.’

‘So is mine.’

‘How could you be sure that he would keep his word?’ asked Luis.

Jacinta met his eye with a level stare. ‘Time does
not affect a sacred promise. To break it would dishonour himself and his family, and imperil his immortal soul.’

‘That is so,’ replied Ramon. ‘But, more than all of that, El Cuchillo hates the French as much as he loves a fight. He would never pass up such an opportunity.’

Falconbridge laughed. ‘Whatever his motivation, I am glad of it, believe me.’

Watching the little group from across the room, Sabrina smiled. In that moment it truly felt as if all her family were gathered again at last. It seemed, too, that happiness was infectious. All around her, laughter and banter flowed like wine. Even her father was smiling and doing his best to look cheerful, though she knew that inwardly he felt sad, too.

‘You need not worry for me,’ she said. ‘Truly I have married the best of men.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘I could not have parted with you had I not thought so, my dear.’

As soon as Sabrina had expressed her wish to marry, he had lost no time in speaking with Albermarle to find out all he could about his prospective son-in-law. The conversation had proved to be reassuring, rather than otherwise, and he had taken comfort from it. Sabrina’s obvious happiness and her new husband’s evident love and pride did much now to alleviate any lingering doubts.

For his part Falconbridge had taken as much time as he could to get to know his wife’s father and, when they did speak, to be as open and honest as possible. It had done him no disservice. Nor did he find John Huntley’s company in any way irksome. Both men were well travelled and well read and thus had enough common ground to be able to converse with ease. Though he yet
detected some faint reserve in Huntley’s manner, he had every hope of their becoming the best of friends.

Colonel Albermarle waited for his moment and, seeing it, lost no time in taking Falconbridge aside to wish him happiness. The two shook hands heartily.

‘I thank you for your good wishes.’

‘Look after her, my boy.’

‘I intend to, sir.’

‘And be sure to make her happy.’

‘I promise to do my best.’

Albermarle’s eyes glinted. ‘You’d better.’

‘I know.’ Falconbridge smiled wryly. ‘I am also much attached to my liver and shall not give you any reason to try to remove it, sir.’

The older man beamed. ‘I think we understand each other very well.’

‘I believe we do.’

The meal progressed in an atmosphere of conviviality. Later there were speeches and numerous toasts were drunk to the bride and groom. Then, somewhat unexpectedly, Lord Wellington got to his feet. As the conversation faded he turned to the newly-weds.

‘I shall not repeat what others have said before, although I share their sentiments unreservedly. It merely remains for me to give you this.’ He drew a heavy, sealed pack of official papers from the pocket of his coat and handed it to the groom. Then, as the latter stared at it and him in silent bemusement, he added, ‘Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Falconbridge.’

For a moment there was silence before the import dawned and the room erupted with cheers. Gathering his wits, the recipient got to his feet and shook the proffered hand. ‘I really don’t know what to say, my lord, except to thank you.’

Wellington raised an eyebrow. ‘You may wish you hadn’t when we make our push for Salamanca.’ For a moment the hawk-like gaze rested on the other man. ‘In the interim, you will want to be with your lovely wife. Take three days’ leave. That’s an order.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Sabrina who had been following every word felt only swelling joy. Three days! Never would she have foreseen anything like this. It was a gesture as generous as it was unexpected. Before she had time to do more than add her thanks, her husband gathered her in his arms and bestowed on her a resounding kiss. She smiled up at him, eyes shining.

‘Congratulations, Robert. I’m so proud of you.’

‘I could not have done it without you.’

‘I keep thinking I shall wake in a moment, and find all this a dream.’

‘No dream, my love, but the start of our life together.’

‘A wonderful start,’ she replied. ‘I little thought to be as happy as I am now.’

‘I want you to be happy, Sabrina. I will try by every means to make you so.’

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips. Suddenly he found himself longing for the time when they would be alone. The touch of her hand in his, the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her smile went to his head like wine.

Sabrina saw the intent expression and regarded him quizzically. ‘You seem rather pensive.’

He grinned. ‘You’re right. Indeed, I could get locked up for the thoughts in my mind at this moment.’

Her eyes danced. ‘Not more unprofessional thoughts?’

‘Shockingly so.’

The implications set every sense alight and the knowledge that she would share his bed this night added spice to what had been the happiest of days.

* * *

In fact it was not until much later that they returned to the house. Her father had retired long since and the place was quiet. At last they reached the sanctuary of her room and locked the door behind them. Then he took her in his arms for a long and lingering kiss.

‘I’ve wanted to do that all day,’ he said then. ‘Amongst other things.’

The green eyes expressed apparently innocent interest. ‘Oh? What other things?’

Never taking his eyes from her face, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. It was followed by his neckcloth and shirt. At the sight of the hard-muscled torso beneath, her breathing quickened. He moved towards her. Then, turning her gently, he reached for the buttons of her gown and unfastened them. With slow care he slid the fabric over her shoulders and drew off her gown, laying it aside before returning to her petticoat. He unfastened that, too, sending it the way of the gown. With the same unhurried care he removed the pins that held her hair and let it fall, shaking it loose and sliding his fingers through its silken length.

She saw him bend his head and felt his lips on the hollow of her shoulder, travelling thence to her neck and throat and then the lobe of her ear, nibbling gently and sending a delicious shiver the length of her body. He drew her closer for another kiss, his free hand brushing her breast, gently teasing the nipple. She shivered again but not with fear, drawing him close, her hands
exploring the muscles of his back, breathing his scent, tasting his mouth on hers.

She could feel his arousal but now there was no fear or disgust, only desire and an answering heat in her loins. She felt him lift the hem of her chemise and then the warmth of his fingers on her thighs and buttocks, stroking, caressing, raising sensations of delight that she had not known existed. He moved to the place between her thighs, drawing a finger slowly through the slippery wetness it encountered there. He heard her gasp, continued stroking, teasing, feeling the shudder through her body and his own hardening response.

An arm slid around her waist and another under her knees, lifting her with consummate ease and carrying her to the bed. He removed the rest of his clothing and came to join her, resuming what he had begun, restraining his passion to increase hers. Very gently he drew the chemise upwards, letting his gaze drink in the details.

‘You are so beautiful.’

A rosy flush bloomed along her skin. He pulled the garment higher and she moved to accommodate him, so that he could remove it altogether. The immediacy of her nakedness against his both thrilled and shocked her as the length of his body pressed against hers. His hands resumed their caresses, gentle, sure and infinitely disturbing. With thumping heart she felt him part her thighs, and slowly he entered her. It hurt and she experienced a moment of panic, fighting him. With infinite patience he brought her back, stroking her gently, whispering reassurance. Then the moment was past and he pushed deeper until she had the length of him. She felt him move then, slowly at first but gradually with stronger and more powerful strokes. The movement sent a series of shivers through her body’s core. Instinctively
she raised her knees, closing her legs around him, moving with him, surrendering completely to the mounting fire in her blood.