Lady Emma's Campaign (16 page)

Eventually, he sagged against her and slept. Now and then, a small sob would escape his lips.

Serena had left for a moment and returned with a dry blanket. Emma laid Nico on it, tucking it around him.

“Serena, will you stay with Nico for a little while? I do not want him to awaken alone.”

“Sí,” Serena replied and took Emma’s place against the wall, leaning back and closing her eyes.

Emma rose and made her way across the barn to the tools. She lifted a shovel and walked to the door just as Sidney stepped inside.

“Emma, what on earth are you doing?”

“I intend to bury Nico’s parents before he wakes. I do not want him to see them like . . . that.”

Sidney looked to where Serena sat next to the small boy asleep on the ground. “Nico?”

Emma nodded.

“Serena told me you found a friend.” Sidney looked at her and stepped back. His lips began to curl into a shadow of a smile. Emma imagined how she must look. Wet, muddy clothing, her hair a partially dried mess, wielding a farm tool that she truly had no idea how to use. But thanks to her father, if there was something she knew well, it was how to clean up a mess—emotional or literal.

He reached for the shovel. “Enrique and I will do the job much quicker. Will you decide on a burial location?”

“Very well,” she said, relieved. She allowed him to take the shovel and place it against the doorframe and then accompanied him out of the barn. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but Sidney still protected the steel of the musket. “How is Jim?” she asked.

“He is asleep in the house. Serena found some herbs, and she believes willow bark will help with his fever.”

“Serena did not see—”

“No. I covered the remains before she came inside.”

Emma felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She was grateful to Sidney. She did not want Serena to have the horrible images in her mind. She undoubtedly had enough of her own.

“And you?” She motioned to his side. “I imagine willow bark would help your pain as well.”

Sidney’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll admit, I did not even think of it.”

“But you will when we return?”

He smiled. “I can hardly remember a time when anyone showed such concern for my well-being. I believe I could become accustomed to it quite easily.”

Sidney took Emma’s hand as they walked. She felt her heart trip at how easily he performed the action. The possibility that he would grow to care for her more than as a friend or sister bloomed once again in her chest. He led her through the gate and to the fields beyond. “There is a beautiful view from the hill above this field. It would make a lovely burial place.”

“Thank you. It will be important for Nico to know that his family was buried properly.” She stood in the area he had indicated and turned slowly to take in the view. The rain had stopped and bits of sunlight began to break through the clouds. Mist covered the green mountains above them like pieces of cotton. Sidney was right. It was beautiful. “What about over there?” She pointed to the other side of the farm. “Perhaps near those large trees?”

Sidney shook his head, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “We found the farm animals on that side of the fields. They were . . . slaughtered. I do not think we should allow Nico to see that.”

Emma noticed birds gathering in the area and felt a surge of conflicting emotion. The idea that she and Sidney both had a common interest in the boy’s welfare caused her heart to feel light, but the sensation was tempered by the repulsion she felt. “Who did such a thing, Sidney?” She turned to face him, holding tighter to his hand. “Do you think it was the soldiers we saw yesterday?”

“I do.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I wish I could answer you. I do not know what drives men to such depravity. Perhaps it is in their nature, or it develops as a way to cope with the horrors they witness during battle. When a particular circumstance and a particular group combine, some people perform the most debased acts, while others the most heroic. Men’s true characters are revealed at such times.” He stroked his thumb over her hand, sending small waves of heat skittering up her arm. “I truly wish I could have stopped you before you witnessed such a scene.”

Emma nodded. “I wish nobody had to witness such a thing. I do not know if I feel more pity for the people killed or those they left behind. Poor Nico. What will he do?”

Sidney’s expression was tired. “As long as there is war, I am afraid there will be lives ruined.” He gave her hand a small tug, and they turned back toward the buildings.

“And there will continue to be heroes. Like you and Jim.” She squeezed his fingers, and he stopped outside the barn door.

When Emma looked up at Sidney, the confidence had slipped from his face, leaving him unguarded and his expression vulnerable. She had never seen him looking so exposed. Not even when he had confessed his anxiety to her the day before. “Am I a hero, Emma? Is that how you see me?”

She took a step closer to him, her boots sticking slightly in the mud. “Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?” Standing upon tiptoe, her heart thundering in her chest, she kissed his cheek. “I have always considered you the very best of heroes,” she said before turning and going into the barn.

Sidney stood stock still outside
the barn entrance, his fingers on his cheek. Emma’s words still rang in his ears. Her simple declaration meant more than she could know. He did not think any words spoken to him in his entire life had touched his heart in such a way. Certainly not from his own family. He was a means to their lifestyle, and they had little interest in how he obtained the funds they consumed. He had been presented with commendations and even a medal for his bravery at the battle of Copenhagen, but he considered those actions merely his duty, and the words of the admiral rang hollow when Sidney compared them to Emma’s.

She considered him a hero? A hero was supposed to be fearless, and Emma knew his dark fears. She had seen him attacked by a fit of panic, paralyzed with terror, and thinking he might die just from a memory. A hero did not falter, doubt himself, or make poor decisions. Sidney did all of these things, and yet Emma still looked at him with her wide eyes full of admiration. He allowed himself to savor the feeling. It washed over him, filling the dark places inside him with brightness. The person who married Lady Emma Drake would count himself the most fortunate of men, and an uncomfortable sick feeling churned in Sidney’s stomach at the thought. He would miss her. He’d grown quite dependent upon the way she lifted his spirits. Emma was the closest friend he had known since William left the navy.

Enrique approached, and Sidney put his thoughts away to ponder upon later. “You and I will bury the man and woman upon that hill,” Sidney said.

“Dig in the mud to bury strangers? You are mad.” Enrique’s eyes flashed with annoyance.

“They are your countrymen. Or have you forgotten your declaration of loyalty to the Spanish people?”

Enrique’s eyes narrowed. “I have not forgotten.” He pressed his lips together so tightly that they nearly disappeared.

“There are shovels in the barn.” Sidney said. “We will need to hurry and complete the task before the boy wakes.

“Boy?” Enrique stepped into the barn and looked to where Emma and Serena sat next to the sleeping child.

Sidney stepped inside as well.

Emma was arranging the blanket over him and brushing back his curly hair. The peaceful sight in the midst of the turmoil surrounding them caused the tenderness Sidney had felt earlier to return full-force.

“This is ridiculous,” Enrique said.

His voice echoed through the stone building, and Nico stirred. Emma spoke quietly, gently stroking his face to soothe him back to sleep.

“Nevertheless”—Sidney pushed a shovel to Enrique’s chest—“I suggest you start digging before the rain returns.”

“The dying colonel already slows our progress. We will never reach Tarifa if we gather every orphan along the way.”

“We cannot leave Nico alone,” Emma said, joining them. “He has just lost his family. He will not survive without us.” Her eyes, already swollen from weeping began to fill with more tears, and Sidney knew he could not bear to see her cry again.

“Of course we will not leave him alone. Señor Trevino, you travel under my protection, and you will obey my orders.” Sidney shifted the musket, and Enrique took a step back, though his lip remained curled in a sneer.

Sidney ignored him and led the way to the site he and Emma had chosen. With the benefit of the wet ground and Enrique’s reluctant assistance, it took only an hour to dig the graves. The men wrapped the bodies in sheets and carry them back across the field. After they had been properly interred, Sidney returned to the house, hoping the willow bark could ease the pain in his ribs.

Jim seemed to be breathing much deeper, and his skin felt quite a bit cooler, although he still had not awakened. Serena had laid out blankets and coats in front of the fireplace, and when Sidney asked, she told him that Emma remained in the barn.

He crossed the courtyard to the other building and found Emma sitting beside a circle drawn in the dirt, playing a game of marbles with Nico.

A marble rolled past his boot, and he stopped it, then he sat on the other side of the circle, reaching out his hand to offer it to Nico.

Nico shrank back, scooting closer to Emma.

“It is all right, Nico. This is Captain Fletcher. He is a good soldier.” She wrapped her arm around the boy’s shoulders, smiling and turning her attention toward Sidney. “How do I say ‘good soldier’ in Spanish?”

“That depends. Do you want to tell him that I follow orders well? Or that I will not hurt him?”

“I should have said a
kind
soldier.”

Sidney’s chest lightened at her simple words. He was going to develop an overinflated ego if she continued in such a way. “
Soldado benévolo
.”

Emma turned Nico to face her. “Nico. Captain Fletcher is soldado benévolo.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled at Sidney to get across her point.

Nico looked at Sidney for a moment and then turned his attention back to the game, shooting a marble.

Emma clapped her hands. “
Muy bien!
” she said, although his shot was terrible.

“I have no idea how the game is played,” she confessed to Sidney, shrugging her shoulders.

Sidney leaned down and shot the marble, knocking one more out of the ring. Nico rolled the large shooter toward him for another turn. Sidney scored again.

Nico looked at him for a moment, his head tilted as if appraising Sidney. He pointed toward the shooter.

Sidney moved to a better position, aiming and knocking the last marble from the circle.

Nico pumped his little fist in the air, his face breaking into a grin. He gathered all the marbles and arranged them in an x-formation in the center of the ring. Apparently he wanted a rematch.

Sidney smiled. He had not played marbles since he was a child at his father’s estate.

“Emma”—he knuckled down and took aim—“your clothes are still wet. There is a fire inside the house.”

She shook her head, trying to disguise a shiver. Her hair was not completely dry, and she was obviously chilled. “I do not want Nico to see his house like that. It would replace his good memories to see his furniture broken and blood upon the floor.”

Sidney congratulated Nico on his play and then, as he aimed again, said, “We need to decide what to do about him.”

Even though he did not look up, he felt Emma bristle. “I will not leave him alone.”

Sidney worried that Emma was becoming too attached to the boy and did not see that there were other options.

He sat back, watching Nico. “Perhaps he has family nearby.”

“Will you ask him?”

Sidney asked the boy whether he had any grandparents, aunts, uncles, anyone that the boy could think of that he knew aside from his mother and father.

Nico answered each question in the negative. He did not know any relatives. He did like some of the children from the village, but the family hadn’t seen them for a long time. He had heard his father say that many families left when the soldiers got close to the village. Sidney wondered why his parents had not fled. Were they
afrancesados
, who felt safe as long as their allegiance was to the French? Not that it mattered now.

Emma watched the exchange closely. She looked at Sidney with eyebrows raised.

He shook his head.

“Sidney, he will not slow us down. I promise. I will help him. I just cannot leave him.”

“We will not leave him.”

Emma’s shoulders lowered, relief evident upon her face.

Sidney bent toward Nico, speaking quietly to him in Spanish. “Nico, I must ask you a favor. Emma is very cold. Her dress is wet and torn. Would you permit her to wear some clothing of your mother’s?”

Nico looked at Sidney for a long time. He turned toward Emma, who was watching them with her brows knitted in confusion. She must have heard her name and known they were talking about her. He lifted his gaze to Sidney’s. “Sí,” he said solemnly.

Sidney’s throat was tight. He ruffled Nico’s hair. Clearing his throat, he turned to Emma. “Nico has given permission for you to wear his mother’s clothes.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I couldn’t. It would be too difficult for him.”

“Emma, your gown, though lovely, is destroyed. We are climbing higher into the mountains, and you must remain warm. It is a matter of survival.” He held her gaze to make sure she understood that he was serious.

Conflicting emotions swam across Emma’s face before she finally said, “
Gracias
, Nico.” Then, turning to him, “Gracias, soldado benévolo
.
”

Sidney’s breath caught in his throat. He attempted to cover his reaction with humor, bowing with exaggerated elegance from his position upon the floor. It seemed that the effect Emma’s kind words had on him did not lessen with the frequency with which they were spoken.

He pushed his feelings away, becoming decidedly uncomfortable with their reoccurrence—or even more disturbing, he was becoming tremendously comfortable.

He looked around the barn in an attempt to distract himself, and his eyes lit on some scraps of wood in the corner. “Nico, I wonder how well you can hammer a nail?” he asked in Spanish.

“I hammer very well,” he said, raising his chin. “My
papá
taught me.”

Sidney pretended to consider him. “I think you might be just the man I need for a particular job.” He turned to Emma. “Nico and I have some work to do out here. If you want to go change your clothing, we will be finished when you return. And then we can take Nico up to the hill for a funeral service.”

Emma stood and brushed off her dress before she seemed to realize that the fabric was still wet, and it was a hopeless task. She gave Nico a quick hug and left.

Sidney searched through the wood until he found four boards, two longer and two shorter. At his request, Nico had shown him where to find nails and a hammer, and he laid the shorter boards over the longer, forming two crosses.

He allowed Nico to drive the nails into the wood, securing them together.

Nico’s face twisted in concentration as his chubby fingers struggled to hold the hammer steady. He repeatedly missed the nail, but he did not become discouraged, only more determined.

Sidney was impressed at the boy’s stubbornness. He had to be a strong person to obey his mother and not leave the barn, even though he must have been terrified at the noises he heard coming from his home. And he had undoubtedly been hungry. But he stayed the course. He would make a fine sailor, Sidney thought, with a swell of satisfaction that matched the expression on Nico’s face when he had successfully pounded in the nails.

Sidney lifted the two crosses in one hand and held Nico’s hand with the other, stepping to the barn door to wait for Emma.

Enrique sat sullenly in the courtyard. The women must have shooed him out of the house while Emma dressed. Sidney asked him to attend to sentry duty.

Serena emerged from the house carrying a basket of wildflowers. When Emma walked through the door, Sidney’s pulse jumped, and his stomach did a slow roll. He could not take his eyes from her.

She wore a full skirt, with colorful petticoats beneath it, tied at her small waist with a bright green sash. Her cotton shirt was loose, exposing her soft neck and collarbones. The sleeves did not reach her elbows. She must have found a brush inside the house, as her long, shining hair hung straight, nearly to her waist, held away from her face by a piece of string. The British style of high-waisted gowns was terribly inadequate when it came to displaying the curves of the female figure to its full potential, Sidney decided.

Emma looked exquisite, and the emotions she stirred in him were completely improper for a guardian, elder brother,
or
a man on his way to a funeral. He chided himself and forced his eyes away from the curve of her neck, concentrating on her face, which did nothing to deter his wayward thoughts.

When Nico saw Emma, he rushed to her, and she crouched down to embrace him. Her gaze moved to the hammer he still carried and then to the crosses in Sidney’s hand. Her expression softened, and she looked at Sidney gratefully as she took Nico’s hand.

“I found a Bible.” She pulled the book from a pouch she held. The fact that Sidney had not noticed the large bag full of what appeared to be mementos of Nico’s family attested to how distracted he’d been by her change of wardrobe. “Perhaps you or Serena could read a verse in Spanish?”

“Yes, of course. Excellent suggestion.” Sidney took the book from her hands, glad he had something to divert his eyes. He led the way across the field with Emma, Serena, and Nico following.

When they arrived, he held the grave markers while the boy pounded them into the soft ground. As the captain of his ship, a funeral was something with which he had far too much experience; however, performing the ceremony with a member of the family present was a new experience. His eyes prickled, and he cleared his throat repeatedly as he watched Nico place flowers upon the graves.

Sidney crouched down to eye level with the boy. “Nico, what are your parents’ names?”

“
Mamá y Papá.
”

“Perhaps in
la biblia
,” Serena said, taking the book from him and turning to the front. She showed him a list of family names, births, christenings, marriages, and deaths that spanned generations. “Alfredo
y
Maria Siguenza.” She pointed to the bottom of the list.

“Will you say a prayer, Serena?”

“Sí, of course.”

Serena took a breath. “
Subvención descanso eterno a ellos, oh Señor, y dejar que la luz perpetua brille sobre ellos. Que descansen en paz
.”
She made the sign of the cross, and Nico imitated her.

“
Que descansen en paz,
” Sidney repeated.

Tears rolled down Emma’s cheeks as she watched Nico. The boy did not cry, but he held tightly to her hand.

The sun was beginning to set, and the dispersing clouds were bathed in reds and oranges. The air around them was especially clear after the rain. Drops of water still clung to grass and leaves, sparkling in the golden light. Serena and Emma seemed to be appreciating the beauty of the evening as well. It seemed they had chosen an ideal location.