A Christmas Affair
Read A Christmas Affair Online
Authors: Joan Overfield
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Regency, #Historical Romance, #Holidays
Christmas Affair
Joan Overfield
Christmas Affair
Joan Overfield
Copyright 1990, 2013 by Christy Yorke
A FROLIC IN THE SNOW
Whup!
The snowball hit with unexpected force, causing Justin to stagger as he dropped the hatchet. He spun around , glancing about for his assailant, and took another snowball directly in the face. Seeing Amanda taking aim for a third shot, he hunched his shoulders and rushed toward her, a wicked grin making his intentions all too obvious.
At the sight of her victim turned aggressor, Amanda dropped her snowball, a shriek of laughter bursting from her lips as she turned to flee. She didn’t make it very far before Justin brought her down with a tackle.
“Monster!” she cried, laughing as she fought to free herself from beneath his oppressive weight. “Hinting that I am such a milk and water miss that I can’t be trusted to chop down a simple tree! Now, kindly let me up ; this ground is cold.”
“Is it?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Perhaps that is something you should have considered before attacking me.” He settled his weight more evenly over her.
Amanda’s smile vanished at the intimate touch. She was suddenly aware of Justin in a way that made the blood run wild in her veins. . . .
Prologue
Vitoria Spain, June 1813
“Do you think this storm will hold off?” Colonel Justin Stockton’s sherry-colored eyes narrowed as he studied the battle maps spread out before him on the rickety camp table. “I’d hate to lead my men into a sea of mud and that is precisely what that valley will become should it start raining.”
“Aye, but you know Wellington,” General Hardgrave responded with a rueful grin. “Old Nosey believes ’tis best to seek the high ground and let the enemy bring the battle to us. Are the men all in place?”
“Yes, sir,” Justin responded indicating various marks on the first map. “The artillery is stationed here and here, along the upper ridges and I have the cavalry held here in reserve. We will have need of them in the final attack.”
The general grunted his agreement of the plan. “And your own men? I suppose you will be leading them out to face the enemy?”
“Yes, General.” Justin thrust an impatient hand through his midnight-black hair as he pulled the second map toward him. “Our intelligence report puts the forward column of Jourdan’s army here”—he made a slashing mark — “and I plan to lead a company of Light Infantry out to engage them, and with any luck cut them off from the main body
of the army.”
“That would put you directly between our guns and theirs,” the general replied after a moment. “Dashed uncomfortable place to be. The grapeshot will be thick as snowflakes in January.”
“I’m aware of that sir”—Justin met his commander’s eyes — “but it can’t be helped. We must hold the French off until we are better entrenched. This action will buy us the time we need.”
General Hardgrave didn’t answer, his pale blue eyes assessing as he studied the young colonel standing before him. Although Stockton was scarcely four and thirty, he was one of the general’s most capable officers, leading his men to victory with raw courage and sheer determination. That determination was evident in the harsh lines carved deep in his lean cheeks and the hard thrust of his firm jaw. He knew without questioning the matter that Stockton would either achieve his objective or die in the attempt. A pity more of his officers didn’t share those same sterling qualities, he thought, turning his attention back to the maps.
“Very well, Colonel Stockton” he said after examining the maps, “I approve of your plan. Hold those Frog bastards off and we’ll do the rest. Now, go and have a word with your men. They’re bound to be a might fearful and it will do them good to see their commanding officer. Go,” and he waved the colonel toward the door.
“Yes, General.” Justin snapped a smart salute and then hurried out into the cool Spanish night. He stood outside the small cottage that had been pressed into use as company headquarters his head tilted to one side as he listened to familiar sounds of soldiers preparing for battle. The ringing of the blacksmith’s hammer almost drowned out the neighing of the horses and the rattle of swords and bayonets as the men saw to their weapons.
All around him the lights from hundreds of campfires twinkled in the velvet darkness and the shapes of his men
could be faintly seen in their flickering light. Justin paused, drinking in the momentary peace as he fought to master his own fears and trepidations before facing his men. Even if his assessment of the French position was right, many of them would die. And if he was wrong. . . . He pushed the thought firmly aside, tugging his greatcoat about his shoulders as he struck out in the direction of the nearest campfire.
The first camp he came to was surrounded mostly by his junior officers, who were lounging on the ground, laughing in appreciation as a young lieutenant read aloud from the letter in his hands. When another officer saw him standing at the edge of their small circle, he called out a warning, and they all leapt to their feet, snapping to attention with well-trained discipline.
“As you were, gentlemen.” Justin gave the young officers a set smile, limping slightly as he took his place beside the other men. “What is that you were reading, Lieutenant Lawrence? It sounds most interesting.”
“Just a letter from my sister, Colonel,” Daniel Lawrence replied his lean cheeks coloring in embarrassment. This was only the third time he’d spoken with his formidable commanding officer, and he was still in awe of him.
“Indeed? And what has she to say?” Justin asked, stretching his booted feet toward the sullenly smoking fire. The chilly wind was making the wound in his thigh ache like the very devil, and he needed something to take his mind off the pain. Perhaps hearing a bit of gossip would prove an effective panacea, he thought, striving to look more interested. “How are things in . . . Surrey isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel was pleased the colonel had remembered his place of birth. Given all the men under his command, he was certain that was significant. He picked up the letter and found the paragraph he’d been reading when Colonel Stockton had arrived. “My eldest sister, Amanda, was describing an assembly she and my younger sister,
Amelia, attended.” He cleared his throat and then continued reading:
“The good vicar was so taken at the sight of Lady P’s pulchritude, generously displayed in a French-cut gown of cream sarsanet, that he quite lost his step and fell head-long into the punch bowl, emerging with his dignity in tatters, his best neckcloth stained, and an orange slice draped coquettishly above one eye. The ladies present must have thought the new style most fetching for within the week several bonnets of a similar design were to be found adorning the heads of various members of the congregation.”
Roars of masculine laughter drowned out the rest of the passage as the battle-weary soldiers doubled over in merriment. Justin joined in, grateful the others could find something to laugh about so close to the coming fight. How far away from the genteel world of vicars and country assemblies this all seemed, he thought wearily, casting a knowing look at the laughing faces of his men. Tomorrow these same soldiers would be locked in deadly combat, killing and dying for reasons most couldn’t even comprehend, and yet tonight they could delight in the actions of a bumbling country cleric.
“This Lady P sounds most delightful,” he drawled once the chuckling had subsided. “Although I fear the same can not be said of your sister. What a cutting wit she must have.”
“Aye, that’s Amanda.” Daniel chuckled at the thought of his fearsome older sister. “She’s a regular tartar, with a tongue like a cat-o’nine-tails and a temper that would put a Top Sergeant to the blush. You should have heard the dust she kicked up when I said I wanted to enlist in the Light Infantry! Boney’s guns are a lark’s song compared to that,” and he shuddered in remembrance.
Justin’s smile widened as he envisioned a sour-faced old
harridan ringing a peal over his junior officer. “Where were your parents while she was screeching at you? Hiding out in the cellars until it was safe to come out?”
“Both dead, sir,” Daniel replied with a casual shrug. “My father died when I was but a lad, and my mother and stepfather were killed in a coach accident some six years ago, leaving Mandy to rule the roost, although she was scarce out of the schoolroom. Not that she’s a complete quiz, mind,” he added, not wishing to give Colonel Stockton the wrong impression of his sister. “But she does like her own way.”
“She sounds the sort of managing female that makes a confirmed bachelor like me quake in his boots,” Justin said, rising to his feet. He still had a dozen or more camps to visit before seeking his own bedroll, and the sooner he was about his business, the better.
He bid the young officers a good night, reminding them they would be marching out at first light, and then turned to leave. He’d barely taken a few steps when Lieutenant Lawrence called out to him. “Colonel, I should like a word with you, if you please.”
“Of course, Lieutenant,” Justin returned coolly, waiting patiently as the young officer made his way to his side. “What can I do for you?”
Daniel blushed at the colonel’s polite words. “Well, I was wondering if you might hold this for me.” He thrust a packet into Justin’s hand. “It’s just some letters and a portrait of my mother,” he continued, his words tumbling out in an embarrassed rush. “I also included a few pounds from my salary and some money I won gaming. If . . . if anything should happen, could you see that my sister gets them?”
Justin gazed into the lieutenant’s anxious face, his heart turning over in his chest as he took in the younger man’s bright red hair and freckled cheeks. God, the lad was scarcely twenty-one, he thought with grim despair. He
should be getting into trouble for gambling and chasing light skirts, not standing in the darkness of a Spanish night facing the prospect of his probable death. His gloved hands closed spasmodically around the packet of papers.
“It will be done,” he said, his fierce eyes meeting Lawrence’s. “You have my word on it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Daniel sighed in relief. “I’m the eldest son, you see, and they do depend upon me . . . even though Mandy would die sooner than admit as much.” He added this last part with a whimsical smile.
“Ah yes, the martinet in petticoats.” Justin returned the lieutenant’s smile. “Well, hopefully we shan’t have occasion to meet, but should we, sir, you may rely upon me to give a good accounting of myself.”
“I daresay you will, Colonel.” Daniel’s hazel eyes began to dance with boyish laughter. “I should enjoy seeing it; the pair of you would be at daggers drawn within ten minutes of clapping eyes on each other.”
“In that case, Lieutenant, then I very much hope we shall not meet.” Justin tucked the letters in his inner pocket and began moving away. “A female who would incite me to violence is not at all to my liking. Good evening to you then. Mind you get a good night’s sleep. You will have need of it come the morrow.”
Shells exploded all around Justin, filling the air with choking smoke and the screams of the wounded and dying. He fought on desperately, ignoring the pain in his arm and shoulder as he ran his sword through the blue-coated grenadier who had cut him off from his men. He saw the life flicker and die in the man’s dark eyes, and then turned to meet the rush of another French soldier.
Another shell screamed past him, and Justin felt a burning pain as a piece of shrapnel tore into his leg. The impact threw him to the ground, knocking his sword from his
hand. The French soldier he had been fighting was also wounded, and blood flowed from his left side; but he retained his weapon. Triumph glittered in his eyes, and Justin glared up at him defiantly as the man raised his bayoneted rifle high above his head to deliver the death blow.
“Colonel, look out!” Daniel exclaimed, interposing himself between Justin and the French soldier, giving him time to drag himself to safety. Justin scooped up a rifle dropped by a fallen cavalry officer and rolled to one side, firing a single bullet into the French soldier’s chest. The man staggered and fell, and a grinning Daniel leaned down to offer Justin his hand.
“That was a clean shot, sir,” he said wiping the dust and blood from his cheeks. “You got him right through the —” a volley of fire cut off his words of praise, and a sudden look of faint surprise crossed his face. “I say, I do believe I’ve been shot,” he said, and then tumbled forward into Justin’s arms.