Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress (9 page)

‘Oh, my!’ She rushed to assist him.

‘This is Corporal Reilly from my regiment,’ he said as the three of them stepped into the hall. ‘I could not pass him by.’

‘Ma’am.’ Reilly inclined his head to her.

‘Can we get you above stairs, Corporal Reilly?’ She turned to Allan. ‘We can put him in one of the bedrooms.’

With Marian on one side and Allan on the other they struggled up the stairs and led the corporal into the first bedroom they came upon.

‘This was Lady Fenton’s room,’ Marian told Allan in a conspiratorial tone.

He nodded. Lady Fenton would certainly suffer a fit of vapours if she knew her bed was to be occupied by a simple soldier.

They sat Reilly upon the mattress.

‘Do not worry, Captain,’ she said with a smile. ‘I changed the linens.’

He laughed, but was stifled by a spasm of pain. He grasped the bedpost.

Her forehead furrowed. ‘Sit, Captain. You have overtaxed yourself.’

He did not protest, lowering himself into a nearby cushioned chair.

She turned to Reilly. ‘Now, Corporal, I am going to unbutton your coat and pull off your boots, and you certainly may lie down, but I must send one of the servants to undress you
and tend your wounds.’ She glanced towards Allan. ‘Your captain will not allow me to do more.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Reilly mumbled.

When she was done, Allan accompanied her below stairs, all the way to the kitchen where she found one of the maids.

‘I will go,
tout de suite
,’ the maid responded, bustling out, looking as eager as Marian to tend their first patient.

‘Now you, Captain,’ Marian said. ‘You must rest.’ She helped him to the manservant’s room where he’d spent the night.

He sat on the bed. His shoulder ached and his legs felt like rubber. She knelt and pulled off his boots, then, placing herself between his legs, reached up to unbutton his coat. What had seemed businesslike and efficient, when performed for Reilly, now was nothing but erotic to his senses. He wanted to press his exhausted body against hers, to savour her softness and her strength.

Instead he touched her hand.

She paused for only a moment. ‘I will help you remove your coat.’ She gave him a look that suggested she knew precisely what he had been feeling. ‘Just your coat and your shirt. I want to check your wound.’

He tried to remain very still while she unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off him. He controlled himself when she lifted his shirt over his head.

She looked beneath his bandage. ‘It looks black and blue. Does it pain you?’

He took her hand in his and held it against his heart. ‘Not so much now.’ His nostrils filled with her rose scent; he savoured her nearness.

He leaned forwards and touched his lips to hers. The kiss grew in intensity. Her arms encircled his neck and she pressed herself against him, powerfully arousing him.

And forcing himself to his senses. ‘Enough, Marian.’

She blinked and her cheeks flushed pink.

He averted his gaze. ‘I have crossed the bounds of propriety again.’

Her smile was tight. ‘Calling me by my given name is hardly a serious breach of propriety.’

His gaze touched hers. ‘You know what I mean.’

She whispered, ‘I like it…you calling me Marian, that is.’

He touched her cheek and desire grew in her expressive eyes. Now he had aroused her. The idea both thrilled him and made him angry at himself.

He turned away. ‘Go now,’ he said in a harsh voice.

She hurried out.

Marian ran all the way up the stairs to the hallway, grabbing the linens she’d dropped earlier. She busied herself with making beds, anything to keep her from dwelling upon her body’s reaction to the captain.

She feared she’d go mad thinking about him and re-experiencing her body’s reaction to him, an aching that was both pleasurable and terribly unsettling.

The Fentons had labelled her lost to all propriety. They were correct. Her reaction to the captain was proof.

She could not be ashamed of it, though, nor was she ashamed of her efforts to help the soldiers. Both seemed right, as if destiny had decreed she act in such a manner.

It mattered only that the captain again regretted her wanton response to him. Had his voice not been harsh after she ground herself against him, after she had almost induced him to lay with her again?

More wounded soldiers arrived and soon she was busy directing where each should sleep, what each needed in order to be comfortable, who was most in need of care. The most severely injured received beds, and the others cots on the floor or a sofa. Eleven men came to them and they filled every
room, fed them all and, thanks to some old trunks in the attic, made certain all had clean nightclothes to wear while their clothing was laundered and mended.

The captain slept through all this activity. Marian checked on him whenever she could, fearful the exertions of the day might bring back his fever, but his forehead was always cool to her touch. He was merely exhausted.

When night fell and everyone had gone to their beds, Marian made her way to the kitchen. It was quiet and peaceful as she fixed herself a pot of tea by the light of the embers in the oven and a single candle. As she waited for the tea to steep she lay her head down on the table, feeling a satisfied weariness. ‘Marian?’

She glanced up. The captain was framed in the doorway.

‘You are awake.’ She tried not to sound as tired as she felt. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’

‘Not at all.’ He strolled in and took a seat in the chair opposite her at the bare wooden table. ‘Very rested, however.’ He smiled, and it felt like butterflies were set free inside her.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.

His smile widened. ‘Starving.’

She rose and found some cold meat and cheese for him to eat. She poured him a cup of tea.

He took an eager bite of the cheese. She enjoyed watching him eat, so ordinary and comfortable an event, so unlike the anxious times they’d spent together.

‘How did you fare while I slept the day away?’ he asked between bites.

She smiled proudly. ‘We have eleven more patients.’

As he ate, she told him all they’d done that day to make the men comfortable.

‘I did not dress wounds,’ she added, pouring him more tea.

He nodded in approval and sipped from his cup. ‘It must be very late. Why are you in the kitchen?’

‘After midnight?’ She yawned. ‘Cook has given me her room. She will sleep on the sofa in the drawing room so she will hear the soldiers if they need her. The maids are on the third floor.’

‘And we are on this level,’ he said, his warm eyes resting on her like a caress.

Her heart skipped. ‘Yes.’

He stared down into his tea. ‘I owe you an apology.’

She felt a pang of disappointment at losing that warm gaze. ‘For what?’

His eyes lifted. ‘When I walked to the Place Royale, there were wounded soldiers everywhere. You were right. How could we not help them?’

She smiled. He’d said
we
.

He went on. ‘I was not able to enquire for your cousin. There was no opportunity.’

‘Later, then.’ She hoped Edwin was alive, but what if he wanted her to leave Brussels now, when so much needed to be done?

Marian gazed at Captain Landon through her lashes.

She did not wish to leave. She was precisely where she wanted to be at the moment.

As he finished his meal and she, her tea, they chatted about practical things. Supplies they needed. How to feed all the men. How the tasks should be divided.

He walked her to the cook’s room, and carried the candle inside to light the one next to her bed. She stayed near the door, fearful that her wantonness would overtake her again. As he passed her to leave, he stopped and stared down at her.

Marian felt a spiral of sensation twirl through her. With his free hand he tilted her face to his and touched his lips to
hers. She seized the cloth of his shirt and clenched it in her fists, her body meeting his as if she had no control.

He stepped away. ‘Goodnight, Marian.’

And was gone.

T
he next few days formed a routine that almost gave Allan an incongruous sense of peace. Marian, the cook and the maids were kept busy seeing every man was well tended and well fed. One of the maids, a widow who’d borne and reared many children, proved very skilled at tending the men’s wounds. The other maid learned fast. Cook was kept busy feeding them all.

Marian did whatever else was needed, and, like the colonel of the regiment, she kept everyone organised and on task.

If Marian was the colonel, Allan was the quartermaster. He made certain they had all necessary supplies, going out each day to procure something with Marian’s seemingly unlimited funds. It was a good task for him, helping him regain his strength and his stamina.

He’d been able to access some of his pay and immediately sent for Valour to be stabled nearby. He’d just visited the stable to make certain the horse was properly tended, and had purchased a bag of flour for Cook. He placed it on the table for her.

‘Merci, Capitaine,’
Cook said, clapping her hands in appreciation.

He asked,
‘Où est Madamoiselle Pallant?’
Marian would want to know Valour had arrived safely.

‘Votre chambre,’
Cook replied.

His room? He hurried down the corridor and found her seated on the bed, a large piece of paper in one hand and a feather duster in the other. Her expression was distressed.

He forgot about Valour. ‘What is it?’

She blinked up at him. ‘A list of the casualties from the battle. I found it under the bed.’

Where he had tossed it after reading it. Too many good men were dead. Too many maimed. Some survived at least. Gabe, for one. Allan was grateful Gabe had survived.

‘Domina’s betrothed is listed.’ Her voice wobbled.

They had not discussed the man for whom her friend had convinced her to run off to a battlefield. In fact, they had discussed nothing about the battle at all. Waterloo had sometimes seemed more like a former nightmare than a memory.

‘Was he killed?’ he asked.

She looked down at the piece of paper and nodded. ‘Domina told me so that first night, but it seems real to see his name on a list.’

Perhaps that explained the Fentons’ quick departure from Brussels. It made him slightly more sympathetic towards them.

‘I remember some of the others listed as well.’ Her voice went up a pitch as if she were battling emotion. ‘We attended many of the same social events.’

‘I am sorry for them.’ He was sorry any of them were lost.

She turned the list over. ‘At least Edwin is not listed.’

Allan felt a twinge of guilt. ‘I never asked about him for you.’ Possibly because he did not want Edwin near her.

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘I confess to having forgotten about him as well. I hope this means he is unharmed.’ She
looked down at the piece of paper again. ‘It lists my guardian as missing.’

Allan had never searched the list for Tranville’s name. ‘Missing?’ Perhaps his body was never found. It happened sometimes. ‘This list was printed soon after the battle. It may not be accurate.’

She dropped the paper on to the bed. ‘I should not have read it. It brings back how horrible it all was.’

He sat next to her and put his arms around her. ‘Let us hope Waterloo was the last big battle.’

She pressed her face against his chest and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her on to his lap and tasting her lips once again. He just held her close, trying to content himself with as much.

She pulled away. ‘Enough feeling sorry for myself.’

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. ‘Would you like for me to enquire about your cousin today? I can go out again.’

She gently touched his wounded shoulder. ‘You have already been out today. You mustn’t do too much.’

He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I am feeling rather fit.’

She sighed. ‘I would like to know if Edwin is in Brussels. I just do not want him to take me away before our soldiers are well.’

‘Then we will not allow him to do so.’ He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb.

Her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly, pulling him towards her.

He caught himself. ‘I’ll go directly.’

Without another word or another glance back at her, he walked out of the room and back outdoors, making his way to the Place Royale.

He had walked too fast across the Parc of Brussels and was winded by the time he entered the regimental offices.

‘Are you fit to rejoin the regiment?’ the officer in charge asked him.

If he became winded by a walk through the streets of Brussels, he doubted he would be able to join a march. ‘Not as yet.’ Besides, he did not wish to leave Brussels yet.

The man eyed him sceptically.

‘I am looking for one of the Royal Scots’ officers,’ Allan told him.

The man looked down at his papers. ‘Who?’

‘Captain Edwin Tranville.’

The officer’s brows rose. ‘The General’s son? Why?’

‘I enquire for a friend.’ That was as much as he wished to explain. ‘Is he in Brussels?’

The man laughed. ‘Search the taverns. You will find him.’

Allan frowned. ‘Where is he staying?’

He jabbed his finger on a stack of papers. ‘I will have to go through this whole pile before finding that answer. Just search the taverns. It will be faster.’

Allan started with taverns nearest the Place Royale. The officer was correct. He found Edwin in the third place he entered, a nearby inn.

‘Oh, Lawd.’ Edwin looked up as Allan approached the table where he sat alone. ‘I heard you were dead.’

Allan’s greeting was just as friendly. ‘I, on the other hand, knew you would make it through without a scratch. Tell me, where did you go after we were dispatched with that first message?’

Edwin smirked. ‘My horse went lame. I had no choice but to withdraw to the rear.’

It was one of Edwin’s typical excuses and they both knew it.

Edwin waved his hand. ‘Well, sit down. It hurts my neck to look up at you.’ His words were slurred. ‘Have some beer. Belgian beer.’ He laughed and rubbed the scar on his face, the one he’d received at Badajoz. ‘It is not half bad.’

Allan sat, but ordered nothing. ‘I have been searching for you.’

Edwin put his tankard down with a loud clap. His jaw dropped. ‘Gawd. Do not tell me my father sent you.’

Allan straightened. ‘Your father?’

Edwin took another swig. ‘Just like him to send you, all
sober
and everything.’

‘But—your father was killed in the battle.’ He gripped the edge of the table.

Edwin lifted the tankard again and his voice echoed. ‘Not killed. Wounded. What do they say?
Fallen in battle.
’ He gulped down more beer. ‘Seems he was picked up again. Literally. He’s rusticating at the Hôtel de Flandres under the care of his loving mistress, a woman I despise, by the way. Her son, whom I also despise, was the big hero. Carried my father off the battlefield. Curse him! He’s been a thorn in my side since we were boys. Probably did it to keep me from inheriting.’

Allan could not believe his ears. ‘Your father is alive and in Brussels?’

‘I believe I just said that.’ He wagged a finger at Allan. ‘Perhaps you are not as sober as I thought.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘You require details?’ Edwin rolled his eyes. ‘He was struck down from his horse, his leg broken from a musket ball. He was quickly covered over, under other bodies, I suppose. Why that damned fellow went looking for him is beyond me.’

Allan glared at him. ‘You were disappointed he did not die?’

Edwin laughed and touched his scar again. ‘Oh, I did not wish my father dead, I assure you. I merely dislike seeing him in the clutches of that woman and her son. She’ll squeeze more money out of him, you mark my words.’

Edwin Tranville sickened him. He’d be damned if he told this drunken coward about Marian now.

There was no need. His father, her guardian, was alive.

Allan stood. ‘Are you also staying at the Hôtel de Flandres? In case I need to find you again.’

Edwin pointed to the ceiling. ‘I have a room in this very inn. Handy, I admit.’

Allan had enough. He gave Edwin a curt nod, before striding away.

Edwin’s voice followed him. ‘Wait! You did not tell me why you were looking for me!’

Allan left the inn and made his way across the Parc.

General Tranville was alive? This changed everything. He might be able to avoid informing Edwin of Marian’s presence in Brussels, but he could not hide it from her guardian.

General Tranville was legally responsible for Marian’s welfare. Most importantly, he could provide the protection Marian needed. Tranville could prevent any damage to her reputation.

The longer Allan remained under the same roof with her, the closer he came to completely compromising her. And even if he kept his hands off her, each day she risked it becoming known by some member of society that she was living unprotected in a household of men.

This might be her only opportunity to erase any harm their time together could cost her.

Even though it meant leaving her in the care of a man Allan despised.

The more Marian thought about it, the more she decided that Edwin had probably already left for England. It had been over two weeks since the battle. Certainly he would have tied up his army affairs in that time.

She was glad. If she were required to travel to England with him, it would stop her from seeing her soldiers recovered.

And would part her from the captain.

Their parting was inevitable, though. He grew stronger every day. Soon he would be required to return to his regiment. She dreaded the thought of it.

She climbed the stairway to the upper floors and knocked upon Corporal Reilly’s bedroom door.

‘Come in,’ he responded.

He sat by the window in a patch of sunlight, his arm bandaged and in a sling.

‘How good to see you up, Corporal.’ She smiled at him.

He struggled to his feet. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Pallant.’

She gestured for him to sit. ‘I’ve come with fresh linens.’

He lowered himself in the chair again, a frown on his face. ‘Doesn’t seem fitting for a lady such as yourself to be making beds.’

She pulled off the old linens. ‘Now you are sounding like Captain Landon.’

Reilly grinned. ‘He is a stickler for what’s proper.’

She laughed. ‘Indeed.’

He sobered again. ‘He is a good ’un, though. Brave as they come.’

She covered the mattress with a clean sheet and thought of him carrying a soldier out of the burning château and covering her with his body after he was shot. ‘Indeed,’ she repeated more softly.

‘I’ve known him since he was a green lad. Didn’t know the first thing about being an officer. He learned quick, though. Has lots of pluck, that one.’

She tucked in the corners of the sheet.

Reilly went on, ‘I remember when General Tranville ordered Landon and Captain Deane into Badajoz during the pillaging. His son was lost and the general thought he’d gone into the town.’ He paused and so did she. ‘Any road, a sane man would have removed himself from Tranville’s sight for a couple hours rather than enter those streets. Soldiers were deranged in there.’ He shook his head. ‘But, no, before you know it, here comes Captain Landon, carrying the general’s son over his shoulder.’

She finished smoothing the blankets. ‘That is quite a story.’
One the captain had never told her. She patted the bed. ‘There. Clean linens. Is there anything else you need?’

He stood and bowed his head. ‘I’m pampered enough. I thank you, Miss Pallant.’

Marian walked out of the room.

The captain had rescued her cousin? Another brave and wonderful thing to add to a list of many. Filled with pride for him, she hummed as she walked down the stairs. When she reached the hall, the front door opened.

The captain walked in.

Marian felt her whole body come alive. ‘Captain!’

His gaze rose to her. His expression was grim.

‘What is it?’ She turned cold. ‘Is it Edwin?’ Do not say her last blood relative was dead.

‘Where can we talk?’ Even his tone was grim.

She could think of nowhere to be private but his bed chamber. When they entered the room, he signalled her to sit and he closed the door.

Her heart raced painfully. ‘Tell me, please, Captain, is Edwin dead?’

He raised his hand as if to stop her. ‘He is unharmed, do not fear. He is here in Brussels. I spoke to him.’

‘Thank God.’ She pressed her hand against her chest. ‘I was so frightened.’

‘That is not what I must tell you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What then?’

‘Listen to me.’ He swallowed. ‘Your uncle. He is alive. He wasn’t lost, Marian. He is alive.’

‘Uncle Tranville?’ Her heart started racing again.

He paced in front of her. ‘He was found alive and carried off the battlefield after the battle was over.’ He frowned. ‘I do not know all the details. Someone known to him carried him out. He broke a leg.’ He waved a hand as if these details were of no consequence. ‘He is here in Brussels, recuperating.’

‘In Brussels?’ Marian’s mind whirled.

She must be glad his life was spared, mustn’t she? Even if
she had no familial affection for him. She just did not want him here. She wanted nothing to interfere with her caring for her soldiers.

But, then, how likely was it that Uncle Tranville would trouble himself over her?

‘Perhaps you could call upon him,’ she said to the captain. ‘I should like to know if he is recuperating well or if he is in need of anything I could provide.’

His pacing ceased. ‘
You
must call upon him, Marian.’

‘I do not want him to know I am here.’

His brows rose. ‘He is your guardian. He must know you are here. He is responsible for you.’

She stood. ‘He cares nothing for me. For my aunt’s sake, I would like to know if he needs my help, but otherwise I prefer to have nothing to do with him.’

He gave her an even look. ‘He is
legally
responsible for you.’