The Soldier's Rebel Lover. Marguerite Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ what we’ll talk. Only indulge me with a few hours of your company, and grant me the pleasure of looking on your bonny face, for it will be a while, I reckon, until I get the chance to do either again.’

      His smile was beguiling. The look he gave her neither contrite nor beseeching, but—charming? He was not a man accustomed to being refused. On principle, she should refuse, but she was rather sick of principles, and what, after all, was the harm in allowing herself to be charmed for such a very short while?

      Isabella permitted herself to smile back. ‘I do not think a man like you has any trouble at all in finding female company.’

      He laughed again, showing her a set of very white teeth, shifting on the ground, giving her a brief, shockingly tantalising glance of a muscled thigh as he did so. ‘The trouble is, I’m a bit fussy about the female company I choose,’ he said. ‘I prefer to get to know a woman before I—before— What I mean is, I’ve a taste for conversation that I’ve not recently been able to indulge. Now, that makes me sound like I’m right up my own ar— I mean, like a right fop, and I’m not that.’

      Isabella chuckled. ‘I am not exactly sure what this fop is, but I am very sure it is not a label that fits you.’

      ‘What I mean is, I like the company of women for their own sake.’

      ‘And I think that women like the company of Major Urk—of Finlay.’

      ‘Right now there’s only one woman’s company I’m interested in. Will you stay a few hours, Isabella?’

      Why not? Her father would cover for her absence if necessary, but likely she’d be back in her bed before anyone noticed it had not been slept in. What harm could it do to indulge this man with a few hours’ conversation? The fact that he had a beguiling smile and a handsome face and a very fine pair of legs had nothing to do with it. ‘Why not?’

      He smiled. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself, then. Are you from these parts?’

      ‘Hermoso Romero. It’s not far from here. We have— My family has some land.’

      ‘So they’re farmers, peasant stock as you call it, just like mine?’

      ‘They live off the land, yes.’

      ‘And it’s just you and your parents you say, for your brother’s in the army?’

      ‘Just me and my father. My mother is dead.’

      ‘Oh, yes, you mentioned that. I’m sorry.’

      ‘Thank you, but I never knew her. She died when I was very young.’

      ‘Then, I’m very sorry for you indeed. A lassie needs her mother, especially if she’s not got a sister.’

      ‘I cannot miss what I have not had,’ Isabella said stiffly.

      Finlay opened his mouth to say something, thought the better of it, and shrugged, reaching over to pull his saddlebag towards him. ‘Would you like something to eat? I’m hungry enough to eat a scabby-headed wean.’

      ‘A— What did you say?’

      ‘I said I’m very hungry. This is all I have, I’m afraid,’ he said, passing her a handful of dry biscuits. ‘It tastes better washed down with this, though,’ he added, holding out a small silver flask. ‘Whisky, from my father’s own still. Try it.’

      She sipped, then coughed as the fiery spirit caught the back of her throat. ‘Thank you,’ she said, returning the flask and wrinkling her nose, ‘I think I will stick to water.’

      ‘It is an acquired taste, right enough,’ Finlay said, putting the cap back on after taking, she noticed, only a very small sip himself. ‘Tell me a bit more about yourself. For example, how does it happen that such a bonny lass is not married?’

      ‘How does it happen that such a—bonny?—man is not married?’

      Finlay laughed. ‘No, no, you don’t describe a man as bonny, unless you wish to impugn him. I’m not married because I’m a soldier, and being a soldier’s wife is no life worth having. Since I am a career soldier, my single status is assured. Now I have explained myself. What about you?’

      Isabella shrugged. ‘While my country is at war and under occupation, I cannot think of anything else.’

      ‘Aye, I can understand that. It’s hard to imagine what peace will look like after all this time.’ Finlay pulled a blanket from his saddle and offered it to her. ‘Here, it’s getting mighty cold.’

      ‘I do not need...’

      ‘For the love of— Come here, will you, and we’ll share it, then.’ Taking her by surprise, he pulled her towards him, throwing the blanket around them. He grabbed her arm as she tried to struggle free, and slid his own across her shoulders. ‘I’d do the same for one of my own men if I had to,’ he said.

      ‘I don’t believe you.’

      ‘It’s a sacrifice I’d be prepared to make—I hope. Luckily I’ve never had to put myself to the test.’

      She felt the rumble of his laugher, and the warm puff of his breath on her hair. She had not noticed how cold it had become until he put the blanket around her. It would be churlish to push him away now, and a little silly, for then she would have to walk in the morning with stiff, cold limbs. She did not relax, but she no longer struggled, and allowed herself to lean back against the tree trunk. ‘Tell me more about Scotland,’ she said. ‘Is it very different from Spain?’

      ‘Very. For a start, there’s the rain. The sky and the sea are more often grey than blue. Mind, all that rain makes for a green landscape. I think that’s what I miss the most, the lush greenery that carpets the valleys and hills.’

      ‘We have a lot of rain here in the north, in the winter.’

      ‘Aye, but in Scotland, on the west coast, it rains most days in the summer, too. Are you sleepy? Should I stop babbling?’

      Isabella smothered a yawn. ‘No, if you mean should you stop talking. Tell me what other countries you have visited as a soldier.’

      ‘Many campaigns. Egypt. Portugal. France. Ireland. America.’

      ‘You are so lucky, I have never been out of Spain.’

      ‘I’m not sure that you see the best of a country when you go there to fight.’

      ‘No, but—tell me please. Describe what America is like. Is it the wild, untamed wilderness that I have heard tell of?’

      ‘Once you leave the east coast, yes. And vast. A man could lose himself there.’

      ‘Or find himself?’

      * * *

      Finlay was still musing on that thought when Isabella wriggled around under the blanket to look up at him. He tensed, willing his body not to respond to the supple curves of her. Her hair tickled his chin. He was inordinately grateful for the thick layers of clothing between them, and tried discreetly to shift his thigh away from hers. Concentrating his mind on answering her questions, СКАЧАТЬ