The Soldier's Rebel Lover. Marguerite Kaye
‘Yes,’ Isabella said again, though with less certainty.
‘Provided that it doesn’t go back to exactly how it was before, eh?’ Finlay said, as if he had read her mind. ‘Now that you’ve had a wee—a small taste of freedom?’
‘Yes.’ Isabella smiled. ‘A wee taste of freedom,’ she repeated carefully. ‘And you, too, you will be able to go back to your father’s farm in Scotland, and see all your loved ones. You will like that?’
‘I will look forward to it,’ he said, after a moment, sounding, to her surprise, as hesitant as she had.
‘You do not wish to see your family?’
‘Oh, aye, only I don’t—ach, no point in talking about that. The war’s not over yet. Once we’ve kicked the French out of Spain, we’ll like as not have to chase them across France for a while. Which leads me back to that cache of arms.’ He sat up, pushing his hair back from his forehead. ‘Look, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but these are unusual circumstances we find ourselves in. We can’t allow the French to turn those guns on either of us, and I can make sure that they don’t. Have I your assurance that the local rebel forces won’t interfere and queer the pitch?’
‘I don’t know what that means, but regardless, I think it would be much better to leave it in our hands,’ Isabella said firmly. ‘We will put the arms to good use, and—and it would be excellent for morale and quite a coup if we were successful.’
Finlay pressed his fingertips together, frowning down at his hands. ‘I’ll be frank with you. I would quite happily agree to what you suggest if I could only be sure that the mission would be successfully accomplished. You understand, much as I’d like to, I can’t just simply take your word for it.’
She bit back her instinctive retort, frowning now herself. ‘If I told you that the information I have gathered tonight would go direct to El Fantasma, would that be enough to convince you?’
‘You know El Fantasma?’
Isabella nodded.
Finlay looked unconvinced. ‘He is like his name, a ghost. Everyone has heard of him, nobody knows him.’
‘I do,’ she said firmly. ‘At least, I know how to get in touch with him.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘I cannot. I can only give you my word.’ She spoke proudly, held his gaze without blinking and was rewarded, finally, with a small nod of affirmation.
‘You have three days to act. If I don’t receive word that you have been successful by then, I’ll send my own men in to finish the job.’
‘Thank you. You can be sure that word will be sent to you before the three days are up.’
He took the hand she held out, enveloping it in his own. ‘You don’t ask where to send word.’
With a smile of satisfaction, she told him exactly where his men were encamped. ‘One of our men will find you.’
‘I’m beginning to think they will.’ He still had her hand in hers, but instead of shaking it as she had seen Englishmen do, he once again bent his head and brushed her fingertips with his lips. ‘We have an agreement, then,’ he said.
Once again, the touch of his lips on her skin gave her shivers. Isabella snatched her hand away. ‘We have indeed,’ she said quickly.
She had what she wanted; she was free to leave. Reluctantly, she made to get to her feet, but the Scotsman’s hand on her arm stopped her. ‘Stay until it’s light, won’t you? It’s not safe for me to leave before then. Unlike you, I don’t know the terrain. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve had the company of a woman. It would be good to talk of something other than guns and field positions.’
‘You think I cannot?’
‘Why in the name of Hades are you so prickly? I’m not one of those men who think women have no mind of their own. If you met my mother, you’d know why.’ He turned to look at her, his gaze disconcertingly direct. ‘As to you women being the weaker sex—if ever I thought that, just seeing what the wives following the drum have to endure would change my mind. They have to be every bit as tough as their menfolk. Tougher, in some cases, when they have bairns with them. Though I’d be lying, mind, if I said I thought it was an appropriate life for them.’
He broke off, giving himself a little shake. ‘Ach, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant at you. If you want to talk guns and tactics, then that’s 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.’