"Let me have that." Diccon sprang toward her as she
pushed through the door, took the kettle out of her hands, and hefted it onto
the
table.
"My thanks, Diccon." She smiled and looked around
the room. "May I serve you, gen
tl
e
m
en?" To her relief, she could feel that her smile
was natural, her voice easy, h
er
hand steady
as she picked up the ladle.
"Colonel?" She looked at him for the first time,
eyebrow
raised. "Do you care for
soup?"
"Thank you
,
"
he said coldly. She forced herself to keep smiling, to ignore the ice in his
eyes, the waves of anger radiating almost palpably from the rigidly held body.
The atmosphere in the room was distinctly strained, hardly surprising with the
colonel in this mood, Ginny reflected dourly, and after the grim business of
this
evening. She wondered if anyone but herself and Alex
knew of her earlier victory and were thus able to attribute the colonel's wrath
to the correct cause. It would be unlikely, she decided. Alex was not a man to
broadcast his defeats.
Having served the men, she filled the last bowl for herself
and was about to sit down in her usual place when Alex said in an
expressionless tone, "I have matters to discuss with my officers, Mistress
Courtney. You will not object, I trust, to dining in your chamber."
"On the contrary, sir," Ginny said, hiding her
mortified hurt at this snub behind an expression of cold dignity. "I find
that I prefer my own company." Picking up her bowl and spoon, she marched
out of the room, leaving the door open. It was closed behind her with a firm,
excluding bang. Under her breath, Ginny consigned Colonel Alexander Marshall to
the fiery depths of Lucifer's kingdom. Her abrupt dismissal had been
deliberately designed to humiliate her, she was under no illusions on that
score. Not for one minute did she believe that he had business to discuss; he
had been talking with his officers all afternoon. It had simply been Alex's way
of reminding her that he could make life very uncomfortable for her if he chose
to do so. Well, she was not going to eat in lonely isolation upstairs. Ginny
went into the kitchen.
"My presence is not required in the parlor this
evening," she informed the goodwife. "May I sup with you?"
"By all means." Goodwife Brown gestured to one of
the girls to move up and make room for Ginny on the bench. "But I formed
the impression that the colonel didn't want you in here."
“
His
wishes are a matter of supreme indifference to me,"
Gin
ny responded airily, taking a deep draft of October
ale as the communal cup passed to her. Goodwife Brown smiled
lig
htly but made no further comment.
The meal passed in cheerful talk and laughter, and Ginny beg
an
to feel much restored. It was certainly less of a
strain
eat
ing in this company than in the
presence of her captors, however flattering the attention paid her. And she had
been dreading this evening's meal, dreading the knowing looks,
the
silent accusations, the awkwardness as they tried to
avoid
the
one topic uppermost in all their
minds.
She did not offer to help as the lamb and potatoes were taken
into the parlor, feeling prudently that discretion in th
is
instance was probably the better part of valor and she
would do better not to draw attention to herself. There was no knowing what
further embarrassment Alex, in his present
m
ood,
would decide to inflict upon her, should he conclude that she was disobeying
some order. Soon the food and the ale produced an inevitable lassitude a
s
the strains of the day look their toll. One of the
stablehands began to sing, a riotous folk song that they all joined in and
Ginny
’s
head nodded as her eyelids drooped,
and she smiled i
n
sleepy contentment. War seemed far
away at this moment i
n
the warm kitchen amongst
these friendly souls. She coul
d
almost have
been back in her father's house, taking part i
n
kitchen life as she had so often done . . .
It was thus that Alex found her, still sitting on the bench,
her head pillowed on her arms, a
dreamy smile curving her lips in sleep. He had wanted to hold onto his anger,
the bitter anger at the defeat he had suffered at the hands of this
ridiculously young, outrageously insolent creature who di
d
not seem to understand the power he held over her very
life
,
or who, if she did understand it, simply
ignored it. Now that anger faded, replaced with a much milder exasperation. Why
had she not had the sense to got to bed? They would need to make a dawn start
in the morning,
their
rest the previous night had been
disturbed, wonderfully so, but fatiguin
g
nonetheless,
and her experience of the afternoon would have decimated a lesser woman.
He touched her shoulder. "Ginny, you silly girl, wake
up."
"You'll be lucky," the goodwife said. "Beggin'
your pardon, Colonel, but she's dead to the world, poor child. It's been a long
and exhausting day."
"I am aware of that, goodwife," Alex replied
stiffly. "She should have gone to bed long since." Slipping an arm
beneath her shoulders, he lifted her to her feet. Her eyelids flickered, but
apart from that there was no response from the inert figure sagging against
him. With a resigned sigh, Alex picked her up in his arms. Almost deliberately,
it seemed to him, a contented
little
whisper
came from her lips, and she cuddled against his chest. Goodwife Brown smiled
knowingly. She had thought there was rather more to the colonel and his
prisoner than met the eye. But the girl was a genuine enough Cavalier for all
that. Just another tangle brought about by this war. With an accepting shrug,
she went to open the door for the colonel and his burden.
Alex carried Ginny upstairs and laid her down upon her bed,
before beginning to undress her. Something penetrated Ginny's deep sleep, the
feel of his hands on her, and she wriggled, seductive even in her semiconscious
state.
"Stop it!" Alex directed shakily. He was having
enough difficulty being objective about this task without blatant invitations,
particularly when she didn't really know what she was doing.
Ginny smiled, a smile of pure mischief, although her eyes
remained shut and he could have sworn she was at least two-thirds asleep.
"Don't you ever again argue with me when I tell you to go to bed," he
said vigorously, holding her against his shoulder as he dropped her nightgown
over her head. "You have just demonstrated that you are totally incapable
of making such simple decisions for yourself. Where are your arms, for heaven's
sake?"
Obligingly, Ginny waved her limbs around under the folds of
linen, and, with a muttered oath, her unusual and reluctant maid thrust them into
the sleeves. "October ale," Ginny mumbled, in apologetic explanation.
"Very good, but very strong."
"Dear God! Don't you know better than to drink that
stuff when you're tired?"
"Nothing else to drink
,
" she said, dropping her head onto his chest. "Wine was in the
parlor."
"I see
,
" he said
grimly. "So
this
condition you're in is my fa
ul
t. I assume you misheard me. I didn't tell you to eat
in
the
kitchen; I told you to eat up
here."
"Don't do as I'm told," she mumbled, falling back
on the bed. "Not unless it makes sense."
"I have noticed," he responded drily. "I can
see that in future I am going to have to try very hard to ensure that we see
eye to eye in matters that require your cooperation. What are you doing
now?"
"Hair," Ginny muttered, struggling to sit up.
"Have to brush it."
"Keep still and let me do it." Sitting on the bed
behind her, he drew her backward against his chest, before unpinning the
chestnut braids and brushing her hair with long, smooth strokes. Ginny sighed
with pleasure, and her eyes closed again under the soporific rhythm
.
But when he laid her down again upon the bed, she
reached her arms around his neck, and there was nothing sleepy about her voice
this time.
"Stay with me, Alex."
He shook his head. "Not tonight, sweeting. We both need
to sleep."
"A man of such iron self-control," she said with
faint mockery. "So disciplined,
so—"
"It would be as well for all of us if you had a little
of that quality yourself," Alex interrupted smartly, getting to his feet.
"Are we friends again?" Ginny asked, still sounding
wide-awake with no sign of October ale befuddlement.
Alex pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering the question
as he stood looking down at her, hands planted firmly on his hips. Only when he
saw a hint of anxiety creep into the gray eyes did he break his silence.
"Until the next confrontation we are, my lover and my enemy. But if you
value our friendship, you will not, however absentmindedly, venture near the
men's quarters again."
"
I
would not be harmed a second time," she stated flatly, wondering if this
was the moment to tell him of what she had done.
"That is no longer the point." His face had closed
again. "Two men suffered this afternoon because of you, and as a result,
the entire brigade suffered. You will keep well away from them at all times, is
that clear?"
No, obviously this was not the moment to tell him what she
had done and what she intended doing. "It is quite clear," Ginny said
truthfully, closing her eyes to hide a betraying spark. She yawned. "You
are right, it is late, Colonel, and I am very weary."
"I do not wish to quarrel with you." Alex bent over
her, brushing her lips with his, stroking her hair away from her forehead.
"Can we try to be a little easier on each other?"
"We can try," she said softly, "but the situation
does not lend itself to peace. Except when we make love, we are at war, you and
I."
Alex frowned, straightening slowly. "Then so be it. I
give you good-night, my
little
rebel."
"Good-night, my captor." The door closed behind
him. Ginny curled on her side. "Then so be it," she whispered into
her pillow.
Chapter 10
It was still dark when Ginny awoke, but sounds of bustle came
from all around her. Voices in the stableyard drifted in through the open
window, feet clattered along the stone corridors of the inn. She got up,
dressed swiftly, and went downstairs.
"Good morrow, Ginny." Alex came out of a
first-floor chamber, impressive in full armor. A quick glance around reassuring
him that there was no one in sight, he took her chin between gloved fingers and
kissed her hard. "I am going to drill the brigade on the green," he
said. "I want you there
.
"
"Is that an order or a request?" Ginny inquired in
dulcet accents.
"Neither
,
" Alex
responded. "It is simply a statement. It is too early in the morning for
your bee-sting tongue, mistress. I should be much obliged if you would dip it
in honey; you will find honeycomb on the breakfast table." Laughing, he
strode off, and Ginny made her way to the parlor in search of the promised
sweetener. The colonel was obviously in a good mood this morning, a fact that
would communicate itself to all and sundry, she reflected wryly. It seemed more
than a
little
inequitable that one man's moods had
the power to set the tenor of an entire brigade. Such power, she decided
through a mouthful of honeycomb, was not at all good for the character,
either. It was amazing that the colonel was even tolerable much of the time.
"Ginny, are you ready?" Diccon appeared, also very
smart in full regalia. "I'm to escort you to the green."
Ginny drained her cup of milk and wiped her mouth on the back
of her hand before hastily buttering a slice of bread. "Would it be
considered disrespectful to this martial ritual, if I were to bring my
breakfast?"
Diccon looked nonplussed. "I don't know," he said.
"It's not usual."
"No, I do not suppose it is." Ginny laughed and
went to the door, bread and butter in hand. "But since I have not yet
finished my breakfast, and we cannot afford to be late and earn the colonel's
mighty frown, mere seems little option."
"I do not know how you dare to say such things,"
Diccon confided, hurrying along beside her.
"Oh, pah!" Ginny waved her bread and butter in
careless dismissal of this statement. "He is only a man —
a
powerful one, I grant you, but he's no divinity,
Diccon." The aide-decamp did not look totally convinced of this, and Ginny
smiled to herself. Diccon's doglike devotion to his commander had not escaped
her notice.