“That is a tragedy of another sort, but I do understand. If I someday hear that my father has died, I would feel nothing because I didn’t know him.” Her voice turned dry. “At least I knew nothing good of him. It’s possible his legitimate children adore him.”
“Equally possible they don’t, since he sounds like an unpleasant fellow.” A thought struck Will. “Would you like to meet other members of your parents’ families? Surely, they aren’t all bigots. Your half brothers and sisters must be around your age, and perhaps you have cousins on your mother’s side. They might like to know you.”
“No!” Athena said sharply. “I don’t need more people who wish I had never been born.” She reached for her hat, which she’d hung on one end of the bench. “I think we’ve had quite enough harrowing questioning for one day. Do you really think there is value to this mutual baring of souls?”
He studied her face, seeing a strong, capable woman who had learned to play the difficult cards life had dealt her. But in her eyes were shadows of the injured child she had been, and that vulnerability called to him powerfully. “Yes, there is value. I feel I know you much better than I did when we stopped here to eat, and I’m glad for that. But I realize you might not feel the same.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m rather afraid to ask.”
She bit her lip as she stared back. “I do know you better, and . . . I think I’m glad of that even if we can never be more than friends.”
He thought of saying that whether they might be more than friends remained to be seen, but he didn’t want her to retreat. Instead, he said, “Surely, friends can hug each other.” He stepped forward and drew here into a gentle embrace.
She stiffened for a moment, then exhaled and relaxed into his arms. She was lean strength and soft, feminine curves, and she fit against him perfectly. “A hug is a very fine thing,” she murmured. “You’re a very good size for hugging.”
“My thoughts exactly. If I were to kiss you, I don’t think I’d have to bend over much at all.” He demonstrated, and her lips were soft and willing under his.
He was not surprised when passion stirred, and he was prepared to tamp it down. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize that Athena would need a gentle wooing. She was rare and special, unlike any woman he’d ever met, and the real surprise was the sense of peace he felt in her arms, as powerful as passion.
Already he was thinking of that forbidden fifth category of marriage. And if it took time to bring her around to his way of thinking—well, he was a patient man. For now it was enough to be holding her.
Eventually she sighed and stepped away. Gently, to indicate that she was not regretting that quiet kiss. “Now what, Major Masterson?”
She used his rank to distance herself, but her hazel eyes were molten gold when Will smiled down into them. “We finish our tour of San Gabriel and return to Castelo Blanco, where we will discuss my suggestions with Princess Sofia. If she agrees . . .”
“She will,” Athena assured him. “She will probably fall on her knees and offer up prayers of thanks.”
“That will
not
be necessary,” he said firmly. “Assuming she agrees, I will write a letter this evening to Justin Ballard in Porto and tell him what we need—and the sooner, the better.” Will laughed, happy with the world and the future. “And then, my dear girl, I will build you a bridge.”
Chapter 11
A
s Athena and Will rode toward the site of the blocked wine storage caves, her tension gradually eased. Their unnervingly intimate discussion made her worried about what he’d ask next. But he’d reverted to his usual calm as he continued his evaluation of what needed to be done.
For a man who was so direct, the major was something of an enigma. Or possibly he was a puzzle that she was reluctantly drawn to solve. His interest in her was flattering, though she still couldn’t imagine a future beyond friendship with him. She might fit with Will, but she doubted his neighbors would take to a wife as odd as she was.
And yet . . . the physical attraction was undeniable. She loved being held by him, loved his kisses, and couldn’t deny that those searching questions had created a sense of closeness. What to do about the attraction and that alarming closeness were the difficult questions.
The road that led to the wine storage caverns ended in a mound of dirt and stone from the landslide Athena and Sofia had created to prevent the French from pillaging the wine vaults. As they reined in their horses, Athena said, “Here we are at the scene of the crime. I’m not sure how much will have to be excavated. Between thirty and forty feet, perhaps? I don’t think it’s an impossible task, but the French didn’t have the time to do it, and after they left, we didn’t have the labor.”
Will studied the sloping mass of rubble. “Does this road run right to the entrance of one of the caverns, so we’ll know where to dig?”
“As I recall, the road goes to the mouth of the smaller cave, then turns to the right and runs along the hill to the larger one, which is about a hundred feet to the right. One of the vintners can confirm that. The vaults are right next to each because the hillside was particularly suitable here, I’m told.”
“This will have to be excavated like a mine shaft.” He frowned. “Getting enough wood to shore the tunnel up will be a challenge. A pity I can’t just blast all this away, but that would cause an even worse landslide.”
“Not to mention the likelihood of destroying the wine.” Athena thought for a moment. “You might be able to find some usable wood higher up in the streams that flow into the river. Branches and sometimes even trees get tangled up there in the winter rains. People collect the usable pieces in the spring, but I don’t think much of that was done this year, so there might be some good wood.”
“Worth investigating. There probably wouldn’t be many long tree trunks that would work for the bridge, but shorter pieces will do for shoring up a tunnel.”
Athena glanced at the sun’s position. “It’s time to head back to the castle.”
Will gathered his reins, but his frowning gaze remained on the landslide. Under his breath, he murmured, “‘By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.’”
The quote from Macbeth made Athena feel as if chilled fingers had touched her nape. “Would you care to expand on that comment, Major?”
He turned to her, his expression sober. “Soldiers who survive long in the field develop a kind of sixth sense about possible danger. Last night we discussed the fact that San Gabriel could be very vulnerable to attack by bands of dispossessed soldiers or guerillas. As we’ve traveled through the valley, that itchy feeling of possible danger has been getting stronger.”
Athena bit her lip, wishing she could believe he was just overcautious, but she couldn’t. Her own instincts had also been twitching. “What do you propose we do?”
“I have some ideas.” He turned his horse and started down the road. “This evening I’d like to have a meeting with you, Princess Maria Sofia, the senior Olivieras plus Gilberto, and my batman, Tom Murphy, to discuss my concerns and see what they have to say. Will that be possible?”
She nodded. “Everyone will be eager to come, particularly Sofia. We all know our situation is difficult. The ideas and help you’re offering are a blessing.”
“Good. It’s Sofia’s country, after all. I’m just passing through with no authority here,” Will said. “Even though she’s too young to take the throne, from what you say, the Gabrileños will listen to her?”
“They will,” Athena assured him. It felt good to be making plans instead of just barely managing to hold the situation together. And Major William Masterson seemed like a man who could get things done.
* * *
Athena set the meeting time for after dinner, and everyone gathered in the family sitting room of the castle. Athena started by saying simply, “Major Masterson has spent the day touring the valley and he has some thoughts about how we might proceed.”
Petite, dark-haired Sofia looked regal as she said, “I’m very anxious to hear any ideas you might have, Major.”
“For the short period of time the French were here, they did a lot of damage,” Will said. “Basic repairs like the main bridge over the river and the gristmills aren’t too complicated if there are the right materials and enough labor. I can order nails and other hardware from Porto.
“Also, Lady Athena says you need vine cuttings and seeds for planting. Those can be ordered, along with some basic food supplies like beans and dried cod to get people through the summer.” He glanced at Señora Oliviera. “I suspect you have the best idea of what is needed in the way of foodstuffs?”
Expression relieved, the older woman said, “I shall write down what is needed. Supplies have, indeed, been scarce.”
“I’d also like to hire several dozen laborers to work at whatever needs doing,” Will said. “Not only for rebuilding but the farm work as well. My friend Justin Ballard in Porto will be able to purchase what is required and hire good men and send them all up here.”
“Of the port shipping family?” Sofia asked. When Will nodded, she said bluntly, “The House of Ballard has a good reputation and we need men and materials, but we have no way to pay for them.”
Will smiled. “I’ll cover the initial costs, then make the British government reimburse me. The government does want to help San Gabriel, and this will be much faster than requisitioning materials through channels.”
Sofia glanced at Athena, who guessed that the princess had made the same deduction Athena had: Will would find it difficult and perhaps impossible to be reimbursed by the British. If the issue was personal, Sofia would have rejected charity, but as a young ruler, she was learning pragmatism. “We would appreciate that very much, Major.”
“Then I’ll draw up a list of what is needed. Sergeant Murphy, you’ll leave for Porto in the morning to deliver the message to Ballard. Then you can stay and escort everything and everyone back.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be back here sooner than you think possible,” Murphy said.
“Let us move on to the ever-popular subject of wine,” Will said. “And other matters agricultural.”
That produced smiles, and a discussion of his proposals to import vine cuttings, reopen the wine caverns, and possibly survey whether the San Gabriel River could be made navigable. Señor Oliviera had vast knowledge of every aspect of San Gabriel, and he participated enthusiastically.
Athena admired how Will ran the meeting, encouraging suggestions, proposing compromises, and quietly building a sense of excitement and possibilities.
After general plans had been agreed upon, Will said gravely, “I have another topic, and this one is military. The valley is vulnerable to roving groups of bandits even more undisciplined than Baudin’s forces were. The situation will be much better when Colonel da Silva returns with the rest of the Gabrileño troops, but I think it would be wise if plans are put into place now to protect people and property and to resist marauders.”
Gilberto frowned. “I talked with several of my men today. Growing up, we all believed San Gabriel to be safe from war in our mountains. Now we know better. If that French pig of a general could attack, so can others. We talked of organizing many small militias, perhaps a dozen or so men who live close to each other. And we could do more with the warning system of the bells.”
“We need to practice our emergency drills,” Sofia said firmly. “The ones that we had helped to save many Gabrileños when Baudin invaded, but more sanctuaries are needed, for not everyone is close to a cave. There are many large-walled homes scattered across the country. They can become refuges in emergencies.”
Señor Oliviera nodded. “We will organize small defense precincts and talk to your caballeros, Gilberto. Drills and plans stave off panic when disaster strikes.”
“How many weapons are available?” Will asked. “The cavalrymen are armed, but more ammunition will be needed.”
“There are blacksmiths in both the town and Santo Espirito who can make musket balls,” Señor Oliviera said. “I shall find how much lead they have.”
After a few more minutes of discussion, Sofia rose to signal the end of the meeting. “You give me great hope, Major Masterson. My thanks for offering us the benefit of your experience.” She inclined her head to Murphy. “Travel safely, Sergeant Murphy, and go with our thanks.” Then she daintily covered a yawn. “And now to bed, where tonight I will have good dreams!”
Most of the group left, talking animatedly. Athena smiled fondly after Sofia. Her little sister of the heart was becoming a queen.
Chapter 12
O
nly Athena and Will remained in the family sitting room. “That went well,” she said. “Most Gabrileños have been numb since the French invasion. All their energy went into surviving and there wasn’t much left for looking ahead. Your offer to bring in workmen and materials has changed that.”
He shrugged. “That helps, but I think much of the energy comes from the young men like Gilberto Oliviera returning home. A few now, many more soon. They are the leaders of the future.”
“There will be marriages and festivals and new babies.” Athena moved to the drinks cabinet and took out a corked bottle and two tumblers. “But for now, would you like some of our brandy-fortified wine?”
“A good way to end a long day.” He accepted the drink and took a sip. “Very nice! San Gabriel wines can hold their own with those of the lower Douro Valley.”
Not ready to go to bed, Athena said, “It’s a clear night. Would you like to go up to the roof and see the stars?”
He gave her a warm smile. “That’s even better than brandy. I’ll take the bottle, since I enjoy looking at the sky.”
Athena collected a shawl that always hung in the family room and a candlestick and led the way to the stairwell that ran up the tallest tower. Several flights of steps up brought them onto the tower’s flat roof. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp, cool air. The moon was only a sliver, so the stars were brilliant in the night sky.
Athena crossed to the gazebo, which by day commanded sweeping views of the mountains and the valley. As she settled on the inside bench, she explained, “The tower is a popular place to enjoy the breeze and the view, so Uncle Carlos built the gazebo. In better days, there were great tubs of flowers here, but this year it didn’t seem like a good use of time and effort.”
“Next summer there will be flowers here again.” Will sat beside her, the bench creaking a little under his weight. “On a clear day, you can probably see almost to Porto.”
“Not that far, but it’s possible to see almost all of San Gabriel. That cluster of lights to the north is Santo Espirito.”
“So peaceful up here.” He glanced at her, his face a pale oval in the night. “Here’s a question for you. You want to return to England, but you seem to feel you won’t fit in well there. How do you envision your ideal living situation?”
“More questions, Will?” she said with amusement. “At least this one is fairly painless. I’d like to live in a London neighborhood inhabited by mad poets and artists and musicians. That way I won’t stand out, except for my height. What about you? Will you be content to rusticate on your Oxfordshire estate? Or will you become a Member of Parliament so you can live part of the year in London?”
He laughed. “I’ll never be an MP, but I will spend some of the year in London. Spring is a good time to catch my friends there. They’re an intelligent lot, so talking with them will prevent me from becoming completely countrified.”
“School friends? Army friends?”
“Both. Plus, my brother spends a good part of his time in London. I look forward to seeing him face-to-face regularly. Letters are not the same.”
“Perhaps I’ll find such friends among the mad poets and artists,” she mused. “And if I meet any of the dreadful girls I went to school with, I’ll give them the cut direct.”
“Or you can say casually that you’ve just returned to England after a lengthy stay with your friend the Princess Maria Sofia del Rosario Alcantara.”
Athena laughed. “I like that idea.” The breeze was cool, so she wrapped her shawl more closely. “I hope Mr. Ballard is swift at collecting the men and materials you requested.”
“He’s very efficient and, from his letters, a little restless, so I’m sure he’ll do well by us,” Will said. “It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been able to visit Justin in Porto. I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”
Athena frowned. “It’s been five years since I’ve been in Porto. Have they repaired the damage from when the French captured the city?”
“They were working on it, but there was still much to be done. I’m sure you heard about the collapse of the bridge of boats that caused the drowning of huge numbers of fugitives from French troops?”
Her mouth twisted. “If I answer this, I must be allowed to use it for a future ‘worst experiences’ question. I didn’t just hear about that day of horrors. I was there.”
“Good God, how did you come to be caught up in that?” Will exclaimed as he turned on the bench to stare at her, his shock visible even in the starlit darkness.
“After Sofia’s mother died, she was sent to a convent school in Porto. She was miserable and begged to be allowed to come home,” Athena explained. “Because Uncle Carlos was worried about her and also about the threat from the French, he wrote and asked me to collect Sofia in Porto and bring her home, then stay on as her tutor and companion until she was of age.”
“I gather you arrived in Porto shortly before the French attack?”
Athena swallowed hard. “My timing was atrocious. When I arrived at the convent, I was invited to stay a few days to tell the students about my travels. Two days after I arrived, the French attacked. One of the devils broke into the convent, which had only a low wall around it. He was drunk and violent and he began shouting for the prettiest nun in the house, since he’d always wanted to have a nun. I . . . I got his rifle away from him and . . . shot him.” She swallowed hard.
“It’s not easy to kill a man.” Will’s warm, strong hand closed over hers comfortingly. “Even if it’s necessary. The sisters were fortunate that you were there.”
“They were gentle souls, so you’re right. I doubt any of them had ever shot a gun, much less a man.” She shivered at the memory. “The sounds of battle were drawing nearer and the house wasn’t secure, so the mother superior decided to evacuate to a sister convent across the river. It was larger and had high walls and would be much safer.”
“Then you reached the bridge over the Douro and found that the Portuguese defenders had destroyed it, and desperate refugees had built a temporary bridge of boats across the river,” Will said soberly.
“There was a huge crowd of people shoving to get onto the bridge. We circled around the girls and the nuns’ habits provided the group some consideration. When our turn came, we made our way very carefully onto the bridge. It was frightening to attempt, swaying and shaking from the river current and so many people trying to cross over. Three times I had to drag someone from the water. The advantage of long arms.” She drew a shuddering breath. “We had almost reached the southern bank when the boats began breaking apart underneath our feet.”
She burrowed under Will’s arm, getting as close as she could. “It was
horrible.
I almost lost the littlest girl, Mariana. When I managed to grab her arm, I almost drowned myself because my soaked clothing was so heavy. Then a Portuguese man grabbed my hand and pulled us both ashore.”
“You were dressed as a nun,” Will said softly. “And by heroic efforts were able to save most or all of those under your protection.”
“All of us survived. I had a great deal of aid from the local men who helped haul us to shore.” She frowned as she realized what he’d said. “How did you know I was dressed as a nun?”
“Because I was there,” Will said grimly. “I’m a good swimmer, so I dived into the river and started pulling people to safety, including you. It was bloody bedamned chaos, with screaming and gunshots from some French soldiers while other Frenchmen joined the rescue efforts.” He drew a deep breath. “I have a vague memory of helping a remarkably tall nun with a rifle out of the water. Then she gathered her charges and disappeared.”
“You were
there
?” she gasped. She’d tried to forget that horrible day, but she remembered some of the men who had helped the girls and the nuns. “You were the one who rescued me and Mariana? I only got a glimpse of your face and you were badly in need of a shave—I never would have recognized you.”
Though now that he’d said he was the man who’d saved her, she recognized that his broad shoulders and powerful build matched those of her rescuer. “I was so frantic to get us all away. I never even said a thank-you.” Her voice was shaking.
“You looked half mad, so I didn’t expect thanks. You immediately started rounding up your girls. I wondered later if you were able to get everyone to safety.”
She closed her eyes and calmed herself as she absorbed the amazing fact that Will had rescued her on the worst day of her life. “We did. When you helped me ashore with Mariana, another couple of men were collecting all the students around the sisters. One yelled for us to get away as quickly as we could. A group of French soldiers were charging toward us.” She winced, remembering. “One was bellowing out vile obscenities about what he liked to do to little girls.”
“I heard,” Will said tersely. “Until someone shot him. I wasted no tears.”
She nodded, swallowing hard so that she could continue speaking. “That’s when you and several other men moved between us and the French. Later I was surprised because none of your group were in uniform, but you acted like soldiers.”
“As it turns out, at least two of us were soldiers, but more about that later. How did you manage to escape safely? I wondered if you’d succeeded, but there was no way to know.” His voice caught. “There were so many horrors that day.”
She was remembering too many of those horrors, yet talking to Will, who had been there, was strangely healing. “We ran as fast as we could away from the river. I was holding Mariana because she was too small to get far on her own, and she was shrieking in my ear and almost strangling me.”
“How far did you have to travel before you were safe?”
“We didn’t get far. Little girls and elderly nuns are not swift of foot, and there were only a handful of young nuns and me to help the others.” She shuddered again. “A French officer appeared in front of us and I thought we were doomed, but he shouted in bad Spanish that we should come to the church just down the street. He had several men with him and they escorted us through the mob to the church. In English, the name would be Our Lady of Perpetual Salvation.”
Will laughed, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. “How very appropriate.”
Athena smiled a little. “When we were inside, the mother superior and several of the other nuns dropped to their knees in front of a statue of the Blessed Mother and prayed their thanks. The French officer was collecting other women and children in the church, and he had some of his men outside as guards. We spent the night there. In the morning when it was quiet, he detailed several men to escort us to the convent we’d been heading for the previous day. It was a long walk, but his men helped carry the littlest girls.”
“A reminder that there are good men everywhere,” Will said. “I’ve met Frenchmen I’d trust much further than some of the Englishmen I know.”
She nodded agreement. “After a couple of days at the convent while we recovered, the mother superior found several reliable men who were willing to take me, Sofia, and Maria Mercedes da Silva to San Gabriel without being paid until we reached here safely.”
“Good of them to do it without money in advance.”
At that, Athena actually laughed. “Sofia showed them her mother’s cross, which she was wearing under her school uniform. It’s gold and set with jewels, very impressive. She said that was proof of her good faith, but if they tried to take it from her by force before we were safe in the Castelo Blanco, her dead mother would curse them all to hell. Our escorts treated us very, very well. Though to be fair, they might have done so even without the threat.”
Will chuckled. “Your princess is a very resourceful young lady.”
“She is a true royal Alcantara.” Athena exhaled roughly. “It was such a relief to reach here safely. I haven’t set foot outside of San Gabriel since.” She bent for the bottle of wine and silently offered to refresh Will’s drink.
He accepted and clinked his tumbler against hers. “To survival against the odds!”
“Amen.” She took a swallow rather than a sip, grateful for the burn of the brandy that fortified the wine. “What about you? How did you manage to escape?”
“I didn’t manage that,” he said dryly. “There was a hand-to-hand battle after you left. Fugitives, French troops, Portuguese soldiers, civilians who were trying to help. Luckily, not a lot of bullets and casualties, but I got bashed on the head and woke up that night locked in a cellar with a firing squad scheduled for dawn.”
Athena’s heart clutched, even though he’d obviously survived. “How did you escape execution?”
“I was locked in with four other men who’d been part of the attempts to block the French advance. A French colonel decided all five of us were English spies, so he imprisoned us in the cellar of the house he’d commandeered as his headquarters and ordered us shot. A nice, simple solution from his point of view.”
“Were you a spy?” she asked. “You were wearing Portuguese dress.”
“‘Spy’ is such a strong word,” Will said mildly. “I considered myself an observer. Since I spoke Portuguese and had visited my friend Ballard in Porto, my commanding officer asked me to go into the city and find out what the situation was. Like you, I had atrocious timing.”
“What about the others? Were they English spies?”
“I have no idea,” Will said reflectively. “Four of us admitted to being British. One was a fellow I’d known at school. The fifth, Duval, said he was a French royalist, but it turns out he’s half English and half French, and he’s the British colonel who sent me to San Gabriel. He was surely spying, but I don’t know what the others were doing in Porto.”
Athena hesitated before succumbing to curiosity. “What does it feel like to know that you’ll be shot in a few hours?”
“That’s an interesting question.” Will frowned. “Going into battle or riding in ambush country, you know you might die in an instant, or perhaps be mortally wounded and die in agony. Fear is a constant, quiet drumbeat in the back of one’s head. But there is something much uglier about the cold-blooded deliberation of an execution. Feeling the clock ticking, wondering how well one will face the end, how long it will take to die . . .” He shook his head. “An interesting experience, but not one I want to repeat.”