Once Tempted (30 page)

Robert shook his head. “It really doesn’t matter at this point. She wants nothing to do with me, and I certainly don’t know what I would do with her.”

At this Rafe laughed. “I think you know damn well what to do with her. And I think you’ve already done it.” With that, he spurred his horse ahead and left Robert simmering in his own regrets.

As they drew closer to the Spanish border, Robert grew more and more distant. He often rode with the rear guard or up ahead to ensure there were no traps set for them along the narrow, seemingly forgotten trails that connected Portugal to Spain.

If only he’d been honest with her from the start. And she with him.

If Robert avoided her company, at least Rafe’s band of guerrillas thought her worthy of their attentions. They took turns riding beside her, telling her of their families and misfortunes and of their dreams of a Spain free of Napoleon’s stranglehold and treachery.

Just this morning, Paco, who liked to tease her about her red hair, had brought her a wreath of flowers he’d picked from the side of the road. Grumpy old Gaspar had come by and laughed at his young companion’s offering and then shown her a small, tattered drawing of his wife. When prompted further, he’d told Olivia of his wife’s bravery before she’d been butchered by a French cavalry unit she’d refused to feed.

But the one gift that she hadn’t known what to make of had come from Alamar. The second day out, Olivia had caught some of the men whispering about the possibility of someone following them. When she’d asked Rafe’s second in command about it, he had denied it, but when she had pressed him for more information, he finally confirmed the bits of gossip she’d overheard.

They were being trailed.

Then he’d dug in his pack and handed her a small folded paper and told her to use the contents in case they were captured. In case there was no hope that they could save her from the cursed fate surrounding
El Rescate del Rey.

He told her that the powder would give her a swifter and more humane end than what their enemies would offer her. And then he’d left her in stunned silence.

She’d tucked the powder in her bag and tried to forget they were being followed. Tried to forget that she was caught in the middle of a maze that went far beyond her own existence.

“Give him time,
mi reina,”
Rafe said, as he suddenly rode up alongside her.

She turned to him. “What did you say?”

“My brother,” he said, nodding at Robert, who was riding in the lead. “Give him time. He’ll come to his senses.”

“Colin said much the same thing,” Olivia replied. She stuck her nose in the air and put on a nonchalant air. “I hardly see what that means to me. I am nothing more than a duty to your brother, an obligation he will happily be rid of once we get to Spain.”

Rafe laughed uproariously, drawing not only the attention of all the men around them but Robert’s as well, who cast an annoyed look back at them.

“You two are made for each other,” Rafe said.

Olivia stared at him. “We are no such thing,” she said, at the same time a small kindle of hope welled up in her heart. “Your brother is a dishonorable, lying, conniving—”

“Man in love.” Rafe smiled at her. “And he doesn’t know how to tell you.” He tapped his heels into his horse’s sides and said, “But give him time—he’ll come around,” before he trotted off to rejoin his men.

What had Rafe just said?

Robert loved her? While her heart thrilled at this disclosure, she reined in her tumultuous elation, telling herself it wasn’t possible. Not with all the misunderstandings between them. Yet she couldn’t help remembering the night at the inn, the look in his eyes, when she had thought that one tempting kiss might bridge the wide chasm separating their two hearts.

Perhaps he didn’t need time, she thought, but rather a little prodding. At this, she smiled.

Along the way they had come into a number of sleepy villages that seemed to have escaped the ravages of war. Around noon, they arrived in one town that practically teemed with life. A market was in progress, and there were food and drinks and wares for sale. Rafe’s party was welcomed in, and despite Robert’s black looks and mouthed warning that she “not talk to anyone,” Olivia happily waded into the crowd.

Robert, on the other hand, saw the entire situation as a disaster in the making. Especially when he lost sight of Olivia amongst the crowded stalls.

He rose up in his stirrups, his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun, and yet in this sea of dark heads, nowhere could he see Olivia’s distinctive red hair.

This was the very reason he intended to deposit her into Wellington’s care the moment they arrived in Badajoz. He didn’t want the constant aggravation of watching over her when she refused to stay under his protection.

But his concern went far beyond his obligation to see her to Wellington. Rafe’s words had cut to the very core of his pride. His stupid, misplaced pride and arrogance.

Orlando had sent her to him, and he’d been too blind to see it. And now that he did, it was probably too late.

“Are you looking for someone?” a soft voice asked him in Portuguese.

He barely spared the woman a glance, dressed as she was in a wide country skirt and white blouse, her hair and head covered with a bright blue shawl.

She sidled closer to him, hiking her skirt a bit to reveal slim tanned calves. “Perhaps you are looking for a woman?” she persisted. “I could help.”

Robert shook his head. She was probably looking to make a few spare coins on the side, a practice the women of these villages had been driven to by the ravages of war. He twisted in his saddle, looking behind him to see if Olivia was with a group of women that had gathered near the well.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

His heart pounded even harder. Damn her.

For the past week, he’d remained increasingly vigilant, for his instincts told him they were being followed, being watched with each move they made.

Rafe’s men had uttered the same sentiment—that they felt they were being shadowed. Time and again, singly and in pairs, they’d taken turns doubling back, waiting and watching for their unknown enemy to appear, but the elusive shadow slipped their grasp each time.

This only made it harder and harder to watch out for Olivia, for she stubbornly refused to remain at his side.

“Sometimes you can find what you are looking for by just taking a closer look, don’t you think?”

Robert dug into his jacket and pulled out a few coins, tossing them at the woman. “Take them, I really don’t need your help right now.”

“Oh, good,” she said, switching to English. “Now I can pay the woman for my new clothes.”

His gaze ricocheted back in the blink of an eye. “Olivia!” he shouted at the figure now skipping through the crowd toward the knot of women by the well.

She turned around slowly. Her head tipped back until her face peered out from beneath her shawl, a seductive smile on her lips. A pair of blue eyes, mischievous and dancing with amusement, looked back at him, cutting straight to his heart. “Yes?”

“What the devil are you doing?”

“You said I was too conspicuous, so I decided to look a little less English. What do you think?” She twirled one way, then the other in the full skirt, showing her boots and bare legs. The loose cotton top, gathered around the tops of her breasts, dipped as dangerously low as that cursed muslin thing she’d worn on the
Sybaris.

The one that had driven him to distraction. And now she was going to wear something similar all day?

An old woman approached Olivia, and they began bargaining back and forth to come up with a price for the shawl the woman held up. The white wool length was adorned with embroidered roses.

The old woman’s knowing gaze caught Robert staring at Olivia. A sly smile passed over her wrinkled face and she wrapped the shawl tighter around Olivia, so it covered her nearly bare shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

The old horse trader,
he thought, trying to ignore his own relief at how well it covered Olivia. “How much?” he asked the lady.

She named her price, an outrageous sum that made Olivia gasp, but Robert saw the money as nothing but well spent.

He reached in his pocket and drew out the coins, dropping them into the woman’s outstretched palm, while Olivia sputtered protests about the impropriety of his buying her such an extravagant gift.

He straightened in his saddle.
“You’re
telling me what is considered improper?”

“I suppose that is rather like the pot calling the kettle black,” she teased back, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Which is exactly what Robert had just paid a good portion of his monthly salary to see done. If that damned shawl kept her decently covered, then he wouldn’t spend most of the day with his senses mired in speculative passion for her.

Rafe signaled for them to mount up, and Robert got off his mount and escorted Olivia to her beloved and wretched donkey. Now that he’d found her, he wasn’t about to lose sight of her again. Not this close to the border, not ever.

Not ever
? He shook his head and tightened his grip on her elbow as he steered her through the crowd. He had to stop thinking like that.

“You still haven’t said what you think of my new outfit,” she said, her toe nudging at a loose stone.

“I’m not really a good judge of women’s fashions,” he said, thinking that her skirt was too short and the top too revealing, but he wasn’t going to tell the cheeky little minx that. “What would your esteemed Lady Finch say?”

“After I got done applying copious amounts of smelling salts to revive her, she’d declare me unfit for proper society.”

Robert grinned. “I like your Lady Finch more and more.”

“You would,” Olivia said. “The two of you are a regular pair of drill sergeants.”

They came up to Evaline, who immediately set up a fuss as Robert approached. She usually did save her best antics for him.

“I don’t think she likes your uniform,” Olivia said, eyeing his coat. “I believe the red frightens her.”

Robert’s horse had the good sense to stop a safe distance from the unfriendly and unpredictable little donkey.

Robert wondered if perhaps his horse had more wit than he did as Evaline started to snap at the braid on his sleeve. “What would Lady Finch say about having a donkey named after her?”

Olivia flinched, then laughed. “She wouldn’t be all that amused until I told her of all Evaline’s good traits.”

“Which are?” Robert asked, as he swatted the impudent little beast out of reach of his buttons. This was his only good jacket, and buttons were hard to come by at the front.

Olivia patted Evaline on the top of her head and scratched her ears. The donkey gazed at her mistress as if Olivia were heaven-sent. “She’s loyal and has good instincts about the people she chooses to like.” With that, she lifted her hem and held out her foot, nodding at him that she was ready.

Robert nearly groaned at the sight of those trim calves. Just a glimpse of them reminded him what they’d felt like sliding down his legs, tangling with his feet. Besides, what game was this she was playing? He’d seen her climb up on Evaline any number of times without any help. He was starting to suspect she was deliberately baiting him.

First with her new outfit, and now her request for his help. His touch.

“Come along, Hobbe,” Rafe called out.

With everyone watching, Robert caught hold of her foot. Olivia put her hand on his shoulder. He paused for a moment, then went to boost her up onto Evaline when the little donkey changed her mind about the entire process.

The beast sidestepped into Olivia, sending her crashing into Robert. All he could do was catch her as they both fell into the road, her soft form landing atop his, her breasts pressed into his chest, her hips grazing his.

For a moment, all he could think of was that dangerous moment back on
Sybaris
when they’d fallen into her berth, their lips locked and their bodies already heated with passion. The very thought made him harden, and as if instinctively, her body nestled closer to his quickly growing passion.

His gaze locked with hers. Instead of the shock or dismay he expected, she was laughing, her gaze holding an intimate recognition of how they fit—how they should be locked like this every night.

“I don’t think Lady Finch would find this very proper either,” he told her.

Olivia’s gaze met his, and he could have sworn her eyes were filled with questions, and hope. “On some things,” she said, “even Lady Finch hasn’t the right instructions.”

“If she did,” he replied, “I doubt you would follow them.”

“Would you want me to?”

Robert knew right then the only thing he wanted was this woman. This dangerous minx, who teased him, who toyed with him, who tempted his heart.

“If you two are quite through making a spectacle of yourselves, can we get moving?” Rafe asked, leaning out of his saddle and staring down at them.

Olivia scrambled up first, shaking the dust off her skirt and then quickly mounting the now docile Evaline without any further mishaps, or assistance, Robert noted wryly.

He stalked back to his horse and climbed into the saddle. “I should have had Colin find a deserted island somewhere and left you there,” he muttered.

“I wouldn’t have gone,” Olivia shot back.

He didn’t fail to notice that she deliberately nudged Evaline right next to his horse.

“You wouldn’t have had a choice.”

Olivia made no move to ride anywhere but by his side.

He supposed she intended to remain there the rest of the afternoon. He’d done his best to avoid this, though he hated to admit it, but he was glad of her company. He’d missed the intimate hours they’d spent on the
Sybaris
during his convalescence. And he’d never thought there would ever be a woman, especially an Englishwoman, who would take the same delight in the Peninsula and its people as he did.

And since he’d spent most of the winter in ’10 mapping this area for Wellington, he knew the countryside well enough to share with her some of its history and landmarks as they rode.