Redemption of a Fallen Woman(24)

She finished eating and strolled towards the stream that ran among the rocks a few yards off. The water was cool and delicious, the sound restful. It was pleasant here and she felt more at ease than ever she had in the city. Here the noise and the bustle and the stench seemed a million miles away. She bent to scoop more water and then looked up quickly as a shadow fell across her. Harry stepped into her line of vision.

‘The water looks good.’

‘It is.’

‘Then I shall follow your example.’

He came to join her, bending down to cup a drink in his hand. For so tall a man he moved with almost feline grace. She watched him covertly, taking in the chiselled profile of his face, the dark hair above the curve of his ear, the breadth of his shoulders beneath the fabric of his coat. His hands were large and strong yet unmistakably those of a gentleman. She knew their touch already, albeit briefly. The recollection created unwonted sensations, like his presence beside her now. To cover her awkwardness she took refuge in conversation.

‘How long will it take us to reach Seville, do you think?’

‘Without delays, between three and four weeks.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Of course, that is an optimistic reckoning.’

‘You think we shall run into problems?’

‘I hope not, but it’s best to be prepared.’

‘That is what Juan Montera used to say.’

‘Juan Montera?’

‘The leader of the guerrilla group that I rode with.’

‘Ah.’

Mentally Elena cursed her tongue. She had not meant to allude to that time but it had come out anyway. She eyed him warily.

‘Does it displease you that I should speak about such things?’

‘No. Tell me if you wish to.’ The tone was kind and quietly encouraging. Suiting action to words he sat down and waited, making no attempt to probe even though she knew there must be many questions in his head concerning her past.

‘Montera was a farmer, until the French came and murdered his family, destroyed his crops and burned his village to the ground. They killed all who tried to resist. The survivors fled to the hills. Montera had some education and was intelligent besides. He took control, uniting the fugitives and shaping a fighting force to strike back against the enemy.’

Harry nodded. ‘Such things happened across the whole country.’

‘As the French depredations increased, the numbers of the guerrilla group increased too. There were several women among them. Montera had no prejudice in that respect. If a woman was prepared to fight the French he was prepared to let her.’ She smiled faintly. ‘I think he was a man ahead of his time there.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.’

‘Do you disapprove?’

‘I cannot like the idea of women standing fire, but in this instance I have no right to pronounce on the matter. Were the situation here to be repeated in England, I have no doubt that there would be women aplenty who would take up muskets and pistols to defend their own.’

‘The French were foolish. They left people with nothing to lose, and men with nothing to lose are truly dangerous,’ she replied. ‘Montera understood this very well and used it to good effect.’

Harry paused, framing his next words carefully. ‘It sounds as if you respected this man.’

‘I did. He was a clever strategist. He also knew the area like the back of his hand so that his force could strike and retreat before the enemy even knew what had hit them. Montera always made sure of his escape routes too.’

‘An able commander by all accounts.’

‘And wise enough to listen to what others had to say before making a final decision. Even women had a voice in his camp.’

His curiosity was whetted now. ‘He seems to have been a remarkable man.’

‘In many ways he was, but then war brings out unsuspected qualities in people, does it not?’

‘Indeed.’

‘I could already shoot accurately, but with the guerrillas I learned how to fight as well, how to kill a man silently, how to plant booby traps or lay an ambush. It stood me in good stead.’

Harry regarded her askance. ‘Remind me never to make you angry.’

She returned a wry smile. ‘It is all very shocking, is it not? Yet it is part of who I am now.’

‘It is part of who you were then,’ he replied. ‘What happens from now on is for you to decide.’

Her pulse quickened a little. ‘The past is not so easy to let go of, however much we might wish to do so.’

Silently he acknowledged the truth of this. The words he had spoken to her held good for him too, and for the first time he caught sight of a different future from the insular, work-orientated one he had envisaged. It was a tantalising vision. At the same time he felt guilty for even entertaining it.