Carla Kelly (19 page)

“I haven’t had cheese toasted so well since I was home in Dunfermline,” he said, accepting the piece she held out to him. “It’s almost as good as my mother’s.”

She smiled that fleeting smile he enjoyed so well, and looked at Harper. “Another, Private?” she asked, then attached the slice when he nodded. “I would have thought your mother had a cook.”

“She did—still does, I imagine—but it never took too much urging to get her to give Mrs. Aiken the night off and tote out the cheese and sausages.”

She finished toasting the cheese and held the stick out to Harper, who took it with his thanks. When no one else indicated a need for another slice, she brushed off her hands on her apron and pleased Jesse’s heart by sitting beside him. She closed her eyes, and he could tell how tired she was. He also knew that she would never complain.

“Do you miss Dunfermline?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“In some ways, yes, although at the moment I am hard put to think of any.”

“Tell me, Captain. Was it heaven to live in one place when you grew up?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know any different!” He thought
a moment, then felt the need of her closer. “Elinore, come closer. I’m getting chilly.” He held out his arm to her. Without any hesitation, she moved into that space he knew she inhabited so well. “I know you will think this strange, but I had a childhood you might have been familiar with.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she murmured, her voice a little muffled by his greatcoat.

“Hear me out. My family was one of two Catholic families in the entire district. I’m sure that the McDonalds, Campbells, and Fergussons wondered why we Randalls didn’t follow Bonnie Prince Charlie after Culloden, but the Randalls are a stubborn bunch.”

“I would wonder, too.”

He shrugged. “There was a lot of land involved. Well, my brothers and I were on the outs among the neighborhood’s children. I don’t know what their parents thought they would catch from us, but they were determined not to find out.”

“I do know how that feels,” she told him in a small voice. “You wonder what you have done wrong, and is it your fault.”

“Precisely. I think it made me shy.” He grinned in the dark. “Have you noticed?”

He was rewarded with a chuckle of her own and a light slap on his chest. He covered her hand with his. She did not pull away, but sighed and moved closer. He rested his chin lightly on her hair, and wondered briefly if he had ever been happier. It struck him then. “Elinore, do you realize this is the first time in…oh, let me think…twelve years—twelve years!—that I have not been half listening for a call to the charity ward in Milan, or a barracks somewhere, or a battlefield, or a marching hospital.”

Elinore tightened her grip on him. In a moment he felt her other arm behind him as she encircled him in her warmth. “I suppose we should feel frightened or worried,” she whispered into his uniform. “We’re one hundred and fifty miles from the border, and I fear the Spanish are looking at us like guests who have stayed too long at a banquet and drunk all the sherry.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, “but I am disinclined to care.” He breathed deep of the wood smoke—it smelled like cedar—and the pleasant odor of sun still trapped in Elinore’s
hair. Her breast was soft against his chest, not so much arousing him as comforting him. She relaxed against him and in another moment was breathing evenly.

His eyes were closing when he heard horses on the other side of the river. Harper was already on his feet, and then looking at him. “Elinore, wake up,” Jesse whispered.

She was on her feet in a moment, too, and he wondered how soundly any of them would sleep until they were safe behind the barricades of Torres Vedres. She did not cry out or try to cling to him, but stood still, her hands clasped together, probably exercising the control she had learned since her youngest years with the British army.

When they came closer, he counted ten riders, all of them armed. “
Quien es
?” asked the cloaked figure at the head of the column.

“
Somos soldados y un medico
,” he said, every nerve alert and aware that he stood apart from the others of Number Eight, a target as sure as the Chief had been a target.

Elinore was at his side then. He wanted to push her away from the horsemen, but he pulled her close instead. “
Y este es mi esposa
,” he said, gesturing to her, and hoping that he could be understood.

Trying to appear calmer than he felt, he looked into the faces of the men. As he watched, they lost their wary edge. One of them dismounted and came toward him, to bow courteously and extend his hands to them both.

“He says he was wondering about the fire on his land, and hoping that it was not the French again,” Elinore whispered. “He wants to know how we came to be alone here. I will tell him we were separated from our division.” She spoke to the landowner. If her language was halting, he did not seem to mind. She turned back to Jesse. “He has invited us to his estancia.” She hesitated. “He wishes some advice on his old dog, who has very bad breath.” She held up her hands. “I think that is what he said! Don’t you dare laugh.”

He didn’t, even though he wanted to. “Elinore, do I need to get a more reliable translator? One that I will have to pay?” he teased. “Tell him we accept with pleasure.”

While the horsemen spoke among themselves, Jesse turned back to Harper and Wilkie and explained where they were going. Harper insisted upon accompanying them,
relenting only when Jesse said he would be safe with Elinore, and besides, who was there to keep an eye on Armand Leger? “I don’t like it, sir,” Harper stated flatly.

“You’re determined to be my bodyguard, aren’t you, Private?” Jesse said. “Thank you for that, but I need you to remain here. I promise we will return before midnight. If we do not, you have my permission to storm the castle and take all prisoners.”

“Don’t think I won’t, sir,” the private replied, and Jesse almost believed him.

When he turned his attention back to the horsemen, Elinore was already seated behind the landowner, one arm around his waist and her hand holding onto his belt. Another man held out his hand, while someone else boosted him up behind another rider. They crossed the river, and in a matter of minutes were on a road that led to an estate.

Few lights shone, and he felt a momentary uneasiness that was relieved by Elinore’s laughter at something the landowner said to her. They rode through the gates. Even in the darkness illuminated only by the moon, he saw the scars of war and neglect.

Dinner was held in the great hall. Beyond learning that this was the Maldonado
estancia
, and that two sons fought with the Duke of Santander, one of Wellington’s staunchest allies, there was little conversation. The Maldonados preferred to eat, although Elinore did carry on a halting dialogue with Senora Maldonado that involved simple phrases on Elinore’s part, and much smiling between the women.

Calling them courses was generous. The Maldonados, like most of Spain’s minor nobility, had suffered under Napoleon’s efforts to keep Spain. The food, served on beautiful silver plates, was plain, the wine barely more than grape juice. In fact, Senor Maldonado had lifted his glass and made both a face and a toast: “To the French, who knew good wine when they came here in 1806 and cleaned out the cellars.”

Jesse followed Elinore’s lead, assuring their hosts, when the dishes came around again, that they were full and couldn’t possibly eat any more. He hated to think that they might be eating the Maldonados’ food for the week. Dessert
was a simple plate of almonds, probably from the groves they had walked past earlier in the afternoon. As he sat in the company of new friends, with Elinore by his side, Jesse felt a great exhaustion cover him. His temple was starting to throb again. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but there was one more event, if he could believe his wife.

“Uh, Senor Maldonado, uh,
tiene un perro viejo
?”

He expected a blank stare—Elinore couldn’t have translated that properly—but his host smiled, put two fingers to his lips as Senora Maldonado winced, and whistled.

From the gloomy interior of the next room came an enormous dog. “My stars, he
was
serious,” Elinore whispered, her eyes wide. “Jesse, he weighs more than you do.”

“Well, more than you, at least,” he replied, unable to take his eyes from the dog. He looked vaguely like a Saint Bernard—he had seen those in the Italian alps on holiday from medical school—but with a benign air, and all the good nature in the universe. He reminded Jesse of an old Jew in the Milan marketplace, a mountain of a man in a black Astrakhan coat, with flowing earlocks and beard, who moved slowly or not at all, depending on the weather.

The dog walked to his master and sank at his feet. Senor Maldonado beckoned to him. “
Ven aca, senor
.”

Jesse did as he was bid, unable to keep the smile off his face. Hippocrates, I hope you are busy elsewhere at the moment, he thought. This will be my first four-legged patient. He knelt by the dog, which turned his massive head slowly, and breathed on him.

“Oh, my,” Jesse said, when he could talk. He dabbed at his eyes. “Elinore, please tell Senor Maldonado that I see what he means.” When she said nothing, he looked around to see the two women dissolved in silent laughter. Even Senor Maldonado was looking away, a smile on his face. “If it isn’t too much trouble, Elinore, that is…”

He could tell that his bride, the woman of his dreams and hopefully the mother of his children, would not prove entirely useful in the examination. After giving her a glance that should have dissolved nails, but only made her gasp and look away to study a painting, he indicated to the landowner to hold his dog’s head and try to open his mouth.

“Nothing simpler,” Senor Maldonado said. He pried open the beast’s mouth. “
A su servicio
,” he said, and winked at Jesse.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse moved closer and cautiously stuck his hand inside the cavern with teeth, all the while anticipating a sudden chomp that would end his surgical career forever, and fit him for selling matches on some street corner in Dundee. He called for a lamp, and when it was situated close at hand, took a good look. These
are
old, he thought, fascinated in spite of himself. He ran his fingers lightly over the worn teeth.

“
Cual es su nombre?
” Elinore asked.

“Lobo,” Senor Maldonado said.

There may have been a time when the old gentleman looked like a wolf, but too many years and good meals had come and gone since then, Jesse thought. “Lobo,” he said, and was rewarded with several thumps of the big dog’s massive tail. “You, sir, are in dire need of a toothbrush. Oh, turn your head,
por favor
.”

He was hard put to describe what he needed, but Elinore rescued him, describing a kitchen brush for pots. Senora Maldonado finally understood. The two of them left the table and went down the hall, where Jesse heard them erupt in pent-up laughter.

Senor Maldonado looked at him and shrugged. “
Mujeres
,” he muttered. “You understand.”

He did. Oh, he did.

The women returned with a new pot brush, a paste of soda and salt, and an apron for Jesse. Lobo, a most obliging patient, had no objection to keeping his mouth open while Jesse scrubbed from front to back. It might have even felt good, because Lobo wagged his tail and breathed happily and without discrimination on both his master and his private physician. He also leaned against Jesse, pressing his great weight until Senor Maldonado noticed what was going on and straightened up the dog before Jesse toppled.

When he finished, Jesse blotted the great teeth with a damp cloth. “I must say that is rather fine,” he said. He looked at Elinore, whose eyes were merrier than he had ever seen them before. “I may have learned a new trade, my dear, in case surgery gets slow. Do find a way to tell Senor Maldonado that I recommend he feed Lobo a generous
handful of parsley with each meal. Mint would also be nice.”

She did as he said, obviously trying to hold back that big laugh he knew she was capable of. She kept her demeanor calm, and Senor Maldonado nodded at her words. “He said to tell you he is most grateful, Jesse, and that he wishes—oh, my stars!—that you lived in the neighborhood all the time. He asks if you are also proficient with cattle.”

“Tell him no.” Jesse sat back and scratched Lobo’s massive head. “If you were a cat, you would purr,” he told the dog. “But thank God you are not a cat. I would be in shreds and tatters right now, gargling out my life with a great hole in my throat.” He looked at Elinore. “I have an idea. Let’s see how grateful Senor Maldonado is. Ask him if he could take us in a wagon to the next town tomorrow.”

It turned out that the landowner was quite grateful, promising to have his bailiff meet them tomorrow morning. As her husband summoned his men and prepared to return them to the clearing, Senora Maldonado insisted on giving them two blankets, and more bread and cheese, as well as a sausage that Jesse thought would fit well enough in Wilkie’s bag. She also draped a woolen shawl over Elinore’s shoulders.

They rode back to the clearing the same way they had come. Wilkie and Leger appeared to be asleep, but Harper stood by the fire. When he was on the ground again, Jesse held out his hand to his generous host, who chose instead to grasp him in a firm hug. He spoke to Elinore. “He says to tell you that you are a most obliging man, and he hopes we have no trouble from the French. His bailiff will be here in the morning.”

“
Gracias, senor
,” Jesse replied.

“Por nada. Vayan con dios.”
The horsemen left the clearing, and soon were across the river.

Jesse stood close to Elinore. She turned to look at him, rose up, and kissed his cheek. “My hero,” she whispered. “I could smell that dog’s breath across the table. I think you’re marvelous.”

“I think you’re a great tease,” he said. “You mustn’t make fun of my patients.”

She laughed and took one of the blankets from him. The fire had burned down to coals now. With a sigh she took
out the pins and shook her hair loose. Jesse joined her by the fire. Harper had curled up next to Wilkie, and Armand Leger lay by himself, his cloak clutched around him. Jesse took the other blanket the Maldonados had given him and spread it over the Frenchman, who sat up in surprise.
“Merci,”
he said.
“Merci.”