Dark Angel (7 page)

"You and Mrs. Rawley are excellent nurses, Señora Soro."

Caroline sat back on her heels, pushed some loosened strands of hair out of her eyes, and forced herself to look at Adam. His face was pale beneath his sun-darkened skin, but his eyes were clear and focused again and they seemed to see far more than she wished. His shirt was pushed back, so that save for the bandage his chest was bare. Now that her task was done she could not help but notice the dark hair on his chest in which she had once tangled her fingers, and the lines of bone and muscle which she had once traced with her lips.

When he had collapsed in the street, it had seemed for a moment as if they were children again. But they were children no longer, and if she allowed herself to think that way it could only lead to disaster.

Caroline got to her feet abruptly and went into the other room. The children were getting restless, despite Juana's efforts to amuse them. Emily asked if Mr. Durward was all right, and Ramon wanted to know when they were going to have supper. By the time Caroline went back to the outer room, she had recovered her self-possession. Hawkins had returned while she was gone. He greeted her cheerfully and seemed matter-of-fact about Adam's injury, but Caroline saw the concern in his eyes.

"How is he?" she asked, glancing at Adam who was covered with a second blanket and seemed to be sleeping.

"He was half-asleep when I got here, but he says he'll be ready to travel in the morning."

"Will he?"

Hawkins grinned. "Knowing Durward, he'll travel, ready or not."

That, Caroline knew, was an all too accurate characterization. Hawkins said nothing about Caroline traveling with them. Adela merely said, "Rest is the best thing for Señor Durward now," but Caroline knew her friend was watching her.

The discussion was ended by Ramon, who poked his head through the doorway and again asked about supper. Adela got out bread and cheese and they had a makeshift meal during which the adults were called upon to answer a number of questions. Hawkins proved surprisingly good at this. Emily had already decided she liked him, and the other children were quickly won over. When the table had been cleared, Hawkins offered to tell them a story, and even Ramon, who an hour ago had claimed he never wanted to hear another story, accepted eagerly.

The baby had woken, hungry and crying. While Adela sat at the table and nursed her child, Caroline finished stacking the dishes. After the events of the day, the quiet should have been a relief, but she felt her decision looming over her.

"Don't be a fool, Caroline," Adela said when Caroline had finished with the dishes. "This is the answer to all your prayers. You can go back to England. You can be safe."

"Would you come with us?" Caroline asked, knowing what her friend's answer would be.

Adela shook her head. The baby stirred and she rocked her against her breast. "This is my home. Mine and Victor's. I see little enough of him, but as long as I'm here there's always the chance that he'll get word to me, or that he'll be able to come home for a few days."

Caroline moved to a chair, arms wrapped defensively round her. "If it's safe for you to stay, then it is for me too."

"No," said Adela firmly. "I am Spanish, you are English. You are twice as much at risk as I, and you know it. Isn't what happened today enough to convince you?"

Caroline was silent. The night was still and cool, no different from any other she had spent in Acquera, save for the quiet murmur of Hawkins's voice and the sight of Adam lying beneath a coarse blanket on the floor. She shifted slightly in her chair, shutting him out of her view. When she had first heard the French soldiers she had thought—to the extent that she had been able to think at all—that she would trust Adam, would trust the devil himself, if he would see Emily to safety.

But that was before Adam had taken her in his arms and she had seen the hunger in his eyes and felt the gentleness of his touch. Before she had felt her own response course through her, sweeping aside all reason. She had known that it was dangerous to trust Adam. What she had learned in those few moments before Laclos and Gazin burst into the cottage was infinitely worse. When Adam was near, she could not trust herself.

"It's more complicated than you think," she said at last.

"Perhaps I understand better than you realize." Adela's gaze was shrewd and perceptive. "I saw your face when he collapsed in the street, Caroline. I always suspected there was someone, someone in England."

At another time, with Adam not lying a dozen feet away, Caroline might have welcomed the opportunity to confide in her friend. Now she merely muttered, "I don't think he's been in England for years."

"He risked a great deal to find you."

"The British Embassy sent him," Caroline said quickly, but even as she spoke she realized it was unlikely that Charles Stuart would have the time to spare much attention for the fate of a lieutenant's widow. Adam must have asked to go. Caroline gripped her hands together, discomfited by the thought.

"It doesn't matter why he came," Adela said. "I don't know what was between you in the past. But I do know it can't be enough to stand in the way of Emily's safety."

Caroline started to protest but the words froze on her lips. She felt as if a net was closing about her, driving her toward a future she feared for reasons that had nothing to do with the dangers of the journey. Her throat tightened with panic. All her instincts told her to struggle, but how could she struggle against her own conscience?

"There's Jared to think of, too," Adela said.

"Jared?" Caroline asked in puzzlement.

The baby gave a plaintive cry. Adela transferred her to her other breast. "Don't you owe it to him to see that his child grows up in comfort?"

This last was too much. Caroline got to her feet, intending to poke up the fire, to do anything that would allow her a moment to recover, and found herself looking into Adam's eyes.

There was no way to tell how long he had been awake or how much he had heard. His gaze gave nothing away, but his mouth curled in something like the smile she remembered from childhood. "How soon can you be ready to leave, Mrs. Rawley?"

Caroline looked into the dark eyes that were so painfully familiar. She would never be easy in his presence. She would never forget that he was the man who had ruined Jared and driven him to his death. She did not understand why he had risked so much to find her, but she had just seen him very nearly killed for her sake. In a sense she owed him the answer he was seeking.

She glanced toward the door to the second room where Emily sat with the other children, listening to Hawkins's story. Adela was right. Emily's safety came first. Caroline drew a breath. Her mouth was dry and her hands were trembling, but her voice was level. "Whenever you are well enough to travel, Mr. Durward."

Adam awoke to bright light, the sound of children's voices, and the smell of freshly baked bread. He lay very still for a moment because experience had taught him that it was best to be sure of where one was before trying anything foolish. The brightness proved to be sunlight, streaming through a hole in the roof that was meant to let the smoke out. The children seemed to be somewhere behind him. There were adult voices too, a woman's and another that sounded like Hawkins. He seemed to be talking to the children.

Children. Caroline's child. Caroline, the reason for his journey into Spain. The French patrol. The fight. The confrontation with Lieutenant Dumont and his own inglorious collapse in the street. That accounted for the dull throbbing in his side. All things considered, it could be a great deal worse. Adam pushed himself up cautiously on one elbow. White-hot pain lanced through him. It was a great deal worse.

"You're awake." A heart-shaped face framed by long fair hair appeared above him. It was like looking at Caroline, only he hadn't known Caroline when she was this young and of course it wasn't Caroline but Emily, her daughter. "Are you all better now?" She spoke Spanish almost without the trace of an accent.

"Very nearly," Adam said, stretching the truth.

"Well now, you look almost human." Hawkins moved into view. "Going to join the rest of us for breakfast, or shall we feed you on the floor?"

"I think I've been waited on enough as it is." Adam reached up and grasped Hawkins's hand. As he got to his feet he felt a wave of dizziness. Hawkins gripped his arm and looked sharply at him. "Hunger," Adam told him. "I haven't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. It affects some people this way."

"Sit down and have a piece of bread, Señor Durward. Fotunately, the French left us some flour. I was able to bake this morning." Caroline's friend Adela Soro set a round crusty loaf on the table. Now that the light was better and his head clearer, Adam saw that she was a handsome woman, strained and worn, like Caroline, but with an underlying vitality. Emily had rejoined the other children, who were pulling the bread apart with eager hands, but there was no sign of Caroline.

"She's gone home to collect her things," Adela said, interpreting his quick glance about the room.

"We stayed here last night," Emily said, looking up at Adam as he seated himself at the table. "Mama said we could because it was our last night in Acquera."

Adam accepted a hunk of bread from Adela. It smelled wonderful and tasted better. "What else did your mother say?" he asked Emily.

"That you're going to take us to Lisbon," Emily said matter-of-factly. She swallowed a mouthful of bread. "I remember Lisbon. There was a park there, with a pond and ducks."

"Is Lisbon very far off?" asked the younger of Adela's two daughters who Adam had heard called Beatriz.

"Very," Emily said.

"Farther even than Palencia?" the boy asked.

"Lots farther," his eldest sister told him. "It's in Portugal." She paused, then added, "There aren't any French there."

Beatriz reached for some more bread, but hesitated and glanced at her mother. Adela nodded and the child broke off a small piece. "Perhaps sometime we can come and visit you," Beatriz said.

"Maybe." Emily appeared pleased at this prospect. "But we won't be in Lisbon. We'll be in England." Her brow furrowed. "I don't remember England."

Adam looked down at her, wondering how old she had been when Caroline took her to Lisbon and why Caroline had gone to Lisbon at all instead of staying comfortably with her husband's family. Five years ago, she had not seemed a woman who would follow her husband to the ends of the earth. And yet, Adam reminded himself, five years ago she had gone to great lengths to protect Jared Rawley.

"Mr. Durward?" Emily plucked at his sleeve. "Are we going to leave soon?"

"As soon as your mother is ready." Adam pushed his chair back and got to his feet, pleased to find that his head did not start spinning. Perhaps hunger really had been responsible for his light-headedness. "I'll see if she needs help carrying her things. Hawkins, when you're finished here, go and see to the horses. Mrs. Rawley and Emily and I will meet you."

"Right you are," said Hawkins. "But if I were you, I'd put your boots on first."

Adam, who had prided himself on having recovered his self-command, realized that he was in his stocking feet. He had a vague memory of asking Hawkins to remove his boots last night. They stood, well brushed, against the wall and his coat was laid out neatly on a nearby chest. His shirt and waistcoat, at least, were buttoned, though they were torn and stained, and his shirt was open at the neck, for his neckcloth was unusable. Adam managed to put the boots on by himself—which ought to go a long way toward convincing Hawkins he was on the mend—shrugged on his coat, and stepped into the street. He doubted Caroline would welcome his help, but the fresh air and exercise would do him good. Besides, he wanted to avoid arguing with Hawkins about whether or not he was fit to travel. And he wanted to see Caroline. She had agreed to come with him and she had told Emily they were leaving, but an irrational part of him still feared she would slip away.

Though the air was cold, the sky was clear. They would at least begin their journey in dry weather. Judging by the position of the sun, Adam thought it was not much past seven, but the village had come to life long since. Children hurried to and from the well with buckets of water, women carried freshly-baked loaves from the village oven, men and older boys headed for the countryside to gather kindling. Shouts and laughter and greetings split the air. Save for the lingering smell of spilled wine and the sight of villagers repairing broken doors and windows, yesterday's raid might never have been. The villagers had learned to put the past behind them and get on with life. Adam wished he could do the same.

He knocked at the door of Caroline's cottage, then stepped inside when there was no answer. It looked exactly as it had yesterday, save that the light was brighter and a neatly tied bundle stood on the table along with a small garment that appeared to be a child's cloak. Caroline must be in the second room. But when Adam knocked at the door there was again no answer. He hesitated, then pushed the door open.

The second room was smaller than the outer chamber, but was equally empty. It was furnished only with two pallets and a three-legged stool with a chipped bowl on top that must have served as a washstand. Whatever personal items it had once contained would be in the bundle. Caroline had finished her packing and then gone—where? Perhaps to say goodbye to some of the villagers?