His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) (7 page)

BOOK: His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance)
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‘Is anyone hurt, sir?’ asked Blakelock.

‘Fortunately not,’ Falconbridge replied. ‘It’s just a delay we could have done without.’

‘The next town is not far off, sir.’

‘Just as well. It’s going to take some time to right the coach.’ He glanced round. ‘Luis, take charge of the horses. Ramon, give the rest of us a hand here.’

Ramon nodded. ‘Si, señor.’

Falconbridge peeled off his coat and handed it to Sabrina with a wry smile. ‘Would you oblige me, ma’am?’

‘Of course.’ As she took the garment his hand brushed hers. The casual touch sent a shock along her skin. She tried not to stare at the lithe form revealed to such advantage by the shirt and close-fitting breeches.

Unaware of the sensations he was creating, he rolled up his sleeves. Then he turned to the others.

‘All right, lads, let’s get this vehicle out of here.’

Sabrina looked on, feeling unusually helpless but knowing there was nothing she could do to assist in this instance. Only sheer physical strength was going to solve the problem. Falconbridge clearly had no qualms about involving himself in the work either; she guessed that
was in part why he had the respect of his men. On their first meeting he had been delivering food supplies for their benefit. She had been angry with him at the time but, seeing the situation more objectively now, decided he probably couldn’t have done anything else. Of course he would put the welfare of hungry men first. The decision had inconvenienced her but it hadn’t left her at risk and he knew that when he made it. She had thought him ruthless then, but now was less certain. She would have liked to learn more about his military career. It was a side to him that she knew little about and suddenly she was curious.

* * *

In the event, it took the combined efforts of all the men and the sweating horses to free the coach. Had the road been wet and muddy they might not have succeeded. As it was they were all perspiring freely by the time they had done. However, relief was short-lived. Ramon, examining the righted vehicle, shook his head.

‘The accident has damaged the axle,
señor.’

Falconbridge frowned. ‘Badly?’

‘See for yourself.’

He pointed to the crack in the shaft. Falconbridge saw it and gritted his teeth.

‘It’ll get us into town, but no farther.’

‘At least the final stretch of road looks a little better,’ said Ramon. ‘Relatively speaking that is.’

Falconbridge nodded. ‘Once we reach town I’ll seek out the wheelwright.’

Sabrina heard him with a wry smile. It seemed that history was repeating itself.

* * *

Progress was slow, but they reached town with no further problems and while Falconbridge organised the
necessary repairs, Sabrina obtained rooms and a bath at the inn. Jacinta laid out fresh clothes and then took herself off to brush out the dusty travelling dress. Sabrina shed her hot garments and slid into the tub with a little sigh of pleasure. It had been days since she’d had the luxury of bathing properly. Making do was all very well, up to a point. Years of travel had made her quite resilient but the woman in her still enjoyed a certain amount of pampering. Of late it had been hard to come by. It was a delight to soap herself all over and wash away all the perspiration and grime of the journey. It was a delight to wear pretty dresses more often, too, or rather to have a reason to wear them. That reason wasn’t just confined to present circumstances, as she now admitted. She bit her lip. It would take more than a pretty frock to attract Robert Falconbridge. Sometimes she thought he didn’t object to her company, once or twice that he found her person pleasing, but never more than that. His heart was his own. They might have been thrown together for the duration of this mission, but his interest in her went no further. Not that she wanted it to, of course. Once bitten…It occurred to her that he, too, had known disappointment. That was painful enough without the added humiliation of seeing the woman he loved marry his brother.

A door opened and she glanced across the room, assuming Jacinta had returned. However, the outer one remained firmly closed. Instinctively she darted a swift look at the connecting door that led to the adjoining bedchamber. It was open and Falconbridge stood on the threshold. Then, taking in the scene before him, he stopped in his tracks. Sabrina’s cheeks flamed scarlet and instinctively she crossed her arms over her breasts, aware that her heart was thumping uncomfortably hard.
Her startled thoughts went off in a dozen directions at once, the ramifications of which sent an unexpected flood of heat through her which had nothing to do with the temperature of the bath water.

‘What are you doing here? How dare you burst in like this?’

For the first time since she had met him he seemed at a loss. ‘I…er…forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realise you would be bathing.’

‘But I am, sir.’

‘Yes.’ He knew it sounded inane but his tongue seemed temporarily to have lost contact with his brain. His legs had, too, rooting him to the spot.

‘Well?’ She held the lid down on indignation. ‘Was there something you wanted to say?’

He cleared his throat. ‘Only to let you know that repairs are underway on the coach.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘With any luck we should be able to leave tomorrow morning, albeit a little later than usual.’

She nodded, supremely conscious of having the undivided attention of that steady gaze. It was both contemplative and appraising, taking in every detail. As it did so its habitual coolness was replaced by keen appreciation and a warmer light kindled in those grey depths. Her heart thumped harder. She needed to bring this interview to a close and soon.

‘Thank you for letting me know.’

It should have signalled dismissal but still he made no move to go. Did he intend to stand there all day? Along with indignation her inner demon awoke.

‘I take it there were no problems then?’

He seemed to recollect himself. ‘None at all. Why, did you think there would be?’

‘I couldn’t help wondering if someone else might have had a prior claim on the wheelwright’s services.’

‘Such as?’

‘An army officer perhaps?’

Amusement filled his grey eyes. ‘I suppose I deserved that.’

‘Well, yes.’

‘On that note, ma’am, I had better leave you to finish your bath in peace.’

‘I’d be grateful, sir.’

The sweet smile didn’t deceive him for a moment. It was also unwittingly provocative. For a moment more he indulged the fantasy of showing her just how provocative, before self-control reasserted itself. He sighed and, with a last backwards look, took himself off.

As the door shut behind him she leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she suspected him of anything untoward—his surprise on finding her thus had been genuine enough—but rather that his presence aroused untoward feelings in her. Feelings she could not afford to indulge. She had never met anyone quite like him; he was somehow larger than life. It was difficult enough being thrown together with a total stranger but when the stranger was Robert Falconbridge it lent an added dimension to the whole situation.

The sound of another door opening caused her to start, but this time it was Jacinta. For the second time Sabrina let out a sigh of relief. The water in the tub was growing cool now so she climbed out and wrapped herself in a linen towel. If the maid noticed her preoccupied air she made no comment on the matter and busied herself with hanging up the newly brushed travelling dress. Sabrina bit back a smile, thinking it was as well her companion had not returned earlier. Goodness
only knew what construction she would have put on Falconbridge’s presence. Possibly she might have shot him herself.

* * *

The subject of her thoughts had bespoken a bath for himself and lost no time in stripping off and sinking into the tub. He scrubbed himself vigorously, mentally rebuking himself for what had just passed. Not that he had had any idea of what he would find when he opened the door to her room. He knew he should have left right away but at the time his wits had deserted him. His behaviour had been reprehensible and he knew it, but for the life of him he couldn’t regret it. The memory would remain with him for a long time. He had discovered early that Sabrina’s image was not easy to banish at any time but particularly not when seen unclothed. One look at her bare shoulders and the swelling breasts partially revealed by the soapy water and all his good intentions had gone up in smoke. The knowledge was disturbing, as was the depth of his desire. Every part of him had wanted her, wanted to lift her from the bath and carry her to the bed and possess her completely.

Once again he reined in his imagination hard. They had a task ahead of them and that should be the focus of his attention. A lapse of concentration might spell disaster for them both. The consequences of being caught meant death, and he had no wish to see Sabrina led before a firing squad or delivered up to the hangman. She was his responsibility in every way. He had promised Albermarle that he would protect her; a promise he intended to keep. He sighed. She would be a test of any man’s self-control but he must resist the temptation she represented. The trouble was he hadn’t expected to feel like this again. After Clarissa he had believed himself
immune. It was a shock to discover he had been wrong. Even so, only a fool would allow himself to fall again, and especially for a woman he hardly knew.

* * *

The following morning Sabrina rose early and went out, wanting a little time and space on her own. After what had passed between them the previous day she didn’t feel equal to being shut up in a carriage with Falconbridge again until she had cleared her head. Perhaps some sketching might help to restore a degree of perspective in every sense of the word. Accordingly, she took her pad and, having informed Jacinta of her intention to visit the local shrine, the two of them set out.

* * *

A little later Falconbridge went down to the breakfast room. As Sabrina had not made an appearance yet he assumed she was still in her room. In the meantime he sent Luis round to the wheelwright’s yard to check on the repair work. Within a quarter of an hour he was back. Hearing his footstep Falconbridge turned away from the window.

‘Well? How are things progressing? I want to be gone from here before noon.’

‘I regret that may not be possible.’

‘What?’

‘I went to speak with the man but he was not there.’

‘Not there? Then where the hell is he?’

‘It seems he was called away to a neighbouring village some five miles distant in order to mend a cartwheel for the cousin of his brother-in-law’s aunt. However, he will be back this afternoon, according to his wife.’

‘Back by noon!’ Falconbridge’s expression grew thunderous. ‘The rogue promised that he would have the wheel fixed by then.’

‘That is so,
señor.
However, I fear it will not be possible now.’

‘Confound it, I cannot afford the delay.’

‘I think it cannot be avoided.’

‘We’ll see about that. He cannot have taken the entire workforce with him. There must be a competent apprentice who can complete the job.’

‘It is possible, I suppose.’

‘Go and find out.’ Then as Luis turned to leave, ‘No wait. I’ll come with you. Two voices may be more persuasive than one.’

He had reached the outer door before he realised that Sabrina had not yet come down. Being keen to sort out the immediate problem he left a message for her with the
patrón.
Then he and Luis set off.

The outcome of their excursion did nothing to improve his mood. Having gone to the wheelwright’s premises and spoken to the man’s wife, it transpired that there was only one apprentice, the son, who had gone off with his father. She assured him they would be back by noon. Having a sound understanding of the local concept of time, Falconbridge had not the least expectation of seeing the man or his son before the late afternoon. Frustration mounted, and with it, annoyance.

* * *

This was not helped when he got back to the inn and found that Sabrina was not there. He checked her room and then all the other rooms where she might conceivably be, only to draw a blank. Then he sent for the
patrón.

‘The Condesa has gone out,
señor.’

‘Gone out where?’ he demanded.

‘I do not know,
señor.
The lady did not honour me with her confidence.’

‘Did she take her maid with her?’

The
patrón
nodded. ‘She did indeed,
señor.’

When this elicited an expression of unmistakable ire, the man added quickly, ‘I will send a boy to seek for them at once. The village is not large. I am sure they will be found very soon.’

Falconbridge bit back the savage comment that would otherwise have escaped his lips. ‘Never mind. I will look for the Condesa myself. If she returns in the meantime, ask her to wait for me here.’

‘Certainly,
señor.’

Gritting his teeth Falconbridge went out into the street again, looking left and right in the hope that he might see Sabrina before she had gone too far. Not that there was far to go; as the
patrón
had said, it wasn’t a big place.

The end of the street brought him to a small plaza where some of the local women were fetching water from the pump. He could see no sign of Sabrina or her maid. A swift look into the few small shops proved no help either. Then at last he spied Jacinta emerging from a building across the street. He lost no time in accosting her.

‘What are you doing here? Where is your mistress?’

‘I came to buy fruit,
señor.’
If she had noticed his expression, her own gave no sign of it.
‘Doña
Sabrina said that she wished to take the air and do some sketching.’

‘Oh, did she? And you let her go off alone?’

‘Doña
Sabrina goes where she wills.’

His jaw tightened. ‘Not on this trip she doesn’t. Where is she?’

She nodded towards the street leading out of the plaza. ‘Visiting the shrine of San Ignacio. It is not far.’

BOOK: His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance)
2.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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