LoveBetrayed (7 page)

“I’m sure,” Harry said with complete honesty. “I believe
that.” Harry stumbled through the brush, in an awkward crouch to avoid
detection by the French troops around them. He’d lost his sword and his horse,
and in that private little skirmish, his dignity. “How do you plan to get out
of here?” he asked as calmly as possible. “We are surrounded by an enemy army,
you know.” He looked through the trees and saw the Seventh Division and the
cavalry nearing the other side of the plain. Their retreat was now a sure
thing, and Harry could see that the number of dead and wounded lying on the
ground wore more French colors than British, although a fair number of
light-blue jackets like his lay there, unmoving. No matter how foolish and
ill-advised James thought their maneuvers, they’d done it. They’d saved the
flank and the Seventh Division, by God.

“The day has not come yet that I cannot evade a French
army,” James said arrogantly.

“Good,” Harry told him. “Then for the first time today, I’m
actually glad to be in your company.”

James led him further away from the final stages of the
battle. “When were you going to tell him?” he asked Harry.

“Tell him what?” Harry asked, confused. “About you? I won’t.
That’s your secret to keep if you wish.”

“No, you dolt.” James motioned him down into a crouch again
and a small French patrol went dashing past them on their horses, the tall red
plumes on their cuirassiers’ helmets bobbing in the wind as they passed. “About
your fiancée back home in England eagerly awaiting your return,” he ground out,
glaring at Harry over his shoulder.

Harry’s heart began pounding in his chest and he felt
lightheaded. “What?”

“You heard me.” James kept walking, his pace quick, his head
moving constantly as he scanned the brush around them and led Harry further
away from the fighting and the British lines.

“England seems so far away,” Harry stalled, panicked that
the truth was out at last. “The life I led is a faded memory.”

James made a strangled sound and then Harry was slammed
against another tree, struggling to breathe with James’ arm across his throat.
“I should kill you right now, you lying son of a whore,” he hissed, his eyes
narrow and simmering with hatred. “You are a liar and a coward.” He yanked his
arm away and Harry doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. “You have done
what the French—and the English dogs with their constant baiting and
bullying—failed to do in the last few years. You’ve broken him. I’ve seen it.
He knows there’s no future for the two of you, though he doesn’t really know
why. I shall hate you for that always, and make you pay for it at some point.
But not now. Right now he wants to know that you are safe.” He yanked Harry’s
head up with a fist in his hair and Harry gasped. “So I am going to make you
safe. You are going home to England, Ashbury, to that faded memory of a life
and the girl you left behind. And you are leaving immediately. I’ve already
made arrangements for transportation and put your commission on the block. Your
father expects your return within a fortnight. You shall be as safe as I can
make you. And you will be gone. Forever.”

Harry didn’t even try to defend himself. He deserved it, all
of James’ scorn and hatred and abuse. Because he had lied to Daniel by not
telling him about the fiancée his father had procured for him, and the plans
they’d made for his future. Plans he couldn’t escape. And he was a coward
because he
would
leave. After all, Daniel didn’t love him. He’d called
Harry an escape. Eventually Daniel would tire of him, and Harry couldn’t face
seeing him move on to another man. “Yes,” he whispered, wishing a French bullet
had found him today instead of James.

“Good,” James bitterly replied. “Now let’s get you back to
camp where you can destroy Daniel’s life and then be on your merry way.”

“And, so…that’s about it. I’m sorry.”

Harry took a deep breath and turned his back to Daniel,
staring out at the field across from the camp where the infantry was
entrenched, watching the French parade on the battlefield. It was all show. The
British had won Fuentes de Oñoro, and by default, Almeida. But Daniel knew
Harry wasn’t interested in watching the spectacle. He didn’t want to face
Daniel.

The last day and half had been hell as he’d made his way
back to Fuentes de Oñoro. He’d been so worried Harry was dead that when Simon
waylaid him on his way into camp he’d barely flinched at the news that Harry
was leaving. But he hadn’t expected this confession, and it was obvious that
Harry hated having to make it.

As for himself, Daniel was numb. He knew he ought to be
angry or hurt or something. But he’d been so damn relieved to find Harry alive
after the battle—and after hearing about the nearly suicidal attack the
Fourteenth had made on an artillery battery—that he couldn’t be angry about
something so trivial as a fiancée. “I didn’t expect this thing between us to
outlast the war, Harry.”

“I did.” Harry’s anguished whisper cut through Daniel’s numb
acceptance.

“Did you? Well, that’s odd, considering you’re the one with
the fiancée waiting at home.”

“I never expected to feel this way,” Harry said, turning
back to Daniel. His eyes were red. God help him if Harry started to cry,
because Daniel couldn’t take that.

“We’ve covered that ground,” he said. “No one ever means for
it to happen.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

It was clear Harry wanted more. Daniel didn’t have more to
give him. Soon enough the numb would wear off and then it would hit him that
Harry was really gone. Forever. But right now he was just relieved. He wanted
Harry safe, didn’t he? “So England wins,” he said with a sad little laugh. “I
was rooting for her, don’t you know, considering the other option was death.”

“What?” Harry asked, a confused look on his face. “What are
you talking about?”

“I was worried sick that you’d not survive this battle,”
Daniel said. “I knew I was going to lose you, Harry. That you’d either go home
to England without me, or you’d die in battle. England was the lesser of two
evils.”

“That’s one perspective, I suppose,” Harry said with a tiny
laugh of his own. “I’m not in love with her, you know.”

“Then I pity her.” Daniel didn’t give him an inch. “You need
to try, at least. If you’re going to go through with it, you owe her that
much.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of it,” Harry said with a shake
of his head. “I’ve always preferred men, you see. I sought you out because that
was my predilection.”

“Ah,” Daniel said, surprised. “I didn’t know. You never told
me that. I assumed it was the war.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I’d have sought you out under any
circumstances.”

“Don’t seek me out when this war ends. I won’t be your
little secret back in England. I won’t take a house in Chelsea and wait for you
to visit once a month. Don’t ask me to.” He was protesting too much. He’d do it
in a heartbeat if Harry asked. He was sickened by his own weakness.

“I won’t,” Harry said much to Daniel’s relief. “I knew that
for you it was all or nothing. If I had my choice, I’d give you my all.”

“Then why marry her?” Daniel immediately wished he could
take the question back. He didn’t want to sound like a petulant ex-lover.

“My father wishes it.” Harry picked up a shirt and returned
to packing. “He wants to ensure his dynasty.” The bitterness in his voice spoke
volumes.

“Those are your father’s wishes. What of yours?” There was a
small spark of hope in Daniel that he tried to douse in reality. Harry was
leaving, no matter what was said here.

“I will do as he wants or he’ll cut me off,” Harry said,
“and I can’t have that. What would I do? I haven’t a fortune of my own, you
know. And I’m not cut out for the life of a career soldier.”

“You needn’t be defensive. I’m not criticizing,” Daniel
said, sitting down on a stool to watch Harry. He was drinking in the sight of
him. Perhaps he’d learn to hate him in time, but right now he was just so damn
happy he was alive and he was getting out of here.

“I’m a coward,” Harry said quietly. He sat down on his cot,
facing Daniel, his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together. “I didn’t
tell you because I was afraid you would walk away from me. And when James
pulled me from the battle, I was glad. I’d been deathly afraid, and he gave me
an excuse to get away. I should have fought him harder.”

“Is that what this is about? Your pride? You wouldn’t have
won. He’s killed better men than you.” Daniel’s bitterness was seeping out.

Harry’s half smile stabbed Daniel in the heart with guilt
over his childish comment. “I’m sure he has, and will again. I’m lucky he made
you that promise or he’d have killed me too, unworthy though I am.” He looked
down at the ground for a moment and then he met Daniel’s stare head-on. “I’m
also too much of a coward to defy my father and find my own way. You’re well rid
of me, I think.”

“I’m not sure why you get to feel so sorry for yourself in
this situation,” Daniel observed, starting to feel the anger that a moment ago
he thought might never come. “You are the one who sought me out, who deceived
me, who told me you loved me, all the while keeping the truth from me. Aren’t I
the one who should feel betrayed?”

“Do you?” Harry asked. “So far it doesn’t look like you feel
much.”

“Yes I do,” Daniel said, standing abruptly and knocking over
the stool he’d been sitting on. He took refuge in anger because it was better
than showing the despair that was trying to swamp him. “I believed what you
said, Harry. I believed in you. And now I find out it was all a lie.”

“It wasn’t.” Harry was standing now too. “It wasn’t a lie. I
do love you.”

Daniel said nothing in return. He just stared at Harry,
refusing to reveal the truth burning a hole in his soul. Harry smiled sadly.
“Even now, when I’m leaving and confessing my sins you can’t say it.”

“Say what?” Daniel pretended ignorance.

“That you love me,” Harry said, though it was clear by his
tone he knew he didn’t have to. “I suppose that’s the one good thing in all of
this,” he mused with a sniff, turning back around and shoving another shirt in
his bag. “If you did love me too then this would be harder for you, and I don’t
want that. I’m glad I’m not breaking your heart. James said my leaving would
break you, but he was wrong. He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks.”

“James said that?”

“Yes.” Harry wasn’t looking at him or he’d have seen
Daniel’s discomfiture at that information. James did know him, too damn well.
“He was quite angry with me for a lot of reasons, but the main one seemed to be
that you’d be terribly upset about it all. You’ll have to make sure to tell him
you’re not.”

Daniel knew then that that was what Harry wanted. He wanted
to know that Daniel didn’t love him. That he hadn’t hurt him or broken his
heart. It would make it all so much easier if Daniel could make him believe it.
He may not be able to tell Harry he loved him, but he could do this for him. “I
will.”

Harry stood with his back ramrod straight and turned to face
Daniel. “Good. Well, this is goodbye, then. James is sending me with his
dispatches. Not alone, of course. He wouldn’t trust me with that.”

“No,” Daniel agreed. He wanted to prolong the moment, but no
other words came to him.

“No hard feelings between us?” Harry stuck out his hand.

Daniel took it in his and tried not to clutch it tightly and
yank Harry into his arms. “None,” he managed to say. “It was fun. I enjoyed our
affair, Harry. A man needs a respite from the war now and then.” He forced a
smile.

Harry cleared his throat and pulled his hand from Daniel’s.
He looked around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything and closed his bag.
Then he put on his shako and nodded at Daniel. “I’m glad I could give you that,
Daniel. Goodbye. Stay safe. Don’t let James get you killed over here.”

“I won’t,” Daniel said. All the other words he wanted to say
were clogged in his throat, so he just watched Harry as he left the tent. He
hesitated on the threshold, but to his credit he didn’t turn back for a last
look at Daniel. If he had, he’d have seen the lie for what it was. He was
taking Daniel’s heart with him as surely as if he’d ripped it from his chest.

“Back from the French line so soon?” James asked without
looking up from his correspondence as Daniel entered his tent. “Any news?”

“Thank you.” Daniel sat down in a small folding camp chair
across the table from him.

“For what?” James asked as he carefully folded a letter and
put it on a stack of similar papers beside him.

“I just saw Harry.” Daniel didn’t want to talk about it too
much. He was beginning to hurt inside. The kind of hurt that makes you want to
curl up in a ball and lie in your bed until the world leaves you alone.

“He’s a lucky man,” James said. He didn’t complete the
thought and Daniel wondered what he was lucky for. Was it because he was going
home? Or because Daniel loved him enough to feel his loss like a knife to the
gut?

“Yes,” was the answer he thought best.

“You said you wanted him safe. England is the best I can do.
The rest is up to him.” James pulled another letter from a different stack and
began reading it. “I’ll have another assignment for you this evening. I need to
organize my information on the backlash from our supposed victory. You have
time to clean up.”

“You knew.” Daniel didn’t need to ask. Sir Barnabas James
knew everything. Of course he knew about Harry’s fiancée. “How long?”

“Not long. As I was making arrangements to send him home to
his father I found out. He told you, did he?” James didn’t look up from the
letter he was pretending to read. He might know Daniel, but Daniel knew him as
well.

“He did. He didn’t have to.” He was gauging James’ reaction,
but as usual could detect nothing. The man was a cipher.

“Hmm,” was all he said.

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” he finally asked.

“No.” James signed the bottom of the letter and folded it
neatly and added it to his stack.

“So you knew Harry had lied to me, you apparently thought it
would ‘break’ me, yet you still saved his life and sent him home. For me.”

That made James put down his pen and look at Daniel. “And?”

“Unbelievable,” Daniel commented with a wry laugh, “that
you, among all of us, are the one to emerge from this tawdry situation smelling
like a rose.”

“Hardly.” James scrunched up his shoulder and sniffed
himself with a disgruntled expression. “Thanks to Wellington’s folly here, I
haven’t had a chance to bathe in days. I think I’m putrefying.”

“Is that a sense of humor?” Daniel asked with genuine shock.
“Where was that hiding?”

“Behind the French line,” James parried. “With the
reinforcements that thankfully never appeared.”

Daniel snorted with a slight chuckle. “Perhaps I’ll find
mine there too, in time.”

“Do you need a shoulder to cry on?” James asked drily.

Daniel shook his head. “No. Contrary to what you apparently
thought, Harry’s lie did not break me.”

“And his leaving?” James asked quietly. Of course he’d ask
the hard question.

“We’ll find out,” Daniel said. He turned to leave the tent.

“Do you want this new assignment, or shall I give it to that
madman Tarrant? Tell me now if you can’t handle it.”

“What rot,” Daniel said crisply. “The day I can’t handle an
assignment is the day some Frenchman takes a lucky shot.”

“Good.” James picked up another letter.

“Tarrant is a good man,” Daniel told him.

“Of course he is,” James said, clearly surprised. “All my
men are.”

“He doesn’t really hate you,” Daniel said with hesitation,
because he wasn’t entirely sure it was the truth.

“Of course he does,” James said dismissively. “I give him
something to hate besides himself. It’s what he needs.”

Daniel had a shocking moment of clarity that made him feel
lightheaded. “Do you give us all what we need, then?”

“I try. At least what you need to complete your missions in
the field and return.” James signed the letter in front of him with a harsh
scratch. “I know what I ask of you all, and I know the price you pay. I shall
repay that debt to the best of my ability.”

“If Tarrant needed a favor, would you do it for him?” Daniel
asked curiously. “Even knowing he hates you?”

“Yes,” James answered without hesitation. “But he doesn’t
need to know that.” His smile was predatory. “I shall deny this conversation
ever happened, by the way.”

“What did you give Simon?” Daniel asked, letting curiosity
get the better of him.

“You,” James said succinctly. “The mission?”

Daniel laughed. “I’ll take the mission.” He turned to leave
the tent. “But I may need a favor afterward. You know how I get.”

“Yes, I know,” James said. Daniel looked over his shoulder
to see him reading another letter. But there was a little smile on his face.
“And I also know not to expect more.”

James’ acceptance of the limits on their friendship was a
great relief. He hesitated before leaving the tent. He didn’t want to ask, but
he needed to. “Are you sure he’ll make it home safely?”

“It’s all been arranged,” James said without looking at him.
He made a shooing motion. “Go. I’m busy.”

Daniel left the tent and looked down at the French, trying
to save face with their ridiculous maneuvers on the empty battlefield. Their
next move would be to relieve the garrison at Badajoz if he were to take a
guess. No doubt that was where he was headed. So the war went on, with or
without Harry. And so would he. He’d lost something precious today, but he’d
gained something, too. A newfound understanding of what made Sir Barnabas James
tick, for one thing. And the knowledge that he was stronger than he’d thought.
Strong enough to survive Harry’s leaving.