“Like your battlefield friendships?”
Will thought of the night Lily had died, when his frantic message had brought one of his oldest school friends, Ashton, to his side through a near-lethal blizzard. If the circumstances had been reversed, Will would have done the same for Ashton. The mutual loyalty and trust were beyond question. “Very like.”
“You said Justin Ballard was a school friend, so I assume he’s one of that school brotherhood?”
“Yes, which is why I know he’ll send the aid I requested. I would do no less for him. Friendships make life worth living.” He hesitated, then continued. “Honesty compels me to admit that friendships between men and women can be difficult because there is always that underlying awareness of difference.”
“ ‘Vive la différence,’” Athena murmured in French. In her normal voice, she asked, “Do you have many female friends?”
“Not as many as I would like. As you point out, I’ve been living mostly among men for years. But Lady Agnes Westerfield, founder of the school where Mac and I were sent, is an extraordinary woman. She has a gift for educating boys and I treasure her friendship. Several of my school friends are married, and the wives I’ve met are remarkable women. We’re friendly now, and I hope that when I’m back in England, we’ll develop deeper friendships. My brother’s wife, Kiri, is amazing. You’d like her, I think. You have much in common.”
“That could mean instant antagonism instead!” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Your proposal that we ask each other personal questions leads into interesting and impertinent subjects. Is there one of your friends’ wives whom you wish were yours?”
Will shook his head decisively. “They’re all intelligent, attractive women, but I’ve never once thought of any of them like that. Wives of friends are untouchable.”
“An admirable sentiment,” she said with approval.
He studied the subtle play of starlight that defined Athena’s tall, graceful figure, and thought of how they’d met thrashing in the crowded waters of the Douro. She’d been on the verge of drowning from the weight of her saturated nun’s robes, but she’d struggled on to save herself and the child locked under her arm. “Even if the ladies my friends married were free, none would be quite right for me. Or me for one of them.”
“That will make it possible to develop deeper friendships with them.” Athena straightened and stepped down to the level roof, her lips curving in a slight smile. “Very well, we shall continue to develop our friendship. But perhaps it’s better if we stay out of touching distance.”
There was nothing he would like better than to close the distance between them and wrap his arms around her again, but only a fool would ignore what she was saying. Glad she wasn’t ending their tentative relationship, he said, “Luckily, there is so much to be done in San Gabriel that we should be able to behave with decorum.”
For now, at least . . .
* * *
Athena was grateful for the shadows as she led the way down the stairwell, because the erratic light concealed her trembling. She’d found Will Masterson attractive from the beginning, but she hadn’t expected that serious kissing would swiftly dissolve all her good sense. She’d been close to tumbling into category four, an affair, without any conscious thought. Thank God that Will had more self-control than she did!
As she reached the family floor and stepped into the corridor, then turned back so the light of her candlestick illuminated the last steps for her companion, she thought about what a truly decent man Will Masterson was. Kind, considerate, and honorable to a fault, not to mention powerfully attractive. If she wanted to have an affair, she could hardly choose better for a lover.
But the fiercely independent part of her nature that had enabled her to survive and build an unconventional but satisfying life drew back from the thought. Passion was a kind of madness that destroyed good judgment, as this evening had demonstrated. She would be no man’s mistress because no matter how careful lovers might be, there was always the risk of pregnancy. As a bastard herself, she’d sworn never to inflict the state on a child of her own.
And category five was impossible. Now that the long wars were over and Will was returning home, it was natural for him to want to find a wife and settle down. But he should wait until he was in England, where there would be many choices of a bride.
She and he did like each other and there was some attraction—actually, quite a lot of attraction—but she was just a chance-met female who happened to be a fellow Briton in an unexpected location. That wasn’t enough to build a marriage.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not imagine fitting into the comfortable life of a country gentleman, even with a man as lovely as Will. Growing up, she’d had enough of cuts direct and whispers behind her back. Being the honorable sort, he would feel that he must defend his wife, but that would put him at odds with some of his friends, which wasn’t fair to him.
If she was going to be an outsider, she would be one on her own terms.
* * *
Will was glad he’d had the discipline to escort Athena to her rooms, bow politely, and head off to his own bed without touching her. But he paid for his restraint by sleeping badly. Romance and passion had had little place in his life for years. Now that he’d met Athena Markham, they’d come roaring back with a vengeance.
He was painfully aware that she was perhaps a hundred paces away at the opposite end of this long corridor. If he broke down and went to her door, would she open it? Probably not. But if she did, what then? They might share a night of glorious fulfillment—and in the morning she’d never want to see him again.
Patience, William. Patience. More and more, he believed he wanted her for category five, marriage. But that wouldn’t come without a great deal more wooing and winning. And if he was to keep from destroying all chance of success, he’d damned well better get out of touching distance for a while.
He could do that. With a plan in mind, he finally drifted into sleep.
* * *
Athena slept badly as the merits of an affair were debated between her sensible, rational mind, which had always served her well, and her blazing physical desire, which had never served her well.
Perhaps she should have included a sixth category on her list? Flirtation, in which two people enjoyed one another’s company in a romantic way, but without the intention of going further. She’d tell Will about it in the morning....
She awoke with reason firmly in charge. That lasted until she went downstairs to breakfast with the Olivieras, who were their usual cheerful selves. She was halfway through eggs scrambled with onions and peppers when Will entered the dining room, and her reason collapsed. Why did that scarlet uniform have to be so damnably attractive?
His smile briefly touched her, but it was for everyone in the room. He looked as if he’d slept better than she had.
Señor Oliviera said, “Major Masterson, we worked well last night. Our plans are good.”
“Yes, and today we start to put them into effect.” He pulled up an empty chair at the far end of the table from Athena and seated himself. “After breakfast, I thought you and Sergeant Oliviera and I could sit down with a map of San Gabriel and tentatively lay out the defense districts.”
Señor Oliviera blinked. “You move quickly.”
“It’s a British trait,” his son Gilberto explained. “Very exhausting for those of us accustomed to savoring life at a slower pace, but sometimes useful. Once we have an idea of the districts, we can ride through the valley to discuss and organize.”
Will nodded as a well-piled plate was set in front of him by a young Oliviera daughter. He thanked her, then said, “By this afternoon, we should be ready to ride out. I thought you, Señor, and the sergeant? You for persuasion, Gilberto to speak to his fellow soldiers and to start to organize the defense units.”
Athena couldn’t resist asking, “And you to lend the power and majesty of Britain to the quest?”
Will grinned at he
r. “Me to take notes about food and water supplies and available weapons and defensible position. The boring but necessary details.”
“It will take a week or so of travel over the whole country,” Señor Oliviera said. “Perhaps we should do several short trips instead.”
“I think this work should be done as soon as possible.” Will’s gaze met Gilberto’s for a moment of silent communication before the younger man nodded. Athena guessed they shared the soldier’s sixth sense of impending danger.
The oldest Oliviera daughter, Beatrix, said teasingly, “My brother wants to go to Santo Espirito to see if a certain young lady has been waiting for him.”
Gilberto said cheerfully, “If she has forgotten me, no matter. She has younger sisters. One of them might do.”
Beatrix snapped a kitchen towel at her brother’s head. “Swine!”
Laughing, he rose to his feet. “A reminder that the oldest daughter in a family has the worst temper, so I should pick a younger one.”
His sister shrieked and prepared to snap the towel again. He caught her in his arms. “I have missed you so, Beatrix!”
Mollified, she hugged him back. “It’s good to have you home, my pig of a brother. May the other troops also be home soon.”
“They will, but in the meantime, we must make San Gabriel stronger. Papá, Major Masterson? I shall collect the maps of the valley. When you have finished eating, come to my father’s office and we shall begin our work.” With a bow toward his mother and Athena, Gilberto left the room.
Will and Señor Oliviera finished their meals and rose. Will sent one swift, warm smile toward Athena before he followed Señor Oliviera to the office.
And that was the last she saw of him for a week.
Chapter 14
Justin Ballard frowned at his ledger book, wondering how long it would take for the port-wine-shipping trade to recover now that the war was over. Demand was still strong—fine wines were always popular. But supplies were scarce because many Douro Valley vineyards had been hard hit and new vines took years to become productive. In the meantime, Justin was not as busy as he would like to be.
A tap on the door was followed by the cheerful face of Pia, one of his maids. “Mr. Ballard, there is a Sergeant Murphy here to see you.”
It took Justin a moment to place the name and remember that Murphy was Will Masterson’s batman. Feeling a clutch around his heart, he rose and strode toward his front hall. “I’ll see him now.”
He found the young soldier admiring the painted tile mural of a terraced vineyard that covered one whole wall of the entrance hall. Not bothering with the pleasantries, Justin asked sharply, “You have news of Will Masterson?”
“Yes, sir, and Major Masterson is well,” Murphy said reassuringly, a pleasant Irish roll to his words. He held out a sealed letter of several pages. “He sent me to deliver this message.”
The thick bundle was much more than a standard letter. “Do you want to wait for a reply?”
“Yes, sir, you’ll see when you read it.”
“Then join me in my office while I read. Pia, bring refreshments for Sergeant Murphy.” Gesturing for the sergeant to follow, Justin returned to his office and settled behind his desk. He broke the wax seal and started to scan Will’s familiar clear handwriting.
Greetings, Justin!
With the war over, I should be sitting in your drawing room enjoying views of the Douro and drinking Ballard port while you quietly consider how swiftly you can persuade me to go on my way. However, my journey homeward has been delayed in San Gabriel. Have you ever visited here? It’s a lovely little valley kingdom that was unfortunately in the path of retreating French troops.
Much help is needed. Details listed below, but labor and good quality grapevine cuttings are the most important. (Preferred varieties are listed separately.) I also need tools, hardware, and black powder for blasting. I’ll pay well to get strong, reliable laborers. Send them with the cuttings and other materials needed.
I’m told the road is bad—Sergeant Murphy will have firsthand experience by the time he reaches you—so I imagine everything will have to be brought up on donkeys or mules. Buy the pack animals—they’re needed here.
Draw on my Porto account to cover costs. If expenses exceed that, I hope you will advance the balance, to be repaid when I can contact my bankers.
Murphy can escort the laborers and mules, but I hope that if you have the time, you’ll come yourself. This is an interesting place, and the wine might be up to your standards if the local river can be made navigable down to the Douro.
Sergeant Murphy will explain more of the situation directly.
With hopes to see you soon—
Will, most grateful for whatever you can do
Justin’s brows arched when he scanned the listing of desired supplies, including nails, saws, hammers, and other tools. This would not be inexpensive. Will could certainly afford it, but the question was why he wanted to. “What on earth is Masterson planning to build?”
Murphy swallowed a bite of the sliced ham that was on the tray of refreshments Pia had just brought in. “A bridge. Among other things. The French did a lot of damage and took most of the pack beasts and tools and anything else they could easily steal.”
“I’ve never been to San Gabriel, Sergeant Murphy. Can you explain why Will has taken such an interest in the place?”
“It’s a fine little valley with good people and it does need help, but many places do when armies have passed through.” Murphy grinned. “San Gabriel, though, has a lady.”
“Masterson is interested in her?” Justin said, surprised. Will enjoyed the company of females, but he’d never been a womanizer.
“Yes, and a very fine lady she is. English and well respected in San Gabriel and near as tall as I am.”
And Murphy was taller than Justin. She sounded like a good match for Will. Beginning to smile, Justin said, “The lady and the country sound interesting.”
“Aye, sir. A pretty place with many fine ladies.”
From the gleam in Murphy’s eye, Justin suspected he’d found a lady of his own. Justin studied the list more closely. It was a little late in the season for planting grapevines, but San Gabriel was high in the mountains, where spring came later, so the plants would probably establish themselves well enough. The listed grape varieties all flourished throughout the Douro Valley and its tributaries, and he knew farmers that always kept their extra cuttings after the annual pruning of the vines. They’d be happy to sell the surplus.
There were also plenty of men in Porto looking for work, and some of them were seasoned vineyard workers. None of the other requested supplies presented much difficulty, though he’d have to use personal connections to acquire black powder.
After a swift mental calculation, Justin said, “We can be ready to leave in three days. I hope you’ll stay here, Sergeant Murphy, since I’ll need your advice on some of these things and I also want to know more about the situation in San Gabriel.”
Murphy’s grin broadened. “The major will be right happy to have you, sir. The sooner we can leave, the better.”
Smiling, Justin began scribbling notes in the margin of the letter. He’d been in need of an adventure, and now one had appeared.
Chapter 15
“Gently, gently!” Will called out as the huge waterwheel was guided into the millrace so that the axle could be inserted and secured in place. Ever since French troops had wrecked the mill, the wheel had been lying half submerged in the river.
Since Will didn’t have the materials to rebuild the bridge yet, he’d proposed rebuilding the mill and had recruited a couple of dozen strong young men to do the heavy lifting. Millstones and waterwheels were hard to destroy, so mostly this was a matter of putting the pieces back together.
Inside the thick-walled stone building, the massive millstones that would grind the grain into flour had been remounted earlier in the morning. Will and the mill owner, Señor de Sousa, had repaired and rep
ositioned the complicated gears that transmitted the power of the river to the millstones.
The last step was raising and remounting the waterwheel. Will had calculated where to anchor pulleys on the wall of the mill, and the young men were now hauling on them to pull the wheel upright so it could be remounted in the millrace.
With a squeal of wet wood on metal, the wheel was secured in place and immediately started turning as the river current pushed against the blades. The workers cheered and splashed more water at each other.
Will held his breath while Señor de Sousa engaged the gears. The runner stone on top began turning against the stationary bed stone below. Success! The gristmill was back in business. The mill owner gave a whoop of joy. “Praise the Blessed Mother and all the saints! And thank you, my friends, for aiding me. Now, we feast!”
Will found the mill repair a satisfyingly physical project after a week of canvassing the valley with the Olivieras. Memories of the French invasion were still vivid, so most Gabrileños welcomed the proposal to form small military defensive districts to provide safety and swift reactions if there were more attacks.
As Will had told Athena before the journey began, he stayed in the background and let the Olivieras do the explaining and persuasion, but his uniform was welcomed. The British were popular in San Gabriel. Quietly he evaluated the defensible merits of manor houses and caves, and also inventoried water sources, weapons, foodstuffs, and other supplies that would be needed to create safe refuges.
The work kept him busy and so tired that thoughts of Athena didn’t keep him awake all night. Instead, he dreamed of her, and woke up yearning. And burning.
Reinstalling the waterwheel was wet work, and Will was saturated. Luckily, the day was warm. He was drying his face with a small, ragged towel when Gilberto approached. “A good day’s work, eh, Major?” the younger man called.