Chapter Eighteen

Adrian helped Elissa unpack and get them settled in the tent they would be sharing. As he watched her work, he tried not to think of the worry he had felt when he had discovered her gone from the place he had left her—the consummate rage that swept through him when he’d seen her manhandled by the Turk.

There were good men among the soldiers serving in the ranks, but most were men down on their luck, petty criminals, and drunkards, the very worst lot in society. Their only interest in enlisting was fear of being tossed into prison or need for the meager bounty paid to them for joining.

He should have warned her, explained things more carefully. As she had said, she wasn’t a stupid woman. Headstrong and willful, but not the least bit stupid. He would remember that in future and try to act accordingly.

In the meantime he would take her to the camp of the 4th Chevauxlegers and hope she would be able to find her brother—and that Peter hadn’t been injured or perhaps even killed. Afterward he would report to General Klammer and get his first look at Becker. In time, he would introduce them to Elissa … or perhaps he would let her seek Becker out on her own.

Across the tent, Elissa leaned against the broom she had borrowed. “I’ve made it as comfortable as I possible can.” She had finished sweeping away the stones and loose dirt on the earthen floor. “Now can we go and find Peter?”

He smiled, enjoying the excitement on her face that made her cheeks turn rosy. Against his will, his pulse began to quicken and thoughts of bedding her rose like a storm in his blood. He forced the notion away.

Surveying the interior of the tent, he noticed she had unpacked and hung their scant clothing from a line strung at the rear and neatly placed his boots and a pair of sturdy brown shoes beneath them. Then his glance fell on the two narrow cots placed well apart, and a shot of annoyance filtered through him. Reaching down, he dragged the beds together so it appeared they would be sleeping side by side.

“You’re supposed to be my woman, remember?”

She eyed the cots with a look of trepidation, but she didn’t complain. “Now can we go?”

“In a minute.” Crossing to the front of the tent where the flaps had been tied open to catch the breeze, he turned to face her. “Come here.”

There was something in his voice that must have made her wary. With a look of hesitation, she finally obeyed, stopping in front of him in the opening.

“What … what is it?”

Though the tent sat a bit off by itself, there were at least a dozen men milling about within sight of where they stood. Reaching for Elissa, he dragged her into his arms and took her mouth in a searing kiss. For a moment she stiffened, her slender body rigid, her palms pressing hard against his chest. Then she made a soft little sound in her throat, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

It was more than he’d bargained for. His fiery kiss was meant to protect her, to show his possession, lay claim to her in front of the men and let them know without doubt she was his. Now as her soft lips trembled and her breath came in shallow little gasps, Adrian’s blood began to pool low in his groin. His shaft went rock hard, and he wondered if the men would think it was she who possessed him.

And bloody hell, they would be right.

With an effort, he ended the kiss, wishing instead he could drag her back in the tent, tear off her simple garments, and make passionate love to her. Instead, he lifted his head and eased her away, trying not to notice the bloom of desire in her cheeks and her bewildered expression.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said gruffly, turning her in the direction they were headed, giving her a smart, proprietary slap on the bottom.

He didn’t miss the sparks of blue that shot from her eyes or the stiff set to her shoulders. She opened her mouth to rail at him, but he dragged her back into his arms and silenced her with another quick, hard kiss.

“This was your idea, sweeting,” he whispered in her ear. “Try to remember your part.”

She straightened away from him and forced herself to smile, then relaxed into the role she had come to play, giving him a wink and a saucy grin. “Whatever you say, my lord Colonel.”

Her posture had subtly changed and even her speech sounded different, less refined. He thought that perhaps her mother’s thinking was correct, that she could have been a talented actress after all.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve better things to do than stand about wasting time.”

Her eyes narrowed and for a moment she looked as though she wanted to hit him. Instead she smiled the same smile she had used to charm Pettigru and the rest of her admirers.

“I’ll remember that, my lord. And later,” she purred, “when we are alone”—her gaze ran over his body—“I’ll find a way to make you pay.”

They left the men staring after them, and as they passed among the soldiers on the way to the Chevauxlegers’ camp, Adrian kept a proprietary hand at her waist. Word traveled fast among a group like this: the story of the colonel and his woman, newly arrived in camp; the beating he had given the big Turk for trying to harm her.

Just thinking of her attacker made the hair rise at the back of his neck. If the man had been under his command, he would have had him flogged. As it was, he didn’t want to draw more attention to them than necessary.

Perhaps in one way it was good that it had happened. The warning he had delivered wouldn’t insure her complete protection—there was no real way to do that—but as long as she was careful and he kept a watchful eye, she should be safe.

It took a while to reach the area near the perimeter where the Austrian light cavalry—the Chevauxlegers—had pitched their tents. By the time they arrived, dusk formed a purple haze on the horizon. Campfires blazed across the landscape and the sound of a distant harmonica drifted on the air.

Adrian urged Elissa straight to the commanding officer’s tent, his attention focused on the sandy-haired soldier drinking from a tin mug of coffee out in front.

“Good evening, Major,” he said. “Colonel Kingsland, British Third Dragoons.”

The lanky soldier straightened his bearing into a military stance. “Major Berg, Fourth Regiment, Kinsky’s Chevauxlegers.” Since Adrian wore no hat, the major didn’t salute. Instead he smiled. “British, eh? I don’t suppose there are a few thousand more of you around?”

Adrian smiled. “Sorry, I’m the only one. And I’m strictly here as an advisor.”

The major wasn’t surprised, though his disappointment was clear. After the Austrians’ series of defeats, the army needed all the help it could get. “What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“I’m looking for a lieutenant named Tauber. Do you happen to know where I might find him?”

The major flashed Elissa an appreciative glance, and nodded. “The lieutenant walked over to the infirmary to have his bandages changed. He should be back any minute.”

“B-bandages?” Elissa’s face went pale. She looked as though she weren’t sure whether to be thankful her brother was alive, or worried that he had been injured. “Peter has been wounded?”

“A saber cut to the shoulder,” the major said. “He took a blow to the head as well, but it doesn’t appear to be serious and he seems to be healing quite well.”

“Thank God.”

Adrian felt her slender body trembling against him with relief. “Mind if we wait?” he asked.

“Of course not. Make yourself at home, Colonel. As I said, he should be back—” He broke off as his gaze snagged on a tall, blond soldier in a dark green uniform walking briskly across the camp. He moved a little stiffly and a wide white bandage encircled his forehead. “As a matter of fact, there he is now.”

Adrian smiled. “Thank you, Major.” He didn’t have to urge Elissa forward. She was already grabbing up her skirts, racing across the camp toward her brother.

“Peter! Peter, wait!”

He turned at the sound of her voice and his whole face lit up. “Elissa! Good God, is it really you?”

“It’s really me!” She flung herself into his arms, laughing and crying, a tide of happy tears cascading down her cheeks.

Peter held her away from him to look at her, then pulled her back into his arms. “I can’t believe it. What on earth are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Adrian put in before she had time to answer. “Is there somewhere we can be private?”

Peter’s gaze took in the epaulettes on Adrian’s shoulders. “Of course, Colonel. Right this way.” With an arm wrapped tightly around his sister, who fussed over his bandaged head and asked if he was in pain, Peter grabbed a lantern and led the way to a small, dusty clearing where they could be alone.

A young man no more than twenty, Peter Tauber was as blond and fair as Elissa, but his eyes were hazel instead of blue. He was lean and broad shouldered. Handsome, with his elegant cheekbones and fine blond brows, but there was a toughness about him, his youthful features already stamped with the weary look of battle.

Peter set the lamp on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, and once they were safe from prying eyes, Elissa reached for her brother’s hand.

“Peter, this is Colonel Kingsland. He brought me here to see you.”

The younger man eyed him from top to bottom, taking his measure, it seemed. “Lieutenant Peter Tauber, Colonel. Kinsky’s Fourth Chevauxlegers.”

Adrian extended a hand and the lieutenant shook it. “A pleasure, Lieutenant. Elissa has spoken of you often.” He could see the speculation in Peter Tauber’s eyes, then the subtle stiffening of his shoulders at the rising suspicion that Elissa was more to Adrian than a friend.

“Your sister is here for a number of reasons,” Adrian told him. “Why don’t I give the two of you time alone so that she can explain what is going on.” He pinned the young man with a look of warning. “I caution you, Lieutenant, whatever you learn here this eve is strictly confidential and a matter of the highest importance.”

“Yes, sir. You may rest assured your confidences will remain with me.”

Adrian nodded, certain Peter Tauber had already heard a good deal of the story from his older brother, Karl, or perhaps in letters from his mother. “I’ll leave you, then. Elissa, I’ll be back in an hour. If you have questions, Lieutenant, you can ask them of me then.”

“You’re leaving?” A look of surprise flashed in her eyes, and if he hadn’t known better, perhaps a hint of disappointment.

“I thought you would rather be with Peter alone.”

Her features softened; her pretty blue eyes tilted up. A smile of such tenderness broke over her lips something tightened in his chest. “Stay … please. I was hoping the two of you would have a chance to get acquainted.”

An odd warmth crept into his stomach. She wanted him to stay. She was inviting him to join them as if he were part of the family. He tried not to feel pleased but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “All right. I’d like that, too.”

Peter’s stance became less rigid. He left for a moment to fetch a blanket, spread it on the ground, and they made themselves as comfortable as they could. Elissa asked again after Peter’s health, unbuttoning his shirt to inspect the fresh bandage he wore around one shoulder. Satisfied he was all right, she launched into her tale, refreshing Peter’s memory of the letters she and her mother had sent him after Karl’s death, reminding him of their belief the man responsible was a spy who called himself the Falcon.

“I remember only too well,” Peter said soberly. “But I still don’t understand why you are involved, Elissa. Catching a spy is hardly a job for a woman.”

Adrian felt the pull of a smile. “That’s what I told her. She has been, however, extremely good at getting close to these men. We’re hoping she’ll be able to get to Becker.”

“Becker … yes. I remember Mother said he was one of the men Karl suspected. Becker is among the men here?”

“That’s right.”

Peter squeezed his sister’s hand. “I don’t like this, Lissa. You might wind up injured or perhaps even killed.” He turned a hard look in Adrian’s direction. “I realize you are my superior, Colonel Kingsland, but I must in all conscience protest your use of my sister in such a dangerous fashion.”

Adrian wasn’t about to argue, since he felt the very same way, but perhaps he might be able to reassure him. He started to speak, but before he could open his mouth, Elissa jumped in to defend him, rounding on her brother like a she-wolf protecting a pup.

“This is hardly Colonel Kingsland’s fault,” she said with a determined tilt of her chin. “He’s done everything in his power to dissuade me. But the fact is, I might be able to help. Finding this spy was what Karl wanted above all things and I would see his wishes fulfilled.”

“Karl didn’t mean for you to—”

“I know that. He wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything that might put me in danger. But in the beginning, there was no one else. Now that I’ve gone this far, I’m not going to quit until we catch him.”

Peter flushed and held up his hands in surrender. “All right, I know when I’m beaten.” He turned a sheepish look on Adrian. “I suppose this is what you put up with?”

“Exactly so.”

“I guess I had forgotten.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “I don’t like having her here any more than you do. I can promise you, however, she is in good hands with me. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

Elissa smiled, apparently satisfied with the way things were turning out, and she and Peter began to speak of other matters. Adrian watched them in the light of the lantern, noticing the radiance in her features, enjoying the sweet sound of her laughter. She was happy as he had never seen her, basking in the love she shared with her brother. Adrian had never known that sort of affection, doubted that he ever would.

A stab of envy caught him off guard, opening the old wounds, the pain he had buried years ago. He felt a squeezing in his chest and suddenly wished he had left them alone. Draping an arm around his knee, he leaned back to watch them, hearing their easy laughter, the sparkle of amusement in their eyes at some tale of mischief remembered from their past. There was a time he had yearned for that sort of love from his brother, for just a glimmer of that same warmth from his mother and father. It had taken years to burn out the final flames of hope, but he had finally learned his lesson.

He watched Elissa smile into Peter’s youthful face, watched the affectionate way she touched him. She had missed him, he could see. And she loved him. It was obvious as well that Peter loved her.

Old memories rose up, of Richard, eight years old, a single year older than he, yet more distant than any stranger.

“Papa says I don’t have to play with you if I don’t want to. He says these are my toys. Papa said he bought them just for me.” Richard was taller then, a gangly boy with reddish brown hair, sloping shoulders, and a cruel, taunting smile. The image of their father. “Can’t you see?” Richard shouted. “No one wants you here! No one likes you. Why don’t you just go away?”

He could still feel the cold chill in his heart when Richard spoke to him that way, or when his father punished him for deeds they both knew Richard had done. The icy emptiness stayed with him during the months after his twice-yearly sojourn into the hellish bosom of his family, living inside him during his distant, isolated years at Mr. Pembrook’s very strict boarding school.

If it hadn’t been for the friendship he found with Jamie, he wasn’t sure what would have happened to him.

“Adrian?” Her soft intonation broke into his ugly thoughts. He wondered why they had surfaced, wondered how he could have let them after all of these years.

“What is it, love?” He used the endearment without thinking, saying it in a way that made it more than an affectionate address. Stupid. He could see Peter Tauber bristle, see Elissa’s fingers dig into her brother’s arm.

“We … we are playing a role, Peter.” She smiled but a slight tint of color infused her cheeks. “We’ve explained that. You must try to understand.”

The young lieutenant relaxed. “I’m sorry. I should have known you would never do anything … anything the least bit dishonorable.” The color in her face bled away, giving a pale cast to her complexion.

Adrian rose swiftly to his feet. “The hour grows late. ’Tis past time for us to leave.” He smiled at Elissa. “You’ll be able to visit your brother again before we break camp.”

She gave him a brief smile of gratitude then turned and hugged her brother. “Remember, Peter, you mustn’t tell anyone who I am. Here I am simply Elissa, a friend, perhaps, of someone you once knew.”

“I’ll remember,” Peter said, not looking as though he liked it one bit. “Good night, Lissa. Take care of yourself.”

“As I would have you do, little brother.” Crossing the short distance between them, she accepted the arm Adrian offered and they started back toward their tent.

“He seems like a nice-enough lad. I’m glad he came through the fighting all right.”

Elissa smiled. “Thank you for bringing me here, Adrian. No matter what happens, it will have been worth it only for this.”

Adrian returned the smile, trying not to feel envy for the brief warm glance she cast back over her shoulder to the blond man walking away.

*   *   *

His tent was spacious. And the lantern on his desk cast a pleasant yellow glow. He lifted the lid of his compact oak traveling desk, uncorked the inkwell, picked up his quill pen and dipped it in. As he started to write, he smiled, feeling the satisfaction, the thrill of the game, planning his next move, working out exactly the right strategy. It was more than just feeding the French information. It was the power, the control, the part he was playing in winning such a major campaign.

Lifting out a sheet of foolscap, he laid it carefully in front of him, settled the pen between his fingers, and began to scroll the letters.

Archduke pressing hard for Vienna. Seventy-four thousand men. Hiller and balance of forces providing rear guard, likely to cross Danube at Krems. Convergence of forces most likely at Brunn.

He wanted to add a few words of advice but thought better of it. He would wait until he had a bit more information, then perhaps he would suggest a plan. The little corporal would undoubtedly chafe at his temerity, but the man knew sound advice when it was given. Hadn’t Bonaparte done as he had advised and split the archduke’s forces at Ratisbon? It would be gratifying if the upcoming French victory could also be insured by the Falcon’s hand.

He finished the message, inked the emblem on his ring, and pressed it to the paper, then folded the letter and sealed it with wax. Tomorrow he would order it delivered to the man who would carry it west, a man who waited as usual at a tavern somewhere along their route. It was more difficult with the army on the move, but the heightened danger only made the challenge more interesting.

He smiled to think of the next great victory that he would help to win.

*   *   *

The sun was well up, Adrian long gone, as Elissa tidied up the tent and pulled the cots back together in case anyone should happen to look inside. As soon as they’d arrived home last eve and the flaps of the tent had been lowered, Adrian had pulled them a distance apart then turned his back, silently undressed, and lain down on his narrow bunk to sleep.

Elissa smoothed the folds of his bedroll, her hand lingering over the blankets that still carried the scent of him, of brandy, starch, and wool, and the subtle fragrance of man. Earlier she had watched him shave, the thin, sharp blade of his razor skimming with precision over the long, smooth muscles of his throat. His skin was dark against the creamy soap, and his mouth curved faintly as the blade ran over the hard angle of his jaw.

As she watched the graceful movements of his hands, her face grew warm and her stomach fluttered. She recalled times those clever hands had touched her, made love to her in their practiced, skillful way.

Elissa shook her head, clearing the images, forcing the unwanted thoughts away. She had more to think about than Adrian and things that could never be. Today she would finally meet Josef Becker. Even now Adrian was in conference with General Klammer. He would meet Becker and decide the best way for her to approach him. In the meantime she would spend time with Peter, then perhaps do some washing. They would be on the move again soon. There wouldn’t be time for it then.

Peter was as glad to see her as he had been the night before. They shared a meal of dried beef and biscuits and she was happy to discover, as Major Berg had said, his wounds were healing nicely. Peter told her he had been asking after Becker, but hadn’t learned anything that might be of help.

“I wish I could stay with you longer,” she told him, “but I doubt your commanding officer would approve and I have chores to do.”

Peter laughed. “It’s hard to imagine Lady Elissa Tauber working as a camp follower. Papa would turn over in his grave.”

“Papa would be the first one here trying to discover Karl’s murderer.”

Peter sobered. “That is beyond the truth. I only wish I could be the one to do it.”

“You are doing what you can, as all of us are.” She hugged him fiercely then left him to his duties and returned to her own camp.

Earlier she had learned each group of soldiers had an area set aside for the women who traveled with them. A central cooking area, a place to wash and mend. Elissa headed there now, a basket of dirty clothes propped on her hip.

Aside from the mélange of gaudy, unkempt women who usually surrounded the cooking fires, she was surprised to see a girl, perhaps a year or two younger than she, washing clothes next to two young children who played in the dirt nearby. The girl had big dark eyes and olive skin, slender hips and high, full breasts. Her hair was as black and shiny as obsidian, but was cropped even shorter than her own and fell perfectly straight against her head, giving her a boyish, pixie appearance.

Oddly, instead of making her look less feminine, it gave her an exotic, sensual appeal few men would be able to resist.

“Hello,” the girl said, surprising her with a warm, welcoming smile. Her voice was deep and husky. Elissa wondered if she might be a Gypsy. “I am Nina Petralo. This is my little brother, Tibor, and my sister, Vada. I have not seen you before. You must be new in the camp.” She spoke German, but with a thick Hungarian accent.

Elissa smiled, liking her straightforward approach. “My name is Elissa. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a … a friend of Colonel Kingsland’s. We just arrived last night.”

“Ah, yes. I heard the story of your colonel and the Turk.” She laughed, a rich, throaty sound. “I don’t suppose you have to worry about being bothered by the soldiers with that one around.”

She thought of Adrian and tried not to feel a glimmer of warmth. “The colonel is very protective.” That he was. A sense of duty was something Adrian had never lacked. She wished it was something far more. “What about you?” Elissa asked. “Is your … husband one of the soldiers?” Surely a woman as beautiful as Nina Petralo would have a man to protect her.

Nina shook her head. “My father was a friend of General Klammer’s. He was killed in the fighting at Ratisbon.”

“I’m sorry.” She said a silent prayer of thanks that her brother had been spared. “And your mother?”

“She died some years back. We have relatives in Vienna who will take us in. We are traveling there with the army under the general’s protection.”

The little girl tugged at her sister’s skirt. Nina bent down so the child could whisper in her ear, then Vada raced off to catch up with her younger brother. The children were as dark as Nina, with the same black hair and big dark eyes. Pretty children, now orphaned by the war.

“The colonel and I will also be traveling with the army,” Elissa said.

Nina smiled. “Then we will be traveling together.” She glanced toward the children. “I suppose I must go. They will get into trouble if I do not watch them closely.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you later,” Elissa said hopefully, liking the girl already.

“I will look for you,” Nina said in her forthright way.

Elissa watched her leave, glad to have met someone near her own age who might become a friend in the days ahead. Nina disappeared and Elissa set to work, filling a bucket with water from a nearby stream, then scrubbing their dirty clothes against a cluster of rocks the women used for that purpose. When she had finished, she loaded the clothes into the basket and started back to the tent.

She paused at the perimeter of the camp, spying Adrian’s tall frame ducking out of the general’s tent. She watched him cross the camp, striding with his usual purposeful grace, heading perhaps to check on their horses. Another man stepped out of the tent behind him.

He was only a hint above average in height, clean shaven, as all of the officers were, a man of medium build with dark brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He was wearing the uniform of a major, and Elissa knew immediately the man was Josef Becker.

Her pulse picked up speed as he walked in her direction, his head down, his brow furrowed, his mind obviously on something besides where he was headed. It was the chance she had been seeking, the perfect opportunity to meet him. Catching a quick, deep breath, she stepped into his path and they collided head-on, the basket toppling sideways, the major catching both her and the basket as she teetered precariously off balance.

She took a solid grip on his arm and righted herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“The fault was mine entirely.” He released his hold and stepped back. “I should have been paying attention.”

Her mouth curved up in a full, inviting smile. “I suppose we were both to blame. At any rate, your quick thinking has saved me from having to rewash all of these clothes. Thank you … Major…?”

“Becker. I’m General Klammer’s aide-de-camp.” The major took the basket from her hands. “Here, let me carry this for you. It’s the least I can do.”

She flashed another winsome smile. “Why, thank you, Major. I appreciate your help.” She walked beside him back to her tent, her hips swaying, forcing him to slow his pace to keep up with her, giving her time to assess him.

With his casual manner and plain appearance, he seemed so nondescript, so completely average, she couldn’t help a twinge of disappointment. Then again, what had she expected? A brutal man like Steigler? Or perhaps one of obvious cunning, with narrow, beady eyes and thin, deceitful lips?

Not this man. He was simply a soldier, not particularly handsome, not repulsive, either. And yet as they walked along, there was something odd about him. Something she couldn’t put a name to. On the surface it didn’t seem sinister, yet it was there in the remoteness of his smile, in the impersonal look he gave her when she thanked him and bade him farewell.

She wondered if Adrian had sensed it, too, and set out to find him as soon as the major was gone.

“Over here,” he called out to her, lifting an arm in greeting. He was standing next to Minotaur, brushing the stallion’s glossy coat with the same capable hands she had admired earlier that morning.

“I met Becker,” she told him with no little excitement. “We just happened to cross paths while I was returning with the laundry.”

A dark, knowing brow arched up. “You just happened to cross paths.”

She flushed a little. How did he manage to read her so easily? “Well, I might have helped things along a bit. You met him, too, I gather. What did you think of him?”

The brush paused midway down the stallion’s muscled neck. “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “He’s different from what I imagined. Milder, somehow. He is not unlikable, yet there is something odd about him.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too.”

“He’ll be in camp tonight. If our luck holds, you’ll have another chance to talk to him then.” Clearly, it wasn’t something he was happy about. He was frowning, the brush stroking a little too fast and hard down the stallion’s neck. Minotaur snorted and flung his beautiful head. “Sorry, boy.”

“We need to get into his tent.”

He nodded. “We’ll be breaking camp in the morning, moving on toward Vienna. Things will be more chaotic. It should be easier then.”

“We’ll be leaving here tomorrow?”

He paused in his grooming. “The archduke’s spared all the time he dares. He has to get his army into position for the next assault.”

“Then we mustn’t waste a moment. I’ll seek out Becker tonight.”

Adrian said nothing. Just went back to grooming his horse. Still, as she walked away, she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her all the way back to the tent.