The Price Of Honour

But she would not; he was taking advantage of their situation and it just would not do. But even as the thought crossed her mind she was weakening; his mouth, exploring hers, overwhelmed her senses and made her whole traitorous body melt against his. She forgot everything — her surroundings, her widowhood, even the man who stood in the doorway, as she succumbed to a need she had never before acknowledged.

Robert lifted his head at last and looked over her shoulder at the newcomer. ‘Go away; can’t you see I am busy?’

The spell had been broken and she took the opportunity to pull herself away and sit up, now acutely aware of the smiling Spaniard. ‘The chief sent me to fetch you to join him for supper. Come, follow me.’

Reluctantly Robert rose to obey and Olivia, struck dumb, could do nothing but follow as their guide conducted them to the refectory, where almost the whole band of partisans were sitting around a table laden with food and bottles of wine.

‘Sit down, my friends,’ Don Santandos said, waving a chicken leg at them. ‘Eat heartily. Let it not be said Don Santandos does not know how to treat his prisoners.’ He looked up at Robert. ‘I trust your neck is not too uncomfortable for you to swallow?’ He pointed at two empty spaces on the bench next to him and waited until they had taken their seats and food had been set before them. Then he filled their glasses. ‘You were lucky, you know,’ he said, addressing Robert. ‘So lucky it is almost unbelievable, and because of that I am inclined to take it as a sign that you are not meant to die — not yet.’ He smiled. ‘We might have other uses for you.’

Robert, who was reluctant to put food into his mouth in case he could not swallow it, picked up his glass and held it up in salute to Don Santandos. ‘Be assured, Don Santandos, if I can be of service, I shall deem it an honour. After all, one good turn deserves another.’ He sipped the wine. Olivia, watching, noticed the almost imperceptible wince of pain as he swallowed it.

The Spaniard laughed. ‘It is a good turn to be half strangled?’

‘No, señor, I was referring to the fact that you had done me the service of killing the man who took my wife, and saved me the trouble.’

‘Ahh.’ He looked at Robert’s untouched plate. ‘Would you rather have soup, my friend? It will go down more easily.’ He clicked his fingers and one of his men hurried to the kitchens. ‘We shall, of course, have to have proof of your story. You have no papers, nothing on your uniform to tell us which regiment you came from, nor your rank. And there are no British troops this side of the Coa.’

‘You are wrong.’

‘You mean Craufurd’s Light Division?’

‘You know that, do you?’

‘It is hardly a secret.’ Don Santandos paused to swallow his glass of wine in one gulp. ‘For someone who is supposed to be covering a retreat, he is being particularly aggressive. Is that where you came from?’

‘No.’

‘Why are you alone?’

‘He came looking for me.’ Olivia found her voice at last.

‘And who would not want to search for so beautiful an example of the fair sex?’ The Spaniard laughed suddenly. ‘Even if she does handle a rifle like a trooper.’

‘Better,’ she said, making him laugh again.

He turned to Robert. ‘You have taught her well, but don’t you think a gun in the hands of a woman is a fatal combination?’

‘It is only fatal if I want it to be,’ she snapped quickly. ‘And I can out-shoot any man here. Give me a weapon and I will prove it.’

Don Santandos roared with laughter, and though his men had not understood the conversation they knew something had tickled the fancy of their chief and followed suit. ‘You are a trier, I give you that,’ he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. ‘But I am not such a fool as to fall for that one.’

‘It was worth a try,’ she said, smiling.

‘I think,’ said Robert, as a bowl of soup was set before him, ‘I think I have a better proposition than that.’

‘Oh, let us hear it. It will amuse us while we wait.’

‘Wait for what?’ Olivia demanded.

No one answered her. Robert stood up and beckoned to Don Santandos. ‘A word in your ear, señor.’

Two or three of the partisans pushed back the bench on which they sat, making it overturn with a clatter, and rushed to seize Robert’s arms. He stood without struggling, still looking towards their leader. ‘Come, Don Santandos, I am weak and helpless and I give you my parole.’

‘No!’ Olivia shrieked, knowing that his parole would bind him to refrain from trying to escape. ‘You fool!’

‘It seems your wife has more spunk than you do, Englishman. No wonder she preferred the company of the Frenchman.’

‘I did not! Why will you not believe me?’

‘Because, Mrs Lynmount, we had been watching you for some time before we took you prisoner and we saw what we saw. Would you like me to tell your husband that you were not behaving like a prisoner? Shall we tell him what we saw?’

‘There is no need for that.’

‘Are you afraid he would beat you?’

‘He should understand that when a woman has a choice between…’ She shrugged, allowing them to guess her meaning.

‘You mean your courage deserted you and you did not fight for your honour? Oh, Mrs Lynmount, you disappoint me.’

‘It was be his prisoner or be left to the mercy of his men.’ She deliberately turned from him and began to eat. ‘I will speak no more on the subject. If my husband is satisfied, then so should you be.’

‘Are you satisfied?’ Don Santandos asked Robert.

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