Beloved Enemy, page 38
Ginny set her teeth and went about her usual business in grim silence. The march took its toll of the men, and her services were much in demand during the brief halts. She took to rising before dawn, going into the fields to collect the herbal ingredients for her medicines but always with Jed to accompany her. At first, he had no solution to offer on the general’s evil temper, merely telling Ginny that he had seen it several times before, and while it was the devil’s own business while it lasted, he would recover his usual equilibrium eventually.
“In the meantime, an entire division is to be made to suffer,” Ginny retorted. “There is no justice in that, and the general prides himself on his sense of justice, does he not?” Jed grunted. “If he must punish me then I will accept it willingly. I caused him grievous hurt, I know that.” She smiled sadly. “I would make it up to him, if he would allow me, but I cannot come within ten paces without having my head bitten off.”
“Folks ‘ave always been afeard of his black moods, even when he was a lad,” Jed said thoughtfully, laying a bunch of spearmint in her basket. “His sainted mother, rest her soul, would do anythin’ to stop ‘em, wouldn’t let his brothers upset ’im, or anyone else, for that matter. Might ’ve been better if ’n she had.”
Ginny sat back on her heels and surveyed the weather-beaten, wrinkled face intently. “Are you suggesting that perhaps someone should not be afraid of this black mood, should perhaps show him that they are not?”
Jed shrugged. “Stands to reason you expect what you’ve always ‘ad, seems to me. General expects folks to run scared when he’s vexed like this, and then I don’t think ’e knows what to do about it. Can’t stop bein’ vexed just like that, now, can ’e? Not with everyone shakin’ in their shoes.”
“You make him sound like a thoroughly spoiled little boy who’s thrown a tremendous tantrum and is scared and bewildered by the effect it’s had,” Ginny said with a laugh.
“If the cap fits,” Jed responded laconically. “Best be gettin’ back, now, mistress. Don’t want to upset the general by keepin’ the division waitin’ again, do you?” He winked, and Ginny chuckled, feeling better than she had done for days.
At six o’clock, after a grueling day in the early August heat, Ginny saw what she had been waiting for–a wide, clear river running between lush green meadows shaded by broad oaks and copper beeches. She nudged Jen forward, out of the front line to ride beside Bucephalus some ten paces ahead of the rest. “General, I think we should stop here for the night,” she announced without preamble.
Alex looked at her in blank astonishment. “You what?”
“I think we should stop here for the night,” she repeated calmly. “There is water for bathing and cooking, and if we stop now, the men can light their fires and have a hot supper for once.”
“And since when have you been in command of this division?” he demanded icily, with a sardonic twist of his lips.
“Since its general seems to have forgotten to concern himself with the welfare of his men,” she returned smartly. “They are suffering from blisters and foot rot because they have not had time to air their boots or wash their stockings. They are sore from marching in armor at this insane pace you have set. They all know that speed is of the essence, but one early halt is not going to make that much difference, and they will march all the better for it on the morrow. Besides,” she went on swiftly, seeing him momentarily at a loss, “I stink, and if I do not bathe and change my clothes within the next half-hour, I shall be quite unable to stand my own company, let alone yours.” Twisting over her shoulder, she called, “Colonel Bonham, the general has said we may halt the march for the day and make camp beside the river.”
There was nothing Alex could do about it, short of engaging in an unseemly brawl on the public highway with this outrageous woman who had so surely cut the ground from beneath his feet. He gestured assent to the colonel, but the habitual black glower showed no sign of lifting, deepened if anything. At the sight of it, Ginny put her chin up. She was going to force a response from him before the morning at whatever cost. A blazing row, however ugly, had to be better than this frigid wasteland, and it was high time General Alexander Marshall realized that one person, at least, was not afraid of his temper.
The men of the division, once dismissed from their ranks, behaved like children released from the schoolroom, pulling off their boots and stockings and wading into the river with great shouts of glee, splashing water over dust-coated heads and clothes. Tents went up and fires were lit in double-quick time; soon the aromas of cooking drifted with the smoke across the meadow, and the sounds of singing and the strumming of a mandolin filled the evening air.
The officers’ tents went up equally rapidly, the general’s, at Jed’s instruction, set a little apart. Ginny took possession immediately, without waiting for a signal from its rightful owner who, if the past nights were anything to go by, would sleep in lonely isolation under the trees. She found her precious sliver of soap, a towel, and clean undergarments and wrapped the whole in her kirtle of green chintz before leaving the tent, clutching her bundle and setting off toward the river.
“Virginia!” Alex’s voice bellowed, arresting her before she had gone three paces.
She stopped but did not turn, saying into the air ahead of her. “Yes, General. What may I do for you?”
“Where do you think you’re going?” He strode across the grass toward her, lowering his voice in deference to those others around them who made great show of ignoring the scene.
“I am going to bathe in the river,” she replied succinctly. “As I told you I would.”
“Well, I am telling you that you may not,” he snapped.
“For what reason?” Ginny demanded indignantly, moving off without waiting for his response.
“Come back here!”
“No,” she threw over her shoulder, “not until I have bathed.”
Alex caught her, seized her hand, and pulled her into the trees out of sight of any fascinated spectators. “You will do as I tell you,” he gritted. “You may not bathe in the river because, in order to ensure privacy from the camp, you will have to go quite some way away, and I will not permit you to go far afield without escort, as well you know. Jed will bring you water to the tent, and you must make do with that.”
“It is not good enough,” she said furiously. “I must wash my hair, and I will bathe properly. If I must be escorted, then you will have to come.” She tugged at her imprisoned wrist. “Let me go. I am sick to death of your ill temper and your unfairness. It is bad enough that you should have the power of inflicting misery on so many without your using that power to satisfy your own self-conceit. When I have bathed, I will prepare you some hiera picra which will purge the choler from your stomach!” Alex, so taken aback by this forceful speech, loosened his grip on her hand, and she twitched free, marching away from him, not deigning to run, knowing that if he was determined to stop her, he could do so simply by virtue of superior strength.
Alex watched her break through the trees again so that she was back in sight of the camp, contemplated forcing her to do as he bade her, then dismissed the idea as undignified. No one had spoken to him in that manner since he was a child, and in with his fury lurked something uncomfortable that he did not wish to examine closely. If she was determined to bathe, then would he have to accompany her. A week ago, the prospect would have brought only pleasure, he thought sourly, and he would most probably have shared the bath with her. But he was so damnably confused about the way he felt about her these days, the last thing he could afford was to lose what little perspective remained to him in the seductive glories of her body.
He strode briskly in pursuit, catching her up as she rounded a bend in the river. Ginny stopped and looked around, ignoring her companion as she tried to decide whether this particular spot would serve her purpose. “It is not far enough away,” Alex told her firmly. “We will go around the next bend, if you please.”
“If you are to stand watch for me, I fail to see what difference it makes how far away I go,” Ginny said with deliberate impudence.
Alex’s lips thinned, but he refused to rise to the provocation and maintained instead a lofty silence as they progressed around the next bend where they found a small, stony beach that Ginny decided would be perfect. Alex flung himself on his back on the bank, gazing deliberately upward into the early evening sky as she threw off her clothes with a sigh partly of relief and partly of disgust at their sweat-stiffened, dust-caked condition. Ginny cast a glance at the supine figure, then shrugged, telling herself that she felt far too bedraggled and filthy to wish to attract his attention anyhow. Squaring her shoulders, she marched to the water’s edge and dipped her toe in experimentally. The water was cold, much colder than the southern rivers of her home county.
Alex turned his head, watching her through half-closed eyes. He hadn’t meant to but somehow couldn’t help himself. She had a magnificent back, long and narrow, the spine straight as a die. As he watched, she unpinned her hair and let it fall down her back, running her hands through it to free the kinks. His eyes roamed greedily down her length, lingering over the nipped-in waist before traversing the neat roundness of her buttocks that he could feel just by looking. His hands curled, cupping the muscular curves in memory, then flattened to stroke over her thighs, again so long and slender, down to play in the soft hollow behind her knee. It always made her squirm and wriggle when his tongue licked that sensitive spot. He smiled and, forgetting that he was not supposed to be observing the nymph at her ablutions, turned on his side, propping his head on his elbow, and watched with unabashed pleasure.
Ginny waded waist deep in the water, holding her arms out at her sides, the cold making her catch her breath as it crept up over her ribs. Unable to bear the slow torture of gradual immersion any longer, she plunged headfirst beneath the water and emerged with a gasp, shaking out her wet hair. Alex chuckled to himself.
Ginny still had her back to him, so was blissfully unaware of his far-from-covert observation as she soaped her hair and body with scouring vigor before plunging back beneath the water, finding it invigorating rather than cold now that she was used to it. Still clutching the precious sliver of soap, she swam across the river to the far bank, glorying in the feel of the water on her clean limbs cleaving the water with all the power of the skilled swimmer. Alex watched the white shape beneath the water, still smiling appreciatively as the curve of her backside broke the surface. At the far side, she rolled onto her back, keeping herself afloat with a lazy paddling motion of her legs. The crowns of her breasts, hardened by the cold water, rose clear to be stroked by the soft air.
It was really rather more than flesh and blood could be expected to bear, Alex reflected with a degree of pleasurable discomfort. Then, with a jolt, he remembered why he had not intended to be seduced on this bathing party. Lusting after her was all well and good, but it simply added to his confusion. He flung himself onto his back again. Why would she have left him? What had he done to deserve that? Certainly, they had had an unpleasant squabble over the wounded prisoner. Ginny had behaved without due circumspection in the presence of that damned governor, and Alex had retaliated in his usual fashion by treating her publicly like a recalcitrant and exasperating responsibility. It was a familiar-enough pattern; on previous occasions they had made up with an exchange of apologies and another inch of compromise on either side. But not content with betraying his plans to the enemy, she had been fully intending to run away with the enemy. He could understand, just, why she had felt the need to run to Edmund’s rescue, and he would have forgiven her easily enough once she had come back and they could have had it out. But he could neither understand nor forgive the fact that, having gone to Edmund’s rescue, she had then been intending to throw in her lot with her cousin, just as she had been about to do that morning at Alum Bay. If his brothers had not been there, had not decided to lie in wait for him, if Edmund had not decided to do the same, she would have flown the coop with the rest of them, and he would not have discovered her absence until he returned empty-handed to Nottingham. He would not even have known where she had gone. Since he would not have discovered Edmund, he would not have been able to make the connection. It was hopeless. He could not begin to understand.
Ginny swam back to the beach and emerged from the water with a marked flash of chagrin that her watchman had not even stirred from his supine pose, gazing up into a most uninteresting sky. Picking up her towel, she trod deliberately over to him. Alex did not move until she tossed her soaking wet hair forward over her head and a rain of river water fell upon his chest.
“Damn you, Ginny!” Alex sat up, brushing at his shirt. “I am soaked. What are you thinking of?”
“Only that you could do with a bath, sir,” she replied promptly. “If you will not take one for yourself, then I must encourage you.” Laughing, she shook her hair over him again. “I will even lend you my soap.”
“Stop it!” Alex roared, grabbing her ankle. “I am not in the mood to play games.”
“No, you are only in the mood to sulk and look black and make everyone’s life a misery,” she retorted, kicking lightly at his ribs with her free foot.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Virginia Courtney.” Alex released her foot and sprang upright. His arm brushed her bare breast, and he jumped back as if he had been scorched. “Put your clothes on at once.”
Slowly, Ginny shook her head. “Not until you agree to talk about this that is making you so wretched, and everyone wretched with you.” She planted her feet firmly, put her hands on her hips, shoulders back so that her breasts were thrust forward with a defiance to match her jutting chin.
Alex inhaled sharply. She was so damnably beautiful, and his aroused body throbbed with longing, even as his wounded spirit kept him from yielding to that desire. “Get dressed,” he repeated with creditable calm. “There is nothing to talk about, and you cannot continue to stand stark-naked in this field.”
“I most certainly can,” Virginia said, not moving a muscle.
“Do you want me to take my hand to your backside?” His words were clipped, as he took a menacing step toward her.
Ginny stood her ground, narrowing her eyes, the tip of her tongue running over her lips. “Whatever gives the general pleasure,” she murmured in dulcet tones.
Laughter welled deep within him, taking him totally by surprise. He turned away hastily, lest she should see it in his eyes, and went rapidly down to the beach, throwing off his clothes. He was now in sore need of dousing with cold water–and not just for its cleansing properties.
Ginny watched him with a rueful little smile. She had not really achieved her object, but a little progress had been made. He had been forced to respond to her, at least, without taking refuge in that icy withdrawal. She dressed in her gloriously clean clothes and sat upon the bank to comb out her hair. Alex was in the river for an inordinately long time, and he did not scorn the soap when she tossed it to him. Neither, however, did he say anything further to her when he finally came out, merely helped himself to her towel before pulling on his britches.
“You do not want to put that sweaty shirt on again, now you are all clean,” Ginny observed in domestic manner. “Or your stockings. I should go back to the camp as you are and find clean clothes.”
“Thank you for the advice, Mistress Prim,” he said sarcastically. “I did not need it, however. If you are quite finished, let us go.”
That evening, Ginny went to considerable effort to lighten the mood around the campfire, deliberately including the general in her cheerful chat, although she was very careful not to tease him as she had done in the past. Her efforts were aided by the creature comforts of hot food and a sack posset that she made for them with warmed wine. The general, while he bore no part in the conversation, at least made no disparaging remarks and remained in the group, sitting with his back against a tree trunk. Ginny ached to go over to him, to lean against his knees while he stroked absently through her hair in the old way. She ached because of the hurt in his eyes that seemed to have lost their clarity of purpose, but how could she put it right if he would not talk about it? Would not allow her near him? She sighed. At least, though, she had made matters a little easier for everyone else by taking a stand this afternoon, and Alex, while pride would perhaps not allow him to acknowledge it openly, would recognize that she had been right and would act accordingly in future. The consequences of her actions now rested entirely between herself and Alex, where they belonged. But it was so lonely. Biting her lip hard to keep back the tears, Ginny got to her feet. “Gentlemen, I must bid you good night. The opportunity for an early and relatively comfortable night is not one to be ignored.”
In the chorus of good nights, Alex’s silence went unnoticed by all save Ginny. But then what could she expect? She lay in the tent, breathing in the scents of crushed grass and wood smoke, listening to the low murmur of voices from the campfire that eventually lulled her to sleep.
The sensation that woke her was so light, so exquisitely tantalizing that for a moment she did not know whether she slept or woke. Something was moving over her skin, something insubstantial, incorporeal. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she whispered a little murmur of dreamy pleasure. Then her eyes snapped open. “Alex?”
“Hush, not a word,” he commanded softly. “Not a word, not a movement.” The green-brown eyes burned their message as she lay looking up at him, baffled by this strange visitation. There was something different about his expression, not stern exactly, but not soft with love either. Something determined, purposeful, as if he had come to a decision after long agonizing. “I am come,” he said quietly, “to take possession of my own.”
