Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress

‘No!’ She turned and tried to rush back in.

Still holding the wounded man, he caught her arm. ‘You cannot go in there.’ He gripped her hard. ‘Now get the man you have saved to the courtyard.’

She nodded and pulled her charge away from the burning building, while the agonised screams of the trapped men pierced Allan’s very soul. As soon as he lowered his injured soldier to the ground near the other men she had saved, Miss Pallant ran towards the château again. He tore after her, catching her around the waist before she charged into the inferno.

She struggled. ‘There are men in there. Can’t you hear them?’

He held her tight, his mouth by her ear. ‘I hear them, but there is nothing we can do to save them.’

She twisted around and buried her face into his chest, only to pull away again. ‘The little boy! The drummer boy! Is he still in there?’

One of the men on the ground answered her, ‘He escaped, lad. I saw him. He’s unharmed.’

Allan pulled her back into his arms and she collapsed against him.

‘How many did you pull out of there?’ he asked her.

‘Only seven.’ Her voice cracked.

Seven men? How had she mustered the strength? The courage? ‘Those seven men are alive because of you.’

She shook her head. ‘It was not enough. There are more.’

‘They are gone.’ He backed her away from the château where the flames were so close and hot that he feared they would combust like the château’s walls. ‘Come take some water.’

The well was busy with men drawing water to fight the fire and Allan had to wait to draw water to drink. She cupped her hands and scooped water from the well’s bucket. Allan drank as well. One of the soldiers held out his shako and Allan filled it, passing it around to the rescued men. Allan’s horse, tethered nearby, pulled at its reins, its eyes white with fear.

While the fire raged the French infantry attacked Hougoumont again. Colonel MacDonnell shouted orders to the men at the walls to keep firing. He and his officers moved through the area alert for weaknesses, ordering them reinforced.

Allan sat Miss Pallant on the ground, forcing her to rest. He lowered himself beside her.

‘Will it never end?’ she whispered, echoing Allan’s own thoughts. As the sounds of the siege surrounded them, she glanced at him as if noticing him for the first time. ‘Why are you here, Captain? You said you would come when it was over.’

He rubbed his face. ‘No one had need of me. General Picton is dead and Tranville, too, most likely—’

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Tranville!’

‘General Lord Tranville. My superior officer.’ What did she know of Tranville?

‘Surely he did not return to the army?’ Her voice rose.

‘Are you acquainted with him?’

She pressed her hand against her forehead. ‘He is my late aunt’s husband. And my guardian.’

‘Your guardian!’

‘I—I have had no direct contact with him since my aunt died.’ She averted her gaze. ‘I never imagined he would return to the army, not since he inherited his title.’

Tranville had become a baron before the Allies left Spain. Both he and his son Edwin returned to England then and did not rejoin the regiment until Napoleon escaped from Elba a few months ago.

She bowed her head. ‘He is dead?’

Allan put his hand on hers in sympathy. ‘It appears so. Several of his men saw him struck down. No one has seen him since.’

She paused before speaking. ‘You must know my cousin Edwin. Is—is he still alive?’

Of course Edwin was alive, safely hiding out of harm’s way. ‘I suspect he is. I’ve not heard otherwise.’

She put on a brave face, but clearly she was battling her emotions. ‘Well. I have rested enough. I must see if the wounded need attending.’ She rose.

Allan rose with her and gripped her arm. ‘No. It has become too dangerous for you here.’

The buildings still burned, but the Coldstream Guards, the Nassauers and the others had again set the French into retreat. How many more times could the French be repelled, though?

‘I’m getting you out now.’ Allan’s duty was clear to him now. The army did not immediately need him, but this woman, the ward of his superior officer, did.

‘But the wounded—’ she protested.

‘You’ve saved them. You have done enough.’ Besides, he did not know how much more she could stand. She looked as if she might keel over from exhaustion at any moment.

She allowed him to lead her away. Allan took her to his horse, still skittish from the fire around them.

He lifted her on to the horse’s back and called to one of the soldiers. ‘Which way out?’

The man pointed. ‘The south gate.’

At the gate Allan mounted behind her and spoke to the soldier who opened it for them. ‘Tell MacDonnell I am taking the boy out of here now.’

Once through the gate Allan headed towards the Allied line, determined to at least get her beyond where the fighting would take place. The smoke from Hougoumont obscured his vision, thinning a bit as they proceeded through the orchard.

Suddenly pain shot through his shoulder, followed by the crack of rifle fire. He jerked back and his shako flew from his head. It was all he could do to stay in the saddle.

He pushed Miss Pallant down on the neck of his horse and covered her with his body. ‘Snipers! Stay down.’ He hung on with all his strength. ‘I am hit.’

Chapter Three

Marian felt the captain’s weight upon her back and sensed his sudden unsteadiness. The horse fled the orchard and galloped across a field towards a ridge where a line of cannons stood. Just as they came near the cannons fired, each with a spew of flames and white smoke and a deafening boom.

The horse made a high-pitched squeal and galloped even faster, away from the sound and the smoke, plunging into a field of tall rye grass, its shoots whipping against their arms and legs.

‘Captain!’ Marian worried over his wounds.

‘Hold on.’ Pain filled his voice. ‘Cannot stop her.’

‘Are you much hurt?’ she yelled.

He did not answer at first. ‘Yes,’ he finally said.