Authors: Sherry Gloag
Vidal's Honor (10 page)
He judged the Spaniard and Consuela had widened the gap between him and Honor by at least half a mile.
Honor!
He spun round to search the empty path behind him. Where was she? She should be following him. Had she fallen back because of his disgraceful accusation? He couldn't blame her if she had, but to do so was utter folly.
Juan and Consuela rode on oblivious of his dilemma. Was Honor right in wondering whether the man was steering them toward the French and would, at some strategic point, desert them to their fate?
If he tried to catch up with them the gap between them and Honor would widen, and if he didn't the Spaniards wouldn't know, and perhaps wouldn't care what happened to them.
To call out might draw unwanted attention.
Not to do so would court disaster and increase the risk to their personal safety.
He searched the path behind him and groaned. He'd have to go back and hope Juan would notice before too long that he and Honor no longer followed. He turned his mule and began retracing his steps when the sound of approaching hoofbeats had him wheeling about.
“What is the matter?”
“Honor has fallen behind.”
Juan's concern changed to anger. “Did you not keep her in view? I thought you were together.”
“We were, but I rode on ahead.” Vidal refused to admit his own stupid ego had caused him to drop his protective guard.
“Bah! We do not have time for this. Go and fetch her, and be quick. I will keep a look-out, but we cannot stay in one place for too long.”
“Then I suggest you and Consuela join me as it will look better if we go as a party.” Vidal swung his mount back the way he'd come without waiting to check whether Juan followed or not.
He heard Honor before he saw her. Her sobbing tore at his heart and turned a screw on his guilt. About to race forward, Juan's hand on his arm halted him.
“Do not be a fool, man. If she is not alone, we can't help her by charging in.” To Consuela who'd just ridden up, he snapped a low-voiced order for her to fall back and keep herself hidden.
For a moment Vidal thought she intended to dispute Juan's command, but then with a curl of her lip, she did as he bid.
“Why is she on her own?”
Only truth would serve now, Vidal admitted. “We quarrelled.”
“Bah! Can you not quarrel without sulking? She is more stupid than I supposed if she fell back in a fit of the sullens.”
“Whatever your opinion, it's not worth a row of skittles while we sit here debating the issue. We need to discover what is going on there, for Honor is not one who resorts to tears. For her to do so indicates she is in dire straits.” He shifted in the saddle and looked around. “Is there another path so we can approach her from two different angles?”
The sound of Honor's voice, muffled by her tears, reached them.
“What am I going to do with you? I can't ride you, and I can't leave you here to starve.”
The following silence stretched while the two men stared at each other and then at the path leading back into the woods. Images of what they'd left behind rose between them.
“She's talking to her blasted mule,” Juan raged. He dug his heels into his animal's flanks and surged forward, but not before Vidal had set off.
She was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, the dappled sunlight glinting in her hair, with her mule standing forlornly in front of her, its head down in abject misery. If he didn't know better, Vidal would swear the beast shared the guilt weighing on his shoulders. He'd let her down by riding off without checking Honor was behind him, and the animal looked guilty forâ¦
No, it had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with pain and the foot held off the ground. The mule had an injured leg. No wonder she mentioned something about not riding it any more.
“What is this?" Juan demanded from behind him.
Honor's head whipped up and she glared at Juan while scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes.
“What do you think? My mule is lame.”
“You stupid girl, do you not understand he is the most valuable possession you have right now?” Swinging from his saddle Juan knelt in front of Honor's mount and with gentle hands checked the injury, then swore fluently and prolifically in Spanish.
She understood every word, Vidal discovered, when he looked at the rising colour in Honor's cheeks.
“You are right, you cannot ride him. He is of no more use to us, and must be shot.”
“No!”
Birds flew off screeching at Honor's protest. “You will not shoot him. We must leave him at the next village but you will not shoot him. I won't allow it.” She moved between Juan and the mule, her hands spread out wide in futile protection.
With a glare at Juan, Vidal rode up beside Honor and studied her tear-swollen face. Was she crying for the animal or because of his cruel words? In all the time he'd known her, he'd never seen her cry. Not when her mother had died in a carriage accident, nor when her father had broken his neck riding at a fence during a hunt.
“I will take you up with me,” he offered.
“No, you will not,” Juan snapped. “We'd end up with another lame animal before the day's out if you do that. You will carry her bag and sheâ“ he stabbed a finger in Honor's face, “âwill ride with Consuela.” He dragged Honor's pack off the mule and threw it at Vidal. “Now take her away.”
* * * *
When the shot rang out her tears flowed again, and try as she might, Honor failed to bring them under control. She'd spent three years following the drum and never once shed a tear, not for lack of sorrow, simply because she had to remain strong. How, she wondered now, could she hold herself together if she kept dissolving into tears every five minutes?
The loss of her mule cut as deeply as the loss of a friend. Regardless of what Juan said, no mule could carry two women day after day without suffering, and since it was her mule they'd lost, it seemed fair she should be the one to walk. After all, she'd walked with the army on the occasions when she'd given her horse to a soldier in need. Fortunately, it hadn't happened too often.
“You take her up behind you,” Juan told Consuela when he rejoined them at the edge of the wood and earned a look as sharp as a dagger for his command.
“I can walk.”
“You have caused enough problems. Get up behind Consuela, and let us be gone.”
Far from obeying Juan's curt demand, Honor strode up to the side of his mount.
“I don't know why you are leading us to the Pyrenees, but if my memory serves me right, no one asked you. You offered to do this, and I can't help wondering why.”
For a moment she thought Juan was going to bring his whip down on her head before he managed to restrain himself and lashed it against his unfortunate mule's haunches.
With studied deliberation, the Spaniard dismounted and leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers. “And what do you mean by that?”
“You tell me.” She drummed her finger into his chest. “You were given specific directions to follow, and from the first day out you've deviated from the route Phillipe gave you.” Honor refused to back down despite the chill in his voice that sent shivers down her spine. She'd seen the depth of depravity men would go to in the name of war, and until she established Juan's true allegiance she wouldn't take anything at face value any more.
She failed to contain her cry of pain when Juan grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards Consuela's mule. Without warning he stopped several yards before they could reach the beast and swung round in challenge.
“To understand why I help you, though I begin to wonder if you are worth the effort, you only have to remember those women and girls you saw back in the woods.” His face paled before her eyes, while his eyes turned dark with fury. “You think this is the first village the French have sacked? Have you forgotten what Consuela told us? Well, I tell you now. I have seen this before.“ He pointed behind her. “Only they left my wife and daughter on the top of the pile.”
“Oh, no!” Shock froze her to the spot.
“Oh, yes!” Juan's grip on her wrist tightened. “And do you know why?”
Beyond answering, Honor shook her head. The image of the women and girls, their clothes dishevelled, their eyes staring sightlessly into the sun, robbed her of the desire to argue any more. She'd suffered loss under horrific circumstances, and read the same experience in Juan's eyes.
“There are some in my country,” Juan's voice seethed with fury, “who do not support our royal family and have sworn their allegiance to the French.” He swung away, stopping long enough to shoot a scathing glance over his shoulder. “It is an insult to all honourable Spaniards to see another of their countryman fighting against their own.” He stormed back and leaned forward, almost nose to nose. “An insult. Do you understand?”
Honor stood her ground and nodded. She understood because Devlin had warned her...
“My brother led the troops that sacked my village and made sure I knew he would come after me while he had breath in his body.”
Whatever Juan was seeing, it was not the woods behind them anymore. No one broke the extended silence.
“I agreed to lead you across Spain and into France in the name of the wife and child I failed to save.”
He glared down at her. “Does that answer your question?”
She wanted to offer sympathy and understanding, and saw Juan step back in rejection. Had Phillipe told him about the circumstances of her own loss? How much
had
Phillipe told him, or for that matter, how much information had Vidal passed on to the Spaniard?
“Get on that mule, and don't waste any more time.”
He strode back to his own mount without waiting to see if she obeyed him. Honor climbed up behind Consuela, and hearing her discontented mutter, decided to keep silent. With a look at each of her companions Honor wondered if she was losing her mind or whether one of them was out to betray her.
* * * *
Riding behind Consuela wore on nerves Honor didn't know she had and left her legs chafed and muscles aching and sore after the first week.
She missed the companionable silence they'd travelled in before. Juan, his back as stiff as a ram-rod as he rode ahead, exuded a rage fuelled by loss that Honor knew all too well. Consuela kept shifting back in her saddle and had her wondering whether the continuous movements were a deliberate display of her aggravation at being denied the opportunity to ride beside Juan. And Vidal â she risked a glance over her shoulder and discovered he'd fallen right back. When she tried to shift her position, Consuela started muttering Spanish curses, forcing Honor to readjust her seat on the mule.
What are you going to do when we reach the border?” she asked Consuela.
“I go with Juan.”
“He has agreed?” After his recent revelations, Honor wondered whether Juan would accept her plans.
“We are discussing it.” Consuela tossed the words over her shoulder with an air of false bravado.
Was that what they'd been arguing about earlier?
“And if he refuses?”
“Then I will come to England with you and find myself a new husband. The English, they have no passion. That's acceptable to me, I do not want that. It is false.” She waved a hand at the scenery below. “Like that,” she said, pointing to the sinking sun. Tranquil. “It looks so calm, and it is not. Deception comes in many guises.”
Was Consuela warning her? If so, what about? Leaning forward, Honor risked another question. “Was your marriage not a happy one?”
“For a Spanish woman it is not the same as it is in your country.”
”In what way?”
“Our parents arrange our marriage when we are children. Sometimes as soon as we are born.”
While she'd married for love, Honor knew many English girls were forced to marry men years older than themselves. “Maybe not arranged from the cradle,” Honor conceded, “but it has been known. Marriages are arranged for financial benefits.”
“In other words you are sold to the highest bidder. Is that what you are saying? I did not think it was so for you. I understood you loved your husband very much.”
The verbal blow nearly pushed her off the mule. What had the Spaniards found out about her and Devlin? “You are right. We did love each other, but how you know that is a mystery to me.” Honor didn't try to conceal her irritation
Consuela brought her mule to a halt and swung round with a glare. “It is in your eyes. Just as I see it in Lord Vidal's eyes when he looks at you. You are fortunate to have the love of two good men. I have not had that from one.”
“You are right my husband and I loved one another.” She wouldn't argue with Consuela's first comment, but her second?
There'd been a time a few months before Devlin's proposal when she hadn't known her own mind. Her love for both men had confused her and filled her with a sense of guilt and shame. How could she love two men at the same time? And them as close as brothers, too.
She'd set tongues wagging and had caused many a fond mama to frown down at her when she entered a ballroom only for Devlin and Vidal to make sure they were always the first to sign her dance card.
“It's a disgrace the way the girl keeps those boys dangling on a string
.
”
Lady Randall declared it loudly enough for her to hear. But then, she would, wouldn't she? That the woman's public humiliation had come at her own instigation didn't appease Lady Randal at all. Rather it fuelled it to such a level that Devlin and Vidal had both cautioned her to watch her back.
"
For if she does not retaliate, you can be sure she'll get that odious son of hers to act against you
,
"
Vidal had warned her when she'd repeated the incident to him.
Then Devlin's brother had come clean up to her a few evenings later and told her to take her claws out of Devlin if she meant to have Vidal. “And I, for one,” he'd added, “will be more than glad if you choose Vidal.”
When, soon after their marriage, she'd asked Devlin why Cedric disapproved of her so, he'd dismissed it as nothing important. It hadn't taken her long to discover Cedric's deep seated jealousy for his elder brother.
“Stay away from Cedric,”
Vidal had advised before Devlin proposed.
“He's a nasty piece of work.”
After that she'd followed Vidal's advice and kept a wary eye on her brother-in-law. When she next had an opportunity to talk with Vidal, she'd ask him if he'd seen Cedric before setting out to rescue her.