He shrugged, a graceful movement of his powerful shoulders. “Sometimes. Especially when we’re out on campaign. But mostly it’s hard, slogging work. Through rain and mud in the winter, and heat and dust in the summer. Often without decent food, or precious little of it, anyway. It’s not the grand adventure people think it is.”
Startled, she sucked in a breath. Had that been Jeremy’s life? His letters had always assured her that he was comfortable and well. But his health had never been strong, and more than once she had suspected he lied for her sake. But, selfishly, she had always tried to avoid the pain of knowing what his daily life had been like.
“I hate to think of our men suffering like that,” she said.
“It’s not all bad. There’s hunting when we have time, and even the occasional party or ball, especially when we’re in Lisbon. The officers’ wives make the best of everything, no matter how dreary the conditions.”
She shuddered. “The women who follow the drum … they’re so brave. I couldn’t imagine doing that. All the hardship, the deprivation …” She let her voice trail off.
He ducked his head to inspect her face. “Not even to be with the man you loved?”
She flushed, reluctant to admit the truth. Besides, Jeremy would never have allowed her to join him, even though she knew several women of good standing who had gone to the Peninsula with their husbands.
Of course, it had never even occurred to her to ask.
“I don’t think I could do it,” she admitted. “I’d be too afraid.”
He pressed her hand, giving her a warm smile. “You only think that because you can’t imagine it. I’ve always known you had more pluck than you gave yourself credit for. You survived all those years with your father, didn’t you? Don’t you remember how you stood up to him when you decided to marry Jeremy? The old bastard blew his top, but you refused to back down.”
“Christian! Your language,” she spluttered, even though his praise brought a welcome warmth to her cheeks. She’d always thought of herself as ridiculously timid, but apparently Christian didn’t see her that way.
“In fact,” he continued in a musing tone, “if you were in the Peninsula, I’m sure you’d be the toast of the regiment. You have your own sort of courage, and you’re the kindest woman I know. There isn’t a lady over there who can hold a candle to you, Clarissa, once you put your mind to it.”
A sudden, intense wave of shame washed through her. No matter what he thought, she wasn’t brave. She was the cowardly one who had begged her husband to abandon his duty to country and king because she was afraid to let him go. A wife who blamed her husband for his own death—for doing what he thought was right.
She turned her head, blinking away the sting of tears.
“Clarissa, what’s wrong?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
“I’m none of those things, and it’s wrong of you to tease me,” she choked out.
He gripped her by the shoulders and spun her to face him.
“I’m not teasing you,” he exclaimed. “Why the hell would you think that?”
Suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Christian, why are you doing this? It doesn’t make any sense!”
His gaze burned through her. “I should think it would be obvious by now.”
“Christian—” His fingers tightened on her shoulders, pulling her fractionally closer. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird.
“No, Clarissa,” he said gently. “I won’t let you hide behind the wall you’ve built around yourself. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
A scorch of anger and humiliation drove her to throw the ugly answer back in his face. “I think you’re bored, and I’m convenient.”
His expression went dark. “Convenient for what?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she retorted, hating herself even more than she hated him for making her say it. “I’m a widow and will probably never remarry. Perfectlyconvenientfor a soldier on leave.”
He gave her a prolonged stare, his features so grim that she considered pulling herself from his grip and making a dash for the gates. But now that he had forced her to this point, some impulse held her in place, refusing to let her back down.
“Ladybird,” he finally growled. “What kind of loose screw do you take me for? How in God’s name could you place so little value on yourself?”
His answer mystified her. “Then why, Christian? Do youjust feel sorry for me because you’re my friend, and I’m a lonely old widow?”
He abruptly released her, but then grabbed her by the hand and drew her behind the shelter of a towering shrub.
“Christian!” Her voice came out on a startled squeak. “What are you doing?”
