Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

Badajoz “ He could not believe it. That bloody siege with its even bloodier aftermath! And her father had protected her from blood-crazed rampaging troops with a piece of canvas!

“Yes, and at Ciudad Rodrigo and all the other battles that are now famous, but always I was well to the rear during the fighting,” she said crossly, “for several officers spoke to him and after that Papa was most insistent about it.”

“I should think so too!” he muttered, his hair raising on his scalp as he recalled some of the bloodier incidents in his experience of the war.

“Yes, but it was very impractical, for how could I tend the wounded when I was so far to the rear all the time?”

“Tend the wounded?” His tone was incredulous.

Kate flushed, knowing the reason for his surprise. He thought her immodest. Harry too had been incredulous when he had discovered that she had been helping wounded soldiers, not simply her brothers. He had been furious, forbidding her to do anything so indelicate again. Her refusal had caused him to thin his lips and walk off angrily. Obviously Jack Carstairs felt the same—well, his good opinion of her was a small thing to risk, if it meant he might ride again.

“Well, I had to do something to help—there was so much need. And that is how I came to know the Moorish doctor.” She looked earnestly at him. ‘ And why I have such a strong belief in his methods of treatment.”

He reached across the table and took her small hand in his large one, his thumb rubbing gently over the skin of her small, grubby “hoyden’s hands’. He gazed at her face, noting the delicacy of her features, the small tip-tilted nose, the wide, innocent-looking eyes that had witnessed so much hardship and suffering. “You truly are the most amazing girl.”

Suddenly she became acutely aware of the warmth of his hand, the large brown thumb that was moving caressingly back and forth across her skin, and she flushed and awkwardly pulled her hand away.

“Nonsense,” she muttered gruffly. She started clearing away the cups, intensely aware of his eyes following her every movement. “Would you like me to prepare the hot oils for the treatment? It is not difficult—it only takes persistence.”

Now it was his turn to look awkward. “Can you not explain to Carlos what is required?”

“It would be better if I did it myself,” Kate said. “I can show Carlos once I have ascertained the treatment needed— it is not difficult, but there are a few tricks to it that are better demonstrated than explained.”

Kate saw the look on his face and flushed. He was shocked at her indelicacy. Well, there was no need for him to be concerned—she was no delicate flower—but it was very difficult to force herself to disillusion him.

“It is. . .I…” she began, stambling over the words. With her face averted she continued woodenly, “Mr Carstairs, I am not the innocent you seem to believe me. I have seen the male form before, have cared for a number of wounded men, not only my brother, so, you see, you have nothing to be concerned about.” She avoided his eye, her cheeks rosy. “So, shall I prepare the oils now?”

“No, no, I was only enquiring out of interest,” he said hurriedly, unnerved by her willingness to begin at once.

“But you will think on it.”

He smiled faintly at her intensity. “I shall,” he agreed, “but I have much to do today.”

He stood up and left the room. Kate watched him go, a frown on her face. He had nothing at all to do, she knew. He would probably spend the remainder of the day brooding. Drinking. The man had suffered more than physical damage. It was almost as if he was afraid to hope. Well, she could hope enough for two.

That evening, however, Jack did not retire in his customary solitude, but invited Kate and Martha to join him in the parlour where Carlos had lit a fire. He had a bottle of port beside him when they arrived, but he was not drunk. He poured Kate and Martha a glass of sherry, and they settled down in front of the cosy fire and chatted. Kate, initially wary of his motives, soon relaxed, perceiving he was making a genuine effort to play the polite host.

Gradually Jack turned the conversation around to more recent events. Her tale of being with the army had stunned him. He had to know more.

“So tell me, why did your father drag you off to travel in the tail of an army?” Jack tried to keep the anger out of his voice. It was ill to think badly of a man he had never met, a man who was dead and gone, what was more, but he could not forgive Kate’s father for exposing such an innocent young girl to the horrors of war, valiant little creature though she might be.

“In the tail?” Kate grinned. “You can’t think I would be so poor-spirited as to travel at the tail with all the heavy baggage and complaining wives and impedimenta! Nothing so dreary, I’m glad to say. Jemmy found me a charming little Spanish mare and I was able to go where I wanted.”

“Good God!” he muttered, appalled. Had none of her family recollected she was a sheltered young girl of eighteen or so?

“Oh, it was much more convenient, for then I was free to ride back and forth, keeping an eye on Papa, for he was dreadfully absent-minded at times, and also the baggage, which travelled with Luis, our Portuguese servant. And then, you know, I was always on hand to snaffle a good spot when we stopped for the night and make sure everything was comfortable for them and a hot meal ready.”

She smiled as she sipped her sherry. “We were lucky— Jemmy was hunting mad. Even when we were returning to Portugal after Talavera, and food was so scarce that almost everyone was