Beloved Enemy (39 page)

"We?" She frowned, bemused by these sudden plans.

"
Yes,"
he replied. "Cromwell wishes to see you
.
"

"
Why?
I do not think I wish to meet him" Ginny said with sad lack of respect for
the most powerful man in England.
"
And
are you not to be lodged in the barracks?
"
This was all most confusing.

"No, I have decided to play the civilian tonight,
"
he replied, answering her last
question first. "Do not look so put out, sweeting. If you do as you are
bid, you
will
have nothing to worry about."
His lips curved in a teasing smile as the gray eyes flashed at this. "Go
with Jed, now. I will undertake to answer all your questions anon
.
" So saying, he gave her a
little
push toward the stolidly waiting
batman.

The Blue Boar was a p
l
aster-fronted,
half-timbered building on a street so narrow that the top stories of the houses
met with their opposite neighbors, forming an arch over the cobbled lane.
Inside, it was solidly comfortable, with the gleaming pewter and brass and
highly polished wood of the well-maintained establishment. Ginny and Jed were
shown to a large, sunny chamber at the back of the inn, away from the noise of
the street and overlooking a pretty garden.

"This do you, mistress?" Jed asked, looking aroun
d
critically. Ginny said that it would do very well.
The bed was large, piled high with feather mattresses and hung with
clean chintz curtains. It was quite the most
comfortable resting place she had been offered since leaving Alum Bay, and
there seemed no question of her having any but one particular bedfellow.

The goodwife who had shown them to the chamber looked pleased
with Ginny's approbation and begged to inquire if there was anything she could
bring the mistress, besides warming pans for the sheets and a hot brick against
the night chills.

"A bath," Ginny said with decision.
"
If you please, goodwife
"

The matter was easily accomplished. A porcelain hip bath was
placed before the hearth where, instead of hot coals, glowed a jug of brilliant
poppies. Steaming water filled the tub, and a bunch of fragrant herbs was
strewn on the surface, filling the room with the scent of lavender. There was
even a cake of soap, that luxurious commodity that required so much effort to
produce from the rendering down of waste fats and lye.

Jed didn't leave her until he was sure everything was as it
should be; then he told her that he would be at the ale bench in the yard
should she have need of him before the colonel arrived.

At last alone, Ginny savored a solitude that had not been
hers for a week. She was guest, not prisoner, in this inn; there were no
soldiers pounding the beat outside her door, no drums and bugles as constant
reminders of war. When Alex came to her this time, it would be only as lover on
neutral territory. Thankfully, she stripped off her habit and tossed it
carelessly into the corner of the room. The gesture was satisfying, although
common sense told her she would only have to pick it up again in a minute.
After her bath, she would see if one of the inn servants could be persuaded to
sponge and press it for her. With a sigh of pleasure, she slipped into the
water, resting her neck against the curved rim of the bath, allowing her feet
to hang over the far end.

When the door opened, she started almost guiltily. "What
mischief are you up to?" Alex closed the door with a definitive click,
laying a large parcel carefully on a chair in the corner of the room before
crossing to the tub, his eyes hooded as they traversed her shape beneath the
water.

"No mischief," she returned, feeling strangely
vulnerable all of a sudden. "The bath is such luxury, I had fallen into a
trance and was dreaming of heaven."

"There are many heavenly planes," Alex remarked,
not taking his eyes off her as he shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his
shirt. "But I think the bath is definitely a good idea."

"
You
must order your own," Ginny said, wriggling her toes.

"I would rather share yours," he replied, tugging
off his boots and stockings.

"There is no room," she said unarguably.

"Then I must hurry you up. I will wash your back."

"Pray do not trouble, sir. I can manage myself/'
Throughout the by-play, the delicious tension built, wreathing and coiling
between them, and Ginny continued to wriggle her toes absently until Alex
dropped to his knees by the bath and seized her feet in both hands. Ginny
squealed and squirmed helplessly as his fingers danced over the ticklish soles;
men he bent his head, taking her toes in his mouth, sucking with a rhythmic
fervor that seemed to transfer itsel
f
to
every nerve center of her body. Half moaning, half laughing
,
she begged him to stop although she did not know
whether that was what she really wanted and, when he did stop, knew that it
wasn't.

Alex chuckled and felt around in the water for the soap, his
hands deliberately straying into nooks and crannies where no soap cake could
possibly have hidden. "Here!" Ginny said in mock irritation.
"
Is this what you a
re
looking for?" Taking his hand, she slapped the
soap into his palm.

"Among other things," Alex murmured, soaping the
wash cloth. "Sit up and lean forward."

When she showed no signs of compliance, he moved behind her,
encircling her waist with an iron-firm arm, lifting her up out of the water,
bending her forward over his hand as he soaped her back with gentle, circular
movements that nevertheless contrived to be very thorough.
"
Stop wrig
g
ling," he commanded when she struggled, more
playfully than in earnest, and slipped his hand round her body, clasping one
soap-slick breast.

"Bully!" Ginny accused him as his hold grew firmer
under her struggles. "I did not realize quite how imperative was your need
for a bath, sir. If you will unhand me, I will leave you in sole
possession."

Alex dropped her abruptly, and she fell back into the tub
with a splash that slurped water over the rim onto the
wooden
boards. He grinned at her indignant
expression and picked up the towel from the stool where it lay.
"
Out
.”
An imperative finger crooked, and Ginny rose, pink and dripping, from
the fragrant water.

For long minutes, he looked at her until, with a shy smile,
she said,
"
Please do not look at me like
that."

"But you are beautiful," he said softly.
"
I cannot help looking at you. Lift
your arms behind your head."

Tremulously, she did so, feeling her skin stretch taut across
her rib cage, her breasts rise with the movement. Alex exhaled on a long, slow
breath. "I want you
now,
"
he
breathed, "but I am rank with sweat and horseflesh and would not sully
such sweet-scented skin." He tossed her the towel.
"
You must dry yourself, I fear, for if
I touch you I shall be lost."

Ginny blotted the water from her skin, watching in her turn
as he pushed off his britches and dipped into the soap-clouded water.
"Allow me to wash
your
back, sir," she said, discarding the
towel and coming to kneel beside the tub. Alex lay back under her ministering
hands, his eyes closed in blissful peace as she soaped him from top to toe,
running her fingers delicately down the sword scars on his ribs and thigh. How
many more of those would he acquire before the fighting was done? The thought
rose, unbidden and terrifying, and with it the dreadful memory of her dream
that had haunted her as she sat, what now seemed an eon ago, on the dining room
window seat while Parliament's colonel waited patiently for her breaking. She
stopped, stood up, and reached again for the towel.

"What is it?" Alex asked, instantly aware of the
change of mood.

"
Why,
nothing, Alex
.
" Shrugging, she offered him a
smile that should have been inviting, but was instead painful.

"You must not lie to me," he said quietly, stepping
from the bath. "Not when we are lovers, sweet Ginny."

"I was suddenly afraid for you," she said in a low
voice. "I do not think I could bear your death
.
"

Alex came to her in one long stride, wrapping her in his
arms, cradling and soothing her with soft murmurs as he eased them both onto
the bed and simply held her until her shudders ceased and the peace of
acceptance again entered her soul.

When he made love to her, it was with the utmost gentleness,
taking her with slow, sure strokes into the green depths of oblivion, and then,
when he felt her renewal, he possessed her again, but this time with a fierce,
exorcising power that drained her of all but exquisite sensation and cleansed
her thoughts of all fear.

"Sweetheart?
"
He brushed aside the heavy locks of chestnut hair obscuring her face.
"
We must get dressed. We are summoned
to dine at Whitehall, if you remember?"

"
Yes,
I do." Ginny sat up.
"
Why am I to meet Cromwell? He can
have no interest in a Cavalier prisoner, the daughter of a Malignant."

"On the contrary
,
"
Alex said dryly. "It is just those factors
that
do interest him. He also, I suspect, wishes to see for himself what
creature it is that could s
o
cause me to
take leave of my senses."

"That does not sound altogether complimentary
,”
Ginny said, swinging her legs over the edge of the
bed where they dangled a good six inches from the floor.
"I
n what manner have you taken leave of
your senses?"

A sharp fingernail scribbled a path down her spine.
"
I have told my lord and master that I
wish to assume responsibility for you personally. That means, my
littl
e rebel, that any crimes against Parliament that you
commit will fall to my hand. It means I undertake to protect you and to make
the necessary provisions for your keep, be it at my side or in the charge of
someone I designate in my stead."

"You dare!" Ginny turned on him fiercely.
"
We agreed that I would follow the
drum."

Alex laughed and pulled her back on the bed.
"
I have no intention of foisting you
on any poor, unsuspecting soul," he declared.
"
We march to Scotlan
d
in three days, and I swear that I shall make a good
soldier of you before the journey's done."

And afterward? But Ginny kept the question to herself. The
trick of existence in these days of schism seemed to be to look no further man
the next morning.

Alex suddenly leaped from the bed with a surge of energy and
went to pick up the parcel that he had deposite
d
on the chair when he had first entered the chamber.
"
I have a gift for you, Ginny, my
love. It is to be hoped my eye is as good as I think it."

He dropped the parcel onto her bare thighs, and she looked up
at him, startled. "What is it?"

"Open it.
"

She unfastened the twine and drew from its wrapping a heap of
soft turquoise linen. Her eyes shot toward him as he stood, gloriously,
unconsciously naked, watching her face intently. "It's lovely," she
whispered, shaking out the folds to reveal a gown with a deep, scalloped lace
collar, sleeves puffed full from the shoulder, narrowing below the elbow with a
row of tiny buttons to the wrist. She had not had a new gown since her wedding.
"
I cannot accept it, Alex."

"And why not, pray?" His face darkened.

"But I cannot reciprocate," she said hesitantly.
"I have nothing of my own . . ." She looked at him, helplessly,
hoping he would understand.

"No
,
" he agreed calmly. "You
have nothing of your own but what is contained in that baggage roll." He
indicated the only possessions she had been able to bring with her from her
home. "You have no inheritance, no dowry, no guardian. The first two, I
wrested from you as the fortunes of war; the latter role, I have in some
measure undertaken myself." He let the statement lie for a minute, men
said softly, "Will you argue with me, my raggle-taggle gypsy? Will you
argue with my obligation to provide for you? Will you argue with the lover's
right to give pleasure as he is able?"

"I will not argue with the latter," she said
quietly, "and will accept the lover
'
s
gift. As to the first, no." She shook her head, the straight chestnut mane
swirling vigorously. "I come with you of my own free will, and you are
under no obligations, any more than I am obliged to accept your
authority."

"And the authority of a husband? Would you accept
that?" The question with all its implications hung in the room where the
dust motes danced in the last rays of the evening sun.

"I would have no choice but to do so," she said
eventually. "But we are not husband and wife."

"No," he agreed.
"
We are not. But I am responsible for you, nevertheless.
However, let us not discuss this further
;
it
can only lead to acrimony. Put on the gown. I wish to see if I judged the size
correctly."

Ginny, accepting the need to leave a discussion for which
there could be no mutually agreeable conclusion, willingly obliged and received
her own pleasure in Alex
'
s
d
ear
delight
i
n the accuracy of length, fit, and
color that deepened and darkened her gray eyes, and drew attention to the
burnished luster of her chestnut hair.

"You have a good eye, sir," she said, preening
herself in front of her patchy reflection in the mullioned window. "Too
good for one inexperienced in these matters.
''
Her eyes twinkled roguishly.

"
Not
your concern, mistress," he said, adjusting the collar and turning her
round to retie the sash.
"
There, that is better." His flat
palm lingered for a moment on her bottom, then he sighed regretfully.
"
We must go, mistress mine. Cromwell
does not forgive unpunctuality even from his generals."

"What?" Ginny whirled on him and took in his
gleeful expression. "Truly? You are promoted?"

"It seems so
,
"
he said, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably.
"Lieutenant-General Marshall at your service, Mistress Courtney."

"
Well,
I may have little sympathy for the military mind,
''
Ginny said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him, "and even less for the
side you support, but I can still find it in my heart to be pleased for
you."

Arm in arm, they descended the stairs, receiving the bobbed
curtsies of the goodwife and her wenches, the bow of mine host. Ginny realized
with a small shock that her wedding ring would not have escaped notice, and
there would only be one respectable conclusion to be drawn. Well,
l
et it be so. It could do no harm.

It was but a short distance to the Palace of Whitehall, and
they walked, for once unaccompanied by soldierly escort, almost as if they were
a prewar strolling couple.
"
It is to
be hoped I do not say anything to offend your Mr. Cromwell,
''
Ginny commented as they turned into the courtyard.

"
That
is certainly to be hoped," Alex concurred, pausing, his hand on her arm
drawing her to a stop. "Cromwell has an exceedingly fiery temper, although
it is generally controlled. He is also a most compassionate man and capable of
much tenderness. But he will not tolerate lack of respect to himself. You would
do well to accord him a degree of reverence."

"I reserve reverence for my king," Ginny said
simply, "but I will try not to be impolite."

Alex was little reassured by this, knowing as he did Ginny's
capacity for fearless, and generally unthinking, challenges. He had not sought
this meeting between his Royalist mistress and his commander-in-chief, but
Oliver Cromwell's invitations were in the nature of commands and not lightly
rejected.

They passed into the great hall, thronged with officers,
dressed like Alex in full uniform, soberly clad civilians, and ordinary
soldiers strategically placed at the doors and windows. There were also women,
Ginny noted with interest, and not of the Southwark barracks type either. These
were the wives of the men who made up Parliament's court at Whitehall, men and
women who, for the most part, had had little experience of power until they had
taken the right side in civil war. Few of them would have frequented the court
of King Charles, and Ginny felt her hackles rising as she examined the fine
linens and lace of their gowns, the silk slippers, the glitter of jewelry. Out
in the country, the king's loyal subjects were deprived of their lands, of
their
manors, of the basic necessities of life in many
cases. They were hunted like vermin and when they were caught were tortured and
strung up for the crows to pick. While these parasites bought for a song the
estates of the nobility, proudly displayed the looted jewels, and behaved for
all the world as if they were born landed gentry with an impeccable family tree
behind them.

"I cannot stay here," she said abruptly and turned
back to the door.

"You must!" Alex hissed desperately, seeing
Cromwell beckon to him from across the  room.   "Take a hold of yourself,
for God's sake. If you antagonize anyo
n
e
here, I cannot vouch for the consequences."

"Then you had better let me go," she replied
tightly.
"
I am not afraid of confronting my
enemies, but if you are afraid of such a thing—"

"
You
are going
no
whe
re!"
he rasped, hanging onto her arm with
a frantic strength.
"
You
chose to follo
w
the drum, to stay by my side, and so you must do
things you do not wish to do. You are going to make your curtsy to Cromwell and
keep your indiscreet tongue still."

Slowly the sense of what he was saying penetrated the fog of
fury clouding her brain. She was in the midst of her enemies, and only a fool
would deliberately court trouble in such a situation. She could keep her
integrity in a disdainful silence. With a haughty toss of her head, she allowed
Alex to lead her over to the group of officers where Oliver Cromwell held sway.

Her first thought was that this supremely powerful man cut a
poor figure. He was not much taller man she, plainly dressed in an ill-cut
tunic with wrinkled sash, and his linen was not clean. There was a speck of
blood on the narrow collar, and he had no hatband. Then she became aware of a
strength emanating from the compact figure, his hand resting on his sword hilt
as if it rarely left it, an intelligence to the florid complexion.

"Mistress Virginia Courtney, sir
,
" Alex was saying, and the pressure of his
fingers on her arm increased.

Ginny curtsied with care, according Oliver Cromwell just the
depth she would consider suitable for a country squire. And she did not lower
her eyes. The significance was not lost on Alex, or, indeed, on anyone familiar
with the finer points of court etiquette.