Beloved Enemy (9 page)

Alex moved to the shoreline where the waves lapped an inch
from his boots. "Peter Ashley," he said quietly. "It has been a
long time since last we met."

"I could have wished it had been a different time
,
" Peter replied.

"
I,
also." Alex looked at Ginny but spoke to Peter.
"
You may go in peace and in the memory
of our past friendship, but Mistress Courtney remains here
."

"No, Ginny!" But even as her cousin struggled to
his knees on this cry of protest, she had swung herself over the stern.

"
It
is right thus, Edmund. One day I will explain to you why. For now, you must
accept the fact. Peter, you must take the tiller."

"I know nothing of sailing." He looked at her,
aghast and frightened, and the man on the beach watched and listened.

"
Edmund
will guide you. You can run before the wind out of the bay. You have only to
move the tiller to the right if you wish to turn to the left for the wind, and
similarly the other way. It is not difficult, and if Edmund turns to face the
sail, he will be able to instruct you."

Edmund swiveled around, his back against the thwart, a
haunted, desperate expression on his face as he realized how helpless he was to
gainsay her. She spoke to him in a low whisper that excluded the others.
"Fiddler's Race is not at present running too fast between here and Yarmouth, so you should cross it before then. Make for the Beaulieu River, avoiding Hurst. Beaulieu has always been safe, and you will find friends at Buckler's Hard."

"And you?"

"This is what I want. There is not time to explain all,
but we will meet again, my friend. God go with you."

"And with you, Cousin." Edmund turned his head to
lock eyes with Alex Marshall, as if to imprint him on his memory. "If I
were able to defend you, I would do so."

"I know, but there is no need for defense. I will be no
unwilling hostage, Edmund."

"
You
had always a recklessness in you, Ginny. I know not why you are doing this, but
I will accept the fact out of necessity. When I am able, I will find you
again."

She brushed his lips with hers. The waves slapped gently
against her calves as she pushed the boat out. "You must drop the
centerboard, Peter, as soon as you are clear of the sandbank. Edmund will tell
you when." The dinghy's sail caught the wind. Her dinghy, her only way to
evade destiny, skipped across the calm waters of the bay.

She turned to the man standing waiting for her on the beach.
He crooked an imperative finger, and she waded to the shore, to face and make
sense of an unforeseen fate.

Chapter 3

"You were leaving me?"

"
Yes."

"
Why?
"

"
Because
I thought I must. Because last night had no place, no grounding in the reality
we both have to live. I am a Royalist and will do all I can to further the
king's cause. You are a Parliamentarian, a Roundhead, and will do all you can
to further your own cause."

"Then we must be both lovers and enemies," Alex
stated softly, watching the sailboat that had now neared the point of the
headland. "It will, on occasion, be a little uncomfortable for both of us,
but you remain a ward of Parliament, and after this day
'
s work I will keep a close guard of you."

"And I will evade
that
guard, as and when I may." Were they, with these ha
l
f-threats, half-promises, laying the groundwork for a
relationship that must encompass both that of lovers and of prisoner and
captor?

"I do not doubt it," he replied matter-of-fact
l
y.
"
I knew
you were resourceful, but I had not realized to what extent. Shall we return to
the house? I wish to know who was the man you kissed, where they have been
hidden, what it was you said to him at the last, and what other subversion you
have been engaged in.
"

"
I
will not tell you."

"
You
will eventually" He spoke with calm certainty, looking down at her, his
expression perfectly composed.
"
You are a
veritable gypsy . . . Ginny. Is that not what those you kiss, call you?"

"
It
is what my friends call me." She returned his gaze steadfastly.

He smiled slightly.
"
I
wonder then what I shoul
d
call you, my lover and my enemy, my
raggle-taggle gypsy of the bare brown legs and sandy feet and filthy hands
.
"

Ginny inadvertendy dropped her eyes to her hands. They were
indeed filthy, and she knew not how to
an
swer
his question, or even whether he required an answ
e
r.

"
Unhitch
your skirt," he instructed in the same even tone.
"
You cannot appear thus in front of my
men."

Ginny flushed and obeyed, for once at a loss
for
words. His calmness in the face of what had just
happened filled her with unease rather than reassurance. The certainty of his
statement that she would eventually tell him what he wanted to know sent
pinpricks of fear down her spine, and she shivered in the warm overcast
morning. What did he intend to do with her now that he knew what she was?
Certainly not the passive victim of a war in which she playe
d
no part, but an active participant in the enemy
cause, one who, for six months, had been responsible for ensuring the
sa
fety and escape of wanted men.

"
Come,"
he repeated.
"
It is time to make an end
of this—
or, perhaps, a beginning.
"

Ginny turned and walked across the beach toward the cliff
path. Alex, after a moment of surprise, ran sifter her.
"
Where the devil do you think you're
going?"

"
T
o the house," she replied.
"As you commanded." gestured to the pa
th
,  and Alex stared in astonishment upward at the sheer cliff.
"
Up
there?
"

She shrugged.
"
I
have always done so. It is
the
shor
t
est route."

"
For
a goat, maybe,
"
Alex declared.
"
No wonder you are always so dirty!
Well, I do not aspire to mountain climbing. We will use the human path.
"
So saying, he took her hand and
marched off across the beach. Ginny was obliged to run to keep up with the
length and rapidity of his stride that did not shorten or slow as he mounted
the incline. Whe
n
she stumbled, he jerked her forward
impatiently, for all the world like an irate parent with a recalcitrant toddler
at hand.

They reached the cliff top, and Ginny blanched at the picture
they would present as he hauled her across the stableyard and into the house.

"Please," she begged.
"
Can we not walk in a more dignified
fashion?"

He stopped and looked down at her. "So, the
raggle-taggle gypsy does have a care for appearances."

"It is not necessary to drag me behind you. I am coming
as fast as I am able." Some of the old fire appeared in her eyes and
received a faint glint of humor in response, and the release of her hand.

"Take my arm, then, mistress mine, and we will proceed
in as stately a fashion as your bare feet will allow
.
"

With a courtly mocking bow, he offered his arm and, having no
choice, Ginny gritted her teeth and played along with the farce. They sauntered
across the stableyard, the colonel responding punctiliously to the salutes of
the soldiers whose eyes seemed to Ginny to be riveted on her feet, her sandy ki
rt
le, the dirt-encrusted nails of her hand resting on
her escort's crisp linen shirt sleeve, her hair disheveled by running and
scrambling. She wanted to weep with mortification and nearly did so when the
colonel stopped in the hall to answer some question of a middle-aged major, and
when she attempted to move away, up the stairs to her own sanctuary, he told
her, in the tone of voice he reserved for erring ensigns, to remain where she
was.

She stood rigidly at his side, staring at the thick surface
of dust on an oak bench beside the front door. It was where her father had been
used to sit when his soiled boots were removed. He had had a passion for
cleanliness, loved the gleam of wood and the shine of pewter and copper. Not
even his adored daughter had escaped censure when he discovered her muddied and
in torn clothing. What would he think now of his beloved house occupied by
booted soldiers? Of his dust-laden, tarnished possessions? Of his daughter who
had betrayed the king's cause, the cause John Redfern had died for, by yielding
to a body and a compulsion she had been unable to resist? Who stood now, a
gypsy wanton, a prisoner possessed by a man who was the captor of her spirit,
her body, and her person?

Alex concluded his conversation and ushered her into the
dining room where he closed the door firmly.

"Was it necessary to humiliate me in that manner?"
Ginny whirled on him, too angry now to be frightened.

"That rather depends on what one considers
necessary," he said evenly, picking up the sheaf of papers on the refectory
table. "I have suffered considerable humiliation at your hands this day.
It seemed not unreasonable to exact a small penalty." He frowned as he
scanned one of the papers, continuing almost absently, "I also wished to
make clear to you that you remain under my command. Since you have warned me
that
you will do all you may to evade your position as a
ward of Parliament, I deemed it necessary to show you the nature of my
authority." He strode to the door. "Diccon?" The aide-de-camp
appeared and saluted smartly. "The messenger who brought the letter from
Governor Hammond, is he still here?"

"
Yes,
Colonel. He is in the kitchen. I thought you might wish to speak with
him."

"You thought well, Diccon. Send him to me."

"If you will excuse me, Colonel, I shall go to my
chamber," Ginny said stiffly, moving to the door in the wake of the
lieutenant.

"No, I do not excuse you." He replaced the papers
on his desk.
"
We shall both remain in this room
until you give m
e
the information I require.
"
He looked at her directly.
"
I am sorry, but this is wartime. You
may terminate whatever inconvenience and discomfort you will suffer any time
you choose. I wish to know the identity of the wounded man, how he became so,
where they have been hiding, and what instructions you gave him. Then you will
tell me what else you have been doing in the past six months."

"
Why
must you know?" Ginny felt the cold sweat of despair.
"
You must have seen us from the cliff
path. You had ti
me
e
nough to call for reinforcements; yet you let
them
go.
"

"
Yes"
he agreed. "I let them go because of you. Had I called for reinforcements,
you and they would be on your way to Winchester, and there would be nothing I
could do to save you. The methods employed there to extract information from a
prisoner are considerably less subtle than any I might use. Your friends would
have heard you scream, as you would have heard th
e
m. And afterward, when you had g
iven
your interrogators all you knew, and much that you didn't in order to escape
the pain, when you desired only death, they would have hanged you.
"

"
You
have seen
this
?" She gazed in horror.

"
Yes,
I have seen it. And because I have, I would not condemn you to such a fate in
spite of your treachery.
"

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Ginny sat on the
window seat, cold, hungry, exhausted, and devastated by the brutality of the
truths she had just been given. She had been aware of
those truths in the furthest reaches of her mind, but
they were not
thing
s one allowed oneself to think about.
Alex had forced her to think of
them
,
to feel and to smell the degradation of inflicted pain, to hear the mewling
cries from the broken body, to know the coarse prick of the noose around her
neck.