Fortune's Bride (46 page)

He sat down so hard he almost bounced off the bed. “Since
Lisbon? You could have killed yourself! You might have died on that retreat!
Merry, for God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? Why?”

“I didn’t know myself,” she assured him. “I wasn’t sure
until we were at Sahagun. One doesn’t know right away, Robert. There are so
many things that can cause a woman to…to be irregular. And after Sahagun…oh,
Robert, my love, what could you have done for me? What good would it have done
to tell you? If I had lost the child, you would have blamed yourself for what
was not your fault.”

“But it was. I never should have let you come. I should have
sent you home from Lisbon. I will never—”

She put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it, Robert. Don’t.
There is no need. I did
not
lose the baby. I do not think I will ever
live through a worse experience than that retreat. I survived, and I still have
our child. Don’t you see? I
want
to follow the drum, Robert. I love it.”

He pulled her close and buried his head in her breast. “I
don’t know what to say, Merry. I missed you. I can’t tell you how different
everything was when you were gone. I felt empty inside. But…but it isn’t right.
I don’t want you to endure—”

“Oh, Robert!” She kissed the top of his head, which was all
she could reach. “When we’re on the march together, even the fleas are fun. The
retreat… That isn’t likely ever to happen again. You know it. And you told me
yourself that the worst of it was…was not necessary. It’s not because
you
want me to do it but that
I
want to do it.”

“What about the baby?” he asked, without looking up.

“Your mama will be delighted to keep it, or Sabrina would.
She expects a baby a month or two before ours should come, and Katy can nanny
both of them with a nursery maid to help her. Robert, this war can’t go on
forever. And when it’s over we can have our son or daughter with us wherever
you are stationed.”

He looked up then and smiled at her. “I think I am being led
down the primrose path again,” he said. “It can’t all be this easy. I’ve known
other men who had children, and it was all very complicated, fetching peaches
in January and tears over the nanny’s misbehavior. Is life really going to be a
bed of roses?” He bent his head again to the breasts exposed by Esmeralda’s
low-cut gown. “You smell like roses,” he murmured, and then suddenly turned his
head aside. “I’d better leave you alone, I guess.”

“Leave me alone?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’re…er…”

Esmeralda was laughing again. “
Enceinte
is the polite
word, I think. My book of etiquette had that—although why it is more polite to
say pregnant in French than in English, I have no idea. But I assure you,
having a child is no reason to stop being married. My goodness, you would end
up hating the poor little creature—and so would I.”

“But I thought—”

He left that unfinished and pulled her between his legs,
standing up at the same time so that his hard shaft slid up her body. Esmeralda
gasped with surprise. She had not had the least suspicion of the side effect
their discussion was having. Before she could react in any way, however, Robert
was kissing her, pulling at her dress, running his lips down the side of her neck
and then around to the top of her breasts.

“Robert,” she whispered, “Robert, wait.”

But he was not willing to wait, and when the maid most
inopportunely scratched at the door, just as he was removing her pantalets, he
roared, “Go away, and don’t come back,” reducing Esmeralda to embarrassed
giggles. When he had her naked on the bed, however, he did not mount her
immediately but bent over her, gently stroking her body, placing featherlight
kisses on her breasts and belly, and finally lying down beside her, still
stroking her, running his fingers between her thighs, just barely touching and
touching again the most sensitive spot in her whole body. She shuddered, lifted
herself toward his hand in a mute appeal.

“Why did you want me to wait, Merry?” he whispered.

“There’s no reason now, my love,” she sighed, pulling at him
urgently. “Come now. Come to me.”

Later, when they were both content, she started to laugh.
Robert lifted his brows. “It was the maid.” She giggled. “That was why I said
wait. I knew the maid would arrive right in the middle. Everyone in the house
will know…”

“Everyone in this house would have assumed the worst, even
if we were innocent as saints,” he said, and then sat up. “But you are
not
a saint, and not innocent. I’d almost forgotten. Do you have half a million
pounds, Merry?”

“Oh…yes.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyes were wide and apprehensive. “Because in the
beginning I knew you would send me away if you found out I didn’t need your
help. And after…oh, Robert, I just forgot. It was so unimportant compared with
all the exciting things that were happening in Portugal and Spain… I just
forgot.”

He was silent for a moment, staring down at her, wondering
if any woman could “forget” half a million pounds. And then he smiled. Merry wasn’t
“any” woman. She was Merry, the only perfect woman in the world.

“All right,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “you win. If
you think riding all day, sleeping in flea-ridden hovels, and serving endless
cups of tea to a bunch of loudmouthed army officers is more interesting than
half a million pounds, I guess following the drum
is
the life for you.”

Roberta Gellis was driven to start writing her own books
some forty years ago by the infuriating inaccuracies of the historical fiction
she read. Since then she has worked in varied genres—romance, mystery and
fantasy—but always, even in the fantasies, keeping the historical events as
near to what actually happened as possible. The dedication to historical time
settings is not only a matter of intellectual interest, it is also because she
is so out-of-date herself that accuracy in a contemporary novel would be
impossible.

In the forty-some years she has been writing, Gellis has
produced more than twenty-five straight historical romances. These have been
the recipients of many awards, including the Silver and Gold Medal Porgy for
historical novels from the West Coast Review of Books, the Golden Certificate
from Affaire de Coeur, the Romantic Times Award for Best Novel in the Medieval
Period (several times) and a Lifetime Achievement Award for Historical Fantasy.
Last but not least, Gellis was honored with the Romance Writers of America’s
Lifetime Achievement Award.

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and e-mail address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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