Page 37

I t was the best week of Harrington’s life.

He and Diana didn’t leave their cabin for two days. They made love so many times, he lost count. It was glorious .

When they weren’t busy giving one another an ever-increasing number of orgasms, they talked. And—he couldn’t believe he was even thinking this—that was just as good! He adored her acerbic wit, which was a perfect complement to his own.

At one point, she mentioned that perhaps he should obtain some French letters once they reached Ireland.

Her cheeks—and other areas that were delightfully exposed to his view—had flushed a becoming shade of pink as she added, “I do hope we’ll have children one day.

But it will be easier for me to follow you on your deployments if we can delay that happy event for a few years. ”

Harrington had readily agreed. He was still gobsmacked by his good fortune at having Diana as his wife, and if there was anything he wouldn’t do to make this woman happy, he certainly couldn’t think of it.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that safe assignments like this one would be few and far between.

The Rifles were prized as fighting men. There was little possibility that his superior officers would send them to languish in some sleepy outpost with comfortable lodgings.

He would surely be back on the march by this time next year.

Although officers’ wives did sometimes accompany their husbands, those women typically came from military families and had grown up following their own fathers’ battalions.

They weren’t the sisters of a bloody duke.

But he didn’t want to spoil their little idyll, so he merely nodded and smiled.

When they finally gave in to the need to stretch their legs, they dressed.

Harrington offered to assume the role of Diana’s lady’s maid, but she surprised him by pulling out a pair of front-lacing stays and a simple wrap gown of plain grey wool.

The fact that she had a single hand was no impediment; she was into her gown by the time he finished buttoning his coat.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking her up and down. “I didn’t realize you owned anything that wasn’t dripping in lace and seed pearls.”

“Ha-ha. I was raised by Aunt Griselda ,” she said, twisting her hair into a knot, holding it in place with her right arm, and deftly pinning it into place.

“And she was the one to pack my trunks for me while I was gallivanting across London, blissfully unaware that I would be sailing for Ireland that night.”

Harrington grinned. “Edward oversaw my packing while I was out looking for you. He sent me off with The Complete Works of Plutarch .” He gave a mock shudder. “But I shouldn’t complain. Otherwise, he did a bang-up job.”

Diana laughed, the happy sound making their spartan cabin seem bright.

“Aunt Griselda could not have done better.” She stroked the plain fabric of her skirts appreciatively, as if it were the finest cashmere.

“She had the good sense to pack some practical dresses. Honestly, I’ve missed wearing things like this.

Wearing all of that lace and seed pearls is not as enjoyable as you might think. ”

Harrington regarded her. He didn’t give a damn what she wore.

The only thing he cared about was that she continued to sport the brilliant smile currently gracing her lips. “I think it suits you tremendously.”

Her face brightened, as if this were the best compliment she’d ever received. “Thank you.” She looped her arm through his. “Shall we go and see how Inge is getting on?”

Inge was, indeed, glad to see them, although it was clear that Benjamin had been spoiling her rotten. She spun in happy circles as they stood at the railing, enjoying the blue sky overhead and the crisp sea air.

It happened that they were sailing past the section of Cornwall where Diana had been born. They borrowed a spyglass from one of the lieutenants, and Diana pointed out various villages and landmarks, although the ducal mansion where she had spent her early years was too far inland to be visible.

The soldiers of the King’s German Legion were also enjoying the sights on deck.

One of them thought he could get away with making a ribald remark about the newlyweds in his native tongue, but Diana promptly responded in German.

Whatever she said earned her a round of laughter, and the soldiers seemed delighted by the officer’s wife, who spoke their language with such fluency.

They dined with Captain Bannister and his officers that night, and if Diana felt superior to this unexalted company, she gave no sign of it.

One young lieutenant, in particular, with a face full of spots, blushed and stammered upon finding himself in the presence of such a beautiful young lady.

Diana treated him with quiet dignity, asking him about his home in Northumberland and showing no signs of impatience with his halting answers.

It struck Harrington that these officers, who were meeting her for the first time, would no doubt be astounded to learn that this agreeable woman had the reputation for being something of an ice queen amongst the ton .

They passed another day in this pleasant fashion, staying in their cabin or strolling the deck as it suited them. The ship made port briefly in the Welsh town of Pembroke to resupply and take on a few more passengers. From there, they would make the crossing to Cork.

Things went wrong shortly after their departure.

A violent gale sprang up out of nowhere, tossing the ship about.

Unable to go up top without getting soaked, they whiled away the hours in their cabin.

This was not entirely bad. Harrington had no objections to staying abed and making love to his wife all day, even as it became a tricky proposition due to the roiling seas.

Let it not be said that Harrington Astley wasn’t up for a challenge.

But even between their bouts of lovemaking, being with Diana was simply, for lack of a better term, fun .

They told each other stories—he, of his exploits at school; she, of her adventures with Aunt Griselda.

He laughed until he cried at Diana’s recounting of Aunt Griselda shooting her horrible father in the arse with a blunderbuss when he tried to kidnap his daughter from her remote home on the Yorkshire moors.

They played cards, wagering an array of sexual favors.

Harrington was just as happy when he lost as when he won.

And Diana helped him with his German. He was surprised by how much progress he was able to make.

Based on his performance in school, he’d always figured that he was the dim one in the family.

But German was much easier to pick up than Greek.

When the storm stretched into its fourth day, they even cracked open the Plutarch.

Harrington had to admit, it was better than he’d thought.

It was an English translation, thank God, and included biographies of Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, and other notable military figures.

At least he now understood why Edward had included it—he had probably figured that, as a soldier, Harrington would find the bits about military strategy and leadership useful.

On the sixth day, there was a marked decline in the quality of the food.

There was no tea at breakfast that day. The tray young Benjamin brought to their room contained bread without butter and salt pork.

This type of fare was fairly standard military rations and was more or less what Harrington had eaten on the retreat from Hanover.

But it had to look very poor indeed to the sister of a duke.

For dinner that night, they each received one bowl of plain pea soup.

Diana smiled and ate it without a word of complaint.

But Harrington felt a knot growing in his stomach that wasn’t only due to hunger.

Diana was only here because of him. She had probably assumed that whenever she married, she would take her bridal trip to Paris or Rome.

Which wasn’t possible, of course, due to the war.

But she deserved a damn sight better than to spend it in a cramped cabin on a storm-tossed ship, eating salt pork and pea soup!

But apparently, that was all Harrington was capable of giving her.

The seas calmed overnight, but the following day at breakfast, they received only a small loaf of bread to split between them.

Harrington handed the loaf to Diana, insisting that he wasn’t hungry.

He was, of course, but he would be damned before his wife went hungry on her bloody bridal trip.

He ducked out of their cabin to see what was going on.

Captain Bannister was apologetic. “The journey to Cork should take two days, three at the most. Unfortunately, we were blown off course by that blasted gale. We’re heading in the right direction again, but we didn’t supply for a long journey, and we’re running out of food.

” He dropped his voice low. “We’ll have to put in at the first place we make landfall. ”

Nodding grimly, Harrington returned to their cabin. Diana had dressed and was in good spirits. She had also saved him half of the bread, which she insisted he eat.

At least with the seas calm again, they were able to stroll the deck once more. There was nothing for luncheon, but the green shoreline he’d had to squint to see that morning was growing ever closer. Diana accosted the spotty-faced young lieutenant and asked where they were.

“We’re coming into Bantry Bay, my lady.”

“Bantry Bay!” She gave a startled laugh. “Is that not on the wrong side of Ireland?”

“It is,” he agreed with a grin. “We’re making for the port of Bearhaven. We’ll be able to put in there for a few days and resupply.”

Unfortunately, the winds, which had been excessive for the past few days, now abandoned them entirely, and their progress ground to a halt. At midafternoon, Captain Bannister gave the order for them to drop anchor off a stretch of barren coastline.

The captain attempted to put on a brave face. “This is Bere Island. The army has some Martello Towers here and a storehouse. We’ll be able to secure some food.”

The sailors began ferrying everyone to shore. Harrington offered Diana a hand as they disembarked from the rowboat, but she gamely scrambled up the slippery rocks to the stretch of grass above. Once she was settled, he went to speak with the captain about their current situation.

Once again, the winds had done them no favors.

The island wasn’t large, only about six miles in length and a third of that in width.

But the storehouse was on the opposite end.

There were no houses nearby, but there was a Martello Tower about a mile away.

Harrington set off to see what kind of accommodations it might be able to offer his gently born wife for the night.

The tower housed twenty British soldiers, who were alarmed to learn that three hundred hungry members of the King’s German Legion had just come ashore. Such a number would deplete their stores in a matter of days.

The soldiers were more than willing to offer Diana a bed for the night, but the prospect was not appealing.

It was apparent at a glance that the men occupying the tower were suffering from an infestation of lice.

Harrington forced a smile, thanked them for their kind offer, and said he would let them know.

He remonstrated himself all the way back to the place where the ship was anchored. It was his job to take care of Diana, to provide for her. And he was a fucking failure! Here they were, stuck on this muddy island without food or shelter.

It had seemed like a dream, these past few days with her.

Well, harsh reality had decided to rear its ugly head.

He should have known that it eventually would.

Diana was no doubt regretting their marriage, trying to determine the fastest way to get back to London and the hell away from him.

Not that he could blame her one bit. But his life as a soldier would taste that much more bitter now that he’d had a tantalizing glimpse of how wonderful each day could be with Diana by his side.

He came over a rise and the fledgling camp came into view. Someone had made a fire, and soldiers were milling about in clusters. Diana, who was standing a short distance from the group, wasn’t hard to spot in her dark green gown.

He squinted down the beach. What he saw… didn’t make sense.

He broke into a run. “Diana!” he screamed.