Page 26 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer (The Marlow Family #7)

Ellen had known the battle would come. But knowing, and accepting it was a reality, were two very different things.

At the ball Paul had left her sitting in a chair for nearly an hour, as he had found the other officers of the 52nd, then disappeared with the lieutenant colonel in search of the Duke of Wellington.

When he had returned, he had an air of determination – the soldier.

His jaw had been taut and the grip on her arm firm, as he told her they must go home.

She knew they were not only leaving the ball, but he was also about to leave her.

Yet what could she do? Nothing. It would be wrong to plead with him to stay; it was his duty to go, and it was honourable and right. But the thought of him walking into a battle made her heart hurt.

What if he never comes back?

Ellen pushed the thought away – she did not want to even think it.

As they walked back through the shadows the moonlight cast across the streets, she did not speak, afraid that if she did, she would sob.

He was silent too. She could tell from the tenseness in his muscles and the intent look in his eyes as he stared ahead, his mind was on war.

When they reached their rooms, he changed immediately, stripping off his best uniform coat. Then he put on another. When he strapped his sword on, something tumbled over in her stomach. Horror. Fear.

He picked up his canvas bag that he could hang from his shoulder, and packed his razor, a clean shirt, and little else.

‘May I do anything to help you?’ Her voice came out at last. She could not let him leave without speaking.

He looked at her, as though only now he remembered she was there. ‘No, Ellen.’ He straightened, his eyes glowing a beautiful heated blue, and opened his arms. ‘Come here.’

She went to him, her arms slipping about his lean waist. She could not hold the tears back.

‘You will manage, Ellen, whatever happens, because you must. Do you understand?’

She nodded against his chest. She knew she would; he had told her what to do if he did not return. But… her heart could not endure it… how would she breathe if anything happened to him?

His fingers stroked through her hair, knocking out pins as she wept against his uniform which smelt of soap and starch from washing.

He had it washed to wear into battle… She felt like laughing and crying all at once.

Paul held her away a little, looking into her eyes. His eyes burned with a word he did not speak. Sorry , his eyes told her. I am sorry I brought you here .

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. She must cease crying. It was making this worse for him. ‘I do not regret marrying you, not at all. You have made me happier than I ever thought it possible to be.’

He pressed a quick kiss on her lips, a chaste kiss.

‘And you will fight for our country,’ she said, ‘and I shall be proud of you, and you will come back and make me even happier.’

He nodded, then his head bent and this kiss was not chaste at all but searing with intensity. ‘I love you,’ he said in an earthy voice when he broke it.

‘I love you too.’

His eyes still looked regretful, yet he smiled. ‘I had better finish packing.’ He let her go and turned to the bag he was packing. ‘I have told you what you must do,’ he stated as he pushed spare items of uniform into the bag. He did not say – if I die.

She knew. ‘Yes.’

‘And you remember…’ He glanced over his shoulder meeting her gaze for a moment.

‘Yes.’

He looked towards his packing. ‘Swear to me, again, if there is any news that we have lost, you will do everything possible to get out of Brussels and travel to Ostend, with anyone who will take you. When you reach there, sell whatever you have to get a passage back to England and go to my father. If I survive, I will come and find you there.’

She caught hold of his arm to stop his hurried packing. ‘You will survive.’ She wanted to say, swear to me you will survive .

He straightened, looking at her. ‘If fate and God are on my side, yes, but I have long ago learned there is no ordering either of those things. As I have said before, Ellen, what will be will be, and we must make the best of it.’

His fingertips brushed her cheek. ‘You are so beautiful. I have been a very lucky man these last few months. I do not regret marrying you either, though, I feel that I should.’

‘You should not,’ Ellen answered vehemently.

He smiled, then turned back to his packing.

* * *

It took Paul more than half an hour to walk back from the ball, it was taking him longer than it should, as he pressed what he needed to take with him into his bag.

His mind was only half on his duty; the other half was focused on his wife, who hovered close, like a fearful butterfly drawn by the colour of his scarlet coat but not daring to come too near.

When he had put all he needed in the canvas bag, he pulled the drawstring closed and tied it off.

His men were to march at three hours past midnight; much of the army was being moved to defend the critical crossroads of Quatre Bras.

His regiment was to form part of a screen to the west and south west of Brussels.

The Duke of Wellington’s orders were to be in position before six o’clock, as Napoleon’s army were as well known for attacking early as they were for marching long distances at pace.

Paul straightened and turned.

Ellen’s arms hung limp at her sides.

Now the last moments were here, he did not know what to say.

Sorry? But sorry was a useless, pointless word – he had done what he had done.

There was never any going back, only forward.

Yet this could be the last time he looked at her face, and those perfect pale eyes.

‘I love you.’ He opened his arms to her once more, fear gripping cold and hard in his stomach.

His hand stroked over her beautiful hair, which was a mess from his earlier embrace.

‘As I love you.’ Her words were warmth and vibration seeping through the fabric of his coat.

Should he wake Jennifer before he left, and ask her to sit with Ellen?

He held her tightly for a moment more, as her breasts pressed against his chest with each breath.

He did not in general pray before a battle, he was never convinced that God would take sides in war, but he prayed now, not for himself, but for her sake.

That she would be safe. That he would come back to her.

Let me return. The words whispered through his thoughts as he looked up to the ceiling, as if God really lived upwards within their room and he might see Him.

Sighing when there was no immediate echoing voice announcing that God had heard, Paul lifted her chin and kissed her, deeply, slipping his tongue into the haven of her mouth and wishing he could slip into the haven of her body too. But there was no time.

He broke the kiss. ‘I must go.’

She nodded. He saw the sheen of tears glittering in her eyes, and he knew she was fighting them.

‘Goodbye,’ she said in a quiet voice, as he threw his bag over his shoulder.

He turned back. The tight feeling in his stomach was excruciatingly painful. He had never imagined when he had decided to take her as his wife, that it would feel like this when there was a time to fight. But he must leave her behind… This woman who had become his whole world.

‘Goodbye,’ he said. What a final word. He would not have it be his last to her. ‘My beautiful, precious wife, I shall hold you in my heart as I fight. I shall not be alone on the field.’

Tears sparkled even more intensely in her eyes as she nodded – obviously unable to reply in words.

When he left the room, she followed him outside. On the step outside the door, when he turned to say a final goodbye, she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed against his collar.

‘Come now, Ellen. This is not how I wish to leave you.’ His voice sounded as though it rolled through gravel as emotions welled in his throat. ‘Let me remember your smile as I leave.’

She stepped back, nodding, swallowing and wiping away the tears. ‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip as she fought to control her emotions.

‘I must go.’

‘I know,’ she said in a rush. ‘I will be thinking of you, and praying for you, and waiting to hear word. I love you with all my heart.’ She gave him a quivering smile, a pretty smile, though there was still moisture in her eyes.

He smiled too. ‘I will do my very best to come back to you.’

She nodded.

He pressed a last kiss on her lips. But as he did so, the feeling of love within his chest swelled.

His hand lifted to brace her head as his tongue swept over her lips to part them, and he showed her with his last kiss how little he wished to leave her, even if he would not admit such dishonour in words.

Her arms slipped from his neck as he pulled away.

‘God go with you,’ she whispered.

But he wished God to stay with her. Could God’s grace be in a hundred thousand places at once? Every man on the battlefield probably prayed for divine protection.

His hand stroked over her hair. ‘I love you. I will always be with you, Ellen, no matter what.’ He turned away then, because he had to. If he did not, he would never leave.