Chapter Forty-nine
6 May 1768 Temperance Temperance Bay, Mystria
Ian, sweatsoaked, arched his back, thrusting his hips upward. He gasped aloud, perspiration burning his eyes and salty on his tongue. His body tensed, then slackened, and he sank into the mattress. Seconds later, breathless herself, Catherine Strake collapsed against his chest. She ground her hips against his, then nuzzled his neck.
“I am going to miss you terribly, Ian.”
He encircled her in his arms, his chest rising and falling as he sought to catch his breath. “And I, you, Catherine, and not just for the time we spend together like this.”
“I know that, darling, but it makes me smile to think that when you are out there, when you are all alone, you shall remember me, remember us, this way.” She licked the side of his neck, then came up on her elbows, her full breasts pressed to his chest. “I want you to remember why you will be returning to me.”
“I could never forget, beloved.” Ian sank fingers into her thick, brown hair, and drew her mouth to his. He kissed her, fully and deeply, urgently and fiercely. He wanted to remember that kiss, and wanted her to remember it. “A down payment on my return.”
She smiled against his lips, then her body slipped to the side. Cool air suddenly chilled his loins as she slid under his right arm. She threw her right thigh across his, then traced a nail over his flesh. She curled the damp hair into nonsensical patterns. She kissed his breast, then clung to him tightly. “I know you have to go…”
“Were there any other way, darling, I would take it.” Ian kissed the top of her head. “But the world demands we must be apart. By leaving you, I can keep you safe.”
“Thank you.” She kissed his chest again. “With Owen, I never felt that was his reason for leaving. He left for himself, for adventure. I never thought he cared if I would be here when he came back.”
“More the fool, then.” Ian pulled a sheet over them. He’d made that comment for her, because he knew it was what she wanted to hear. He had a perspective on Owen that she never would-that no one who had not been under fire would understand. Perhaps if Catherine had been in Mystria to care for Owen as she had for him, she might have understood. Every scar on Ian’s body she knew intimately because of their lovemaking, but also because of her caring for him. His scars united them, whereas Owen’s scars betokened a part of his life that she did not share.
“I miss you already, Ian.” She rolled over, resting her arm on his chest, and looked into his eyes. “I know you must go and gather your troops. I should want to be there and see you off but I am afraid my sadness would betray us.”
“I understand. It is, perhaps, for the best.” He smiled at her. “I want you to remember that I shall be thinking of you constantly. If I could send you letters, I would.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “No, my darling. Keep a journal if you must, but I will wait for your return to hear your tales of the campaign. I would, of course, send you letters, but anything in my hand would be recognized.”
“Of course.”
“All I ask, my darling, is that you return to me, safe and whole.”
“That I shall do.” Ian nodded solemnly. “With God as my witness, and the Good Lord at my side.”
Ian, sitting astride a gray stallion, opened his hands. “And what is the hold up, Sergeant Morris?”
The beleaguered officer straightened up from inspecting a hoof on a draft horse. “This spavined beast won’t get to the edge of town, much less to the mountains.”
“Then find another one.”
The man’s mouth hung open. “Sir, we have done everything but steal horses.”
Ian spurred his mount forward. The draft horse in question was one of a pair yoked to a wagon groaning under the weight of supplies. “Sergeant, what, exactly, is all this?”
“The General’s table, sir. Thought sure as you knew.”
“Please, fill me in.”
“I’m afraid, General Rathfield, this is my fault.”
Ian looked down at Bishop Bumble. “Good morning, Bishop. How is this your doing?”
“Well, I regret that I can’t go with you as I had hoped. I have fond memories of the Anvil Lake campaign with Lord Rivendell. With the Shipping and Commerce Act responsibilities, you see…”
“Quite.”
“…and the fact that you’ve taken Mr. Beecher with you to supplement your own chaplain, I felt it was incumbent upon me to show my appreciation. Really, our appreciation, the whole city’s appreciation. Lord Rivendell, when he returned to Norisle, had his baggage and appointments stored here. He promised to send for them, then sent me a letter asking me to dispose of them. I didn’t have the heart. And I think God put it upon my heart to keep his things together so I can turn it over to you. There’s his pavilion and his table, silver service for a dozen, his bed and trunks. You’ll be as comfortable in the field as you are here in Temperance.”
Ian forced himself to smile, even though he thought he caught a hint of a threat in the very last comment. “Your Grace, your generosity is remarkable, as is the generosity of the people of Temperance. If I might, I should like to write a letter and have you read it, Sunday, from the pulpit.”
“Gladly, sir, and any like it you wish to send.”
“As I have time, sir.” Ian nodded at the wagon. “Alas, I am going to have to leave much of this behind, and for very simple reasons. You may not know, but the Fifth Northland Cavalry is unique among the Queen’s forces. We trace our origin back to the Civil War, to King Henry’s loyalists. After the Battle of Blackburn, when his army was routed, he elected to travel with the soldiers, not with his baggage train as usual. The Pretender’s troops ambushed that train, and would have slain the King. Since that time, the Fifth has always traveled as lightly as possible, with its officers sharing the same billets and conditions as our lowest recruit. So, you understand why I cannot, at this time, accept your gift, and yet I do not want to insult you with my refusal.”
The round cleric held up his hands. “It is perfectly understandable, General. You travel in the poverty that our Good Lord knew during his time on this earth. Commendable, sir, bespeaking your virtuous nature. How sad we shall all be that you have departed.”
“Your prayers will be appreciated, sir.” Ian gave Bumble a quick nod. “Please give my best to your wife.”
“I shall, and my prayers shall be with you.”
Ian waited for the man to toddle along, then turned to Sergeant Morris. “Unload Lord Rivendell’s rubbish.”
Morris looked at the furnishings weighing down the wagons. “Begging your pardon, General, but there’s many fine things in that load.”
“If I wanted fine things, Sergeant, I’d be sitting safely in Launston telling stories about battles I imagined I’d won-just like Lord Rivendell.” Ian shivered. Rivendell grossly overestimated his military prowess, and his going to battle with a manor house worth of furniture betrayed his lack of focus. “Replace those things with brimstone and shot. Not so much that this horse can’t pull, but enough that no man will go wanting. Be quick about it.”
“Yes, sir.” Morris turned and pointed at soldiers. “Get a move on!”
Ian reined his horse about and started across Government Square, where the Fifth had assembled. His Regiment consisted of five companies of ninety men each. He would have preferred to have three horses for each man, but they’d only been able to buy six hundred worth riding. It was just as well since he didn’t have the wagons for hauling fodder, and many of the trails he remembered would be difficult to ride a horse over. Even with the Prince’s foresters hacking a road through part of the wilderness, it would be slow going. This meant the mounts, for the most part, would carry gear while the men walked.
As he surveyed his troops, he could not help but smile. Though they’d been in Mystria for only six weeks, some had formed relationships with the locals, as evidenced by tearful good-byes. He’d been terribly thankful that Catherine was not like that. It would have reminded him too much of his wife. Her tears had not been because of his departure, but because she was withholding the secret of her infidelity. She was hoping he would not return, and her tears came at the prospect that he might.
All of his men appeared to be in good spirits, despite the fact that they would be on foot for most of their journey. He’d let them ride out of the city, to give the people lining the streets a spectacle, but once out of sight,
