The Determined Bride Part 5

"No. A little fragile, perhaps. Heavy inside. I'll be all right."

"Then what are you thinking?"

She smiled for him. "Nothing bad. Just that none of this seems real."

"Oh, it's real enough." He snapped a few commands to his men and they finished gathering their stuff in double time and rushed out the door followed by Peabody carrying a big pot of porridge. "They'll eat outside while we get you decent."

Kate bit her lips to control a smile. Charles the Bold was definitely back in form.

The baby, however, didn't recognize his authority and begin to wail. The captain scowled down at him then put the infant into her arms. "I suppose you'd better feed him. Don't take long."

Self-conscious in the daylight, Kate tried to slide the baby under his s.h.i.+rt, but the business was still sufficiently tricky that she gave up. A glance showed that he'd courteously turned away. "I suppose I had better name him," she said.

His back gave no indication of mood, but she thought there was a touch of humor when he said, "We certainly can't call him baby forever."

She liked that "we" but didn't place much dependence on it, and forever was not a concept that had any meaning for her at the moment. She looked down at the baby, who almost seemed to be frowning in concentration as he suckled.

A fierce little thing. What name would suit him? Certainly not Dennis. And not Charles, either, tempting though it was. Her father was called Augustus, which she did not favor.

"Do you have any suggestions?" she asked.

"A good friend of mine died not long ago. His name was Stephen..."

Kate remembered Major Stephen Courtenay-a rather serious man, who liked to consider all the angles of anything. Dennis had found him infuriating, but no one had denied that he was honest, brave, and sensibly caring of all the men in his command. He'd been sincerely mourned.

She hadn't been aware of a close bond between the major and the captain, but the major would have been foil to Charles the Bold's occasional fiery impulses.

"Stephen, then," she said, but without a last name, for it seemed absurd to call the child Stephen Tennant. As absurd as to call herself Mrs. Tennant.

She left such conundrums for later.

The captain went to the door and called Mr. Right-well. In moments the baby was christened, with Private Peabody and Corporal Milwood standing proxy for G.o.dparents back in England-Kate's sister Anne and the captain's cousin, Thomas.

When the others had retreated outside again, he went with them, saying, "I'll get you some porridge."

In moments he was back, and he started to spoon feed her as she fed the baby.

"In a hurry, are we?" she asked between glutinous mouthfuls. She was sure the stuff was nutritious, but she'd never before tried to eat it without sugar and cream.

"Yes." He pushed another spoonful into her. "I've to find my regiment and you must be out of here before the fighting starts."

As if summoned by his words, a distant boom stilled both of them. A cannon. Silence followed and so they both relaxed a little.

The baby-Stephen-had finished and so she quickly changed him, bundled him up, and placed him on the ground. Then she took off the captain's ruiried s.h.i.+rt and began to struggle back into the bodice of her dress.

"Hold on." He came over, pulling out his sharp knife. "You've got to be able to feed him on the road." Pulling the bodice away from her, he slashed through over both b.r.e.a.s.t.s then helped her into it.

"I can hardly walk around like this!" she protested while trying to bundle her heavy hair up with the few pins still caught in it.

"With your cloak on top, you'll be all right." He brushed her hands away and began to drag a comb through her hair.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. h.e.l.l, it's a mess." The next thing she knew, he'd just pulled it back and tied it with something, probably a piece of twine. "Once you get back to the baggage carts and the women you can get yourself in order again. There. You'll do."

"I see I will have to!" she retorted, but she was laughing. "You are a tyrant, sir."

A touch of humor lightened his grim face. "When I have to be. Can you use a pistol?"

"Yes."

He gave her one which she instantly recognized as Dennis's.

"I've had all his possessions put in the cart."

"Cart?"

"The one that brought you. It's on the way back and had room."

"You might have said! I've been steeling myself to walk."

He ignored that. "The pistol's loaded, so be careful." He suddenly stilled to look at her. "I've never been married before."

"Neither have I." She instantly regretting the sharp edge to it.

He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "Don't be bitter, Kate. It never helps." His knuckles brushed over her lips. "Be bold instead."

"Very well." She stretched up to kiss him quickly but firmly on the lips. "Thank you, Charles the Bold. For everything."

He looked at her in some confusion for a moment before the officer snapped back into place. "Come. You must be off."

He gathered up her bundle and blankets while she picked up the sleeping baby. At the door she turned. Strange though it might seem, she was going to miss this place.

Then another distant boom shook the air, dragging her back to the practical moment, and she hurried out to the familiar cart, now holding four wounded soldiers, one of them in a very bad way. Mr. Rightwell was standing beside the cart, clearly intending to walk.

The men were already in line ready to march in the opposite direction. Toward danger.

The captain picked her up and placed her in the cart, her belongings beside her. "Doesn't sound as if there's fighting between you and the main camp. If you need anything, ever. Thomas Tennant. March-mont Hall. Strode Kingsley.

Got that?"

"Yes."

"G.o.d go with you!"

As if that were a command, the driver cracked his whip, and the cart jerked off along the rough track.

"G.o.d go with you, too," Kate said softly to all the soldiers marching briskly away from her.

On the slow journey back to the main camp, exhaustion felled Kate. The baby, too, seemed worn out by his adventures and scarcely bothered her, but the excited cries and welcoming arms of the women stirred a smile.

Kate felt home and safe.

She slept. She woke when someone brought the baby to feed, but never had to fetch him, or clean him. He had learned the business as quickly as any healthy animal and only needed her breast close to suck l.u.s.tily until he gave up, replete, milk trickling from the corner of his soft sleepy mouth.

"Little glutton," she murmured to him as she wiped away the dribble.

"That's men for you."

"All of them?" Kate smiled up at Red Jess who was sitting ready to take Stephen away. Jess was a strapping woman in her fifties who'd borne many a child to many a man. Her red hair was fading into gray but nothing had faded her vitality.

"All of them," said Jess with a grin. "They're all greedy for something. Just find out what it is, and you've got them round your finger."

"Aren't we greedy for things, too?" Kate realized she was awake and alert again. A little part of her wished she weren't, for there were problems to be faced, but all in all it was good to be clear-headed and with energy.

"Of course we are. Affection and someone to care for, mostly. Why else do we put up with babies?" Jess grinned, showing strong teeth marred by only one gap. Kate had heard the tooth had been knocked out in a fight and she could believe it.

She liked Jess. She admired her. But she didn't want to be like her. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with the army.

Clearly, during her semiconscious recovery, her brain had been working over the problems, and that was one of the answers. She was married to an army officer, though.

And that was another of the problems.

"What's the matter, luv?" Jess asked. "You're not in pain, are you?"

"No. Not at all. In fact, I think it's time to get up and get on with things."

"That's my girl." Jess scooped up the sleeping baby in one arm and extended the other to Kate. It was nearly as big and muscular as the captain's and brought back poignant memories of that strange night. Kate accepted the help to scramble up off the low cot bed, let the world steady, and then nodded. "Definitely better."

"You'll enjoy some fresh air, too. I'll just take the nipper off and freshen him up. You get yourself dressed. Shall I send someone to help you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Kate hastily dressed, finding that she could squeeze into her less tight-fitting garments. Feeling almost normal, she stepped out of the tent into fresh air.

And into unnatural calm.

Mary Milwood sat by a fire stirring a pot.

"Where is everyone?" Kate asked her.

"Battle, ducks. Feeling perkier?"

Kate saw then the dark worry in the young woman's eyes. Mary called herself Gillet and appeared to be the true mate of Corporal Milwood. As with Kate, however, no one ever asked for proof.

So, there was a full battle going on, and the only troops here were the lightly wounded left to guard the baggage and the baggages, as it was put.

Oh G.o.d.

"Sorry about the lieutenant, ducks."

Mary's voice pulled Kate out of worry over Captain Tennant. She almost said, "Dennis?" but stopped herself in time. She couldn't pretend deep grief, however.

"It's all right," said Mary with a wry smile. "It's been clear awhile that it weren't all roses with you two. And he had sent you home. But still, he's dead. His son's fatherless."

It dawned on Kate then that no one seemed to know about the captain and their strange marriage. "What happened to Mr. Rightwell?"

"Who? Oh, that parson. Once he were sure you were in good hands, he went on his way. Important business in Brussels, he said."

Fortunately Jess reappeared at that moment with the well-bundled baby, and laid him on a blanket in a safe corner near a couple of older babies. Children ran around the camp like wild animals. They were happy and generally healthy, but it was not as Kate wanted her son to grow.

Dennis's son, legally the captain's.

What a tangle.

Other women appeared, all with some kind of work in hand, and sat to talk about men and babies. They didn't speak of the battle, even though cannon fire could be heard. None of these women were wh.o.r.es-available to any man. The wh.o.r.es kept to themselves in another part of the camp. All of these woman had a man involved in the fighting, and some of those men wouldn't come back.

Kate had been through this twice before in her time with the army. It didn't get any easier.

They wanted to hear the story of the birth, and it was as good a distraction as any. Her account of the men's panic, and Captain Tennant's command of the event had them all laughing. No one asked why she'd gone into a battle zone in such a condition, and she didn't mention her last-minute marriage.

Perhaps they guessed, but people never asked too many questions here.

Kate wished she could speak of it and ask advice, but it was impossible. Her desperation to have a legal father for her child might be seen as an insult by these women, who stuck by one man at a time but rarely bothered with legal ceremonies. She also didn't want to claim to be married to the captain until he was here to support the story. True, this time she had her marriage lines, but with Mr. Right-well gone, her witnesses were the captain's own men. If they denied the whole thing, then where would she be?

And did she even want to be the acknowledged wife of Captain Tennant? Did he want to be husband to her?

What moon-madness had seized them?

The battle proved to be as bad as everyone had feared, but the captain wasn't among the dead. He wasn't among those returning to the camp, either, and by the time the army moved to safer ground, Kate still didn't know exactly where he was.

She could have asked, of course, but she hesitated to draw any particular attention to their situation. Everyone was accepting her as Dennis Fallowfield's unofficial widow, her child as his son.

For three weeks she waited for word from the captain. Silence in itself was telling. Their marriage had been mere impulse, and he must be regretting it.

Then one day the company paymaster gave her the sum of fifty guineas. "Widow's allowance," he said, but accompanied it with a wink.

"Lieutenant Fallowfield arranged for this?"

"Let's just say it's fair and aboveboard." And though she pressed him, he would say no more.

Dennis had always been short of funds, and when he'd given her ten guineas for her journey home, he'd acted as if he was squeezing out blood. Any official money would only go to a legal wife.

Walking back to her tent-Dennis's tent-Kate was sure the money had been arranged by the captain. He'd managed to arrange money for her, but sent no message? It was as good as a message. It said, "Go away."

She remembered then that his last words to her had been about a cousin in Strode something. At the very least that translated into, "Go back to England."