The Soldier's Rebel Lover

‘Finlay, I do not profess to know why you are here, but it is of a certainty not to purchase wine.’

‘No, I’m not.’ He finished his coffee in one gulp. ‘Take a walk with me, and I’ll tell you the real reason I am here.’

* * *

Isabella had pulled a fringed shawl around her shoulders. Her gown was simple but elegant, the plain white material relieved by a bold pattern of what looked to be strawberries running around the hem and diagonally across the skirt. The high waist suited her tall, slim figure. Her feet were clad not in the delicate slippers favoured by her sister-in-law, but in much more sturdy and practical boots. She kept pace easily at his side as they walked, despite her narrow skirts. There were gold highlights in her hair, sparked to life by the weak winter sunshine. The cold morning air caught in his lungs, their breath visible as they continued on their way.

On balance, Finlay had come to the conclusion overnight that Isabella would not betray him. He had pondered the possibility of inventing another story to fob her off for a few more days, but quickly abandoned that idea. Though he disliked Xavier Romero, Finlay disliked the lies he was obliged to tell the man even more, the false expectations he was raising.

But lying to Isabella... That was a whole different kettle of fish. There had existed, from the very first time they had met, an unmistakable spark between them that he, for one, had never experienced before. It went against the grain with him not to be straight with her, though he was fairly certain she was doing a fair bit of dissembling herself. If she was, as he hoped, merely protecting his quarry, he could not blame her for that. In fact, it was a rather admirable display of loyalty.

He led the way past the chapel, along the cypress tree walk and out onto a path that climbed between the serried ranks of vines to an ancient wooden bench with a panoramic view out over the estate. Isabella did not speak as they snaked their way up the hillside. He sensed her tension as they sat down, saw it in the rigid way she held herself, her hands clasped together under her shawl.

‘Right, then,’ Finlay said. ‘I’ll speak first and save you the trouble of asking. I’m not a wine merchant. In fact, I’m still a soldier, same as I’ve always been.’

Isabella jumped to her feet. ‘So everything you have told me has been a lie?’

‘No! Not all. My family, the croft, all that is true.’

‘But you did not leave the army when Napoleon was sent to Elba? You presumably fought at Waterloo, then?’

‘Aye.’ He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back onto the bench. ‘Who I fought and when are beside the point. Listen to me now, because it’s vitally important. Lives are at stake here, including my own if things go badly. I had no option but to lie to you until I knew whether or not I could trust you. It’s been two years since we met after all, and a lot can change in two years. When I arrived here, I wasn’t even certain that I’d be able to find you.’

‘Find me? You mean you came here looking for me?’

Finlay grinned. ‘I came looking for a wee peasant lassie, and there you were in that fine white lace mantilla and that silk gown, not only a lady, but the sister of the estate owner. I couldn’t believe it. I damn near panicked, I can tell you.’

‘You hid it very well,’ Isabella responded tartly. ‘Unlike me.’

‘Aye, that was one of the things that set me off wondering about you from the first, but then when you explained about your brother, and I could see for myself he was no friend of the liberal cause, I thought that was the cause of your panic. But the real Isabella kept popping through the lady’s demure facade that you have clearly donned since the end of the war. I am hoping I’m not the only one who is not what he appears. In fact, I am staking quite a lot on it.’

‘Why?’ she asked baldly.

‘You told me once that you knew how to get in touch with a partisan known as El Fantasma, in order to convince me that the partisans be allowed to attack a French arms cache. The fact that they succeeded proves to me that your claim was genuine. El Fantasma is clearly known to you.’ He felt her flinch at the name, and though she said nothing, it was enough. ‘Isabella, the man is in deep trouble. I think you know where he might be found. I think you might still be involved in some way with his cause. I need you to take me to him.’

‘Take you to him?’ she repeated blankly.

‘To El Fantasma. His life is at risk.’

‘For El Fantasma there are always risks.’ Isabella waved her hand dismissively. ‘You think he cares about that?’

‘Frankly, he’d be a fool not to care. There’s bravery and then there’s sheer recklessness.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps he thinks that the cause he fights for is more important than anything else.’

‘More important even than his life?’ Finlay snapped. ‘Isabella, the British government believe that your Spanish government are determined to track him down, and the net is closing around him. I’m here to prevent that happening.’