The Soldier's Rebel Lover

He rubbed his eyes, gazing up at the beautiful stained-glass window in search of inspiration. He had wondered, in the middle of the night, if he dare enlist Romero’s help. The estate owner could have the printing press broken up. He could certainly insist on an end to Estebe’s participation, and force the winery manager to end all contact with his men. But Romero would most likely have his sister incarcerated in a nunnery as a consequence. Hidden away from the world she’d be safe, she’d be alive, but what kind of existence would that be for her? Finlay couldn’t bear to contemplate it.

If Isabella was a man, he would not have to wrestle with his conscience like this, he thought, looking over at her still bowed figure. If she was a man, he’d not be taking any account of those beguiling eyes of hers, or that sensuous mouth, or that delectable body. Or that determined, clever mind of hers, either. He cursed, then raised his eyes to the altar and apologised.

He was going round in circles. A promise was a promise, and he’d given one to Jack weeks before he’d met Isabella. Jack was depending on him. Blast it, when it came down to it, he was under orders, albeit orders that he intended to bend to a more palatable shape. ‘So stop dithering, laddie, and let’s get on with it,’ he muttered.

Isabella chose this point to get to her feet, and Finlay got up from the pew to join her at the font in the atrium. ‘You are a Catholic?’ she asked in surprise when he dipped his hand in the font to bless himself and genuflect.

‘I was raised one,’ he replied, stepping outside into the early-morning mist.

‘Did you come to church this morning in search of divine inspiration?’

‘Is that what you were praying for?’

‘No, I was praying for the wisdom to find a successful resolution to this quandary. Consuela came to my room last night.’

Isabella’s voice faltered several times as she recounted her sister-in-law’s visit. There were shadows under her eyes, which were heavy-lidded. She’d likely had less sleep even than he, poor lass. Finlay’s heart went out to her for the weight of the burden she was carrying, but he suspected that sympathy was the last thing she would want from him, and so he forced himself to listen in silence.

‘I feel quite—quite appalled, to think of the danger in which I have placed my family. You are right. It is time to put an end to El Fantasma,’ Isabella concluded. ‘I do not yet know what that means for me, but...’

‘It means you will have to quit Spain. You’ve no option.’

She flinched. ‘Of a certainty, it means leaving Hermoso Romero. As to the future—that I will think about later. For the moment, I have other more important matters to attend to.’

He did not like the way she tilted her chin when she spoke this last sentence. He did not like the way the sadness in her big golden eyes turned to something like defiance. ‘Such as?’ Finlay asked.

‘Such as Estebe,’ she said, and this time there was no mistaking the stubborn note in her voice. ‘It is my duty to warn him, to give him the chance to warn his men, too.’

‘Are you mad, woman?’

‘It is my duty to warn him,’ she repeated. ‘I would never forgive myself if I did not.’

Finlay rolled his eyes. It was exactly what he’d have said himself. ‘I understand that you feel it’s your duty, but it’s too much of a risk,’ he said. ‘No matter what Señora Romero might have promised you in the middle of the night, do you really think she’s going to keep something like this from your brother?’

‘Xavier will not be home until tomorrow.’

‘We can’t rely on that. We need to be away from here now.’

She turned on him fiercely. ‘I have been successfully running this operation for nearly two years without your advice. I do not require it now. If our situations were reversed, if Estebe was your second-in-command, you would not dream of leaving without alerting him to the danger he is in.’

She really was a feisty wee thing, and what was more she was in the right of it. But unlike Isabella, Estebe was a hardened soldier who knew the real risks. ‘No,’ Finlay said firmly. ‘No, I’m sorry, but from now on you’re following my orders. You need to go and pack. Take only what you can carry on horseback. And it might be an idea to bring anything valuable you have. Jack and I, we’ve made provision for you, but...’

‘I do not need your blood money.’

Pick your battles, Finlay told himself firmly. ‘Fine, then, have it your own way. I won’t force it on you. Now will you go back to the house and pack?’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Attend to that blasted printing press.’

‘What is the point? Only Estebe and I know about it. Besides, it is far too big. You will never be able to destroy it on your own.’

‘At the very least, I can put it beyond use, and get rid of that damned incriminating pamphlet.’

Isabella opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. Obviously she, too, was picking her battles. ‘That is likely to take you some time,’ she said.