The Soldier's Rebel Lover

Poor wee soul, she had been distraught at what she’d seen this afternoon, though it had certainly brought home all he’d been saying. She’d barely said a word on the ride home, staring sightlessly ahead, though she’d sat straight enough in the saddle. She’d had the stuffing knocked out of her. It made his heart ache to think that instead of comforting her, he was going to have to wrench her away from her home and her family without even the chance to say goodbye.

He paced restlessly around the room, from window to door, window to door, his mind whirring. The elopement story might just about hold if Señora Romero was prepared to cultivate it after they were gone. It would be better if he could find a way to speak to her, but short of breaking into her bedchamber...

Finlay laughed shortly. No, if he was to break into any bedchamber it would be Isabella’s. Struck by this idea, he opened the window and stepped out onto the balcony. Isabella’s room was two doors along. The curtains fluttered the window was open. He eyed the gap between the parapets. It was no more than five feet. And the fall was a good thirty, more than enough to break his legs if not to kill him. Anyone would think he’d not had enough high drama for the day. Returning to his bedchamber, Finlay decided he’d try the more conventional route.

* * *

‘Finlay. I was on the point of coming to find you. Come in.’

Isabella ushered him in, closing the door softly behind her. She was fully dressed, though her hair was not up, but tied in a long plait down her back.

‘How are you bearing up?’ he asked her.

‘I am sorry that I was of so little use to you earlier,’ she replied, ignoring his question. ‘I am very, very grateful for what you have done. If my brother knew— Xavier is—’ she gulped ‘—was, extremely fond of Estebe. That you have spared him the truth... For that, and for the sake of all of Estebe’s friends, I cannot thank you enough, Finlay.’

‘It was nothing.’

‘No. It was a great deal more than nothing. I deeply regret that I was not of more assistance, but I assure you, I am ready now to do—to do...’

She broke off, screwing her eyes tight shut, but when he tried to take her in his arms, she shook her head. ‘Please, do not—I do not deserve to be comforted. If I had listened to you, perhaps Estebe would still be alive. He is dead, and he died to save me. I owe it to him to try to save myself now. And I owe it to my family, too. My remaining here is dangerous for them. You were right. I did not truly understand the consequences of my—of El Fantasma’s actions, but I do now. So, I am ready to go with you,’ she concluded firmly. ‘I am ready to follow whatever arrangements you have made for me.’

‘America, I told you. It’s the only place you can be safe.’

The very idea terrified her, but she nodded her head stoically. ‘Then, I will go to America.’

Finlay bit his lip, eyeing her with some concern. ‘Isabella, you could not have saved Estebe. His death is not your fault.’

She had picked up a hairbrush from the dressing table and was now putting it into the half-packed portmanteau lying open on the bed. ‘If I had listened to you earlier, I could have warned him.’

‘They would still have come for him.’ This time, when she tried to shake him off, Finlay resisted, putting an arm around her waist to anchor her to him. ‘Even if you had warned him, what difference do you think it would have made. Would Estebe have fled?’

‘Of course not, but—Finlay, do you think they will kill them all? If I could warn them—though I know only a few of the names—if I could warn them, give them a chance to escape...’ she said, looking up at him pleadingly. ‘Do you think...?’

‘I think that Estebe’s death is warning enough. I think your conscience is clear on that matter, and even if it were not—Isabella, my conscience will not allow you to devote any more time to such matters. I should have gotten you out of here days ago.’

‘I would not have agreed to come.’

He smiled sadly. ‘I should not have allowed that fact to make any difference.’ She looked so vulnerable. His arms ached to embrace her. Catching himself in the act of bestowing a tender kiss on her forehead, Finlay let her go. ‘Right, then,’ he said brusquely, ‘to work. I’m glad to see you’ve packed. I’ve been thinking about how best to leave things here. We need a story that will explain our sudden disappearance without linking it in any way to Estebe’s death or, obviously, El Fantasma, so what I was thinking was, we could elope. Pretend to elope, that is. If you could write a letter...’

‘I have every intention of writing a letter,’ Isabella interrupted, ‘but it will be the truth.’

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘The truth?’

‘My confession. Those Madrileños did not believe Estebe when he said he was El Fantasma. They will be back, and they will be looking for a man close to Estebe, only more powerful. Who do you think they will settle on?’

‘Xavier,’ Finlay said with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.