twice about it.’
‘How did your father die, Katherine?’ he asked gently, as he detected the shadow of sadness flickering over the delicate features. ‘Was he a soldier?’
She shook her head. ‘My father owned a stud in Ireland. I doubt there has ever been—or ever will be, come to that—a man who has known more about horses than my father. His expertise was renowned, and his horses were much coveted. He was approached by someone attached to the War Office, I know not who, to acquire animals for the army, and to travel to Portugal in order to take care of them on the journey.
‘He left Dublin with his prized cargo in the summer of ‘08 and joined up with two other vessels, carrying much-needed supplies, which had set sail from Bristol, I believe. The small convoy was supposed to receive protection from our Navy. No escort appeared; the captain in charge of the expedition decided to press on in the hope, I suppose, that before too long some naval frigate consigned to escort them would appear. It did not. The French, however, did. They were lying in wait off the Bay of Biscay.’
Katherine was silent for a moment, but her voice when she spoke again was as coolly controlled as before, betraying none of the searing heartache she continued to experience when recalling that time in her life when she had waited daily for the father who was destined never to return. ‘There were no survivors. I did not discover until recently that the French were well prepared. They had received details from someone connected with the War Office.’
‘And Sir Giles told you this?’ Daniel was clearly more angered than anything else by what he had learned. ‘He ought never to have disclosed such details. Damn his eyes!’
Evidently Major Ross was a man of strong emotions. Moreover, he was not reticent about voicing staunch disapproval if he felt inclined to do so. Katherine saw nothing amiss with this, for she herself was not above giving vent to her own feelings on occasions. She was faintly surprised, all the same, by this display of ill humour, and didn’t hesitate to come to Sir Giles’s defence. ‘He didn’t attempt to convince me that the traitor he is determined to uncover now is indeed the one responsible for my father’s death,’ she hurriedly assured him. ‘In fact, he took great pains to inform me that it’s highly unlikely it is the same person.’
How very magnanimous of him! Daniel thought, totally unimpressed, and more than moderately annoyed by the baronet’s devious methods.
He at least was under no illusion about Sir Giles Os-borne’s true character. Although the baronet seemed to epitomise the perfect English gentleman, suave and dignified, he wasn’t above preying on a person’s vulnerability in order to attain his ends, and could be as ruthless in his methods to achieve his objectives as those he was determined to root out and bring to book for their treachery.
Daniel clearly remembered that his and the baronet’s paths had crossed for the very first time in London, just prior to his setting sail for the Peninsula, when he himself had been at a very low ebb. Learning of his father’s death whilst he had been out in India had been a bitter blow, and discovering, on his return to England, the heartless betrayal of the woman he had once wished to marry had added considerably to his distress. It was hard to imagine, now, that at the age of three-and-twenty he had been a very vulnerable young man, disillusioned and heart-weary. A grim smile curled his lips. Oh, yes, he had certainly been a highly prized fruit, just ripe for the picking! And Sir Giles had not hesitated to take full advantage of the young captain who, badly bruised in spirit, had betrayed scant concern for his own safety.
Daniel didn’t doubt for a moment that it had been Osborne who had suggested that he be chosen so often for those perilous missions behind enemy lines in Spain and Portugal. His command of the French tongue, coupled with a complete disregard for his own safety, had made him a prime choice.
He knew for certain that it had been at Sir Giles’s request that he had been sent back to England to effect Louise Baron’s escape. He hadn’t wished to desert the men under his command, but he’d been given little choice in the matter. The verbal order to do so had come from Wellington himself. His army days were now over, of course, and he wasn’t obliged to take orders from anyone. So what the deuce was he doing here now, stuck in the heart of France, once again involved in that unscrupulous baronet’s fiendish stratagems?
Daniel glanced briefly at the lovely young woman sitting beside him, who was daintily eating her way through the chunk of crusty bread and portion of cheese. Although his years out in the Peninsula had undoubtedly changed him from a vulnerable young man into a self-possessed, if faintly cynical, ex-army Major, he couldn’t find it within himself to be in the least bit sorry that he had allowed that foxy old baronet to persuade him to take part in one last venture for his country, for he was beginning to feel increasingly that it would turn out to be the best decision he had ever taken in his life.
By the time evening had arrived Daniel judged that they had covered a good twenty miles. More importantly, he had discovered a deal more about his delightful companion and the idyllic life she had enjoyed in Ireland. If she had had one fault to find with her childhood, then it had been the lack of companionship of girls her own age. Which, undoubtedly, was the reason why, after suffering the loss of both parents in quick succession, and removing to England to live with her grandfather, she had swiftly struck up such a close friendship with Helen Rushton.
Little wonder the foolish little darling had convinced herself that she was some sort of curse, Daniel reflected, as he at last saw signs of what appeared to be a sizeable habitation just up ahead. It was utter nonsense, of course—a fact that he had every intention of making perfectly plain at the earliest opportunity. The underlying reason for this foolish notion had become increasingly clear to him too—she was determined never to form a deep attachment to another living soul, simply because she was desperate to avoid suffering the searing heartache she had all too frequently experienced in the past.
Sadly it was all so very understandable. Still, it was no way to live one’s life. It might take some time, but he would eventually peel away those protective layers in which she had shrouded herself, he thought determinedly, little realising that he had already begun to do so.
As Daniel, ever alert, paused for a moment to cast his eyes up the main street of the small market town they had just entered, Katherine stared up at him, her eyes resting for a moment on the square, powerful jaw, before studying the other strong contours of a face that was certainly not handsome, but full of character and ruggedly attractive. At least she found his physiognomy extremely appealing and, more surprisingly still, she was beginning to find his nature very engaging too.
Strong willed and determined, Daniel certainly possessed the power to annoy her from time to time by uttering some blunt remark. Yet beneath the brusque, no-nonsense manner was a wealth of tenderness, which manifested itself in quite touching displays of gentlemanly consideration.
More than once throughout the day he had kindly offered a helping hand to clamber over some gate or stile, and on one occasion, much to her intense annoyance, he had gone so far as to toss her over one brawny shoulder, as though she weighed no more than a sack of grain, and had carried her across a wide stream to save her feet and clothing from becoming sodden.
Although still faintly aggrieved at having been manhandled in such an odious fashion, Katherine couldn’t deny that, against all the odds, she was genuinely beginning to like and admire this occasionally infuriating man.
‘I don’t know about you, my little Amazon,’ Daniel announced, resorting to one of those many colourful epithets by which he was wont to address her, ‘but I’m feeling decidedly weary and in desperate need of sustenance. Are you willing to risk paying a visit to the inn up yonder?’
She didn’t need to take even a moment to consider the matter. Not a morsel of food,
