you to obey my orders to the letter. Both our lives may depend upon it.’
‘I understand.’
‘I hope you do because I shall not brook disobedience.’
The threat was plain and she had not the least doubt that he meant it. Did he think her so unreliable?
‘I assure you, Major, that I will do nothing to jeopardise the success of this mission.’
‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Then we may be able to deal tolerably well together after all.’
It was, she knew, an oblique reference to their first encounter. Unwilling to go there she sought safer ground.
‘There must be many things I need to know, about the Condesa de Ordoñez, I mean.’
‘I shall brief you on those while we travel. There will be time enough for you to assimilate the details.’
‘As you wish.’
He stood. ‘Until tomorrow morning then, Miss Huntley.’
Sabrina rose, too, and held out her hand. It was in part a conciliatory gesture. Whatever had happened before, it must not be allowed to get in the way now.
‘Until tomorrow, sir.’
She had wondered if he would shake hands with her or consider a curt bow sufficient. Strong fingers closed around hers and, unexpectedly, lifted her hand to his lips. The touch sent a tremor through her entire being. For a moment the grey eyes held hers, but she could not read the expression there. Then she was free and he turned to go. She watched until he was lost to view.
Early next morning, as the trunks were loaded onto the carriage and the horses put to, Sabrina came down to find her godfather and her large travelling companion already waiting. With a small start of surprise she saw that Major Falconbridge had changed his uniform for civilian dress. He was clad now in fawn breeches, Hessian boots and a coat of dark blue superfine that might have been moulded to his shoulders. Snowy linen showed at wrist and throat and a single fob hung from a cream-coloured waistcoat, completing an outfit that was at once simple and elegant. It also enhanced every line of that powerful frame and rendered it more imposing.
Unwilling to let her mind travel too far down that road, she turned her attention to their escort. Ramon and Luis were reassuring presences. As Jacinta had told her, when asked they had made it quite clear that they took their presence on this journey as read. Nor would they be dissuaded.
‘Your concern does you credit, Doña Sabrina,’ replied Ramon when she had told them her plans, ‘but I believe I will make up my own mind.’ The words were quietly spoken but carried an undertone that she recognised all too well.
She made a last-ditch attempt. ‘Aranjuez is far behind French lines.’
‘Madre de Dios! Can it be true?’ Luis threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘In that case, Ramon and I shall remain safely here and tell your father later that we let you go alone into the lion’s den. I am sure he will understand.’
‘My father would not ask this of you.’
‘Your father is not here,’ said Ramon, ‘which means that we two are in loco parentis until his return.’
‘Loco is right,’ replied Luis, ‘but even crazy parents are better than none, eh?’
Unable to think of an immediate answer to this, Sabrina had given in. With Ramon and Luis now were two of Falconbridge’s men, Corporal Blakelock and Private Willis. She recognised them from the encounter in Casa Verde. Both men seemed to be in their mid-twenties but there the resemblance ended: Blakelock’s thin, rangy frame and shock of fair hair were a complete contrast to Willis’s shorter, more compact build and straggling brown locks. They touched their caps and greeted her respectfully, neither one giving any indication that they recalled what had taken place that day in the wheelwright’s yard. She wondered whether it was natural tact on their part or whether Falconbridge had spoken to them. They were to travel in the chaise with Jacinta. Ramon and Luis would take it in turns to drive the coach. The entourage certainly looked like that of a wealthy man and, in this instance, appearances were everything.
Sabrina had not expected that the farewell to Albermarle would be easy, and in this she was right. The craggy face surveyed her for a moment in silence and the blue eyes softened.
‘God bless you, my dear. I wish you all good fortune.’ He hugged her closely. Then he shook hands with Falconbridge. ‘Take care of her, Major.’
‘You have my word on it, sir.’
Albermarle handed Sabrina into the carriage before turning back to the man beside him and bestowing on him a vulpine smile. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear.
‘If you let any harm come to her I’ll personally cut out your liver.’
The Major met his eye. ‘I’ll try by every means to keep her safe, sir.’
‘You’d better.’ Albermarle smiled at Sabrina and watched her companion climb into the coach. Then he stepped back and rapped out a command to Luis on the box. The horses leapt forwards.
Sabrina drew in a deep breath as the coach pulled away; this was it, the beginning of the adventure. Yet she knew nothing about this man with whom she was to spend the next few weeks. This was only the second time they had been alone together. She would have preferred it to have been somewhere other than the close confines of the carriage, for she was only too keenly aware of the virile form opposite. Just then she would have given a great deal to know what he was thinking, but his expression gave nothing away.
What was running through his mind just then was a strange mixture of emotions. Chiefly he wished with all his heart that she had not come. He was also hoping with all his heart that their mission would go without a hitch. The thought of what might happen if she ever fell into enemy hands turned him cold. Any woman would have been in danger, but a woman who looked like Sabrina…It was why he had tried to talk her out of coming along. She really was lovely. The green travelling dress and matching bonnet became her well, enhancing the colour of her eyes. The shade was unusual, reminding him just now of sun-shot sea water. Those same eyes darkened to emerald when she was angry, he remembered. At that moment their expression was unfathomable. He sighed inwardly. Like it or not she was with him now and he knew it would be better if they could at least get along. The fact that they didn’t was, he admitted, in great measure due to him.
‘It doesn’t seem quite real, does it?’ he said then.
The words were so exactly what had been going through her own mind that she wondered if he had somehow read her thoughts.
‘No, indeed it doesn’t.’
She wondered if he would attempt to make polite conversation now. In truth she had no wish for it. However, it seemed that was not his intention.
‘Since we are to spend some time together perhaps I should begin by telling you something of the lady you are to impersonate.’
She acknowledged privately that it was an adroit touch. He had her full attention now. ‘I would be glad if you did. I know so little, apart from the fact that the Condesa is French—and blonde.’
‘Her
