WHERE THE

HEART LEADS
Valentina Luellen

Two lovers, whom nothing short of death could part

She was young, lovely and innocent, and her life was governed by
the conventions of Portuguese nobility. But high-spirited Nathalia
longed for freedom, for excitement, for love.
Then the English daredevil Adam Sorrell rode into her village.
Recklessly, Nathalia risked everything for a night with the
handsome major.
But the consequences were more than she had bargained for!
Humiliated and rejected, Nathalia was forced into disguise, into
servitude and into the very teeth of battle to prove her love and
claim her husband.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and
have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even
distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.
The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage
in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the
publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be
lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in
any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
First published in Great Britain 1986 by Mills & Boon Limited
Valentina Luellen 1986
Australian copyright 1986 Philippine copyright 1986
ISBN 0 263 75467 7
Set in 10 on 11 pt Linotron Times 04-0786-76,300
Photoset by Rowland Phototypesetting Limited,
Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Made and printed in Great Britain by
Cox and Wyman Limited, Reading

CHAPTER ONE
'Is HE not the most handsome man you have ever seen?' Alida
asked her sister from behind a nervously fluttering fan.
A slender eyebrow winged upwards as Natalia focused her full
attention on the two men who had just entered the room, more than
a little surprised at the statement. Her elder sister had been
widowed for just one year and had solemnly vowed never to
become seriously involved with another man againa sentiment
not shared by their father, who was already looking for a suitable
replacement for her.
Not because her marriage had been a happy onefar from it.
Natalia knew that the nine months she had been married had been
the most miserable of her life. Now here she was showing an
interest in one of the many English officers who had been fighting
for the past two years to liberate Portugal and its unhappy people
from the tyrannical domination of the French emperor, Napoleon.
Most of the war had been fought in Spain against overwhelming
numbers, but for the past winter months of 1809 and into the
spring of the following year they had withdrawn behind carefully
constructed lines of defence in the heart of her country, to rest and
replenish their resources. A welcome relief after the bloody battle
they had fought in July 1809 at Talavera, south-west of Madrid,
when the French had lost over ten thousand men!
On the lips of every Portuguese man and woman who listened
eagerly for newsNatalia among themwas the name of Sir
Arthur Wellesley, the brave English commander who had, it was
reported, faced an enemy force of forty thousand men with less
than a quarter of that number under his commandand won! For
this brilliant victory he was created Viscount Wellington by his
sovereign, George III.

Natalia was forced to admit that Alida's choice of companion was

infinitely better than the man chosen by their father. Both men
wore the striking blue and gold uniforms of cavalry officers. She
had seen so much varied apparel passing through the small village
of Alto Verde these past months, as weary men spent their time in
the surrounding towns or the capital, Lisboa, that she was
becoming quite an expert on the different regiments. One man was
tall and fair, the pale skin deeply freckled by the strong Portuguese
sun which dealt unmercilessly with those unaccustomed to its
strength. The other was very talla good head above his
companion and anyone else present, who were mostly neighbours
and close friends of her fatherlike most Portuguese homes,
theirs was always open to offer hospitality, to the passing English
soldiersand so handsome she was momentarily robbed of
speech. His appearance had set many a female heart racing, she
saw, by the furtive glances cast towards him when duennas were
looking elsewhere, the soft giggles and whispered comments
behind feathered fans fluttering as agitatedly as Alida's was doing
as she continued to gaze at them. Thank goodness their father had
his back towards them and was conversing with friends, so that he
did not see her reaction to these new arrivals! He had vowed, after
her husband had been killed fighting in Spain, never to have a
soldier as a son-in-law again.
Natalia felt her own heart beating rather unsteadily, for the tall
stranger was the kind of man every young girl wove fantasies
about, and she was no exception. Compared with the man she was
soon to marry, he was Adonis; a proud young goddevastatingly
handsome to be worshipped from afar!
He was very sure of himself, she mused, considering the touch of
arrogance in the way he held his head and regarded the other
guests. A pair of gleaming eyes swept the room, and a smile
touched the lean mouth as he considered each young woman who

passed in front of him with an effrontery that was breathtakingly

blatant.
What kind of man had Alida found for herself, and where? This
was the first she had heard of a beau, although her sister did live in
Mafra, where there was an English garrison. The man's gaze came
across the room to rest on her. Not on Alida, of that she was sure,
but on her. For one heart-stopping moment she could not breathe.
When she tried to swallow, there was a restriction in her throat
which made it impossible. She tried to avert her eyes from the bold
stare which began at the dainty satin shoes just visible beneath the
hem of her gown and continued slowly up over the clinging skirts
of her saffron velvet gown, past her tiny waist to the fullness of her
breasts above the high-waisted bodice. She had borrowed one of
Alida's newest gown in the latest 'Empire' style made famous by
Frenchwomen. She harboured no love for the French, but she did
like their clothes, especially the simple classic styles which her
sister had brought back with her from Lisboa. It was also just a
little daring and naughty, baring more of her full breasts than was
usually modest, and that in itself had been sufficient to prompt her
into wearing it. It was different.
By the time those eyes reached the red-gold tresses swept high
onto the crown of her head and secured with a yellow ribbon to
match her gown, her cheeks were flushed with uncomfortable
colour. She had never known a man's interest to affect her so.
'He's coming to speak to me,' Alida whispered. 'Where is Father?
He mustn't see us together.'
'Nonsense!' Somehow Natalia dragged her eyes away from the two
figures threading their way across the crowded room. 'You may
speak with whom you please. After all, you are hostess here
tonight. Besides, you can do anything you like, and Father will

never rebuke you. It's only me he delights in making miserable!

How I wish I were free . . .'
Natalia did not miss the sympathetic glance which came her way
before her sister's attention was once more returned to the
approaching officers. She had always been the favourite. When
their father deigned to show a scrap of affection, Alida could do no
wrong, but then she was always polite and obedient, like their
mother. Never a word of rebellion, or one tiny sign of reproach
that he had forced her into an unhappy marriage. How different
they wereand yet, strangely enough, close enough to have been
born as one.
Natalia had been betrothed to Cesar Joao Ferreira Duarte when she
was six years old. Almost as if her father had been wishing to be
rid of her even at that tender age, she had often thought. All her
life she had been groomed and prepared for the day when she
would be his wife. The wifethe property of a man twice her age.
Had not Alida been unexpectedly widowed, and the usual
mourning period to be observed, she would already be married
perhaps a mother. She inwardly shuddered ... At the thought of
being touched by Cesar's fat hands, or because the two men had
halted before them, and those gleaming eyes once again dwelt on
her face?
'Drew.' The name was little more than a sigh on Alida's lips as she
lifted her hand and it was takennot by the dark-haired man, but
by his companion. 'It's all right, this is my sister Natalia. She will
keep our secret. I fear I rather gave myself away when I saw you
come in. You were so sure you would not be able to get leave.'
'We've been assigned special duties in Lisboa for the next month.
And some relaxation.' The young face split into a wide grin as he
eyed the man at his side. 'You haven't met my brother, have you?

Also my commanding officer. Adam, this is Alida. Isn't she all I

said she was? And Natalia, whose debt I am in for sharing her
sister's confidence.'
'Everythingand more,' came the quiet reply from the other, and
Alida blushed profusely as he brushed his lips across her
fingertips. 'I haven't heard Drew speak of anyoneor anything
this past month but this vision of loveliness he has encountered.
Now I understand his enthusiasm to be here tonight. Dona Natalia,
I am honoured.'
The hand which clasped Natalia's was cool to the touch, yet no
sooner had he paid her the same courteous gesture than she quickly
pulled herself free, every nerve in her body tingling with the brief
contact. What was the matter with her? She was nearly eighteen, a
child no longer, but a full-grown womanand about to become a
wife. She had no right to feel anything for a stranger, and certainly
not one with bold eyes and a casualness of manner which indicated
that he thought himself capable of having any woman in the room
he chose. And he spoke Portuguesethey both spoke itso
beautifully!
Close to, she saw that his skin was deeply tanned, unlike that of his
brother, which seemed to indicate he had been in her country for
some considerable time. It was not merely a surface tan brought on
by the summer sun either, for here it was almost spring, and it still
remained to enhance those aquiline features. The eyes were a
mixture of green, flecked with hazel and a touch of grey, with firm
black brows arching above them. The thick hair was cut short
without a single grey strand. The mouth was firm, as was the
jawline. Not a man easily swayed by others, she decided. A man of
strength and decisiona born leader. She found it difficult to
judge his age. He could have been in his late twenties or into the
mid-thirties. When he smiled, it could have been the former, yet

she noticed a hardness about the eyes, where tiny white lines
seared the bronze skin, that made her decide he was at least thirty.
Cesar was forty-two, so what did age matter? Aware of the
questioning look which sprang to his eyes at her scrutiny, she
floundered for words, and stammered,
'Areare you on leave, senhor? You have some strange men with
youI mean, they looked so rough.' It was a struggle to regain her
composure. No man had ever affected her so.
'I command a force of "irregulars", senhorita. "Guerrilleros" as the
Spanish call them, and most of my men are from Spain. We are on
our way to Lisboa in the hope of recruiting more Portuguese to
join us.' The answer had a certain reluctance about it as if he did
not like to discuss his activities. 'When Drew and I return to
headquarters, no doubt we shall find new orders awaiting us to
take us back into the field. I, for one, shall be glad. We have been
idle for too long.'
'Idle, the man says!' His brother gave a snort. 'The French haven't
allowed us to sit about and do nothing. Ever since we entrenched
behind the lines, they've plagued us like flies. It's time we showed
them a thing or two'.
'Don't,' Alida murmured. 'I can't bear to think of you in the midst
of fighting.'
Adam's eyes narrowed slightly as Drew reached out and gently
squeezed her hand. He did not approve of his brother's deepening
relationship with her. In time of war, a soldier's thoughts should be
on staying alive, not on some woman left behind. Distracted men
were dead men! A little on the plump side, she was nevertheless a
pretty little thing with a shy air that he knew would appeal to Drew

the moment they met, for he also suffered from the annoying
affliction of being easily embarrassed in company.
Adam never allowed anyone to bother himat least, not so that it
showed. It took a great deal to irk him, although the temper he had
inherited from an Irish grandmother raised its head more than he
cared to admit; over the years, he had learned to control it. When
he was roused, however, he was a beara veritable devil whose
anger encompassed all about him and often led him into the
distasteful situation of demanding satisfaction from whoever had
upset him.
His companions during his years of soldiering had discovered it
was wise to stay out of the way of this master of sword and pistol
when he was in a bad temper, and never to approach him on any
pretext when he was in a foul mood. Thus they could retain a
valuable friendship, for, despite this shortcoming, Adam was
popular with his men and possessed many friends among his
fellow officers.
He found Alida's sister, Natalia, something else entirelyyoung
and beautiful beyond words! He realised he had not taken his eyes
off her since he came into the room. She was aware of it, too. He
was sure she followed his every move. It was rare to find such
boldness in a well-brought-up Portuguese girl.
Her eyes were the most startling blue he had ever seen, like huge
flawless sapphires set off to perfection by smooth white skin. Petal
soft, he suspected, and kept well away from the scorching summer
sun. It would be protected as carefully as she was, day and night,
probably by the old duenna hovering at her elbow. Nobody would
get past that one! Like most Portuguese women, her life would be
ruled by strict convention. Was she was bored as other women he

had met in Lisboa, he wondered? Bored, and willing to break a

few of those rulesas Alida was doing?
As his eyes considered her, she quickly averted her gaze. It came
to him that she was little more than a child playing at being a
woman, despite all her finery and jewels. He would be a fool to
indicate the slightest interest in her. It was his rule never to
become involved with single womenonly mature ones whose
more worldly leanings allowed them to continue with their own
lives once the first fires of ardour had waned. Besides, he did not
consider it fair to marry and leave a wife while he went off to
fight. Neither would he allow any woman of his to accompany him
to war, as so many other men did. War was a man's occupation;
women belonged at home with their sewing and their family.
Aware of Drew giving him a puzzled look, he realised he had been
staring pointedly at Natalia for several minutes without speaking.
He knew he would never hear the last of it if his brother suspected
he was in any way attracted to her! With a faint shrug of his
shoulders, he said,
'Don't worry, Dona Alida, my brother bears a charmed life.
Besides, the angels don't want that ugly face among them! Before I
leave, would it be possible for you to introduce me to whoever has
made this overnight sojourn here so enjoyable? Your people have
always been most friendly towards the English, yet I am still
touched at how readily they have opened their doors to welcome
our men wherever they go. My brother will have great difficulty in
dragging himself away from here. He is finding the hospitality
quite . . .irresistible.'
'Senhor!' Alida protested softly. 'If you cause me to blush any
more, my father will be wanting to know the reason. He is your
hostthe juiz, the judge, in Alto Verde. It was his wish that you

and your men, indeed all British soldiers who pass through our
village, should be made to feel welcome. You are all a long way
from home, and our two countries have been allies for many
centuries. Friends should not be turned from one's doorever. I
think we should introduce you to him now, before his curiosity
brings him to us. Don't you agree, Natalia?'
'Sim,' her sister replied, acutely conscious of the curious looks she
had been receiving from Dona Margarida, her ageing duenna, for
the past five minutes. She could not even smile politely at a man
without her companion suspecting that the worst was about to
happen. She would cluck her tongue in the most disapproving
fashion, like some old hen! Marriage would at least do away with
the necessity for her to be chaperoned every minute of the day, her
every movement spied upon. In two short months her freedom
would be curtailed by a jailer of a different kindher husband!
Despite the warmth of the room, she shivered.
Swiftly she thrust the unpleasant thought to the back of her mind,
as she became aware that Adam was extending his arm towards
her and waiting for her to place her hand on it so that he might
escort her in the wake of Alida and Drew, who were already
moving away. Tentatively she laid slender, ringed fingers on the
blue sleeve with its gold cuff, managing to smile faintly as she
fought to control the tremor which went through her at the contact.
If she acted like a child, he would take to his heels and run like a
scalded cat, to seek solace with some woman who returned his
hold stares candidly, with a promise of her company in full red lips
and tantalising glancesperhaps more.
Dare she, who had never allowed any man to take liberties with
hernot even Cesar, who was soon to be her husband and her
master and who made it plain each time they were together that he
expected her to refuse him nothingplay such a game?

Natalia longed for some exciting adventure to take her away from
the quinta where she had been born and raised and spent every day
engaged in the small dull routine. She rose and had breakfast, then
sat with her tutors for the remainder of the day, reading, sewing,
playing the pianoall the things a young lady should know. Most
of all how to be a dutiful wife . . . and mother. Certainly she did
not feel old enough for any of these things to appeal to her.
Why was it all necessary, anyway, when everyone told her she had
inherited all her mother's fine qualities? Marietta Sedalia Alicia
Lareira had been a gracious lady, loved by all, the daughter of a
high-born landowner from Porto, endowed with beauty, simplicity,
charm . . . Natalia had all of these and something more a hint of
recklessness which did not fit well into the otherwise modest
character. Where that originated from, no one knewor would tell
her!
She had always thought what a perfect match her father had made
for himself. A docile woman, who had obeyed his every wish until
the day she died and deprived the Quinta das Reposeiras of a kind
and benevolent mistress, and him of an irreplaceable wife. Neither
daughter had ever succeeded in growing close to him. Both had
discovered, at an early age, that they were not what he had wished
for. He had prayed for strong sons to inherit his name, his power
and the land. In his view, women were good only for marriage and
for the provision of heirs. He barely acknowledged their existence
while they were children, leaving them in the care of governesses
and duennas, sour-faced spinsters who never understood Natalia's
sudden flashes of high spirits and independence and sought to beat
them out of her, when all other methods failed.
Natalia disagreed with her father's sentiments most strongly, but
she would never have said so to his face, or in his hearing. For
seventeen years she had been a good and dutiful daughter who had

learned all Abilio had demanded of heroh! those endless hours

of study when she could have been walking in the vineyards or
riding free like the wind across the sun-baked earth who had
become betrothed to the man chosen for her, and suffered in
silence a terrible agony of mind. She did not want to be saddled
with a family before she had known what it was like to live! She
was not a brood mare! She wanted freedom to express herself, to
go where she pleased.
She had seen Alida married to a man she did not love, lose a child
before it was due to come into the world because of the cruelty of
her drunken husband, and had comforted her through the long days
afterwards until her health returned, praying that she would not
have to experience this kind of hell in her own marriage. Now her
sister was a widow, free of the chains that had held her, until such
time as their father decided she should marry again. Alida lived in
a house in the town of Mafra that had belonged to her husband, a
compulsive gambler. It had been the only thing left to her when he
died. All money had been frittered away on the turn of a card, and
she had been hard pressed by creditors until their father had
intervened to pay all the outstanding bills.
Now Don Abilio was pressing her to return to the quinta, to keep
him company, as Natalia would soon be married and going away.
Cesar's home was near Setubal in the north. Stubbornly Alida had
resisted the temptation to return to the family fold, knowing well
how she would be completely dominated once again by his will if
she did so. Natalia was glad that she had not, for she often went to
stay with her for a few days, experiencing beneath her roof a sense
of freedom never possible at home. She was glad of the slightest
excuse to be out of her father's sight; and with Alida, a respectable
widow, as her chaperon it was possible to leave behind the dour
Dona Margarida. How she would miss her sister's gay chatter!

The man who turned to watch the two young women cross the
room was of medium height, immaculately dressed in dark grey, a
spotless white shirt accentuating the swarthiness of his features.
The brown eyes narrowed for a moment as they considered his two
daughters, missing nothing: neither the swiftness with which Alida
disengaged herself from the grasp of the man accompanying her,
nor Natalia's agitation. Her cheeks were quite flushed, and she
found it impossible to look at her father. A soft sigh escaped him
as he smoothed the lace ruffles of his sleeve over hands that had
seen many days of back-breaking toil. An influx of handsome men
to complicate his life further was something he could well do
without. Natalia was safeshe was betrothed, and Dona
Margarida would allow her no foolish escapades. But Alida ... It
was time she married again and gave him grandchildren to bounce
on his knee. She was not unattractive, and a fine dowry and lands
would be provided as before. Soon, he mused, raising his eyes to
the face of the young officer at her side, and seeing the look of
obvious adoration mirrored on his face before his interest was
noticed and quickly veiled.
'Father, will you allow me to introduce you to two of the British
officers who are to stay overnight in our village?' Alida said
quietly.
Natalia was amazed at her composure. Their father had a way of
making them both feel insecure and uncomfortable when he chose.
With her, it seemed to be all the time. Always he watched her, as
though waiting for her to do something which would displease
him. She had given up trying to love him. Since he had announced
her betrothal to Cesar, she felt as if she had died insidethe life
had gone from her body, and she had no interest in what went on
around her. And then an estrangeiroa foreignerhad looked at
her, and she had remembered how it had been before all her
dreams had been shattered.

Adam straightened and bowed smartly. Drew hesitated, then

followed his example.
'Major Adam Sorrell, senhor. My brother, Captain Drew Sorrell.
You have no cause to remember me, but we did meet briefly in
Lisboa last month, at a reception given for the English ambassador
at the home of Lady Cecilia Lambert.'
'I remember you quite well, Major. I was told at the time that you
commanded a band of Spanish guerrilleros, and had fought with
considerable braverynot to mention savageryand some
unorthodox methods that your superiors were frowning over for
months!'
'You have an excellent memory, senhor,' Adam replied coolly.
'You have these men here with you now, at Alto Verde?'
'The priest was kind enough to give them shelter in one of the
church outhouses. It will suffice for them until we move on. The
villagers will not be inconvenienced in any way, Senhor . . .'
'Lareira. Abilio Armandio Maria Lareira.' The name was supplied
with pride, and a faint smile etched the corners of Adam's mouth
as he eyed the man. Not as pompous as he looked, he suspected.
There was a shrewd brain lurking behind those active eyes, which
threw a quick reproving glance at Alida for not having introduced
him correctly. She flushed and lowered her gaze to the polished
wood floor. 'I am the juiz in Alto Verde. I am sure your men will
give no trouble, Major Sorrellunruly as they seemed to be when
I saw them ride through the village. Surely not all of them are
Spaniards?'
'I have a few Portuguese riding with me. All good men . . . good
fighters. As you say, somewhat unorthodox, but then it is not

always possible to apply rules and regulations to the game of war.

I am aware that your countrymen are not altogether well disposed
towards their neighbours; however, as you do hold a position of
importance, senhor, I should be grateful if you would pass the
word among your people that we wish for no ill feelings between
any of us. These men have fought on your behalf, often under
extremely difficult circumstances, and deserve to be treated with
the same respect afforded to your own countrymen.' Adam gave a
stiff, curt bow. There was anger in his eyes, and he did not bother
to conceal it. 'If you will excuse me, I have just seen someone I
know come in.'
'I think I have upset the Major,' Abilio murmured, a deep frown
wrinkling his brows as he stared after the tall figure. 'It was
unintentional.' He looked apologetically at Drew, who came
immediately to his brother's defence.
'The guerrilleros who ride with my brother have no families,
Senhor Lareira. Wives, children, fathers and mothers have been
murdered by the French. I do not think I need to explain further,
and distress the ladies.'
'No, Captain. I know very well the atrocities committed by the
enemy. I lost a brother to their Dragoons at the Battle of Talavera.
They found him wounded with a dozen other comrades, and . . .' A
flicker of pain momentarily entered those brown eyes; then it was
gone, and he was once more composed. Natalia knew nothing
more than that her uncle had been killed in action, and now began
to wonder what dreadful thing had taken place for her father to
show even a minute lack of control. He was always so calm, so
unemotional, that she often thought him a cold man, unable to care
or love anyone. And then, at times like this, rare occasions, when
she saw something flicker beyond the placid expression, she
wondered if she really knew him at all.

Drew nodded sympathetically, relieved that Adam's abrupt

departure had been smoothed over.
'And the Portuguese with you?' Abilio asked.
'They too have lost some, if not all of their loved ones. It has
proved an incentive to fight like the devil. With the French more
often than not outnumbering us two to one with both men and
cannon, we need men like that.'
'That I can understand. We, too, have our own resistance fighters,
brave men who risk much to bring information on the enemy to the
right quarters. I have even heard a rumour that many young Irish
novices from our universities have enlisted as volunteers to carry
information. Brave young men indeed. I do find it unusual
however, that an Englishman commands a band of guerrilleros.'
'My brother has lived in Portugal most of his life, senhor, which is
why he speaks your language fluently, as well as Spanish. He was
a perfect choice. His love for this country is no less than that of
any Portuguese. He considers it his own, and wishes to protect it
accordingly.' Drew smiled as he supplied the information. He was
very proud of his brother's total involvement in the war, his
passionate desire to free his adopted country from Napoleon's
tyranny.
'And you, Captain Sorrell, do you share in this wish? Of course
you must, or you would not be with him.'
'I hope, when this is all over, to return to my medical studies,
senhor. I am a doctor, not a soldier, although I confess to indulging
in more fighting than healing since I arrived here last year. My
brother has a rule never to leave wounded behind him, as he has
seen too often what happens to them. That is where I try to make
myself useful.'

'I am sure you are most competent, Captain,' Abilio replied,

slightly turning away in a manner which seemed to indicate that he
wished to move on. 'As able in your chosen profession as I am
certain your brother is in his.'
'Well!' Slowly Drew relaxed. Alida laid a hand on his arm,
thankful that their father had at last left them. She had grown
exceedingly hot and uncomfortable during the conversation, afraid
he might insist on his daughters accompanying him while he
chatted with his guests. 'Not a good first impression, I would say.
Adam didn't help by going off like that, but he did have his
feathers ruffled by your father's observations.'
'Why?' Natalia asked curiously. Her eyes scanned the room and
found Adam Sorrell beside the long dining-table which had been
laid with cold food, and wine from their own vineyards. He was
talking, smiling, all his attention centred on an attractive darkhaired woman who was standing close to him. Very close, she
noticed, and wondered why it annoyed her to see some strange
female fluttering her eyelashes at him. He was nothing to her!
He seemed to look younger when he smiled. The tiny crinkle-lines
at the sides of his eyes disappeared and his mouth softened, to ease
a little the firmness of the jawline. It was a strong face, but
growing old before its time, she decided. The face of a soldier who
had witnessed terrible things, fought in bloody battles, probably
been wounded. Her curiosity was mounting rapidly, yet she knew
she could not question Drew directly about his brother. Interest in
the war was another matter. After all, it concerned everyone . . .
'The task of my brother and his men is to stay ahead of the main
cavalry and act as scouts, sending back information on enemy
movements and maps of the terrain. He is more at home in this
countryside than anywhere else on earth,' Drew explained,

unaware of the anxiety mounting on Alida's features as she

listened. 'They do not wear uniforms which would betray them to
the French, and this makes it easier to penetrate their lines. There
are times when my brother looks more like a peasant than an
English gentleman. Believe me, you would never recognise him
out of his blues!'
'And you are with him,' Alida breathed. 'I cannot bear it! Could
you not ask for a transfer to another unit? Something less
dangerous? Why must you risk your life so recklessly?'
'To answer that, I would have to show you the horrors of a
battlefield strewn with dead and dying men, my sweet Alida, and I
will not do that as I have no wish to give you nightmares.' Drew's
hand covered hers, and squeezed it reassuringly. 'Did Adam not
tell you that I bear a charmed life? I do. Nothing is going to
happen to me, because I intend to ask your father for your hand the
moment this war is over. I shall woo youand charm him, to the
best of my abilitiesand make you my wife.'
Natalia caught her breath at the look which came into his eyes as
he looked at her sister. Tendernesssuch as she had never seen in
a man before. And her heart ached a little more to know she would
never experience such devotion. Cesar was as cold and practical as
her father. It was an arranged marriage, and she knew what was
expected of herwhat they expected of her. To fulfil her duties as
wife and mother, be meek and obedient, subservient to the will of
her husband. To run the house and instruct the servants, while
always leaving the final word to the master. Alida threw her a
searching look as she shivered.
'Look! Even Natalia fears for your safety. We shall talk no more of
war and death. Alto Verde saw too much of it when the French

were here.' She broke off, not wishing to relate what had taken
place.
It was Natalia who said quietly, 'They came looking for food and
horses . . . took all we had not hidden. Abused several of the
village girls, and when their fathers or brothers objected, hung six
of our men in the village square. Had it not been for the arrival of a
senior officer, they would have broken into this house. They were
very drunk . . .' She crossed herself, pushing the ugly memory of
those bodies in the square to the back of her mind. 'They did not. . .
And they left the next day, but it is not something any of us here
will forget. You must understand my father's concern.'
'I'll explain to Adam,' Drew assured her. 'There will be no trouble.'
Several times during the evening, as Natalia mingled with the
other guests, she was seized with an urge to stop beside Adam
Sorrell and engage him in conversation, but Dona Margarida
dogging her footsteps every moment was a deterrent Which
averted a second meeting. He was never lost for a companion, she
noticed, and seemed to mingle with surprising ease. How long had
he lived in Portugaland where? Lisboa? Was that why he chose
to take his leave there? Perhaps he had a wife surely he must at
least have a mistress! He was too attractive a man to be alone.
What kind of woman would please him? One as sure of herself as
he was, she decided, watching him from behind her fan as he
passed by with his brother. To her surprise, he looked towards her,
acknowledging her with a faint nod of his head before joining her
father to partake in a glass of vintage port from his select stock in
the cellars. The French had not realised the treasure-trove in wine
they had missed by not entering the quinta.
Natalia moved about the room, always positioning herself while
engaged in conversation in such a way as to be able to watch him.

He moved well for a man of his height and build. She followed
strong hands with long brown fingers as they sketched something
in the air by way of explanation for the men listening to him. Drew
had called him a gentleman, yet he chose to do his fighting behind
enemy lines and out of uniform. To be caught meant deathor to
be shot as a spy, if he was lucky. Torture and agony at the hands of
his captors more likely, she thought, as she once again
remembered the blackest day in the memory of her village. The
French were not known for their kindness and mercy. Alida would
pray for Drew Sorrell in her prayers. She would pray for his
brother.
A glass of sparkling white wine in her hand, she found herself
not without designbehind a screen of potted plants. She paused
to linger by the french windows, which opened on to the summer
patio where even now, after an appalling winter with heavy snow,
deep purple bougainvillaea twined thickly in and out of the
archways and climbed to the wrought-iron balcony outside her
room. Dona Margarida, thankful for a moment's rest, sank into a
chair and, within seconds, Natalia saw her eyelids begin to droop.
She did not move. She dared not, for she did not want to awaken
her, or to alert the two men a few feet away of her unwarranted
interestin one of them.
'Well, what do you think?' she heard Drew remark, casting a
speculative eye around the room.
'Have you a particular subject in mind? Alida, for instance? You
have made by far the best choice.' Adam's voice was mildly
amused. Natalia felt a tingle run down her spine at the deep tones.
'And I intend to keep her, brother, so hands off! What about her
sister, Natalia? There's hidden fire in that one, mark my words.'

'A very charming child.' This accompanied by a low chuckle.

'Good Lord, Drew! While I admit she's stunning to look at and, as
you say, possessing more than meets the eye, are you suggesting
that I snatch her from her cradle? Why, she can't be more than
sixteen.'
'Seventeen; almost eighteen. I did my homework, in case you are
interested.'
'And as innocent as a new-born babe? Thank you, but she's not for
me! I have no intention of being called out by an irate father over. .
. over some child-woman with fascinating eyes. I'm leaving now.
I'll make my excuses to Senhor Lareira and get back to the men.
The wine and food have been excellent, but I want to put my feet
up and get a good night's rest. A full night's sleep wouldn't do you
any harm,' Adam added, eyeing the dark circles of fatigue beneath
his brother's eyes. They barely showed on his own sunburnt skin,
despite the fact that he had not allowed himself to sleep completely
for over a week. The habit of sleeping with one eye open, the brain
still alert for trouble, was a hard habit to break, even when he
found himself in safe surroundings among friendly people.
Well, almost friendly. The slur Abilio Lareira had cast on his
guerrilleros still rankled. What did he, living in his fine house,
waited on by servants know of their hardships? A few French
soldiers had invaded his village and murdered a few men, and he
thought it was the end of the world! God help him if the Lines of
Torres Vedras were ever penetrated and the full force of
Napoleon's elite, veterans all, swept down upon him and his
peaceful existence! He left without noticing the red-cheeked,
silently fuming girl staring after him with burning eyes.
'A charming child.' Could he not see she was a woman? 'As
innocent as a new-born babe.' She was that, all right. She knew

what was expected of her on her wedding night, but was there
more that her duennas thought not suitable to tell her? She would
never love Cesar, so how would she feel when he laid claim to
her? Why could no one tell her that? Why did she feel this strange
excitement when Adam Sorrell spoke, or touched her? She was no
flirt; she did not make eyes at any man who came her way, as the
village girls often did. She had watched them in the vineyards
when no one was supervising their workchasing each other in
and out of the casks of wine, hugging and kissing. How could it be
wrong, when they enjoyed it so?
Alida would know . . . She would ask her.

CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS well after midnight that Natalia retired to her room and
Dona Margarida, after seeing her mistress undressed and settled in
bed, withdrew to her own small adjoining dressing-room. She was
so tired she could not keep her eyes open, and was relieved that the
tall officer with the grey-green eyes had not accepted the generous
invitation of Dom Abilio to spend the night beneath his roof. It
was bad enough for one of them to be sleeping so close to her
charge, although she had noticed that many times that evening, his
eyes had been for one woman onlyin another direction, gracas a
Deus!
Natalia had no intention of sleeping until her questions had been
answered. She waited patiently until loud snores sounded from the
other side of the door before throwing aside the bedclothes and
reaching for her robe.
'Where are you going?' an urgent whisper demanded from the
bottom of the bed. It was Pilar, Natalia's maid. As protective as
any mother, she always slept on a pallet on the floor, stubbornly
refusing to be budged from this highly favoured position. Dona
Margarida had protested and complained, for she did not like this
swarthy-skinned woman who looked like a gipsy and was indeed
said, by the villagers, to possess not only second sight but great
healing powers. Pilar, in return, ignored her. The continual snubs
and lack of politeness from a woman of lowly birth frequently sent
the duenna into swooning fits. However, when it became clear that
both girls adored her and that she was, at times, the only one who
understood Natalia's bouts of high spirits, Dona Margarida settled
into an uneasy alliance with the woman.
In the light of the candle burning on a table, Pilar's face was
softened by the glow, lessening the leathery look which always

returned in the light of day. Perhaps in her mid-forties, she had

been Natalia's maid since her tenth birthday. Between them existed
a friendship far more meaningful than any the girl had so far
experienced in her life. Pilar was maid, friend, adviser
sometimes even mother. During the past turbulent years, as Natalia
fought within herself to discover an identity other than the one
thrust upon her by her father, teachers and duennas, Pilar was
always at her side with words of advice, often Of comfort. Many
times Natalia had been held in the thin arms and rocked like a baby
until her fears dispersed. Pilar knew the secrets of her heart, her
dreamsand did not laugh at them like Alida or her father would
have donetalked of strange places she had been to as a child,
heightening Natalia's interest in a world beyond the quinta
watched over her like a lioness caring for a new cub. To her
Natalia gave the affection she would have given to her true mother
had she livedthe affection her father refused to accept in her
early childhood, rejected as emotional and childish now she was a
full-grown woman. If only he had once held her in his arms, and
comforted her ...
'Go back to sleep. I have to talk with Alida.'
'What is it she can tell you that I cannot?' A dark eyebrow rose
quizzingly at the words. 'Why do you not ask Pilar what is in your
heart?'
'Have you ever been married?' Natalia asked in a hushed tone, as
she belted a velvet robe about her. The night air was chill, and she
shivered while looking about for her slippers. Pilar dropped them
beside her feet and pulled the neck of the robe together beneath her
chin with a disapproving frown.

'Foolish menina,' she reproved. 'Do you want to catch a cold? You
will not be able to make eyes at the tall one if you are confined to
bed.'
'I didn't... I meanyou haven't answered my question.' Natalia was
glad of the shadowy room which did not betray her flaming
cheeks. Sometimes she thought Pilar could not only read her mind,
but see into her very soul!
'Have I had a man? Are you still worried about Cesar? Or is there
another reason for such a question?'
'Don't tease me, Pilar! I felt, tonight when I saw Adam Sorrell ... I
can't even explain it. I have never known such feelings. I am
confused . . . and afraid . . . He looked at me as . . .'
'He looked at you the way any man looks at a woman he finds
desirable,' Pilar murmured. 'But he is not for you.'
'Why do you say that? Because I am betrothed to Cesar? I know it
is wrong to look at another man, but he is different! I can feel it
here.' Natalia laid a hand over her heart, which even now was
beating quite rapidly because she was thinking of him.
'He has fire in his blood, not water! It would be unwise of any
woman to rouse a man of his temperament if she did not intend to
share his bed. She would probably end up in it, anyway. He is all
man, that one. A fine-looking man!'
'Youyou think he is attractive?' Natalia stared as she looked at
her maid. She saw amusement, and yet something more, as she
gazed into the large brown eyes. Knowledgethat was what was
there. It was what she lacked. In her opinion, Pilar could do no
wrong. She found in her a loyal companion and friend, and she
trusted her judgment.

Alida had once been her friend. Dear sweet, shy sister. How alike
she was to Drew Sorrell! They were good for each other, and her
heart rejoiced that she might have found a man to fulfil her
dreams, but it sank as she considered their father's reaction to the
liaison. A soldier for a son-in-law would not be his choice. A man
with probable death as his only future. Abilio Lareira wanted
grandchildrenthat was his dream.
'Your sister is not in her room,' Pilar said quietly, as Natalia moved
towards the door.
'Not. . . ?' She caught her breath in surprise. "Where is she?' She
knew the answer before the confirmation came.
'With the other one. In his room.'
'Oh.' Natalia went back to the bed, then, as the sound of singing
came to her, she crossed to the window and peered out curiously.
Whatever had possessed Alida to take such a foolish risk? One
whisper to Father, and there would be a terrible row! He might
even beat her for such disgraceful behaviour beneath his roof.
'She is in love,' Pilar said, standing close beside her and looking
out across the street to the church, which stood clearly visible in
bright moonlight to the right of the main house, beyond the
encircling wall. It was only a small stone affair, and there had been
plans to build a new, bigger place for the villagers to worship, but
this had to be delayed when war came to ravage the land and take
men off to fight.
'Shall I ever know what that is?' Natalia asked. There were men
sprawled in front of a blazing fire or seated on wooden crates or
large boulders. Adam Sorrell's guerrilleros, she realised. They did
not look so fierce and frightening now, as they talked and laughed
among themselves, or listened to the melancholy song being

rendered with great emotion, telling the story of a man who went
off to war and returned to find that his sweetheart had married
another. Now he had no reason to live and wished to die. Could
anyone really feel that way? To love someone so fervently that life
became unimportant if that love was lost?
A woman's laughter came out of the darkness, and then one of the
village girls leaped into the flickering firelight, to wheel and spin
before the gathering. First one man joined her, then others, and
several more women appeared, until the fire was almost obliterated
from Natalia's view by the dancers. Strains of a guitar floated to
her, the sharp staccato of castanets, shouts of approval as another
garrafa of wine appeared. Someone sampled the caldo verde, a
nourishing soup of vegetable stock, rich with slices of smoked
garlic sausage, which was cooking in a large cauldron over the
fire, and pronounced it ready. Earthenware bowls were grasped by
eager hands. When they were filled, one of the men thrust a pan of
chestnuts to the edge of the coals so that they could be heating
while they enjoyed the soup, into which was dunked enormous
chunks of freshly baked bread.
And then she saw him! Adam Sorrell was leaning against one of
the outbuildings, arms folded across his chest. He had discarded
his jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled back above the
elbow to reveal bronzed arms dark with hair. He was tapping one
booted foot against the other as he listened to the music, obviously
enjoying it, and far more relaxed than when he had been in the
house. Did he prefer the company of such rough fellows to that
which had been offered him? She had overheard her father inviting
him to stay in the house, the chance to sleep in a fine feather bed,
but he had politely refused, saying that his arrangements had
already been made. Drew had not refused, and now she knew why!

From a pocket Adam produced a long black Spanish cigarrillo,

and proceeded to light it, cupping his hands about the flame of the
match so that the wind did not blow it out. Then, with a comment
that brought much laughter from his men, he thrust his hands deep
into the pockets of his trousers and sauntered away from the fire
towards the quinta itself, pausing to cast an eye over the horses in
the stable as he passed the open doors, the forge and the long, low
building where the grapes were trodden in harvest time. For a man
who had declared himself in need of rest, he was showing little
inclination to retire.
A girl came running over the cobble-stones in his wake and spoke
to him, laying a hand on his arm as if to induce him to return to his
companions. Natalia saw him shake his head, and she returned
alone.
'He, too, is particular in his choosing,' Pilar observed.
Natalia glanced sharply into the dark features, feeling her cheeks
begin to burn uncomfortably as she recalled the conversation she
had overheard.
'He called me a child!' she said in a low, fierce, indignant whisper
which brought a gleam to the maid's eyes. 'A charming child!'
Adam had stopped beside the fountain almost beneath her window,
to watch the stream of water emitted from the gaping mouth of a
stone vixen with three tiny cubs nestled at her feet. Then, without
warning, he raised his head, his gaze sweeping upwardsas if
considering the mass of purple flowers climbing the walls of the
house. Higher still, until Natalia was sure his eyes were centred on
the window where she stood.
She found herself unable to move, even though she realised the
light from the candle at her side was allowing him a most

revealing picture of her in her nightclothes. Again that strange

restriction in her throat, the trembling in her limbs as she imagined
the mockery in those grey-green eyes. A strangled cry broke from
her lips and she stepped back to the bed, but not before she had
seen him sketch a mock bow in her direction. The arrogant conceit
of the man! A gentleman would never have acknowledged her
presence and caused her embarrassment. Did he think, because she
had looked his way more than once, that she found him
interesting?
Aware of Pilar's scrutiny, she threw off her robe and climbed into
bed without a word. The maid tucked the bedclothes about her and
once again retired to her blankets at the base of the bed. Natalia's
head swam, and sleep evaded her for many hours as she relived the
embarrassment of what she had heard, experienced humiliation
and anger such as she had never known before as she considered
Adam's amused comments to his brother.
Tomorrow she would show him she was no child, but a woman!
And when she had forced him to admit his error, she would have
the satisfaction of hearing him apologise. He would not smile then!
She was drifting into blessed sleep, when she remembered he had
also said she had fascinating eyes . . .

Grinding the remnants of his cigarrillo underfoot, Adam stepped

into the room where Nuno, his Portuguese servant, had laid out
some of his personal possessions, pausing on the threshold to smile
slightly at what awaited him. The room had been bare when he
arrived, a cell sometimes used by visiting monks. Bare
whitewashed walls with only a crucifix on one of them to alleviate
the starkness. A hard wooden bed, softer now with the addition not

only of his blankets, but a single feather mattress. Beside this, a

small pine table on which was a bottle of his favourite brandy, the
silver chalice of Moorish craftmanship he had acquired while in
Spain and used at all times, and a plate containing half a fried
chicken. The floor had been swept clean, cobwebs brushed from
corners, and there was a smell of orange-blossom wafting through
the open window, which had been shuttered and barred when he
had first seen it.
His jacket had been brushed and hung on a makeshift hanger
fashioned from two twigs on a nail on one wall. A fresh shirt was
laid out for the morning, and more casual clothes in which to
wander through the village and countryside, should he choose to
do so.
A thin-faced boy clambered to his feet, and was rewarded with a
warm smile for his efforts.
'A vast improvement, Nuno! Thank you. Help me with my boots,
will you? I'm foot-sore and saddle-sore. I don't know which part of
me aches the most!'
'You want another bath?' came the eager question. Hours before,
while Adam pulled off his travel-stained clothes and shook the
dust from his thick hair, an ancient tub had been brought in by one
of the quinta work-hands, followed by buckets and buckets of hot
water. Where it had come from, he had not been able to discover at
the time. Only a few minutes ago, however, one of his men had
revealed that it was used to hold the pig-swill at feeding time. That
accounted for the sickening smell that had turned his stomach as
he tried to settle into it, Adam realised. Nuno was an accomplished
scrounger, a necessity to an army man, a plague on the lives of
ordinary soldiers from whom he begged, borrowed or stole to
provide for his master.

Remembering how he had sat, unable to sink his shoulders beneath

the water, unable to move even his toes in the confined container,
Adam grinned as he shook his head.
'Pour me some brandy, and then I'll go to bed. Why don't you go
and enjoy yourself outside?'
'You sleep alone?' Nuno stared at him perplexedly. 'You don't want
a woman tonight?'
'No, I don't want a woman to share my blankets, moco, nor do I
want you extending such an invitation to the men. If I hear you
have been making yourself a little extra money, I shall hang you
by your toes and roast you over a very large fire. Do I make myself
quite clear?'
'Sim, chefe.' Nuno always addressed him as the rest of the
guerrilleros did. 'Do you have a woman in Lisboa? I have many
friends you would like.' Nuno gave a knowing wink.
'Maybe.' Adam was noncommittal. Despite the many problems
Nuno had given him since he had discovered the boy stealing from
him in Lisboa, he was fond of the cheeky-faced rascal. He had
never discovered his true agehe doubted if the boy knew it. He
thought him to be about fourteen, but it was difficult to access
correctly, for years of living in back alleys, picking pockets as a
profession, not to mention the appalling company in which he
mixed, had added years to the brown, pockmarked face.
Adam thought they had possibly become good friends because
they were alike. They had both seen death, suffered hardship, often
hunger, and had learned at an early age to fend for themselves and
not depend on others. To trust no one and rely only on their own
judgment. It had served them both in good stead. Adam Sorrell
was an officer of exemplary courage, a born leader who rode with

his men, often in front, never behind them . . . and so had earned
their trust and respect.
Nuno also was good at his chosen profession, as slick a thief as the
best in the country, despite his youth, endowed with a tongue
heavily coated with honey and sugar, coupled with the smile of an
angeland the mistrusting heart of a gutter-rat, which was why he
had been able to survive in the conditions in which Adam found
him.
The Major had been on his way back to the house, taking a short
cut through the Alfama, the old quarter of Lisboa, where tiny,
narrow cobbled streets were dark and deadly for those
unsuspecting enough to venture into them. He knew what often
lurked in shadowy doorways, and had been prepared for the two
men who launched themselves at him with knives. He knocked one
unconscious and disarmed the other, who then ran. He had been
bending over the senseless man when Nuno, the third member of
the trio, had slipped up behind him, intent on relieving him of his
wallet while he was otherwise occupied. Nuno had ended upon the
cobbles, nursing a very sore wrist, looking up into the face of a
man whose eyes were as cold as death.
The boy was no coward. He lived among thieves and murderers in
the alleys of the old city, prostitutes and beggars, and thought
nothing wrong in his existence. Adam was to discover it was the
only one he had known since his parents had died of the smallpox
and left him alone at the age of seven. Beaten black and blue by
the tyrannical old uncle who gave him shelter and worked him all
hours God provided, he had run away to make a living on his own.
Adam still did not know why he had not turned the dirty-faced
urchin over to the police. Instead, he had taken him home with
him, fed him, forcibly marched him upstairs to take a bath, and

held him in the water while two terrified maids scrubbed the grime
from his thin body. Another burned his flea-infested rags. When
Nuno's language became too profane to bear, he had stuffed a wet
sponge in his mouth and kept it there until he was dried and attired
in clean clothes. Removing it, he had been rewarded with a string
of abuse that had made even his ears burn. He had turned the boy
over his knee and administered a sound spanking until the oaths
and gutter-language diminished, and the only sound was that of
Nuno crying. For perhaps no more than the second time in his life,
he suspected.
He had then given him several escudos and told him to leave. Or
and the boy had stared at him as if he had taken leave of his
senseshe could remain in the household as his personal servant,
and accompany him when he rejoined his unit later that month.
"Where there is an army, there is always food to steal from some
fat officer who has too much,' had come the sarcastic retort,
accompanied by a careless shrug of his pathetically bony
shoulders.
'If you steal from me, I shall wring your neck,' Adam had told him,
and one look into that bronzed face had confirmed that the words
were no idle threat. As with Adam, Nuno never knew what made
him stay. He did not trust this kindness ... he had not earned it.
And no one gave anything for nothing! There had to be another
reason for someone to be so pleasant to him.
He was to discover, in the months that followed, that work was
what was expected of him. Long hours when Adam returned to his
unit, of grooming the fine horse the officer always rode, shining
the tack until he could see his face in it. Helping him with his
toilet, making sure his clothes were always immaculate. Providing
the small things which made life more pleasant while on the

march. He did all these things wellif not grudgingly. As for

providing for Adam's needs . . . That was a different matter. To a
scrounger like Nuno, to pit his wits against other boys with the
same intention, veteran soldiers who thought they could obtain
everything because they knew it allhe was in his element. Adam
never went without, and did not always enquire closely into the
sources of his 'little necessities'. The bond of uneasy friendship
became one of firm trust and loyalty. Nuno took great care with his
pilfering so that he could never be traced back to Adam and so
cause him embarrassment, and the latter paid him the great
compliment before fellow officers of calling him the best and most
efficient boy any army man could ever havewords which were
never to be forgotten!
'Where did the chicken come from?' Adam asked casually, as he
tore off a leg and bit into it appreciatively. It tasted of piri-piri, a
hot Portuguese pepper which was ground and used for most dishes.
Just the way it was prepared for him at home. For a moment his
heart ached to think of what he had left behindwhat could
happen to the beautiful old house and orchards if the French
returned to confiscate British property and imprison foreign
residents. His father was old, and might never survive such harsh
treatment. Abruptly he thrust personal worries aside and finished
the leg. It was not wise to allow his thoughts to wander. To relax
now, even in such pleasant surroundings as Alto Verde, would
soften his brain for the day he knew he would be returning behind
the enemy linesand that was dangerous. For him and all those
who rode with him. Time for sentiment when it was all over. 'And
don't tell me it fell from the sky and landed at your feet! Did you
steal it?'
'It came from the kitchen of the quinta, given to me by a very
pretty little girl. I swear it!' Nuno reached for the other leg when
Adam pushed his plate away and indicated that he should help

himself. 'She said I looked half-starved. I told her my master beat

me every day and kept me hungry so that I was too weak to run
away from him. She is going to leave the back door open for me
tonightif I am still hungry.'
'Then I suggest you go and satisfy your hunger and let me get
some sleep,' Adam advised with a grin. 'But keep your sticky
fingers off things which don't belong to you, little squirrel!'
Stripping off his outer clothes, he stretched out on the cot, his
hands folded beneath his head. Despite the chill in the air, he
suffered no discomfort as he lay listening to the sounds of revelry
coming from outside. Unlike his companions, he did not feel the
cold so intensely. The winters in Portugal were nowhere near as
severe as those he remembered as a child in England. He had
suffered from chest colds for most of the six years he had lived
there with Drew, before his mother had died and his father brought
them to the warmer climate. Now he could not recall the last time
he had gasped for breath.
His men were a hot-blooded, quarrelsome lot, he mused, as an
angry voice reached his ears. He would intervene if the argument
continued, for he wanted no trouble in Alto Verde. It was probably
only some silly dispute over a woman's favours. However, a
moment later, he heard renewed laughter, and the guitar-player
began to strum his instrument with a lively tune. He relaxed again.
. . and found a vision coming to his mind that brought a fierce
frown to his face.
Now why was she in his thoughts? The sight of her standing at that
upstairs window was not one he would forget in a hurry. The long,
burnished hair falling past her shoulders to her waist made her
look even younger than her eighteen years. Wasn't that what Drew
had said? Seventeennearly eighteen. The soft glow of the

candlelight at her side gave a touch of colour to that flawless

alabaster skin. The urge to reach out and touch it had been almost
irrepressible. He shook his head as if to dispel the image from his
mind, but it remained with startling clarity.
Firm young breasts outlined beneath the clinging velvet robe
which hugged a tiny waist and flared out over lithe hips. The
fullness of those lips, the perfect bone-structure of her features
which framed those large expressive blue eyes. What a colour they
were! Rich as sapphires, so startling at first sight that they had
taken his breath away. Was he mad? She was a child, and not for
him! Drew was the romantic. He did not have one iota of romance
in his soul! Love had never touched his heart. Most of his friends
were married with families, and he knew that some felt sorry for
poor Adam Sorrell who could not find the right woman. Idiots! He
was not even looking. If one ever come along, he would know, but
he was not seeking a wife and the ties of marriage. Not yet,
anyway.
Others envied him his bachelor existence. Women seemed to find
him attractive and were always near at hand when he needed
companyor something more but at the age of twenty-nine,
none had ever held his attention for very long, and certainly not
one had ever made him consider marriage. Yet this child-woman
Natalia, who had trembled when she touched him as if he were the
very devil himself, plagued his thoughts and allowed him no rest.
Why had she been at the window? Seeking a lover? No, not with
that stern man for a father. Wishing she was out in the cool night
air with his men, perhaps? He sensed a certain disquiet about her
which he could not put into words. An inner torment. A touch of
fire. Perhaps Drew was right, and she did have a rebellious streak
inside her. He would never know. Could she have been looking for
him? No, why should she? He was just one of the many English

soldiers who had passed and would be passing through Alto Verde
in the very near future. Perhaps she had not been expecting to be
ignored!
With a sigh he reached for his cigarettes, changed his mind, and
poured himself a large brandy instead. One way or the other, he
was going to sleep tonight, he thought, as he tipped the fiery liquid
down his throat. It was the last of the bottles Nuno had brought
with them from Spain. Fire leaped through his stomach. He
grimaced and thought to remind the boy to get something more
mellow. Even aguardente, a fig brandy distilled by most
Portuguese, was better than this. His old Portuguese nanny had
raised him on the stuff. Perhaps that was why he had not suffered a
cold since. Hot water and aguardente. It was her answer to
everything from the gripe to stomach cramps, and it never failed.
The fire outside had died, and the men round it had crawled into
their blankets, or wrapped themselves in sarapes for warmth, some
experiencing such 'inner' warmth that they had not bothered to do
even that, but had crept into the stables, amid the straw and horses,
to sleep blissfully until the morning. Adam, however, despite
consuming the best part of the new bottle of brandy, did not sleep
for a long time ...

Natalia slept later than usual the next morning. The small porcelain
clock on the bedside table had just struck nine when Pilar brought
her customary glass of fruit juice and informed her that her father
had already breakfasted and ridden off to the next village with
some labourers to look at a bull he was thinking of purchasing.
'Is my sister up yet?' She was determined to have the conversation
with Alida that had been denied her the night before.

To her chagrin, the maid replied, 'She went out with Captain
Sorrell half an hour ago, to show him the countryside. They rode
through the village towards Monte Verde.' Pilar moved about the
room, putting away oddments of clothes draped over a chair, shoes
still lying where they had been taken off the night before, adding,
with a wicked smile on her dusky features, 'The other one has gone
riding, too. I overheard him talking with Dom Abilio, who gave
him permission to tour the vineyards. If you had been awake,
perhaps you could have accompanied him.'
'With Dona Margarida dogging my footsteps!' Natalia grimaced,
quickly drank her fruit juice and sprang out of bed. If there was a
chance of seeing Adam Sorrell alone, she was going to take it, but
she would have to make it look as if the encounter was accidental.
'You won't have to worry about her this morning. She has had one
of her fainting spells, and I have given her a cup of my erva
cidreira tea. You know how that relaxes her and sends her to
sleep.'
'Pilar, what would I do without you?' The woman possessed a
wealth of knowledge in her head about so many things, including
the medicinal properties of many herbs and wild grasses which
flourished in the countryside. Dona Margarida would sleep like a
baby for several hours. And with her father also out of the way . . .
'Do you think it wise to go after him, menina? He is like no other
man you have ever met!' Pilar warned, helping her into her
underclothes.
That is exactly why I want to be with him, she almost said, and
stopped herself just in time, saying instead, 'He called me a child! I
can't forget that. A charming child! I intend to teach him a lesson.'

'Beware he does not teach you one,' came the sombre reply.
'Perhaps I should ride with you?'
'No, I shall not be away from the house long. Should my father
return before I do, say . . . say I have gone to church, and be
waiting to warn me that he is here,' Natalia said firmly.
She had no idea what kind of lesson she would inflict, or what she
could do to make Adam Sorrell regard her in a new light, as she
rode away from the quinta astride a dappled stallion Abilio had
given her a few months after she became formally betrothed. The
gift had surprised her, but before she could thank him for the
magnificent animal which she immediately named Diabo, he had
informed her that it was so that she could rid herself of the last
shreds of the rebellion which still lingered over the forthcoming
marriage. She could ride the horse into the ground for all he cared,
so long as, when the wedding day came, she had resigned herself
to the fact that her wild days were over. 'Wild days!' That was how
he thought of her daily rides. He had seen her returning to the
quinta one morning, racing ahead of the young stable-lad who had
accompanied her, when Dona Margarida had suffered yet another
'spell'. Her hair had been streaming behind her in the wind, her
usually pale cheeks glowing with excitement, and to the horror of
the household who came out to watch her approach, she was riding
astride, not side-saddle, so that her skirts and petticoats were
hitched up about her knees to show a very large expanse of
undignified hose. To make it worse, some of the village boys had
urged her on with loud cries of encouragement, until a broom,
wielded by one of their mothers, had forced them to take flight.
For days, it had been the talk of the quinta. It was still remembered
in the village, for she had raced past the tiny whitewashed houses
like a whirlwind, leaving them all agapebut with smiles and
warmth, for Natalia was well liked by everyone. She rode like a

man! What a pity she had not been a boy, the son Dom Abilio had
prayed for!
There was very little she set out to accomplish which she did not
succeed in doingand doing well. She could speak Spanish and
French passably, and read in both languages. Spoken English she
could understand a little. She was versed in Portuguese arts and
poetry, and enchanted her father's guests with her mastery of the
piano. Yet he never congratulated her on her abilities, and frowned
at those who compared her accomplishments with those of her
mother. Would he have been so reticent had she been a boy? She
had long since ceased to care, for he had never loved her. She did
not know why, but she accepted it now. He was giving her in
marriage to a man more than twice her years just so that he could
have grandsons to inherit his home and lands. Never would he
have considered sharing what he owned with his two daughters.
Outside the village, Natalia reined in to look about her. It was a
beautiful spring day. Wild irises were already beginning to bloom,
spreading a blanket of blue and white across the bare landscape.
The almond blossom was late this year, she noticed, as she turned
her horse on to a back track and rode at a leisurely pace towards
the mountains. A light breeze lifted the pink and white petals from
the trees as she passed, and they fell about her head and shoulders
like tiny snowflakes. Soon bright green leaves would take their
place, and then the newly-formed almonds. She hoped it would be
a good crop for everyone. Since the French came to steal and
plunder, very few of the villagers had managed to put away much
of anything for when times were hard.
Before Napoleon's desire to place either a staunch ally, or one of
his family, on the throne of Portugal became a reality, and
thousands of French soldiers invaded the country, the village had
been self-sufficient and prosperous. Behind Alto Verde, on

terraced slopes, groves of oranges and lemons, almonds and olives

flourished in the hot summer sunshine and vines hung heavy with
ripe black grapes. Nearly every house had its own small patch for
growing vegetablespotatoes, onions, cabbages and turnips
pushed their way to the light alongside wild geraniums and
multicoloured blooming succulents.
Once there had been sheep and goats grazing on short, tufted grass,
eating their fill of the thick clover, but only a few remained, for
French patrols constantly passing by had depleted the flocks. Trees
had been stripped, barns emptied and no thought given to how the
villagers would survive the next harsh winter. Had it not been for
the sacks of grain and dried vegetables put by in the quinta and
miraculously saved from scavenging hands, the people of Alto
Verde would have fared badly.
Her father had opened his cellars and distributed more than enough
to see them through the unfriendly months ahead, when rain swept
down from the mountains and washed away newly-planted seeds
and tiny saplings, unable to withstand the force of the rushing
water, which at times poured over the tiny cobbled streets and mud
tracks in torrents. It was typical of him, Natalia mused. Such
kindness for those who worked for him, yet his own daughters
were often treated as strangers.
Slowing the stallion's pace to an easy walk, she allowed her gaze
to wander over the landscape in front of her. The ground was
already hardening in the sunshine, the vines protruding from it
stark and bare, but cut back and ready for new growth. Thousands
upon thousands of vines which would produce juicy grapes, which
in turn would be made into wine at the quinta and sent as far afield
as England . . . once the war was over and normal trade resumed
with Portugal. Her father, until that time came, refused to allow his
precious kegs to be risked at sea. His warehouses in Lisboa bulged

with an overflow, as did the cellars and outbuildings of the quinta

itself. She liked harvest time, although it was the busiest season of
the year. Friends came to visit and watch the grapes being trodden,
to see the enormous wooden vats being stirred, to sample a glass of
Abilio's finest produce. She would miss the harvest here this year,
for she would be married and living in Setubal . . .
Abruptly her eyes clouded, and a tiny frown puckered the smooth
line of her forehead. Now she had spoiled a pleasant ride with an
ugly thought! She came upon Adam Sorrell reclining against a
huge rock, his face upturned to the sun, so unexpectedly that she
almost rode him down and quickly jerked on the reins to pull the
horse aside. Swift as her reaction was, his was quicker as he spun
away out of danger with the agility of a mountain cat. He had been
hidden by a thick expanse of olive trees which bordered one side
of the vine. Near one of them stood his horse. His uniform had
been discarded for a pair of hide breeches and high leather boots.
He wore no coat, and the sleeves of the thick shirt were pushed
back almost to his elbows. A breeze tousled the crisp black hair,
sending wisps of it curling about a tanned cheek.
'Whatwhat are you doing here?' Natalia said, the words coming
out in a jerky manner which indicated her nervousness at the
encounter. She had set out to find him, and now that she had, the
very sight of him set her trembling.
'Your father very kindly gave me his permission to look over his
vineyards. I am impressed,' Adam returned. Natalia thought it
would take more than the sight of bare vines to impress him! 'You
are fortunate to live where you do, or all this could be lost.'
'Lost?' she echoed. 'How?'

'The British army, as you know, has been encamped behind our
fortified lines at Torres Vedras all winter, but the French have not;
so, to attempt to halt their advance further south, a scorched-earth
policy has been adopted. The enemy must forage for their food,
and I hear they are quite good at it, but they'll find damned little to
steal now.'
'Which means they will search small villages like Alto Verde and
hang innocent men just for hiding food for them, as they did here.'
Natalia's lips curled in disgust at his words. 'How do you expect
people to live if you burn their crops and deprive them of their
livelihoods? Farmers have to feed their families, Major Sorrell."
'A great many families who have complied with our policy have
been moved within the safety of the lines. That is partly why they
were constructed. They are well taken care of, I assure you."
Reaching into a pocket, he drew out a long black cigarrillo like the
one she had seen him smoking the night before and lighted it.
As a cloud of blue-grey smoke spiralled into the air, he enquired,
'And what brings you out on this fine spring morningare you
searching for your escort, or have you eluded them?' His eyes
considered the trim riding boots just visible beneath the hem of her
blue skirt, then lifted to wander casually over the matching coat,
cut snugly to her waist, the double row of gold buttons curving
over her breasts, the bright yellow ribbon that pulled a mound of
cascading curls into the nape of her neck. He had to admit that he
liked what he saw. He had been surprised and annoyed at the ease
with which she came unbidden into his mind, and had vowed to
stay well out of her way until he left the next day. Now here she
was, within touching distance again. And he wanted to touch her,
Adam acknowledged. What kind of spell was she weaving over
him? He was no foolish boy to be attracted to a pair of blue eyes.

'Why should I wish toeludemy duenna?' Natalia replied, a soft

laugh escaping her. She could not help herself.
'I have seen her, remember? A veritable dragon! Besides, it must
be inconvenient, at times, to have her dogging your footsteps. Not
that you would act indiscreetlywhen alone. I am sure you
have been brought up too well!'
Well enough to know she should not be alone with a strange man
even for a few minutes, Natalia thought. Was he laughing at her?
Did he suspect she had deliberately followed him? There was
laughter dancing in those grey-green eyes, and she floundered for
words as he straightened and came to her, to offer her his hand.
'Would you like to get down for a while? I have some cheese in
my saddlebags that we could share.' What was he doing? Inviting
her to stay, when he should have bade her a polite 'Bom dia', and
ridden on his way.
Natalia nodded. She could not bring herself to speak. Was anyone
watching them? Dare she linger, to satisfy her curiosity about this
man? He was so different from last night; perhaps he did find her
attractive. Why else would he seek to delay her?
'He looked at you the way any man looks at a woman he finds
desirable,' Pilar had told her. Was she desirable? 'He has fire in his
blood, not water!'
She came sliding out of the saddle into strong arms which did not
release her once she was on the ground. Her upturned face was
close to his. So close that she felt his warm breath on her cheek.
As her lips parted, she heard him draw a sharp breath and then his
hold on her was tightening, his head bending towards hers. Too
late she realised what he meant to do.

At the touch of his lips on hers, she stiffened with shock in his
embrace. His kiss contained a rough passion which kindled a
flicker of fear in her. He might consider her a child, but that did
not stop him from treating her as he probably did all the other
women he fancied. Before Adam Sorrell, only Cesar had held her
so tightly and demanded that she submit to his kisses. When she
was in his arms, he was no gentleman, but even his searching
hands had not aroused this kind of fear in her. Fear, not because
she disliked what was happening to her, but because she liked the
sensation he had stirred within her. It was newand exciting!
She must not like itor himand never must he realise what
disturbing thoughts were running through her brain. With a gasp,
she tore her mouth free, at the same time pushing against his broad
chest with clenched fists.
'Let me go this instant! Are you mad? I am not one of those girls
whowho allows any man to touch her.' I am betrothed, she
almost said, but the words froze on her lips as Adam's eyes
narrowed simply. His arms fell away from her and he stepped
back. He looked almost embarrassed, and then a smile touched his
mouth, and the hazel flecks dancing in his eyes mocked her
indignation.
'Mad? A little, perhaps. Why are you angry? I was under the
impression that you wanted me to kiss you. Did I ruffle your
feathers by calling you a child last night? Oh, yes'he gave a
chuckle, as bright colour stained Natalia's cheeks'I knew you
were there. People who eavesdrop never hear good of themselves,
didn't you know that?'
'Youyou said it deliberatelyto make me angry?' He was
insufferable. Her eyes blazed, and for a moment she considered

slapping him, but it would have been a pointless gesture and

nothing would be gained by it. . . except a smarting palm.
Adam considered her in silence for a long moment, drawing
deeply on his cigarrillo as he watched her blushes. He seemed to
be fighting some inner conflict with himself, she thought, as the
dark brows drew together. Then, extinguishing his cigar beneath a
booted heel, he demanded with an insolent twist to his lips.
'Where you hoping to hear me say that I find you irresistible? I'm
sure it has been said to you before many times.'
'No,' she cried, and knew by the swiftness of her answer that she
had not deceived him. Who would find her irresistible? He was
mocking her again!
'A woman who does not want to be flattered! What an unusual
child you are.'
'I am not a child!'
'Indeed you are not,' Adam returned, as brilliant fire flashed from
her eyes. 'Nor are you a full-grown woman. Do not play games
with me, menina.'
'I don't know what you mean!' Natalia understood very well. He
believed she had gone out of her way to find him and to arouse his
interest in heras, indeed, she had. Never before had she wanted a
man to pay attention to her . . . never had she thrilled to a man's
touch as she did when Adam Sorrell touched her. Never had she
wanted to be more knowledgeable, like Pilar and Alida. In a few
short hours he had turned her world upside down. She was
confused by her own emotions hurt by his rebuff and his
mockery, and yet she had only herself to blame, she realised. What
did such a man want with her?

'I accept that you do notand perhaps it is better like that. I am a

jealous man. I would not share your affections with another. Not
even a single smile, however innocent,' Adam answered. What did
one so young and innocent know of the hunger of the heart? The
way the smiles, the sweet words of a pretty girl could touch the
heart of a lonely man, especially a soldier. He had told himself he
did not want the chains of marriage, to be bound to one woman.
He had plans for when the war was over... to return to his father's
business. To return to England, to meet old friends and visit places
he had not seen in five years. So many dreams of his own home,
not yet realised. When all this was done, he might think of taking a
wife . . . and then he had taken Natalia in his arms and kissed her,
and for one mad moment nothing had mattered. She had fired his
blood as no other woman had, and yet he ridiculed her for being a
child. For her defenceor his? he wondered. In a gentler tone, he
sought to warn her that others who might follow after him, and be
received beneath her father's roof, might not look on her in the
same light. They would see beauty and innocence and seek to take
it from her.
'You are like a little fledgling bird, eager to try out new wings.
Take care you do not fall and hurt yourself, little bird.'
'You talk in riddles,' Natalia exclaimed, wishing with all her heart
she had never left the house. She had made a fool of herself. How
he would enjoy relating this encounter to his brother! And what if
he mentioned her foolishness to her father? 'I think I shall continue
with my ride.'
'Not alone. I shall accompany you back to the quinta. Unless you
would care to ride on further with me? I am meeting Drew and
your sister at the tasca on the hill road. I believe the wine there is
worth sampling.'

'It isit comes from my father's vineyard,' Natalia replied stiffly,

being careful not to hold too tightly to his arm as he assisted her to
mount. 'I shall not detain you further. Have no fear that anyone can
catch me on Diabo.'
'A brave boast for one so young!'
Had he not made her feel insignificant, incapable of achieving
anything worth while, as she was often made to feel in her father's
company, Natalia would probably have allowed him to ride with
her, knowing that propriety demanded she have an escort of some
kind. As it was, the taunt roused the wildness in her that everyone
in the household had tried so hardand unsuccessfully to curb.
Rebellion blazed from her lovely features as she snatched the reins
up into one slender hand.
'Catch me thenif you can!' she challenged.
Adam jumped back as she urged the stallion forward. As he ran for
his own mount tethered beneath an olive tree a few yards away, he
glimpsed a flurry of white petticoats and a long expanse of pale
woollen stockings as Natalia, with the devil inside her urging her
on to prove herself yet again, flung her leg across the saddle. She
had forgotten her father's wrath on the last occasion she rode like a
man, the tears and shame she endured shut alone in her room for
two days without even Pilar's presence to comfort her. She had
only one thought in her mindto reach the hilltop tasca before
Adam Sorrell.
Workers in the fields looked up, startled, at the two fast
approaching riders, and stood open-mouthed as they flashed by.
Some, recognising not only the stallion but the dishevelled, windblown girl astride him, bent low across his back, her young face
bearing the most determined of looks, shook their heads and

crossed themself and said a prayer that Dom Abilio would not see
his daughter being pursued by a strange man. It was plain she was
not running away from him, or she would have called to them for
help. Perhaps it was a contest. She would win. No one in Alto
Verde could outride Natalia Maria Lareira!
The bite of the wind stung Natalia's cheeks. She had lost the ribbon
from her hair almost the moment she started, and the red-gold
mass of curls tossed in wild confusion about her shoulders. She
gave the stallion his head, confident she would reach the tasca
first. She not only had the best horse outside Lisboa, but she knew
the way through every tiny cut-through and twisting track that
wound in and out of the carob trees and flowering almonds. Petals
showered her like snow, until she began to feel like the princess in
the ancient legend of the Al-Gharb.
A princess from a distant cold land had come to Portugal to marry
a prince, but was unhappy, for she missed the falling of gentle
snowflakes, the touch of them against her skin, the frost on the
ground. So in love with his bride was the prince that he could not
bear to see her misery, and so, before his palace, he had planted
hundreds of almond trees. In the spring, when the petals fell, the
ground was covered in them and they resembled snow so much
that the princess was never unhappy again.
Natalia loved the legend. How romantic that a man should do that
for love! Cesar did not have a romantic bone in his body. No man
would ever consider her in such a fashion . . . The very first man
she was attracted to had laughed at heras Cesar laughed at her.
One because she was a dreamer, the other because she was not
woman enough for him. Could a woman not have dreams, even
foolish ones? How inconsiderate and unfeeling men were!

She was dismayed to find, as she reined Diabo in to get her

bearings and regain a little breath from the hectic ride, that Adam,
far from being a long way behind, was racing towards her, and that
the gap between them was minimal. She would have to ride like
the wind if she was to beat him! Wheeling about, she urged the
stallion up a steep incline, heading towards a short cut which
would bring her out directly below their destination. It meant
crossing an old river-bed that had not known water for years. She
was aghast to discover a veritable torrent gushing over once dry
stones and parched earth. The rains of recent weeks had filled it to
within a few inches of the top of the bank.
She heard a shout behind her, half-turned, and saw Adam was
waving at her madly. He wanted her to stop! And to let him gloat
that she was afraid her horse was incapable of making it to the
other side.
'Diabo, meu bom cavalo. Jump as you have never jumped before!'
she whispered into an alert ear, and without further hesitation
urged him on.
For a second he faltered, for one terrifying moment when her heart
came into her mouth and she had a vision of being plunged into the
water. Then with a jolt which knocked the breath from her body
and threw her forward over his neck so violently that she almost
pitched from his back, he landed safely on the far side. He had
done it! She could have cried out in exaltation-had she
possessed the breath. Without looking around, she headed him
towards the whitewashed building just visible on the mountainside,
but at a slower pace. She was trembling from head to toe, despite
the satisfaction of her great achievement, only now realising the
risk she had taken to thwart her pursuer.

As Adam caught up with her, she reined in and slid from Diabo's
back, leaned against him, and declared in a tremulous voice,
"I did it! I won! I told you I could not be beaten.'
She was seized and shaken like a rag doll. She cried out, tears
starting to her eyes, and was roughly shaken again until her teeth
rattled.
'Idiota! Whatever possessed you to jump that water?' Adam
shouted. The anger burning in his eyes startled her and
extinguished any urge to retaliate against his ungentlemanly
behaviour. Why was he angry? Because she had won, not he?
'I've come this way many times. There is no danger,' she protested,
but not very forcefully, as she recalled how cold and frightening
the water had looked as she passed over it. 'Diabo is a wonderful
horse.'
'And you are a fool! I should put you over my knee and spank
you,' Adam snapped. He seemed unaware of how painfully his
hands were biting into her shoulders, for he did not release her,
even when she asked him, but held her, staring down into her
flushed face. A burnished gold strand of hair was caught against
her cheek. He brushed it away. His touch was as light as gossamer,
yet even so she caught her breath.
'Let me go, please?' she entreated. He was looking at her so
strangely, as though he had never really seen her properly before.
Already her knees were growing weak, and it had nothing to do
with the ride.
'I chased a petulant child, but I think I have caught a woman,' he
murmured softly, gathering her into his arms.

She had no strength to resist him. Neither did she want to. This
time she was willingand eagerfor his kiss. Her lips opened
and flared to life beneath his. She could feel the fierce beating of
his heart as he crushed her against him. He wanted her! He could
not deny it. And he had been angry, not because he had been
beaten but because she had been in danger. Natalia's heart flooded
with happiness.
Excitement rose inside her as he bent her back against the hard
bark of a tree, moulding her body against his until she knew he
could feel every curve of her. His lips spilled hot kisses down over
her cheek and the smooth line of her throat, and returned to sear
her mouth until a soft moan escaped her and she clung to him, the
fire within her growing. Tomorrow or the next day he would leave
her and go away. She would never see him again. She would
marry Cesar and live in a comfortable house in Setubal and learn
somehow to be a wife and mother, but she would never forget
these moments with Adam Sorrell, for now she knew what it was
to be a woman! To experience a woman's deep passions. To know
the bitter-sweet heartache of wanting a man she could not have.

CHAPTER THREE
'I KISSED YOU because you are a lovely young thing. It means
nothing . . . nothing binding. I hope you understand that,' Adam
said, and was surprised at the harshness of his voice. He had kissed
countless women in his life, but never had one aroused the
primitive man in him as this one did. Yet, to look at her now, he
could hardly believe the depths of emotion he had felt in her soft
lips, or in the soft, pliant body beneath his hands. She looked so
calm, in total control of herselfand of the fire inside her.
They had walked the last few yards to the pleasant little tasca set
in an olive grove, and now sat at a well-worn table with a bottle of
wine between them. The young girl who had come out to serve
them had stared in disbelief at Natalia, then rushed inside to wash
the glasses and bring a clean cloth to hide the peeling paint on the
sun-baked wood. Adam was aware of curious faces peering
through the window as he poured red wine for them both. She
declined his offer of a piece of chourigo, a highly spiced sausage
that was as popular with Portuguese people as their caldo or
aguardente, and selected instead a thin slice of the Serra cheese he
had produced from his saddlebag, and a large black olive.
She had brushed back the loose hair from her face and her cheeks,
which, although containing a touch of colour, were nowhere as
bright a red as when he had released her from his embrace. He had
expected at the very least a slap or the sharp end of her tongue, but
she said not one word of reproach, only began to smooth down her
crumpled skirts. A smile had touched his mouth as he recalled the
stockinged legs and the white petticoats about her thighs.
As she looked across the table at him, a slender eyebrow winged
upwards. For the space of a heartbeat, he was sure a wicked light
danced in those brilliantly blue eyes before she lowered her gaze.

'Are you so afraid of being tied to one woman, Major Sorrell?' It

was now her turn to laugh at him. She had never felt so relaxed
before in the company of a man. Only an hour ago she had been a
frightened, timid creature in his company, now she felt at ease and
was in no hurry to see her sister and Drew appear on the horizon. 'I
promise you, I do not consider one kiss binding, either. I beg your
pardontwo kisses! Does that at least make us . . . friends?'
Adam watched her sip her wine and wondered why he should feel
even the slightest irritation at this more casual attitude? Could he
have been wrong? Was she more worldly than he imagined,
playing a game with him? He would have sworn her indignation
and anger had been genuine, but then, although he had known
many different women, he did not consider himself an expert on
them. Any man who did that was a fool. On too many occasions he
had seen fellow officers, soldiers beneath his command, receive
bad news from home. A wife or girl-friend had deserted them . . .
rumours of unfaithfulness ... a child fathered by another, which
was why he would never take a wife while he was serving his
country.
He was glad he would not be around long enough to find out if
Natalia Lareira was as fickle as her fellow creatures, for already he
had to admit, reluctantly, that she had got beneath his skin.
'Tofriendship.' He drained his glass and replenished it with a
nod of surprise. 'This is indeed a fine, full-bodied wine. I must tell
my father when I see him again.'
'Will that be soon?'
'I hope to be with him in Lisboa by tomorrow night. The luxury of
a hot bath and a good cigar ... the fine claret in his cellar.' Adam
gave a soft laugh, unaware of the disquiet his words caused.

Leaving so soon! The girl who had served them earlier came out to
enquire if they ^required more wine, and he nodded, voicing his
appreciation of what he had already consumed. As she went away,
he became aware of Natalia's eyes fixed on him, and realised for
the first time that she had not commented on his fluency in
Portuguese.
'I think there is much I do not know about you, Major Sorrell,' she
murmured. 'You speak my language as though you were born to it.'
'I was born in England, but I have lived here since the age of six,
and was educated, apart from a few months at Cambridge, at the
University of Coimbra. My father is a merchant banker in Lisboa,
although he has other varied interests. In wine, for one. I hope to
return to that part of the business as soon as the war is over, and
run it until I find a quinta of my own.'
'Like this one?' She had been right, Natalia mused: the speculative
eye he had cast over her father's vines had not been out of casual
interest. Why could she not marry a man like this, who loved the
land and would be willing to stay at the Quinta das Raposeiras
with her as his wife? Quickly she squashed such an absurd idea,
appealing as it was.
'Somehow I cannot see you planting the vines. My father used to
do it himselfdo you know that?when he was very young.
Even now he supervises every one that goes into the ground.' He
loved them more than his daughters!
'My grandfather was a sea-captain. There was a time when I
thought I might follow in his footsteps, but not any more. They are
not unalike, the sea and the land. The sailor constantly wages
battle with the sea, a farmer with the land. The relationship is
rather like that between a man and a woman, do you not agree?'

Natalia blushed at the question, conscious of amber flecks

mocking her from those bold eyes. What kind of answer was he
expecting?
'I see no reason why a man and a woman should not live in perfect
harmony, if they love each other,' she replied truthfully. 'I think
you are somewhat of a cynic, Major.'
'True. My years of soldiering, short that they have been, have not
reassured me to the faithfulness of women.'
'Perhaps the right one has not yet come into your life; but with
such an attitude, you would not recognise her worth if it
confronted you.'
'Indeed I shall, Natalia . . .' He leaned across the table to her as if to
impart some startling revelationor was that her imagination? For
an instant, he looked so serious as he gazed into her face . . . Then
a shout came from behind, and he lifted his eyes and she watched
his whole body relax and sink slowly back into the chair.
When Drew and Alida joined them, he had already called for more
glasses and food for the new arrivals. Natalia felt almost crushed
by the weight of her disappointment. What had he been about to
say? Had he seen something in her he likedor desired? Why, oh
why was she torturing herself with such a question? As she had
said, two kisses were not binding on either of them. Yet for her, if
not him, nothing would ever be the same again. Never would she
forget Adam Sorrell.
'Natalia? What are you doing here? Surely you are not alone?'
Alida gave a disapproving frown as she sat close to her sister.
What a handsome pair they made, had been her first impression as
she came upon them. The dark good looks of the English officer,
coupled with her sister's pale skin and hair of burnished gold.

'Of course not, she is with my brother.' Drew grinned as he

sampled the wine Adam poured for him. 'And quite safe! Father
will love this. Can we take him a couple of dozen bottles?'
'My sentiments exactly. I will have a word with Dom Abilio before
we leave.' Natalia saw Adam's lips twitch with amusement at his
brother's assumption that she was 'safe' with him. She felt the exact
opposite!
'I am sure Father will be delighted to supply you with whatever
you want from his warehouses in Lisboa,' Alida returned
smilingly, as she managed to mask a certain uneasiness at Natalia's
casualness in the presence of Adam Sorrell. Had she not known
better, she might have taken them for old friends. 'I can take you
and Drew there if you wish.'
'Alida is accompanying us to the city. Father will be pleased to
meet her.' Drew supplied the information reluctantly as his
brother's eyes fixed on him quizzingly. He knew Adam's views on
becoming seriously involved with a woman while fighting a war,
but things had developed to such a stage between himself and
Alida that nothing short of marriage would do. He loved her with a
desperation he had never known before. Girls found him amusing
because of his shyness, laughed at his timid attempts to make them
interested in him ... It had not been like that with Alida. From the
first moment they had met in Mafra at a festa, they had become
friends. Now they were more. Soon he would place a ring on her
finger and make her his for ever.
'When Drew returns to headquarters, I shall open up my house in
Mafra again,' Alida said, not looking at Natalia. How could she
condemn her sister for seeking a few moments of diversionary
happiness when she was doing the very same? Although, for her,
there was the security of marriage with the man she loved at the

end of the road. For Natalia, only marriage . . . and she knew very
well the depths of misery to which a woman could sink when she
was matched with a man she did not loveand even feared.
Instinctively she knew that Natalia had not mentioned Cesar to her
companion.
The house in Mafra had been Alida's refuge after the death of her
husband. She had never liked it when he was alive, but once she
became a widow, she developed her own circle of friends,
unhampered by her husband's demands that she seek out only
influential people, army officers who might be able to further his
career. Had any one of them showed the slightest interest in her
that he was aware ofsome had, but she had managed to hide the
fact from himshe had no doubt he would have thrust her into
bed with him without a second thought! She shuddered slightly,
and became aware of Adam's searching gaze on her. He doesn't
like me, she thought. He is afraid I shall take his brother away
from him. As I am afraid he will steal the heart of my romantic
little sister. If he has not done so already!
Natalia was looking at her now, almost pleadingly, and Alida
knew she was waiting for an invitation to accompany her to Lisboa
as an escape from the multitude of wedding preparations that
would begin once Cesar returned to Alto Verdeand that would
be any day now. Often they had stayed in the city together and
enjoyed not only each other's company, as they had done since
childhood, but the sense of freedom that always prevailed for them
once they were out of their father's scrutiny. Those days were over
for poor Natalia, and her sister's heart went out to her in the last
desperate days of her freedom.
Even so, she did not want her to do anything foolish such as
thinking Adam Sorrell was anything like his brother. From what
Drew had saideven though she knew he cared for his brother

deeplyhe was a hardened soldier who took his pleasures where

he found them and had no intention of settling down. He was too
handsome, too sure of himself, she reasoned. He could turn the
head of any gullible girl, and there was not one more gullible and
fanciful than Natalia with her head full of dreams.
'Whenwhen are you leaving?" Natalia asked, when the answer to
her silent question was not forthcoming.
'The day after tomorrow. We are staying for the festa, of course.'
Alida's choice of going with Drew, or remaining to give her sister
moral support as her wedding day loomed closer, had been a
difficult one. She had put her own happiness first, and hoped that
Natalia would understand.
'I had hoped to start out tomorrow,' Adam said with a quick frown,
and his words heightened Natalia's growing disappointment. Was
everyone deserting her? 'What shall we be missing?'
'Dia das Flores,' Alida told him. 'There will be no work for anyone
in the village. There will be dancing in the streets, lots of eating
and drinking . . . and a wedding in the evening. Paulo Santos, the
youngest son of the miller, is being married to Maria Helena
Lurdes. Her father is the blacksmith. Father is providing the
wedding feast.'
'I see no harm in the men remaining for one more day,' Drew
murmured with a grin. 'Relax, brother. Let's enjoy life while we
can.'
'I intend toin Lisboa,' Adam returned drily, but after a moment
he nodded. 'Why not? They deserve whatever pleasures they can
find before they are plunged back into the thick of it all.'
'It will be fun,' Alida cried, clapping her hands in excitement.

'For those who have an escort, perhaps,' Natalia remarked quietly.

'I don't relish the thought of dancing with Dona Margarida all night
... or with Father; he always treads on my toes and calls me
clumsy.' She looked at Adam and smiled. At that smile Alida
caught her breath so sharply that Drew's hand covered hers, as if
he, too, sensed something he did not quite understand between the
two people opposite. 'Unless, of course, the gallant Major will take
pity on me and be my escort?'
For an instant a strange gleam flickered in Adam's tawny eyes,
then a smile twitched at the corners of the lean mouth at her
audacity. He nodded, and said casually, almost with indifference,
'Why not?' Across the table Drew chuckled, but he ignored it.
As he was helping Natalia to mount for the return ride to the
house, however, she found herself held firmly in his grasp. His
face only a few inches from hers was impassive. His voice, too
quiet to carry to Drew and Alida, momentarily chilled her with its
coldness.
'If there is any asking to be done, menina, I shall do it. Remember
that. I am a man who makes up his own mind.'

'Have you taken leave of your senses?' Alida enquired, flinging

down her gloves and coat. She had followed Natalia to her room,
determined to warn her of the consequences of her foolish act.
'Whatever possessed you to ask him outright to escort you? What
if Father finds out?'
'Will you tell him? No, of course not. Nor would I reveal your
liaison with Drew Sorrell. You are more than friends, Alida, I
know it, and I suspect you have no intention of telling him you are

to be married,' Natalia flung back. She was slumped in a chair,

while Pilar pulled off her riding boots and fetched her a change of
clothes. She felt elated by what she had done. 'I shall have him for
another day! Don't you understand?'
'Natalia, what have you done?' Her sister sank on to the bed.
Neither of them was aware of Pilar listening intently as she slipped
Natalia's feet into warm slippers and then began to pick up
discarded clothes. 'Hehe has notmade love to you?'
'No! Nor tried,' came the indignant answer. Had she not broken
away from that first embrace, would he have continued, she
wondered? Would she have allowed further boldness? Never! It
was not as if she loved him . . . Love? It was the first time she had
considered how deep her feelings were for the Englishman. He had
taken her by storm, giving her no chance to think, to analyse her
thoughts or emotions . . . 'He is a gentleman, but. . .'
'What is it? You look so strange?' Alida whispered, somewhat
alarmed at her sister's wide-eyed expression.
'Could. . .?'No. It was impossible! But she had never known such
excitement at a man's touch. She knew nothing of love, so how
would she recognise it? 'He he has kissed me,' she admitted, as
if divulging a life-or-death secret. 'And I liked it. Why shouldn't I?'
'And you think a kiss will twist him round your finger? Oh,
Natalia, he is not Cesar! Pompous, conceited, selecting a wife as
he would a new statue for his house. This is a man! And you are a .
. .'
'. . . child? Not any more,' Natalia said softly, almost dreamily.
'Something has happened to me, I feel it here . . .' She touched a
hand to her heart. 'I want to be with him, hear his voice, have him

hold me, kiss me. He is everything I have ever dreamed of in a

man.'
'Major Sorrell is not a dream, he is reality. A very dangerous
reality, I fear.' Alida came to her side and sat on the arm of the
chair, slipping an arm tightly about her shoulders. 'I am worried for
you. How can I not be? I have never seen you look at anyone the
way you looked at him today. If Father finds out you were alone
with him . . .'
'But we all went riding together, did we not?'
'Yes. Yes, that will be the best story ... if you were seen.'
How could she not have been seen as she rode with Adam in hot
pursuit through the countryside, Natalia wondered, but wisely she
did not mention the incident.
'You do not think of me as a child any longer, do you?' she
pleaded, desperate for just one person to side with her.
'Not only a child, but a stupid one if you play games with that
man!'
'I only want what you havewith Drew,' Natalia said solemnly. 'Is
that too much to ask?'
'You are betrothed to Cesar. He could return at any time. If he
hears talk ... I do not want you to experience the kind of unhappy
marriage I did, dearest little Natalia. You must make your own
happiness. Accept him as your husband. Do the best you can.'
'For one daytomorrowI shall make my own happiness, and
then Adam Sorrell will be gone from my life. After that, I don't
care what happens to me. No man will ever make me feel as he

does!' Bright tears glistened in Natalia's eyes. She turned and

buried her face against her sister's shoulder with a cry which tore
at the heart of the maid by the door. 'I think I love him!'

On every narrow, twisting cobbled alley there were lights in the

windows of the small huddled-together houses, and doors were
thrown open wide. People outside greeted those within as they
passed. Chairs were brought into the open for thoseespecially
the older inhabitants, who just wanted to sit and listen to the
musicto watch the candlelit procession passing below and tell
how it had been in their day. Leathered faces of men and women
alike wrinkled with pleasure as young children rushed past with
grotesque masks on their faces, their voices raised with shrill
excitement, or a relative appeared bringing food and wine. For
today no one, young or old, was forgotten in Alto Verde.
Longstanding grievances were put aside, friendships renewed. It
was a time of being together, and remembering, ... of hoping . . .
planning ... All the prayers were that soon the French would leave
the soil of Portugal and set them free to go back to the old ways. . .
to the land, which was all most of them knew and had ever known,
and all their children would know for generations to come. It was a
good life!
Enthusiasm followed the procession, which wound its way through
the village, led by baby-faced Tomaz, carrying an image of the
Virgin Maryhow many smiled as they watched him,
remembering how only the day before his mother had taken a stick
to him for stealing precious apples from her storeroomfollowed
by the priest, Father Jose, in his black robes, his white hair and
beard shining in the light of the candles surrounding him. The
youngest member of Alto Verde, only a week old, was carried in
the arms of a proud mother.

And there was Daniel, at ninety, garlanded with flowers, a giggling

girl on each arm. Born in Alto Verde, he had never put one foot
outside it. No chair for him. No pipe or aguardente to dull his
brain. At least, not yet! He wanted laughter, to know again the joy
of life, which at times like these was made especially pleasurable
by the pretty young girls who helped him on his way, kissed a
brown cheek and told him how young he looked. Now that was
living! Gracas a Deus!
The early part of the day had been spent in a whirlwind of lastminute preparations. Paper streamers hung from the trees, and
festooned windows and balconies of some of the taller houses.
Coloured lanterns, carefully preserved over the years, illuminated
dark side-roads, where flower-strewn archways awaited the arrival
of the procession that would slowly, painstakingly, wend its way
down each of them in turn.
Many people carried flowers, from a single bloom to carefully
prepared bouquets, wherever they went. Back-breaking hours of
labour had produced cart after cart of floral arrangements in all
shapes and sizes. There were clowns, devils with huge horns, and
the crowning glorya bower of wild passion-flowers where the
queen of Dia das Flores, Maria Helena Lurdes, would rest as she
was carried to the church for her wedding. Not as many exhibits as
in the days before the French came, but what did it matter? Not
even they could stop such occasions up and down the country.
They did not understandthese soldiers who came to steal and
plunder, to take what did not belong to them wherever they went
that so long as people could be close at such times, come together
and remember how it had once been, pray for the day it would be
so again . . . and still be patient and enjoy whatever mode of life
existed for them at this moment, that they could never win. They
could never break the mighty spirit which prevailed among the
people.

From the window of her bedroom, Natalia watched the sky grow
dark and the first candles flicker and glow. Without hesitation she
lighted the one Pilar placed in front of her, and set it on a table
before the french windows. There was great activity from the
direction of the barn where the guerrilleros were staying, but she
could see no sign of Adam Sorrell. She waited, feeling her heart
begin to pound more quickly, but he did not appear, and
reluctantly she turned away. Patiencia. In a little while, she would
have him all to herself for a whole evening.
Pilar draped a black woollen shawl about her mistress's shoulders
and stood back admiringly. Natalia wore a voluminous skirt of fine
black cloth, trimmed about the bottom with alternate wide and
narrow bands of black velvet ribbon. The apron about her waist,
also of cloth, was bright red, and edged with passementerie. A
tight-fitting black jacket reached to her hips, edged in gold lace,
with the sleeves slashed from elbow to wrist to reveal the snowwhite undersleeves of her chemisette. About her neck she wore her
mother's large gold cross on a heavy chain, together with several
more plain linked chains. For the occasion Pilar had provided a
necklace of coinsgold, Natalia suspectedbut where the woman
had acquired such a fortune in jewellery, she dared not ask. Her
stockings were white, her shoes of black leather adorned with
small red ribbon rosettes.
The abundance of thick hair was plaited and tied with velvet to
match the bows, and hung in a single plait down her back,
reaching to her waist. On her head, a froth of white lace which
cascaded each side of cheeks flushed with excitement. Her features
were obscured by a black cloth mask, trimmed with gold. She had
every intention of taking the fullest advantage of the opportunities
the festa offered.

Usually she did not bother to hide her face. Everyone in Alto
Verde was too afraid of Cesar, who usually escorted her on such
occasions, to invite her to join in the merrymaking, and she had to
be content with watching from the sidelines, infrequently being
asked to dance . . . but only by her father or her betrothed. Tonight
would be different! There was no Cesar to scrutinise her every
move, and she hoped her father would be too busy with the
forthcoming wedding breakfast to watch over her too closely. She
had deliberately chosen the local costume, which would allow her
to blend among the other village women. Tonight was hers! No
one was going to take it from her!
Alida came into the room, and Natalia gave a cry of admiration at
her pale green muslin gown over a deeper green satin undershift.
She wore a cluster of artificial flowers in her short hair, and
another at her bosom, where the neckline of her gown dipped
daringly low. Never before had she seen her sister look so radiant.
At last she had discarded the dismal mourning clothes.
'If Drew Sorrell is not already in love with you, he will be after one
look at you tonight. Alida, you . . . you sparkle, do you know that?'
'I wish I did not feel so happy, when I am about to spoil your own
happiness and the evening you have planned for yourself,' Alida
said, her voice hushed. 'Nataliadear NataliaCesar has
returned! He is downstairs with Father now, and I have been sent
to fetch you. He intends to escort you himself this evening. You
will have no chance, no chance at all, to be with Adam. My dear, I
am so sorry.'
Natalia stood stock still, her mind refusing to accept this
unexpected shock which spelled ruin to the blissful hours she had
envisaged in the company of Adam Sorrell. It could not be!

'No!' The single word torn from her lips made Alida wince with
pain. How cruel fate was not to have allowed her a few stolen
hours . . . Yet, perhaps it was for the better.-In Cesar's company,
she would have to forget that the handsome Englishman existed,
for she would not be allowed to leave his side. Cesar's jealousy did
not stem from love, or any feeling of affection for the girl he was
soon to marry, but from a possessive mania that made her life a
misery whenever they were together.
'I am so sorry,' Alida repeated, knowing how hollow the words
sounded. Natalia needed more than words, but she had nothing to
give her. It was over for her sister. The brief interlude of dreaming.
Over. 'Are you all right?'
Natalia lifted her shoulders in an abject shrug of acceptance.
'Sim. I shall come down directly. Don't wait for me. There is no
reason why the evening should be ruined for you, too. Go on, I'm
all right. I promise.'

Cesar Joao Ferreira Duarte was a man of medium height, already

showing signs of thickening round the waist and in his dark face.
In his youth he had been somewhat of a ladies' man, keeping as
many as three mistresses in three different towns and distributing
his time between them throughout the year. . . much to the chagrin
of his parents, whose demise had been hastened by his complete
lack of morals. It was, of course, permissible to have a mistress,
what man did not, perhaps two? But three . . . who wrenched him
away from his estates and demanded his undivided attention! In
the end everyone suffered, most of all Cesar. His indulgences cost
him parents, home, almost every escudo he possessed, and it had
taken more than ten years to recoup his losses. Parents could not

be replaced, but he had cared little about them, never having been
on the best of terms with an over-doting mother and a father who
expected too much of his pleasure-loving son.
He had managed to purchase back the house and lands he had been
forced to sell in order to maintain his orgies of wild living, and
was now frugal to the point of meanness. He still had a mistress,
but only one, and soon he would have a wife, to run his home. The
other could be discarded and replaced, but his wife would remain,
to care for his needs and his house. He had chosen Natalia because
of her youth, her innocence and the large dowry which
accompanied her. When Abilio Lareira died, she would inherit a
half share in the quinta, as he had no male heir. With the other
sister a widow who was showing no signs of remarrying, despite
her father's insistence that she do so, there was a chance that
Natalia might produce a son. Then he knew, without a doubt, that
the quinta would be left entirely to him. It was Cesar's intention to
make sure that it was.
He did not care about her one way or the other: she was a means to
an end. He would continue with his mistresses until the day he
died, taking them, discarding them when they became too clinging
or greedy . . . Never again would he ruin himself over a woman . . .
But Natalia would always be there when he wanted her. And he
did want her. Her constant aloofness from his advances annoyed
him. He found pleasure in the thought of moulding her to his ways
once they were married. Then, she would refuse him nothing!
He turned to watch her come into the room. She wore a bright
yellow gown, caught high beneath the bosom with a jewelled
brooch. Her hair was wound into a tight plait on the crown of her
head. His eyes fastened almost hungrily on the firm swell of her
breasts above the revealing dcolletage, and his mouth grew dry at
the thought of possessing her. To his surprise, she met his bold

gaze without flinching and extended her hand for him to kiss.
Despite her apparent calmness, however, he felt a tremor run
through the fingers he touched to his lips. He knew she hated his
touch. Let her. Soon there would be nothing she could do about it.
Soon she would be his wife . . . soon the mother of a fine son, as
many as he could father, and he would be master of the Quinta das
Raposeiras when the old man died.
'Natalia, my dear, how charming you look. You must stay close to
me tonight or I shall have you stolen away by some adventurous
young man.' He chuckled, but there was no humour in the hard
eyes which met hers. It was a warning that she belonged to him,
and that he would not tolerate another man looking at herlet
alone touching her.
'I would not share your affections with another', Adam had told her
as they stood together in the vineyard. 'Not even a single smile,
however innocent.' When he looked at her, she wanted no other
man. She would revel in his jealousy . . . but Cesar . . . Somehow
she managed to smile as she withdrew her hand. He always held it
longer than was necessary; it was only one of his many ways of
asserting his authority over her and of showing her he could touch
her whenever he pleased and that she could do nothing about it.
The thought of marriage to him was now twice as distasteful as it
had been before the Englishman rode into Alto Verde. She
wondered how he would react if he learned that the gown she wore
was not for his benefit, but that of Adam Sorrell, so that the
Englishman would recognise her, even masked!
'I am sure no man would be foolish enough to flirt with me while
you are my escort,' Natalia returned quietly.
Save one, perhaps. To avoid Cesar's suspicions being aroused, she
had sent Pilar to convey to Adam her profound apologies. The

maid was to say that an old friend of her father had just arrived,
and she was required to partner him for the early part of the
evening. She would meet Adam, if he still wished it, at the church
for the wedding of Maria Helena.
She dared not trust Alida with the message, acutely aware of how
remiss she had been in not openly explaining her situation at the
beginning. Should Adam now learn that she was betrothed, he
might think her conduct left a great deal to be desired, that she was
only amusing herself with him while the man she was to marry
was away. Uppermost in her mind, this evening, was to keep the
news from him, lest it spoil the few short hours she could salvage.
As she sat miserably on the edge of the bed, Pilar had leaned over
and whispered in her ear a plan so simple, yet daring, that Natalia
had immediately felt her heart soar with renewed hope, and
without hesitation she grasped the offered straw.
That was why she was able to bear Cesar's hand on hers, the touch
of moist, hot lips on her bare skin. She would do nothing and say
nothing to provoke his ire and cause him to watch her more closely
than usual. With any luck, one of the village girls would distract
him, enabling Natalia to slip away.
'I think your return has brought a sparkle to my daughter's eyes,'
Abilio declared as he watched them together. Natalia felt herself
grow hot beneath his scrutiny. He was looking at her so strangely.
Had someone whispered in his ear about her wild ride with Adam?
No, he would have rebuked her before this had the slightest hint of
it reached him.
She was unaware how her eyes did indeed shine, with a brilliance
that Abilio rarely saw. There was a flush to her pale cheeks which
highlighted the fine bone structure inherited from her mother. He

inwardly winced as he recalled his beautiful dead wife and the

legacy she had bequeathed to him of two useless daughters. He
knew at times he was uncommonly strict with them both, but it
was in their best interests. Natalia in particular had been singled
out for special care and attention. At all costs he had to ensure that
the wildness in her was tamed before she grew much older. Cesar
would succeed where he himself had failed over the years. He was
not the best of men to have chosen as her husband, but he had the
same wish as Abilio himself hadfor a family. Both men desired
their names to be borne by future generations. If only he could find
the words to tell Natalia how fortunate she was to have a wealthy
husband, of good background, despite the misdemeanours of his
youth, who would give her security for the rest of her life. He
could not, however. When he tried to analyse his feelings, he came
to the reluctant conclusion that he would have liked to grow closer
to both his daughters, but that would have meant sharing with
them the love he had shared with their motherand that was
impossible, for it had all died with her.
Somehow Natalia endured the hours which followed in Cesar's
company, with a fixed smile on her face, and a growing fear in her
heart that Adam Sorrell cared little whether or not she met him
later on. Whenever she saw him he was dancing with a pretty girl,
or drinking with his men. He had acknowledged her and the two
men with her when she first came out of the house, but after that
he was careful not to look her way. Alida and Drew were never
more than a few inches from each other throughout the evening.
She became aware of the growing frown on her father's face as he
found them always together, dancing, or standing close as they
watched others enjoying themselves. She suspected that Alida had
not informed him of her impending departure for Lisboa. How
lonely and miserable she would be when her sister went!

She heard Cesar mutter under his breath, and found that his
attention was focused on Adam, who was dancing most
energetically with yet another of the village girls. .'The British are
growing as free with our women as the French were,' he muttered,
and although the words were spoken quietly, they were uttered as
the man in question happened to pass close by. From the
momentary stiffening of his back, Natalia knew he had heard.
A pair of cold eyes focused on Cesar as he interrupted a step to
wheel about, seeking the man who had uttered the insult. Without
a word he allowed his gaze to wander slowly up and down Cesar's
immaculately clad form, lingering on the thickening waist and the
face glowing from an excess of rich red wine. In that single look
was contempt conveyed more eloquently than in a thousand words,
and when he turned away and continued to partner the young girl
at his side, Cesar's ruddy complexion was the colour of a beetroot.
'The insolent young puppy! I'll have him up in front of his
commanding officer,' he blustered, conscious of the smirks and
veiled delight in the eyes of many of the Alto Verde villagers.
'I doubt that very much,' Abilio answered. 'From what I hear of
Major Sorrell, he has friends in high places. Your remark was
uncalled for, Cesar. The Major and his brother . . . and his men'
heavy emphasis was laid on the last words, leaving Cesar in no
doubt that his words had been a mistake'are guests in Alto
Verde. My guests. Please be kind enough to remember that.'
Natalia could hardly believe her ears. Was this really her father
being so authoritative? He tolerated the foreign soldiers who
passed through the village, but never before had she known him to
defend them against Cesar's malicious remarks. She wanted to
smile at him and convey her thanks, but knew that to do so might

cause him to wonder what interest she had in Adam Sorrell, and so
she remained with her eyes downcast.
A pair of highly polished boots appeared in her vision. She heard
Cesar utter an oath, and his fingers fastened about her wrist so
tightly that she gave an involuntary cry of pain. Not daring to
believe Adam's boldness, she lifted her eyes and encountered his
quizzical smile.
'Senhorita Lareira, as I am leaving soon, will you take pity on a
poor soldier and permit me one dance?'
'She will not! You impertinent. . . !' The murderous look directed
at him froze the words in Cesar's throat.
'I don't know who you are, senhor, but I am a guest here. I shall not
abuse the hospitality of my gracious host by calling you out.
However, should we ever meet outside Alto Verde, it will give me
a great pleasure to accommodate you! I detest loud-mouthed men
who do not have the courage to wear a uniform, and look down
their noses at braver men ... at strangers who are prepared to
sacrifice their lives far from their own homes.'
'Major Sorrell, I think you have said enough,' Abilio intervened,
growing perturbed at the anger he could hear in the younger man's
voice. Cesar deserved it and more for his stupidity, but he wanted
no ill-feeling on this day. He could not help regretting, however,
that he had been unable to find a son-in-law with a backbone to
match that of Adam Sorrell. A man who spoke his mind and
shamed the devil! And was prepared to back it up with pistol or
sword. That was the kind of man Natalia should have had. With
such strength surrounding her, she might have found true
happiness. And what children such a union would have produced!

He shook his head slightly to rid his mind of such thoughts. It was
too late for regrets. The die had been cast.
'Forgive me. Senhorita Lareira . . .' He was holding out his arm to
Natalia. He did not expect a refusal to his invitation.
Disengaging herself from Cesar's grasp, she picked up her skirts
and laid a hand lightly on the offered arm. She did not look at
Cesar or her father as he led her away, and did not breathe easily
until they were in the midst of the square and surrounded by
grinning faces.
'You were most unwise to provoke Cesar,' she said in a low urgent
tone. 'He is an excellent shot. He has killed men for less than you
said to him!'
'Has he now? A pity his energies are not directed towards the
French, then. Or does he have a yellow streak down his back?'
Adam flung at her with heavy sarcasm. There was a
possessiveness in the way Cesar acted that disturbed him.
'He is no coward ... At least, I don't think so. He does not choose to
fight, that's all. He has an estate to look after, and people who
depend on him. Like father has. You would not expect him to go
off and fight at his age, would you? Alida and I could not run the
quinta by ourselves. Much of the food we produce here, not to
mention the wine, is consumed by your soldiers, remember.'
'Such concern for an old friend of your father,' Adam teased, and
her cheeks flamed. 'Do you care about that barrel of lard? He is a
close friend of yours also, perhaps?'
'Cesar is one of father's closestand oldestfriends, and I have
known him since I was a little girl. Please, Adao . . .' She used the
Portuguese equivalent of Adam's name without realising it, as her

anxiety grew that a quarrel might somehow develop between the

two men. The insults which had passed between them would not
be forgotten by either man, she realised. 'The wine makes him . . .
disagreeable. It will pass. Stay away from him for the remainder of
the evening.'
'If I do, where will you be?' For a moment, as they came together
in the dance, Adam's fingers lingered on the red marks still visible
on her soft skin where Cesar had held her.
'Did Pilar not tell you? I shall join you at the church. By then Cesar
will have drunk more wine, and it will be time for Father to give
the bride away.'
'And when he sees us together, he will approve?'
'He will not know who is with you,' Natalia returned, with a
secretive smile that caused his eyebrows to rise, but she had no
intention of enlightening him. 'Take me back now. I shall join you
at the church.'

CHAPTER FOUR
THE LITTLE village church was crammed full of people. Children,
bored with standing still for too long, ran about outside, or played
hide-and-seek among the low branches of the fig trees, but inside it
was very quiet. All eyes were focused on the couple being married.
Handkerchiefs dabbed at moist eyes as memories of other wedding
days returned. Adam stood at the back of the gathering, by the
open door. His brother and Alida stood side by side a little way in
front of him. He found himself watching them, frowning at the
silent intimacy which prevailed between them. He wondered if
they were even aware of people pressing in on them from all sides.
He saw Drew slip his arm round the girl's shoulders as the
ceremony drew to a close, and she laid her head against his
shoulder with a shy smile. The young fool had got himself well
and truly hooked this time! This one had marriage on her mind.
After debating whether he should try to dissuade her from
accompanying them to Lisboa, he decided it was none of his
business. If Drew was old enough to get his head blown off, he
was old enough to make a fool of himself with a woman. Maybe
the whole thing would peter out once they had spent more time
together. He was exceedingly fond of his brother and did not want
to see him hurt by some flighty widow who would forget him as
soon as he had returned to the war.
Adam looked about him, casting an eye over the men and women
pressing close behind him, but could see no sign of a bright yellow
dress to herald Natalia's arrival. Perhaps she had been delayed, or
prevented from coming at all. He was well aware of the code of
conduct which ruled all Portuguese homes, and was surprised that
she had even suggested meeting him alone and unchaperoned. Was
she so trusting? Or, once out of sight of a duenna and her father,
was she prepared to accommodate his needs? How many soldiers

had . . . ? Roughly he quashed such a notion. She was no woman

of easy virtuehe would stake his life on it nevertheless, the
thought that she might not meet him left him with a sense of
frustration. He should have been pleased that the short but
tempestuous relationship was curtailed before either of them
became too involved in something neither could finish at this time,
but he was not. He wanted to see her again, to look into those
expressive sapphire eyes and convince himself that one day he
would come back to Alto Verde.
As the crowd parted to allow the newly married couple through, he
slipped outside into the warm night air. Discarding his jacket, he
draped it over one shoulder and leaned against a wall to light a
cigarrillo. Laughing, chattering women rushed past him, strewing
the path of the bridal couple with flowers. The moment they
appeared, they were lifted shoulder high to be carried to the
waiting cart and deposited in the bower of sweet-smelling flowers
for the short journey back to the square and the wedding feast.
And what a feast, he thought. When he had wandered past the
tables, they were already being replenished with food and more
garrafas of wine. Over open pits filled with grey ashes several
suckling-pigs were being roasted, also chickens and a young lamb.
The village might go short of meat in the months ahead, but
tonight everyone would eat their fill and drink until it came out of
their ears. Tomorrow there would be full stomachsand aching
headsand the women would gather at the washing-place to scrub
the clothes and discuss the evening. It would be a topic of
conversation for many, many weeks.
He caught the faint aroma of perfume, and half turned as he felt a
touch upon his arm. At the sight of the masked girl at his side,
dressed in the traditional black skirt and white blouse, he
suppressed the disappointment which once again rose inside him at

the realisation that Natalia would not be coming. She had sent her
maid again, with another apology.
'Do they not make a perfect pair?' Natalia murmured wistfully, and
laughed softly as his eyes narrowed in disbelief. 'I said I would
come, Major. Did you not believe me?'
'I was looking for a yellow dress and a bevy of sour-faced duennas
prepared to guard your honour,' Adam returned drily, and found
that he had openly admitted he had been looking for her. Did it
please her? he wondered. Behind the decorated mask, it was
difficult to see her eyes clearly.
'Dona Margarida will be in the house snoring her head off by now.
Tonight my honour is in your hands. The hands of an English
officer and a gentleman,' she added quickly, as if to remind him
she was not to be taken for granted.
'Your wish is my command.' If she were discovered with him,
there would be the very devil to pay, Adam reflected as they
followed in the wake of the wedding party, even though she was
perfectly safe with him. 'What do you want to do?'
'Dance, join in the fun like everyone else. Like Alida and your
brother. Is it too much to ask? Always I must remember I am a
lady, the daughter of Senhor Abilio Armandio Maria Lareira. I
must conduct myself at all times like . . . like a nun.' And that is
what she would become if this little escapade leaked out, Natalia
thought with a momentary shiver of apprehension. For Cesar to
find her with another man, only weeks before their marriage . . .
He would disown her, abandon her to her father's wrath, of that she
was sure. She would be forced to retire to a convent to spend the
rest of her days contemplating her foolishness. 'Why is it so wrong
to want to enjoy myself?'

'I should say that entirely depends on how you intend to go about
it,' came the amused reply, as Adam tucked her hand beneath his
arm, guiding her over the uneven cobbles of a narrow alley.
Someone ducked in front of them, peered into Natalia's masked
features, laughed, and thrust a bottle of wine into Adam's hand.
'Enjoy yourself, amigo!'
Natalia gave a nervous laugh and pressed closer to him. Suddenly
she did not feel so secure in her disguise. Before she had changed
clothes with Pilar, she had told her father she had been seized with
a sudden, unpleasant headache and would go to rest in her room
until it subsided. Cesar had escorted her ungraciously to the door,
which had been closed firmly in his face, and locked. Angrily he
had stormed out of the house again, and from her window Natalia
had seen him begin drinking heavily. Ten minutes later, she had
left Pilar and hurried down a back staircase and out into the throng
of people milling about the house. It had all been so simple. Now
here she was with Adam, her hand held tightly in his . . . and she
was afraid. Afraid of being discovered, or of committing herself to
this act of folly? How forward he must think her! A bold hussy.
Doubtless he had encountered many women willing to grant
favours to a lonely soldier. Was he lonely, she wondered, looking
up into the dark face. He had opened the bottle, easing the cork
from the neck with strong white teeth, and she watched the wine
flow down his throat. She shook her head when it was offered to
her, then, with reckless desperation, grasped it and allowed him to
trickle a little between her lips.
'II was thirsty,' she said quickly, as a gleam came into his eyes.
'Cesar never stops talking.'
'About himself, I expect.'

'Mostly. Major Sorrell, I don't want you to misunderstand. : .'

'Your desire to kick over the traces and get a little fun out of life
before you are hemmed in by marriage and surrounded by a family
of wailing infants?' Adam interposed, and she was glad of the
shadows which hid her embarrassment from him. 'I see nothing
wrong in stealing a few hours to do what you want. We shall do
exactly as you wantand nothing more. We shall dance and eat,
and when we are hot and dry, we shall rest under the trees and
enjoy some wine. We shall talk of nothing that displeases you.'
'Youyou are very understanding. Thank you.'
The glance he threw her had more than a hint of ironic amusement
in it. Some time later, foot-weary and breathless, he
commandeered another bottle of wine, helped himself to a pile of
chicken legs from one of the tables, and led her away from the
noise and music to the peace of a small orange orchard. He laid his
jacket on the ground for her and she sank on to it with a sigh.
'I haven't danced so much since Alida was married.'
'Was it an occasion for celebrating, then? From what Drew has
told me, I rather gained the impression the marriage was not a
happy one.'
'It wasn't. Her husband was a brute,' Natalia replied, biting into the
tender flesh of one of the chicken legs. 'Alida was afraid of him. I
didn't like him much, either. That nighther wedding nightwe
both danced until we were exhausted ... for different reasons. We
are close, you see. I could hardly bear the thought of her leaving
home, and going away with a stranger. How different it is for
Maria Helena! She has loved Paulo since she was twelve years old.
They will be very happy and have lots of children.'

'God forbid!' said Adam. 'The child is barely sixteen, I'd say. What
kind of a life will she have, saddled with youngsters at that age?
She hasn't had time to discover life, and already she has thrown it
away.'
'That isn't fair,' Natalia protested, shocked by his words. 'She loves
him. That is everything.'
'And what do you know of love, little fledgling? Why is it that
women like weddings so much?' He found it hard to keep the
laughter from his voice.
'Why is it that men run away from them?' she flung back, stung by
his criticism. 'It is obvious that you are not married.'
'Nor do I intend to be for a long, long time. I intend to live my life
to the full before I settle down.'
'If the French do not put a bullet in you first.'
'There is always that possibility,' Adam answered bleakly.
She gave a contrite little cry and leaned towards him, laying a hand
on his arm. Beneath her fingers she could feel his muscles, stiff
with anger. Anger or pain? 'I spoke thoughtlessly. Please forgive
me?'
His fingers curled about hers. Slowly he drew her against his chest.
She was aware of the heavy sweet smell of wine on his breath as
he kissed her, as she allowed her lips to part and answer him. Her
head swam. It could not be too much of her father's wine, for she
had hardly drunk any. It was him!
'You are forgiven,' Adam murmured, easing his mouth from hers.
He was annoyed by the tremor in his tone. Her breasts were

pressing hard against the silk of his shirt. He could hear the beating
of her heart... like that of a little bird. His fingers reached for her
shoulder, then fell away. He was unaware of the disappointment
that crossed her face beneath the mask. He only knew that to linger
further might provoke the very situation between them he sought
to avoid. So long as they stayed with people, they were safe . . . he
was safe. Alone with her, to feel the softness of her so invitingly
against him, would spell disaster for his resolves of will-power. No
woman had ever affected him with such devastating emotions,
shattering the shield which had sustained his bachelorhood for so
long. Natalia Lareira, wittingly or unwittingly, had reached him.
Sensing an inner disquiet in him, Natalia drew away. There was an
expression on his features she could not comprehend, and it
disturbed her.
'Perhaps we should go back and dance,' she faltered. It was not
what she wanted, but it was safer. In his arms, she had no mind of
her own. She wanted him to make love to her, and was swept with
a feeling of shame that her duenna's lectures and her father's stern
lessons would avail her naught if he attempted to do so. She loved
him. She was sure of it, now, and of the emotions which could run
riot over sensible reasoning. When he touched her, she did not
want to be sensible. She wanted to know love before it was too
late! She would run away! That was the answer. Alida would give
her shelter in Mafra, and hide her until Adam returned from the
fighting.
'Yes, I believe that would be a good idea.' Adam rose, and lifted
her to her feet. She was aware how carefully he did so, stepping
back from her the moment she was upright. No, she would not go
to Mafra. He did not want her. She was just another girl to amuse
him until he returned to his duties. In silence she turned away and
began to walk back to the square. Picking up his jacket, he

followed. She did not hear the string of oaths that broke beneath
his breath.

Too late Pilar realised that Cesar had seen her slip out of the
house. She had patiently waited in the bedroom with the door
securely locked, should he attempt to gain an entry, until she was
sure he would have been diverted. He was easily distracted by a
pretty face, especially when he had been drinking. She knew of
several girls from the village who had shared his bed since he had
come to stay at the quinta. He paid them handsomely to remain
silent about his indiscretions, but there was little Pilar did not
know of the goings-on in the house. She made it her business to
know. Anything that affected Natalia affected her, too. She had
racked her brains as the day of the wedding approached, trying to
find a way her mistress could rid herself of this unwanted menace
in her life. Short of slipping a dagger between his shoulder blades
while he slept, she had found no solution. The knife was a last,
desperate resort. If he ever hurt Natalia, or brought her one
moment of pain or grief when she was his wife, Pilar would not
hesitate.
She paused out in the courtyard, heard a door slam somewhere
behind her, and was on the point of turning when Cesar's arm went
about her waist, lifting her bodily from the ground and bearing her
back into the darkness. His hot mouth sought hers. His hands
searched her body in the crudest fashion.
'Natalia . . . lovely little Natalia. It's only me.' He was quite drunk,
she realised, scarcely able to pronounce his words clearly. She
tried to struggle, but he had her arms pinned to her side. When she
opened her mouth to shout for help, he thrust his free hand over it.
She panicked as he used the full weight of his body to push her

down to the ground. He had dragged her into the stables, and the
near-by horses snorted in apprehension at the new arrivals.
'You were willing to give time to the English officer, so now you
can spend some with me! Did you think I really believed you had a
headache? It's time I showed you how much I want you, little
Natalia. After tonight, you will have no reason to run away from
me.'
Pilar shuddered as he fastened his fingers in the front of her bodice
and ripped it open. She still had not spoken a word. And in that
moment she knew exactly how she could free her innocent
mistress from the lust of this drunken animal. He was too drunk to
realise he had the wrong woman . . . She turned her face away to
avoid his hot breath, and was still . . .

Although it was after midnight, the revelry had not diminished. In

fact, as the wine flowed like a swollen river from the five-litre
kegs, the bride and groom wisely departed to the cottage which
had been given to them by Dom Abilio, leaving most of their
guests none the wiser. Daniel, with the willing assistance of two
different girls, led a procession of dancers through the dimly
lighted streets and alleys. Only half of those who started out
returned to replenish their thirst at the tables. Courting couples had
slipped away in the darkness, exhausted children crawled into a
corner to eat the honey cakes they had crammed into their pockets
when no one was looking, Father Jose stopped to help a fragile,
very unsteady parishioner to find his front door.
Drew and Alida were among those missing, Natalia noticed. Adam
was aware of it too, she realised, seeing his gaze sweep the
darkened alleys.

'Do you disapprove?' she asked softly, and he gave a shrug, meant
to indicate that he did not. But she suspected otherwise. He cared
for his brother as deeply as she did for Alida. They wanted neither
to be hurt. 'My sister deserves to be happy. If Drew does this for
her, then I am glad for them both.'
'So am I, so long as . . .' He broke off, leaving the sentence
unfinished.
'. . . she does not hurt him? Alida will not do that. Have you seen
the way they look at each other? I envy what they have found.'
'Do you?' Adam turned and looked down at her, his eyes
narrowing as he heard the sincerity in her voice. 'Drew is a fool if
he expects any woman to wait for him while he goes off to fight.
He doesn't have that right.'
'I don't agree with you. Just because you happen to think so, it
doesn't mean that he has to follow your set of rules. Perhaps he
wants to have someone to come back to . . . someone praying for
him while he is away . . . someone who will be there to love him
whatever happens.'
'You are a dreamer,' Adam said harshly, wishing she did not make
it sound so inviting. 'In more cases than I care to recall, men under
my command have had no one to go back to. Letters come in the
thick of battle. . . lies to dull their minds when they need to be at
their most alert. Excuses for sleeping with another man, or for the
child not fathered by them ... I have no illusions about an honest
woman. I have yet to meet one!'
'You are a hard man. I think you have been alone too long. If, as I
believe, Alida loves your brother, she will never betray him. No
more would I destroy something as wonderful as she has found.
You will see. She will make you eat your words.'

'And you, Natalia? Would you remain at home, alone, waiting for
your man? No wild rides across the countryside with gallant
English officersno festas to relieve the boredom?'
'Now you are laughing at me again! It is you who are the fool,'
Natalia stormed, and flung herself away from him as he put out a
hand to catch hold of her. He followed, but made no other attempt
to detain her until they were well away from the laughter and
shouting as some of the guerrilleros began a mock bull-fight
among themselves. Once the noise had receded, however, he
lengthened his stride to keep pace with her. Although she knew
she ought to stop and turn back, for there was no other person now
in sight, Natalia was too angry to consider it.
'I am going back to the house,' she snapped, not looking at him.
His silence infuriated her still more. 'I do not need an escort.'
'Your sense of direction is appalling,' he drawled. 'We are going
the wrong way.'
'Oh!' She halted so abruptly that he broke into laughter, and rested
his back against a low wall to finish his black cigarette, as she
looked about her to seek her bearings. So many lights confused
her. 'Take me back!' she demanded.
'I did not bring you,' he reminded her. 'I'd rather like an answer to
my question. Are you the kind of woman a man can trust? Could
you be a loyal, loving wife and stay at home, when all about you
your friends are going out enjoying themselves?'
'If I found a man to love . . . yes.' The answer came without
hesitation. 'For you I would stay at home,' she whispered silently
to the silent man opposite. 'If you asked it of me, I would follow
you into battle, wash your clothes, mend your socks, tend your
wounds. Just to be near you, I would risk death itself.'

As before, he read her mind with uncanny accuracy.

'Somehow I can't envisage those lovely soft hands blistered with
hard work. If I loved a woman enough to marry her, I wouldn't
want to leave her alone. I'd want her with me every moment of the
day and night.' He straightened and came closer, peering into her
upturned face. 'Nor would I subject her to the rigours of army life.
You don't know what it's like . . . How can you? You are a lady,
meant for better things.'
'Whenwhen will you leave?' Natalia's voice was barely audible.
His words crushed her. She could not let him go without trying to
make him understand what she felt. Even if he laughed at her
again, he would know, and perhaps one day in the future, he would
remember the village of Alto Verde and the girl who was willing
to follow him to the ends of the earth.
'Tomorrowat about noon. My men will all have thick heads, but
that's never stopped them riding before. Drew and I are expected in
Lisboa. If I know my father, a party awaits our arrival.'
'At your father's house?' He nodded. 'Take me with you? II can
stay with Alida when you return to Torres Vedras. I shall come
with you, if you like. I have to get away from here before . . .
before I die of suffocation!'
'You little idiot! You don't know what you are asking.' Adam's
voice was so harsh that she flinched. 'What you ask is impossible.
For one, your father would come after me with a loaded gun. God
knows what he would do to you! Whatever possessed you to ask
me that?'
'I can stay with Alida,' Natalia repeated hollowly. 'I don't want to
stay here. I can't. . . now.'

'Now?' His fingers fastened over her shoulders, biting into the soft
skin beneath her blouse. 'Whynow? What are you trying to say,
Natalia? We have enjoyed each other's company these past few
days, I admit it. . . But that's all. Don't try to make any more out of
it. You will only hurt yourself with such delusions.'
At the same time as he uttered the words and felt her stiffen in
pain, he knew they were a lie. She had given him much more than
just her company or a few sweet smiles. She challenged the way he
had chosen to live. Without realising it until this moment, he knew
that life would never be the same without her. Yet what could he
do? He balked at risking everything to take her with him . . . the
consequences would not bear consideration. The scandal would
harm her more than him, and he did not want to hurt her in any
way. She was too precious to him.
With a fierce expletive, he tilted back her chin and saw tears
glistening in her eyes.
'Don't say anything,' she begged. 'Just hold me. I know that what I
ask is impossible. I must stay here, and you will leave. I shall
never see you again . . . but we have these few moments more.
Hold me . . . Let me pretend it could be otherwise.'
Tears soaked the velvet of the mask. She tore it away and buried
her face against his shirt. For a moment he did not movedid not
touch her. Then his arms closed round her tighter and tighter until,
with something almost sounding like a groan of pain, he tipped
back her head and kissed her with sudden turbulent passion. The
kisses rained on her mouth and neck were not gentle as before, but
fiercely demanding, intent on provoking a response from her. Had
she wanted to resist, she found herself wondering what chance she
would have stood against the experience imparted into every one,
weakening her, battering down the defences which came under

attack every moment they were together and were now shattered,
leaving her defenceless. None! She had none now . . .
Her hands locked in total surrender behind his neck, her fingers
toying with his thick short hair. The texture of it surprised her, for
it was silky to the touch. She had expected it to be coarsehard
like the man himself. Why had she ever thought Adam Sorrell
hard? Arrogant? Unfeeling? She sighed as she pressed closer
against him, feeling the taut muscles of his chest against her
breasts. She gave no thought to anything or anyone, save the sheer
ecstasy of the moment and the man who held her. But Adam did.
They stood in a narrow lane bordering open fields. On one side of
a low stone wall were a cluster of almond trees in full bloom. He
could see everything clearly, for there was a full moon which
bathed the whole countryside in a silver sheen. If anyone came
upon them ...
Natalia felt herself lifted and borne away. She opened her mouth to
ask where he was taking her, but the words were never uttered. A
moment more . . . two . . . alone with him, that was so little to ask
when she would never see him again. The sweet aroma of fava
beans planted on the far side of the fields reached her as he laid her
down on thick, clover-dotted grass. She opened her eyes as he
sprawled beside her, but it was too dark here to see the expression
on his face. Beyond them the path was a bright as day, but here,
beneath the heavily-laden boughs of the trees, was a cloak of
darkness to hide them from prying eyes, to keep her secret from
those who would run to her father and betray her, deprive her of
these few most precious moments.
Detached by the wind, a shower of pink and white petals fluttered
down upon them. With a soft chuckle, Adam brushed them from
his hair and from her face. His fingers lingered on the smooth skin
where several had settled just above the hollow of her breasts.

'I feel like the princess in the legend,' Natalia said, her breath
catching in her throat. 'Do you know the story?'
'Tell me,' he said quietly. He knew it well, but he did not want to
break the spell that surrounded them. It was as though they were
cocooned in another world all of their own. He wanted to listen to
her voice, and to remember this night when he was back in the
field, cold, hungry, dirty, fighting his own kind of war with his
guerrilleros.
He knew, as she told him the legend of the sad princess, how much
it meant to her. She, too, had dreams. He wanted to tell her he was
no handsome prince come to sweep her off her feet, although had
the world been his to give, he would have laid it before her as a
silent admission of what was in his heart. He had never before
found himself lost for words. It forced him to acknowledge how
drasticallyhow forcefullythis slender, blue-eyed girl had
thrust herself into his closed existence. She challenged everything
he believed in . . .
'Why aren't you laughing at me?' Natalia asked, her fingers lightly
touching his cheek. Beneath the skin, although it was not visible
with the deep tan, she could feel a scar slicing from eyebrow to
chin. 'I think you have been in many battles,' she added, as he took
her fingers and turned them palm upwards to plant a kiss there.
'An old sabre-wound. A French cuirassier tried to lop my head off.
Why should I laugh at such a beautiful story? Do you think me an
unfeeling brute?'
'Men don't seem to hold such store by these things as we women
do. My father thinks I am a dreamer . . . he is always telling me so.
I am a great disappointment to him, but I don't really know why. I
never seem to please him. Even Alida thinks I am foolish. Oh, she

doesn't say as much, but I see it in her eyes sometimes. But then
she has been married to a cruel man who did not love her. I shall
pray with your brother that she finds what she is looking for.'
'So shall Ifor Drew's sake, as well as hers. I do not want my
brother to be hurt,' Adam returned. 'Men have their dreams as well,
you know! One day I shall own a quinta like this one. My
vineyards will stretch as far as the eye can see. I shall build a fine
house, with long archways to shelter the patios. There will be
flowers about the walls, and orchards . . .' He broke off, suddenly
aware that he had never discussed his ambitious hopes with
anyone. His father, even though they were close, took for granted
that his eldest son would not only inherit the family business, but
continue to greater things. Sorrell men had always had high
ambitions and always achieved their set goals. Adam would be no
different.
Drew also would do what he wantedmarry, raise a family and
settle for a quiet English lifestyle in the country. He would be a
village doctor and well content with his lot. Adam found himself
wondering how Alida would fit into that pictureif at all.
'I should like to see your house when it is built,' Natalia murmured.
Hot tears pricked her eyes and she turned her head away, afraid he
might feel them on his cheek. She would never see it, of course . . .
nor him, after tonight.
'What is it, menina? Do you want me to take you back to the
others?' He knew he should, but it was not what he wanted. . .
Neither was it her choice, he realised, as she turned back to look
up at him.
'No, I want to stay here with you for ever . . .'If only that were
possible! No father, no Cesar, no marriage . . . Just the two of

them, and her dreams. 'No one will miss me; that is why I am
wearing Pilar's clothes. She went to bed, pretending to have a
headache. When she reappears, she will stay well out of the way of
. . . Father', she corrected herself in time. She had been about to
say 'Cesar'. 'This was her idea. I don't know what I would have
done without her. We could never have been alone, and I wanted
to be with you,' she whispered shyly.
Adam laid his lips tenderly against hers. He felt the wetness of
tears on her cheeks and was momentarily startled, but as she
wound her arms about his neck and her lips flared to life beneath
his, they were forgotten. With the barriers he himself had erected
to keep them apart no longer able to withstand the onslaught of his
own desires, he allowed himself the pleasure of holding her,
exploring her trembling body with knowledgeable hands, plying
her soft mouth with unrestrained kisses. He wanted this girl as he
had wanted no other in his life before. Caution was thrown aside,
and his cardinal rule discarded alongside. His fingers reached for
the plait of red-gold hair, and began to unbraid it.

Carefully Pilar eased herself away from the figure sprawled beside
her, who was snoring drunkenly. Holding together her torn bodice,
she limped to the door and began to scream. Soon she was
surrounded by men and women who needed only one look at her
dishevelled condition, the mass of black hair where pieces of straw
still clung, the bruises already beginning to show on her face and
arms, to know the terrible thing that had happened. The tears
which came, as questions filled the air, brought relief in the wake
of what had been done to her.
Someone ran off to find Father Jose and Dom Abilio. Minutes
later; both men came shouldering their way through the crowd

surrounding her. Once again she blurted out how Cesar had
dragged her into the stables and brutally attacked her. Curious
faces peered in at the prostrate figure who still snored blissfully a
few feet away, unaware of the storm about to erupt about him.
'Just a minute!' Abilio held up a hand, and immediately silence
reigned. He was staring at the yellow gown Pilar wore, torn and
dusty now, the beautiful lace which had once adorned it ripped
away, hanging useless from sleeves and bodice. For one terrible
moment when he had first come running in the wake of his
servant, all he had seen was the bright colour. He had recognised it
at once. Natalia! His daughter had been attacked! Violated by the
man he had chosen to care for her. It could not be! And then Pilar
had turned to face him and he had felt a cold fury begin to rise
inside him as he came to realise what had taken place. Natalia had
changed clothes with her maid, and Cesar, in his inebriated
condition, not knowing the difference, had detained the wrong girl.
'Where is your mistress?'
No words of comfort for the traumatic experience Pilar had
suffered, no kindness on the hard, brown face. He had to find
Natalia. Where was she? Who with?
'Oh, senhor . . . forgive me,' Pilar stammered, clutching at his
hand, pressing it to her mouth. When he snatched it away, Father
Jose looked at him reprovingly, not understanding his lack of
concern over what had taken place. A vile act deserving of the
harshest punishment. As the juiz of Alto Verde, it was his duty to
arrest and deal with the culprit, no matter who he was. And there
was no doubt of that. The priest cast his eyes away from Cesar, his
mouth deepening in disgust. Why was there always one law for the
rich and another for the poor? This was not the first village girl to
have suffered at the hands of this man . . . and poor Dona Natalia

was to be his bride. Heaven forbid that such a sweet creature

should be subjected to a monster like that!
'My daughter, where is she? Speak, woman! Do you think me a
fool? You are wearing the gown she wore earlier . . . Tell me, or
I'll take a whip to you now, and add a few more bruises to those he
gave you!'
There were gasps of surprise at his harsh words, but then whispers
and knowing glances went towards the tell-tale saffron gown.
Horror began turning to speculation . . .
'She is not at fault, senhor. That English devil has bewitched her.
She asked me to change clothes with her so that she could meet
him without anyone knowing. . . It is God's retribution what has
happened to me, for allowing her to make me obey her. I wanted to
come to you, but he. . . he said he would set men to guard me if I
did not do as she wanted. His men . . . the guerrilleros! I was
afraid!'
'Which one, girl? Damn it, there are two of them!'
'Major Sorrell. She is with him.' Pilar covered her face with her
hands as Abilio swung about calling for torches, ordering every
street and alley to be searched, every garden and orchard combed
until Natalia was found. The festa was forgotten . . . even Cesar
was momentarily excluded from their thoughts, until Father Jose
spoke up, to regain everyone's attention.
'Is the man who attacked this poor girl to go free, Dom Abilio?'
Abilio Lareira barely looked at the shadowy figure sprawled in the
straw. With Natalia alone somewhere with the Englishman,
nothing else was important to him, but he knew he had to say
something to appease the angry faces thronging him. He knew also

that there would be no marriage ... no grandson for the Quinta das
Raposeiras ... at least not with this man.
'Carry him to the house. Lock him in his room and put a man to
stand guard at the door. Until I return, he is to remain there. He
shall pay for his crime, Father, never fear. As will the Englishman,
if he has laid a hand on my daughter. Perhaps you should pray for
them both.'
Pilar watched the torches disappear into the distance. From time to
time the searchers called to each other, and children followed, still
playing their games, not understanding the seriousness of this new
adventure. Slowly she turned and went into the house. One of the
young maids ran to help her, and led her into the kitchen, where
she poured her some wine, and bathed the grazes and cuts on her
skin and tried, unsuccessfully, not to ask too many questions.
She received no answers, and began to wonder if the shock had not
turned Pilar's mind. She sat by the window like a statue, gazing out
into the darkness, not touching her wine or the tit-bits of food
offered, and sympathetic words fell on deaf ears. Occasionally she
touched the cut at one side of her mouth, and a strange smile
would flit across the dark features.
Half an hour later the torches reappeared, coming back towards the
house. Only then did Pilar come back to life. Still without a word,
she climbed to her feet and went upstairs to await the return of her
mistress. It was possible that Natalia would never forgive her for
what she had done, but she had achieved her aim. . .She had seen
that by the look of disgust on Dom Abilio's face that Cesar would
never become his son-in-law.
Natalia became aware of voices in the distance . . . shouting . . .
calling her name. No, she was mistaken. With Pilar in her place,

who would come looking for her? Golden chains and necklaces lay
in a heap on top of the black velvet jacket on the grass beside her.
Her blouse was open to the waist baring firm young breasts to
Adam's tantalising caresses. She moaned as his lips seared her bare
skin, her senses clamouring for his touch, more of the soulsearching kisses which reduced her to a quivering reed in his arms.
The consequences of her actions had long since vanished from her
mind. She refused to accept that anything so wonderful could be
wrong or sinful. Yet she was about to give herself to a man who
would never marry her ... It was sinful! Damned to the eternal fires
of hell, her soul would be forever lost. She fought and lost the
battle to push Adam away, to snatch up her things and flee from
his presence. Instead, she brushed a kiss across the dark hair on his
chest, inwardly wondering at her boldness as she did so, but there
were no longer any chains binding her to convention, to the
behaviour of a lady. . . love had freed her to be herself.
'When you go, wherever you go, I shall pray for you, Adao. I shall
never love a man as I love you!'
She felt the whole of his body stiffen in shock. He drew back from
her, peering down into her shadowed features. Love! She had said
she loved him! Was that what he felt for her? Unwittingly she had
spoken the only words which could have brought him to his
senses, forced him to struggle for some composure. Love was
something he had not dared allow himself even to contemplate.
Tomorrow he would be gone from her life. There was more than a
slight possibility that he could be killed or seriously wounded in
the fighting to come. Either way, she would suffer because she had
known him.
'Do I offend you with the truth? I am sorry. Do not be angry. . . I
ask nothing from you. You have told me how you feel about being

tied to one woman.' She made it sound like being sentenced to a

chain-gang for life, Adam thought, his mouth tightening at the
break in her voice. That was how he had once considered
marriage, but with this girl it could be so different ... 'I shall be
content with tonight... At least, let me have that . . .'
Natalia did not see the figures creeping up on them until it was too
late, and several dark shapes loomed over Adam's back. She cried
out as somethingshe could not see what, but the sound it made
as it connected with the back of his head made nausea rise in her
stomachwas brought down with great force. He slumped across
her with a groan, his weight pinning her to the ground. But it was
for a moment only. A torch was thrust downwards, and Adam was
hauled away from her to slump unconscious in the grasp of two of
her father's servants.
Abilio himself reached down and, grasping her by the wrist, pulled
her unceremoniously to her feet. She cried out in pain as the flat of
his hand struck her across first one cheek and then the other. This,
too, with such force that she would have fallen had he not been
holding her.
Through eyes swimming with tears, she saw her father rake her
from head to toe, his face growing bleak at the sight of her loose
hair, the gaping blouse and crumpled skirts. Then lifted to stare
bleakly at Adam's open shirt. Slowly his gaze passed on to the
faces of the watchful villagers, who were silent witnesses to the
disgrace his daughter had brought upon his house. Rolling in the
grass like a common street woman! And, from what he had heard
as he crept up on them, wanting more . . . enjoying it!
'Have you nothing to say for yourself, girl?' he thundered. Natalia
winced as he raised his clenched fist, terrified she was about to be
struck again.

Alida materialised from the shadows behind him, caught his arm,
and said in a low, but controlled voice, 'Not here, Father. Must we
air our dirty linen in public? Let me take her back to the house. We
can deal with her there.'
Abilio hesitated. It was too late to worry how many people knew
about this disgraceful incident. Many had seen and heard, and
those who had not would be told before morning. But if the
slightest whisper leaked out of Alto Verde, the whole village
would pay, and they knew it.
Natalia clutched at the front of her blouse. Alida fastened the
ribbons for her, not meeting her sister's eyes. Was she ashamed of
her, too, Natalia wondered in horror? Was she not going to Lisboa
with Drew Sorrell? Opening her house so that they could be
together . . . She had no right!
'Yes, the house,' Abilio muttered absently, still staring at the
unconscious Adam. 'This matter must be settled quickly. I hope
you realise he is a dead man, my girl,' he said, as he flung his
daughter into her sister's outstretched arms and turned on his heel.
He did not speak to her again on the agonisingly slow return to the
house, hemmed in by silent villagers who gradually slipped away
to tell their own version of the story to others who had left the
festa early. The way they looked at Natalia sickened her. Only one
or two expressions betrayed sympathy for her plight. They were all
too afraid of her father to take her side, she realised.
Alida helped her upstairs to her room, where they found Pilar
waiting to take her mistress in her arms and offer the first real
comfort she had been offered. So great was her agitation as she
dwelt on her father's words that she at first did not notice the
bruises and cuts on the maid's face. Hours later, as shock began to
recede, a terrifying numbness came in its place. She sat in a chair

with Alida on one side of her, trying in vain to offer words of

consolation. What could she say? Nothing mattered now except to
appease their father's wrath somehow . . . and ensure that no harm
came to Adam Sorrell.
'I hope you realise he is a dead man.' As she recalled the words,
Natalia grew so pale and agitated that both women with her
thought she might faint. Pilar fetched a glass of sweet lemonade
for her to drink. As she took it, Natalia became aware of the marks
on the brown face, and the maid knew that the time had come to
tell her what else had taken place that evening.
'Leave us, I wish to speak to her alone,' Abilio said from the open
doorway. Pilar slipped past him without a backward glance at the
dejected figure still sitting in the chair, but once outside, she took
up a position close enough to the door to hear if Dom Abilio used
more violence against his daughter. Not even he would be allowed
to lay another finger on her!
'Father, she knows about Pilar. Hasn't she suffered enough?' Alida
begged, rising to her feet. She dared not disobey the command,
although she did not know what lay in store for her poor sister. A
convent, most likely. For Adam Sorrell, there was the likelihood of
a duel with her father, and probably with Cesar too . . . the man
was vain enough to call out his rival even after what he had done.
He, of all people, would be the one to suffer least from all this, she
suspected. 'Let it end here, for all our sakes.'
'It will end when my name has been vindicated . . . and her name is
not besmirched with mud. Deus! Why did He allow this to
happen? Leave us.'
As the door closed behind her sister, Natalia raised her head.
Taking a deep breath, she looked her father directly in the eyes

with an open defiance that inwardly shocked him. A moment ago

she had looked afraid, dejected, full of remorse. Now that they
were alone, they were enemies again . . . and she was prepared to
fight him.
'I am not ashamed that for a little while I lay in the arms of the
man I love. You had no right to expect me to marry Cesar, share
his bed, bear his children, knowing how I felt about him. I hate
him, do you hear? I loathe the very sight of him. I shall take the
veil rather than stand by his side and hear Father Jose make us man
and wife. I would rather die!'
Her voice faltered and broke. Tears swam in her blue eyes, but she
brushed them away before he thought them a show of weakness.
She must be strong . . . and save Adam somehow.
'There will be no marriage between you,' Abilio replied heavily.
Crossing to the window, he stared down into the courtyard. A few
villagers still lingered by the well and beneath the trees, casting
furtive glances towards the house. Damn them and their curiosity!
he fumed. They were waiting and watching to see what he would
do, what punishment he would pronounce on the man who had
defiled his daughter.
It was ironic, he thought, how fate had given him the chance to
eradicate the mistakes he had made. Natalia did not want Cesar.
Now she did not have to have him. He would give her what she
really wanted, a token gesture of the unacclaimed affection he still
held back so well from both his daughters. His eyes narrowed as
they came to rest on Natalia's flushed cheeks. He could not get the
vision of her lying in Sorrell's arms out of his mind . . . the open
blouse, the tousled hair, the skirts and petticoats riding high about
her slender thighs. The child had become a woman without him
realising it!

'It had to happen. The fault was mine. I should not have allowed
you to talk me into a long betrothal. You should have married
Cesar last year, and you would have a child to occupy your time. It
is too late now.'
'A child by an animal who has just raped my maid?' Natalia flung
back. 'That's all you care about, isn't it? A child ... an heir . . . you
will never have one now!' She straightened and slowly came to her
feet, her eyes growing wide. 'What do you mean ... I am not going
to marry Cesar? He has freed me?'
'I would not have allowed it anyway, after what has happened, but
yes, he has given you back to me. He does not wish to have soiled
goods.' The rush of colour which came to Natalia's cheeks
deepened his belief that he had come upon her and her lover too
late. Why was it always too late? His fault? Yes, his entirely . . .
But had he told her what troubled him, could she have understood,
until this moment when something inside her reared its head,
urging rebellion against everything she had been taught. His fault .
. . But not all his. 'Do you want this man? This Major Adam
Sorrell? I heard you say you loved him. You know nothing of love,
believe me . . . Even less of men like the Major. You could not
hold him for a moment away from here, when he is with his own
kind . . . Would you be prepared to suffer his contempt until the
day you die? That will be the price you will pay.'
'I would pay any price to be with him . . . follow him anywhere! It
does not matter that he does not love me. I love him. I always
shall. Do what you want with me, I don't care, so long as you do
not harm him. I know you will not believe me, but nothing
happened. . .not in the way you think. If you had not found us . . .'
She nodded her head. 'Yes, I would have belonged to him, and not
regretted it for an instant. Why could you not have found a man
like Adam for me? He will not drag me to some mausoleum in

Setubal and parade me before his friends like a useless ornament!

You would have had your precious grandson, Father, but he would
not have lived here. You would have been totally alone. You could
not have taught him to love the vines as you do. Possibly you
would see him two or three times a year, if you were lucky. Adam
loves the land, and he would have grown to love this place. I think
he already hasand me, had I been free. I would have made it
happen. He could love me. I know it!'
'And if it did not happen? What kind of life would you have?'
'Better than one I would share with Cesar. A life with the man I
love. I promise that you would have had many, many fine sons.'
At the ensuing silence, Natalia fell back into the chair. What was
he going to do? Challenge Adam? Abilio was a fair shot; was
Adam better? If either were killed or injured, it would be her fault .
. . And then there was Cesar. He would demand satisfaction
because he knew it was expected of him. He had to maintain the
facade of being the grossly injured party. The outrage of Pilar's
body was of little importance.
'What are you going to do?' she cried, as he turned towards the
door. 'Blame me, if anyone must be blamed. I ask no mercy for
myself, for I know there is none in you to give. You have never
loved me. But do not hurt a good and kind man because of that
dislike. Let him go. We shall never see him again.'
'Change into some respectable clothes and come downstairs. If you
have no wish to see blood spilled on your account, you will do
exactly as I tell you, do you understand?'
Mutely Natalia nodded, her hopes rising. Did this mean that there
would be no duel... for any of them?

'Swear it?' Abilio demanded, and the words dropped from her lips
like a death-knell, as she was committing herself to whatever he
decided.
'I swear it.'
'The past will not rule me in this decision, or my own desires. You
have chosen your man.' At his words, Natalia felt the room reel
unsteadily around her. What was he telling her? 'You shall be
married tonight.'
'No!' she screamed. 'No!' It was the one thing Adam would never
agree to! But her father had already gone.

CHAPTER FIVE
'ADAM, ARE you all right?' It was Drew's voice, but coming from a
long way off. Adam opened his eyes, but a thousand coloured
lights exploded inside his brain, and with a groan he slumped in
the high-backed chair where he had been deposited by the two
villagers who had brought him back to the house. Then, addressing
someone else, 'Did your man have to hit him o hard?'
'Under the circumstances, I would not say unnecessary force was
used.' The voice of Abilio Lareira, cold and distant.
Where the hell was he? Adam wondered. It was impossible to
remember anything while someone was wielding a hammer with
great gusto inside his head. Had he been drinking? Did he recall
dancingmusica girl? He shook his head to try and clear it, and
winced in pain. 'The man has known my daughter since she was
born. To come across her, beingmanhandledby a stranger! He
acted quite within his rights. Any man from this village would
have done the same.'
'Manhandled be damned!' Drew snapped. He rarely lost his
temper, but he was close to it now. Of all women to get involved
with, Adam had to choose the daughter of the local judge. A girl
about to be married, although he suspected that his brother was
unaware of that fact. He had been played for a fool. It was not like
him to fall so easily for a pair of blue eyes. He was a cautious man,
who usually chose his women with great care. A snatch at
pleasure, such as his men enjoyed, was not his way. And yet . . . he
could not believe it! 'Your daughter didn't look as if she was
exactly being forced, senhor. I was there, remember. I heard her,
too!'

'You heard nothing, Captain Sorrell. For your own sake, as well as
that of the Major, I suggest you remember that.'
Manhandled? Girl? Forced? What the devil were they talking
about? Adam struggled to rise above the pain and nausea engulfing
him, opened his eyes and lifted an unsteady hand to the back of his
throbbing head. Someone had hit him? He had a lump there the
size of an ostrich egg. He blinked several times before being able
to ascertain that he was in a room where bookshelves lined every
wall. Behind a large carved oak desk sat Abilio Lareira. His
features were rigid with anger as he gazed across the room towards
him.
'You are recovering, Major Sorrell. Good.' He did not sound as
though he cared one way or the other, Adam thought, relieved that
the mists were clearing from his vision. 'Pour your brother a large
brandy, Captain. I am sure he needs it. And one for yourself. Then
let us bring a swift conclusion to this ugly affair.'
'Thanks.' Adam reached for the glass Drew handed him with a
grateful smile. It was more like a grimace, for it hurt even to make
that small gesture. 'Would someone mind telling me what is going
on? Nothing is clear . . .'
'How convenient. However, loss of memory will get you nowhere,'
Abilio remarked drily.
Adam swallowed the brandy without appreciation. Pictures began
to flash through his mind ... of a girl with burnished gold curls,
large eyes the colour of sapphires ... He had been holding her,
making love to her, when . . .
Drew saw the sudden dawning of reality mirrored in the pain-filled
eyes, and said steadily, 'You were with Dona Natalia tonight,
Adam . . .'

'Yes. We've been together since the wedding, dancing and

enjoying ourselves.' He was still dazed and not too careful with his
words. He had nothing to hide! 'What's wrong with that? I don't
see you with a lump on your head or an irate father breathing down
your neck, and we were about the same thing!'
'Dona Natalia is betrothed, Adam. To Dom Cesar Duarte, the man
you exchanged insults with tonight. She had no right to be with
you, and she knew it. She even changed clothes to avoid being
recognised because she knew the mischief she was causing with
her foolishness.'
'Mischief?' Adam echoed. Betrothedto that boor? She had said
she loved him! Or had he imagined it? No, she had told him very
little about herself, he realised, forcing himself over the pain in
order to concentrate. He held out his empty glass. Drew took it and
refilled it without looking at Abilio or asking his permission. The
older man said nothing, and motioned back the servant who moved
to intercept him. 'Where is she? Bring her in here, and she will
clear me of whatever nasty suspicions are lurking in your mind,
senhor. We spent a pleasant evening togethernothing else
happened. You have my word.'
'If you swore it to me on the Holy Bible, it would make no
difference,' he was told. 'You were found with my daughter in a
most compromising situation. Her honour is at stake. The honour
of my name, Major Sorrell. I intend neither to be tarnished because
you do not know the difference between a lady of good blood and
a tasca whore.'
The last words brought Adam to his feet, grey flints of steel
glinting in the narrowed eyes.

'A lady does not become betrothed to one man and tell another she
loves him,' he flung back, swaying unsteadily .Drew put out a hand
to steady him, but it was brushed aside. Adam lurched to the desk
where Abilio sat, and leaned upon it heavily, glaring at the man
who had confronted him with such a devastating accusation. 'Nor
does she seek him out. Yes, senhor, your daughter did the seeking.'
'. . . and would have been willing to a great deal more if they had
not been interrupted,' he almost said. Somehow he stopped
himself.
Why was he so angry? He had been suspicious of her in the first
place. No one could be as innocent as thatand he was right! She
had flirted with him, teased him with a non-existent virtue that had
brought him to the very brink of casting aside his doubts and
carefully made plans ... of declaring that he was wrong . . . and so
lonely. He had never admitted it to himself before, and the
knowledge shocked him deeply. How many nights had he lain
awake, listening to his men discussing their wives and families?
For those who received distressing letters from home, there were
double that number who were happily married and had fine bonny
children. He wanted that, too. A wife, a home, children. And for
the first time in his life he had found a woman he was willing to
give up everything for. His ambitions could wait. . . she would
come first. His heart had ruled his head, and look where it had got
him! Fool! Blind idiot! He was worse than any of his men ... he
who had so confidently mapped out the perfect future. He felt
betrayed! He berated himself in silent agony of mind. She had lied,
had tricked him . . . God, how his head hurt!
He walked back to the chair and sat down, took the second brandy
and drank it more slowly than the first, feeling it begin to clear the
last of the cobwebs from his mind. Drew saw the coldness that
settled over the berry-brown features, the diamond frost which
appeared in the depths of the grey-green eyes, and swallowed hard.

His brother was angry. Dangerously angry! He wished he could

have warned their men of these developments, but he had been
thrust into the library with as much lack of ceremony as Adam
himself. Alida had whispered to him, before she was ordered
upstairs, something about a marriage to put everything right. If that
did not happen . . . Adam faced the possibility of being challenged
by both Dom Abilio and the man Natalia was to marry. In the
unlikely event he survived, he would be turned over to the
villagersas the last French soldier who had ravished a girl had
been.
It was all some ghastly mistake, Adam found himself thinking. He
could not have been so wrong about her. He had held her, felt the
hesitant, almost child-like, responses from her soft lips, the
endearments she whispered as he caressed her. An innocentor a
talented actress? No. In a moment she would burst through the
door and tell her father the truth, that he had not stolen her virtue
... If she was innocent, why then had she not told him of the other
man? Why had she deliberately sought him out the morning they
rode together, challenged him to a race, and further aroused his
interest in her? Everything she had done, from the first moment
they met in this house, had been in a deliberate attempt to focus his
attention on her. No innocent, but a witch with the face of an
angel.
He concluded that she must have done this kind of thing many
times before; why else was it so natural to her? Others had come
before him, others would follow him, even after her marriage. His
condemnation of her helped to assuage his shattered pride . . . and
his anger settled like a protective mantle over the chasm that had
once been his heart. All these thoughts and many more, as he
dwelt on the brief time they had shared, passed behind an
implacable mask through which no one else could see. Years of
soldiering, of accepting death as an everyday part of life, had

hardened him, taught him to control his emotions before others.

She had roused in him a passion he did not even know existed!
Damn her! Damn her to hell!
'Exactly what kind of retribution do you think you will bring down
on my head, senhor?' he enquired in a cool, insolent tone that made
Abilio's mouth tighten. Struck down from behind by a blow that
would have kept a lesser man unconscious for hours, accused of
heavens knows whathe was still in control of himself. Abilio
momentarily acknowledged that Natalia had been right. Why could
he not have found a man like this as a husband for her? Drew
became more uneasy, knowing his brother was at his most deadly
when he was angry, but polite, suffering insults without striking
back. Like a jungle animal, he could pounce without warning to
crush his prey.
'Dom Abilio, I assure you my brother is not a liar. If he says your
daughter was . . .' A look from across the desk froze him.
'Was what, Captain? Would you have me believe that a young girl
of barely eighteen years, brought up in the seclusion of this
household, a devout Catholic girl who has been betrothed to the
same man since she was six, has spent all her years preparing for
the day when she would be his wife . . .'He came to his feet.
Although he was not tall, he seemed to fill the room with his fury.
Neither Drew nor Adam were aware the display was made more
dramatic by the added guilt that he himself felt. This was his last
chance to prove not only to Natalia, but to himself, that he was
capable of caring.'. . . would openly flirt with another man, a
stranger? She offered hospitality, as I would expect her to . . .
polite conversation . . . Major Sorrell took advantage of her youth
and her inexperience to perpetrate his seduction. No doubt he has
had many such diversions that have provided him with amusement
to alleviate the boredom of war. This one will cost him dear.'

'Need I remind you that your daughter changed clothes with her
maid so that neither you nor Senhor Duarte would know she was
slinking out to meet me?' Adam interrupted.
'As you suggested she should. Her maid has confessed everything
to me. It was your idea.'
'And what is Natalia's version?' Adam demanded. So the maid was
in it, too? A pretty trap he had fallen into! He looked away,
ignoring Drew's warning glance. The anger in him was controlled,
but he wanted an end to this farce. He was tired and his head hurt.
All he wanted now was to sleep and then to leave first thing in the
morning. 'Never mind. She had already shown me what an
accomplished liar she is, so I expect she has some tale concocted
for you. If you wish for satisfaction, senhor, if you refuse to accept
my word that your daughter is as pure as the day she came into this
world, I am at your service. After you, I shall accommodate the
other one, if he has the stomach for it.'
'Adam, have you lost your mind?' Drew said, running a hand
distractedly through his unruly hair. 'You cannot fight two duels!
Besides, there is no need, if you . . .'
'If I what?' His brother turned and stared at him from beneath
arched black brows. 'Apologise for something I have not done?
Ordinarily I would not, but if it will get us all out of here at first
light, I shall. Under duress.'
'It is not as simple as you seem to think, Major Sorrell.' Abilio
reseated himself. He felt safer on the far side of the desk, where
Adam could not reach him. As those eyes fastened on him, he had
visions of him launching himself across the space between them,
those lean, strong fingers closing round his neck. 'There is only
one way out of this for you. You will marry Natalia tonight.'

'The devil I will! I'll join him in hell first,' Adam swore, but he did
not move. The only indication of the shock he had received was a
tiny pulse which began to beat rapidly along the line of his scarred
cheek.
'If that is your wish, that is what will happen. Do you know what
happened to the last soldier who molested a girl in this village?'
Abilio's voice was very quiet, perfectly controlled. He was astute
enough to suspect, although his threats did not frighten Adam, that
he would choose life before death. He was a good soldier, he had
seen death, and survived. He knew how pleasant life was . . . 'The
villagers caught him. I could do nothing. . . They put him in the
middle of a haycart and set light to it. He tried to run, of course,
but he was driven back by pitchforks and axes. An unpleasant
death, do you not agree?'
'If I do not walk out of this house very, very soon, senhor, my men
will hear what has happened and they will come and fetch me.
They have muskets and pistols perhaps you had not noticed.
And they are not above slitting the throat of anyone who gets in
their way.'
'I believe you. Men would die . . . men who do not deserve to die
because of your stubbornness, your refusal to accept that you must
pay for yourindiscretion. A gentleman would not hesitate. You
call yourself a gentleman, do you not? Your conduct with my
daughter leads me to wonder otherwise, but . . .'
'Marriage to her would allow you to overlook your disapproval.'
Adam's mouth deepened into a sardonic smile with no humour in
it. 'No, thank you. I shall remain a swine.'
'Perhaps you would care to consider theshall we say
alternatives? Marriage on the one hand, which will bring you not

only Natalia's large dowry, but this quinta when I die . . . and a
considerable amount of money and property for your children.'
'Perhaps I am already a father,' Adam drawled, and his expression
grew noticeably grimmer. He was beginning to believe the judge
had a hand in it, too. Perhaps he and Natalia had planned it
together. Had Cesar Duarte thrown her over, discovered her little
escapades with the others and broken off the engagement?
Disgraced before the whole villagenow that would make them
put their heads together! They were both as proud as Hades!
'The alternative is to walk out of here, and take your chances with
the villagers. I shall be upstairs comforting my daughter, and
unable to intervene until it is unfortunately too late.' He was a
judge, the most respected man in the village. His reputation for fair
dealing was known far and wide. Never would he have allowed a
hair of Adam's head to be touched, but the Major did not know
this. He sounded the injured father, demanding justice for his
innocent daughter. Adam would never know how Abilio fought
down the urge to set him free, walk out of the room and do no
more. Cesar would leave Alto Verde, never to return. Natalia
would retire to a convent and take the veil . . . and he would never
have a grandson, an heir for his beloved home.
'Youa judgewould turn me over to be murdered?' Pain
returned to Adam's brain as he tried desperately to find a way out
of this maze of intrigue and treachery. Marry Natalia? Make that
lying little bitch his wife? 'You forget my men.'
'No, I do not, Major. Neither do I forget your brother, the Captain,
who will be a witness to your very unpleasant demise. I shall have
to discredit him in the eyes of his superiors, of course, but that will
not be too difficult. I, also, have friends in high places. Your men
will be told you left in the night ... to elope with my daughter to

Lisboa. They will try to catch up with you on the road. Please do
nothing foolish,' Abilio hastened to say, as Adam began to rise
from the chair, a murderous gleam in his eyes. To threaten him
was one thing, but to involve Drew! 'There is a servant behind you,
and he is armed. I do not want you rendered unconscious again, or
you will not be able to stand upright for your wedding.'
''There will be no wedding,' Adam grated. 'Give her to Duarte with
my compliments. Returned untouched unwantedunfulfilled.'
Abilio sighed and got to his feet. Carefully he went to the door and
put his hand upon the handle before looking back at the seated
man. Drew's hand had come down reassuringly, comfortingly, on
his brother's shoulder. A solid front against the enemy, but it
would avail them naught. Natalia would have the man she wanted,
he was sure of that.
'I shall speak with Father Jose. He will need a little time to speak
with Natalia before she comes down. Clean clothes will be sent to
you here, Major Sorrell. I am sure you want to look your best for
the occasion.'
Adam swore. Long and hard. Drew stood in an uncomfortable
silence until he had finished. The servant followed Abilio, leaving
them alone.
'You have to do it,' Drew muttered at last when his brother
relapsed into silence.
'Marry her? Did you not hear me say I would not? She liedher
maid, too. God knows what they are about, the pair of them! As
for that old man ... I felt like throttling him! If I didn't feel so weak,
I might have tried it.'

'You wouldn't have got as far as the desk. There was a great ape
behind you with a pistol in his belt. Do you think he's bluffing?
About the bonfire? I don't. I've heard what these Portuguese
villagers do to the enemy.'
'We are supposed to be on their side,' Adam retorted, gingerly
examining his head. His fingers came away with traces of blood on
them. 'Get me some water and a cloth.' The words were hardly out
of his mouth when the door opened again and a woman appeared.
She placed a bowl of water and several linen cloths on the desk,
and scuttled out again without a word.
'Does everyone believe I went off my head and attacked his
daughter?' Adam demanded, the anger rising in him again. 'What
has she said? Where is she?'
'In her room. Dom Abilio has spoken to her, that's all I know. And
Alida . . . But when I tried to ask her what went on up there, she
ran from me. From me, Adam! Damn it, man, we are going to get
married as soon as possible.'
'God help you,' came the unsympathetic reply. 'Open your eyes.
They are both looking for husbands, that's all.'
'Natalia already has one in the offing,' Drew reminded him. 'What
are we going to do?'
'We? Nothing. You stay out of this. Take the men and leave
tonight. I'll do what has to be done, and follow you tomorrow.'
'No, I'm not leaving you to be roasted alive. What has to be done?
Are you going to marry the girl, then? Whatever you decide, I am
standing with you!'

He was a doctor, bound by oath to save lives, not to take them,

although in the course of the bloody conflicts since he came to
Portugal, he had found himself with a pistol or sabre in his hand,
and had killed to save his own life and that of others. He abhorred
violence. He was a simple man, torn from his medical studies and
a dedicated vow to heal. Not a born leader like his brother,
although he had never envied Adam his command.
He knew only too well the agony of mind that was endured over
the loss of a single man in combatthe frustration suffered under
well-meaning but ignorant fools who over-ruled him with their
rank and were so often proved to be in error. His judgment was
impeccable. In the jungle he would have been a king among wild
animalsa veritable lion. The Spanish guerrilleros who rode
under his command called him just that: SorrellEl Leon. Not
without good reason!
'What happened to all those merry widows in Lisboa you were
going back to see? "Don't get serious," you told me. "Take one day
at a time. Never get so involved you can't walk away from them."
What happened?'
Adam came out of his chair so suddenly and with such violence
that Drew stepped back in alarm.
'Damn you, Drew! Not now . . . Don't you think I've had enough?'
'Youyou do feel something for her?' His brother's voice dropped
to a mere whisper. He could never remember seeing his brother so
vulnerable, with such pain in those hard eyes that it wiped away
the hardness and anger. But it was gone in an instant. When he
turned to look at Drew again, his expression was unreadable, his
thoughts hidden from the one person with whom he had always
shared everything.

'I marry the girl tonight. You can be my best man. Tomorrow we
leave. Tell the men to get ready to ride at dawn. Don't stand there
as if I had just delivered the sermon on the mount! See to this
head, and then find Nuno. He will bring me some clothes.' He
turned away again, and Drew was not quite sure he heard the final
muttered words correctly. He hoped not. 'She will rue the day she
decided to play games with me!'

'I can't!' Natalia said in a trembling voice as she neared the library
door. 'Father cannot force him to marry me. It's tootoo
degrading.'
'It's what you want,' Pilar hissed in her ear, the hold on her arm
tightening. 'It's the Englishmanor Dom Cesar. Which would you
rather have?'.
'Cesar will never have me now ... I would not have him!' she
declared, her troubled gazed resting on the bruises on the face of
her maid. The numbness she had felt upstairs was still with her,
dulling her senses. She had sent word to her father, begging him to
allow her a few minutes alone with Adam, but the only answer that
came back was one demanding her presence in the library. She
knew what it meant. Adam had agreed to marry her. Perhaps
everything would be all right, after all. She could explain her
reticence in telling him about Cesar. From what had taken place
tonight with poor Pilar, he would understand her loathing of the
man, her desire to keep him out of her life and her thoughts for as
long as possible. She loved Adam, and surely he must care for her
if he was willing to go through with the ceremony.
Father Jos urged her gently forward, mistaking her reluctance to
enter as natural under the circumstances. He would say an extra

Paternoster at his prayers tonight to include not only Dona Natalia,

but the arrogant young officer who was about to become her
husband, Dom Cesar, still sleeping off his drunkeness upstairs. . .
and Dom Abilio, in his hour of great torment.
'Alida, tell me what to do!' Natalia cried, stretching out her hand.
Her sister came from behind to grasp it comfortingly.
'You know what you have to do. You have no other choice. You
chose Adam Sorrell the first time you laid eyes on him, though I
never thought it would happen this way. I had visions of you
eloping with him to Lisboa and me hiding the pair of you until
Father's temper had cooled. Does it matter, my dear? He is yours,
now. If you love him, you must convince him you had no
deception in mind when you . . . sought his company.' At the sight
of the alarm which leapt to her sister's face, Alida sighed. 'I think
you should know . . . Adam believes the worst of you. That you
deliberately lied to him, and flirted with him because you were
bored. Drew has told me he truly thinks. . .you have had other
men.'
If she had struck Natalia, the girl could not have looked more
stunned. The horror which slowly crept into the wide blue eyes
declared her innocence, and the devastation the words had caused.
If only Adam could have seen it, Alida thought. He mustor her
poor sister would be subjected to the kind of marriage she herself
had endured. She did not believe him cruel enough to beat her, but
there was cruelty in himshe had sensed thata ruthlessness
Natalia could have no way of combating. Her love would make her
a tool in his hands . . .
'Howhow could he? He was so gentle when he held me . . .' she
broke off, aware of the growing frown on the face of the priest
beside her. What had she done to make everyone believe the worst

of her? The idyllic dream she had been experiencing these past
days was suddenly turning into a hideous nightmare.
Alida opened the door, and Father Jose propelled Natalia gently
but firmly inside. Abilio stood behind his desk, with Drew and
Adam in front of it. There were four servants in the room, she
noticed. Two on either side of the brotherslike guards! Drew
turned slightly, smiled at Alida, ignored her sister. He believed the
worst of her, too, Natalia thought, her steps faltering. Would no
one believe in her innocence? She was in love! What was wrong in
that? The man she loved would be her husband in a few short
minutes ... it was a dream come true!
Adam spun about on his heel without warning, and stared long and
hard into her face. His narrowed eyes were like two flints of steel,
edged with a fine border of glittering emerald. There was no smile
on his face, no welcome. His suspicions, his coldness, reached out
to her, causing her to shiver.
'Tell them the truth,' he said harshly.
Where was the kind, romantic man who had held her in his arms
and spoken of his plans for the future? Where was the prince who
had brushed the almond petals from her blouse and hair? Where
was the lover who had taken her lips by storm and shown her how
to be a woman? Who had taught her about love?
'She has told me all I need to know,' Abilio interposed cuttingly.
'I asked for the truth,' Adam grated, his gaze never leaving
Natalia's now ashen face. They penetrated to her soul . . . Could he
not see the love there? Was he so blind? Or had his sweet words
meant nothing? She had begun to believe that he had cared, she
would have staked her life on it! Yet to look at him now! Hatred . .
. contempt . . . but not love ... or anything near! She had thought it

would not matter. She loved him, she would make him love her.
Now she saw it was impossible. He looked at her as if she was the
lowest creature on earth.
'I have no wish to marry this man, Father,' she said in a dull voice.
She cared not who heard her. A flicker of surprise showed in
Adam's eyes, then it was replaced by derision. This, too, was an
act, he believed. 'I shall retire to the Convent of Our Lady of Souls,
if you will allow it. I shall bring no more shame on your name or
on your house.'
Beside her, Alida gasped and looked to their father pleadingly.
Pilar's grip tightened so much on Natalia's arm that she would have
flinched in pain, had she felt it. But she felt nothing. She was
enveloped by a cold, chilling wind which numbed her to the bone,
froze her brain. The burning passion in her heart killed the
unrequited love.
'So, you admit you were at fault,' Adam breathed.
'A meaningless gesture to protect you! Foolish child, it will do no
good. Had the Major been the gentleman he pretends, he would
have accepted full responsibility long ago. It was the only decent
thing to do,' Abilio retorted. His heart went out to his daughter, for
her words told him she did truly love Adam Sorrell. Would he ever
learn to care for her, he wondered, casting his eyes back to the
Englishman's bleak features. 'Father Jose, you will begin. Come
closer, Natalia. Stand beside your man. Are you ready, Major
Sorrell?"
Adam said nothing. He felt Natalia move close alongside him. Her
arm brushed his. Immediately he stepped a little to one side, and
without looking at her, knew her cheeks had become bright red
with embarrassment. What did she expect? Affection? Politeness?

Even that would be an effort, but it would not be for long.

Tomorrow Alto Verde would be far behind him and he would
forget her. In Lisboa he would have the marriage annulled quickly
and quietly, and then go out and get beautifully, hopelessly drunk!
He gave a curt nod. Mute acceptancenothing more. She was
lucky to get that. If he alone had been involved, he would have
taken his chances with the rabble outside. . . and Abilio's threats,
but there was his brother to consider. Drew was stubborn enough
to stay at his side and help him. And then his men would stay too,
and some would be hurt. No, he would not risk anyone else
becoming a casualty in this sordid affair. The responsibility was
his alone, and he would deal with itand Natalia Lareirain his
own way!

'That's enough, Pilar. He won't notice what I look like,' Natalia

said tiredly. Her head had begun to ache from the wine she had
consumed with Adam during the evening. She was not used to so
much in such a short time. Was that why she had acted so
shamelessly while in his arms, she wondered? No, she had no
excuses. She had wanted him to make love to her. The wine had
relaxed her and lessened her self-consciousness, but that was all.
The maid was brushing her hair, and was only a quarter of the way
through the one hundred strokes given morning and night. She
continued with what she was doing with a sharp clicking noise of
her tongue.
'You are a woman. Make him notice you!' she returned.
'Haven't I done enough to him already? This is all my fault.'
Natalia looked down at the gold band on her wedding finger that
Alida had provided for the ceremony. She was the wife of Adam
Sorrell. To do with as he wished. The thought frightened her. A

woman, Pilar said. At this moment she had never felt less a
woman, less sure of herself. She could have everything she
wanted, yet she was too afraid to reach out and take it. She did not
want to see the contempt in his eyes or bear the whiplash of his
scorn, although she deserved both.
'We are both to blame. I, for allowing myself to think my dreams
could Come true, and you for aiding me in my stupidity. You
could have prevented this had you not told Father I was alone with
him. . .' She had to hit back at someone to compensate for her fear
of unhappiness, even though she knew the maid should not have
been the recipient of her bitterness.
'Do you think, once he saw me in your dress, that he did not
know?' Pilar flung back, and through the mirror Natalia saw her
dark eyes flash with sudden anger. 'I have given you what you
want. Him! You are a fool if you don't use every weapon you have
to keep him. Look at you! Sitting here like a lost sheep waiting to
be found and comforted by the shepherd. He will offer you no
sympathyno consolation. Don't wait for him to make the first
move. Take the initiative . . .'
Natalia's cheeks flushed at the rebuking tone. Icily she snapped,
'You forget yourself! Leave me.'
'Perhaps I shall do that.' Pilar put down the brush, her face hostile.
Still looking at her through the mirror, Natalia thought how old she
suddenly looked, as though some great burden were weighing
down her shoulders and she could not rid herself of it. Immediately
she was contrite, and spun about to catch her by the hand.
'Forgive me! I do not know what made me say such a thing. We
are friends, and nothing must spoil that. I need you now, more than
ever. When I leave here and am alone with him . . .'

'I know. Don't worry, I shall not abandon you, but you have come
too far to turn back now. You have to make him believe you love
him. You do, don't you?'
'When I was in his arms, nothing else mattered. I didn't care if we
were found... if Father knew we were together. Now?' Natalia
buried her face in her hands with a cry of distress. 'I know he won't
believe a word I say. Downstairs, he looked at me as if he hated
me.'
'That is because you have injured his pride. I told you he was a real
man. This is not his way. I have spoken with his men . . . Do you
know what they call your Major Sorrell? "El Leonthe Lion." A
king among men and among women, so they say. He can have
his pick of any one he likes, wherever he goes. They have only to
hear of his courage and his leadership and, of course, the fact that
he comes from a very wealthy family, to flock around him in
dozens. He does not need your father's quinta, menina, or the
promise of land for his children. He has all these things, and more.'
'And now he has a wife he does not want,' Natalia returned
miserably. 'He told me he had no intention of marrying.'
'Make him want you. Here, put this on.' Pilar had gone to a large
mahogany chest at the bottom of the bed and pulled from it a
nightgown and matching robe in pastel blue muslin. 'It will not be
wasted on this one, believe me,' she added, as Natalia hesitated. It
was part of the trousseau intended for her marriage to Cesar.
Natalia allowed her to draw off the velvet robe she wore and
replace it with the blue. The sheerness of the material left very
little to the imagination, and she quickly slipped the robe over the
nightgown, fastening the dark blue ribbons across her exposed
breasts.

'Look at yourself,' Pilar urged gently. 'Believe in yourselfin your

love. Show him. He is only a man, not a stone statue!'
'No, he is not that,' Natalia thought, lifting her eyes to stare at her
reflection. Neither of them was made of stone. As she considered
herself, she resolved that she had nothing to lose by showing
Adam her willingness to accept him as her husband. If they could
only capture those wonderful moments they had shared tonight and
continue from there! She would not allow happiness to slip
through her fingers. She would fight for itand for him!
Pilar smiled to herself as Natalia ran her fingers through her loose
hair, deliberately arranging it about her shoulders. The blue
matched her eyes, and the soft candlelight which filled the room
enhanced the alabaster skin. He was a fool if he did not want her,
the woman thought, and from what she had heard of Adam Sorrell,
he was certainly not that!
When Adam came into the room, Natalia was standing near the
bed, looking across at the double set of pillows now arranged there
and the silk sheets which had been turned back before Pilar left her
only moments before. She did not seem to hear him come in, and
he quietly closed the door behind him and turned the key in the
lock before depositing the tray he carried on the dressing-table.
At the sound of a champagne-cork popping, Natalia turned with a
soft gasp. He moved with the stealth of a jungle animal, she
thought, as she steeled herself to meet his gaze. Tonight he was the
hunter and she was the prey. He poured out two glasses of
sparkling wine and held one out to her.
'Your father gave me a toast downstairs. To a joyful union. Shall
we drink to that? Tomorrow the marriage will have been
consummated, and your father's dream well on its way to

becoming reality.' The quiet insolence was meant to hurt her, and it
succeeded. He saw her hand was trembling as she took the glass
and quickly swallowed the contents.
'Champagne, like a good wine and a beautiful woman, should
never be hurried, but I don't suppose you know that. You don't
know much about anything really, do you, Natalia? You may have
played your little games many times before with poor fools who
fell head over heels for those bewitching blue eyes, but never with
a real man.'
Adam refilled her glass, and lifted it towards her lips when she
hesitated. He was in a bitter, vengeful mood which he had not
allowed himself to acknowledge throughout the brief ceremony,
nor afterwards, as he stood listening to Dom Abilio sing his
daughter's praises: how obedient she would be. . .a perfect hostess
to grace his table and entertain his friends ... a loving mother for
the many children they would have. He had closed his ears to it all
and drunk glass after glass of mellowed brandy until it was time to
go upstairs to his bride. He was far from drunk, but he was
dangerous.
He would give them both what they wanted. Natalia would have a
husbandfor one night onlyand from that, he had no doubt, the
old man would receive his grandson. Once he left the quinta, he
never wanted to see or hear of either of them again. He tried not to
look at Natalia, but he could not help himself. She was making
things easier for him by looking so lovely. He stared rudely at the
outline of breasts and thighs against the flimsy material, and
reminded himself of the ugliness and treachery that lay beneath the
outward beauty. She was a liar and a trickster who was about to
have the tables turned on her.

'The bride is radiant!' He smiled as he put down his empty glass,

took hers and put it aside.
'Adao, please listen to me? You must!' Natalia entreated as he
stepped towards her. There was a coldness about him which made
her very afraid. He was going to make love to her because her
father expected it. Shame swept over her, brought colour rushing
to her cheeks. His fingers brushed her arm, continued up to her
shoulder, tracing the path of the ribbons to where they rested in a
bow between her breasts. He unfastened them and drew away the
wrap. It slid to the floor and lay in a pool of pale froth about her
ankles. 'I did not want this! You must believe me.'
'Very well, I believe you.' His tone indicated that he did not. She
tried to ignore the fingers moving slowly over her bare skin,
caressing her breasts beneath the nightgown. His touch burned her
like fire.
'I love you. I do! I have never loved Cesar. I hated everything
about him. Tonight has shown you the kind of man he is!'
'I should say you are well matched,' Adam replied indifferently.
Long golden lashes swept down over eyes welling with tears. She
really was amazing, he thought, slipping an arm round her waist to
pull her closer. She had been caught out in lies and intrigue, yet
still she protested that she loved him. Was one man more or less
the same for her? Had she no shame? No pride?
'Please don't be cruel! Let me tell you the truth?' Natalia begged.
This was not going as she had planned. Pilar had been so sure that,
once he saw her looking so seductive, he would fall into her arms
and forget the unpleasantness between them. He was using her to
soothe his wounded vanity, just as he would have used her in the

orchard for his pleasure . . . and she would have let him! She bit
her lip and was silent.
'Why stop now?' he taunted. 'Why not continue this farce to the
very end?'
'I've told you I did not intend it to go as far as this,' she whispered
pitifully. 'II have never known a man like you before . . . never
known love ... I am not alone at fault. You wanted me! You kissed
me.'
'That was something we both wanted ... as this is,' Adam growled,
pressing his mouth to hers in a fierce, passionate kiss that left her
breathless. Abruptly releasing her, he began to unfasten the front
of his shirt. Natalia stood frozen as he pulled it off, revealing a
bronzed chest dark with hair. A scar criss-crossed the left shoulder.
A mirthless smile tugged at his lips as he sat on the edge of the bed
and tugged off his boots. 'You look a trifle pale, my dear. Surely
you have seen a man undress before?'
'No.' She forced the word through stiff lips. 'There is a dressingroom over there. Dona Margarida used to sleep there. Use that!'
'And she has no use for it, now that you have a new watchdog?' he
chuckled. 'No more have I! The whole object of the exercise was
to get yourself a husband, wasn't it? You succeeded. Much good it
will do you.'
'I never wanted to be married. Not to Cesar . . . and certainly not to
you.' She flung the words at him bitterly. How dare he humiliate
her in this way!
Adam leaned back on his elbows and surveyed the indignant face.
'Come here, my wife,' he ordered. 'Now.'

It was not a request, but a command, and she regretted the

instinctive response which made her obey and sink down beside
him on the bed-covers. As he rose above her, she quailed at the
glittering eyes, and shivered as he slipped the nightgown over her
head and tossed it away, while she sought to make him listen to
her once again. She reached up and covered his lips with her
fingers as his head bent towards hers, whispering softly,
'Hold me as you did tonight when we talked of the lonely princess
and the prince who loved her. Weave the same spell, so that it can
be as it was then. Let me show you how much I love you ... It is
the only way I can make you believe, my husband of little faith.'
It was she who lifted herself and laid her mouth against his,
entwining her arms about his neck and bringing him hard against
her. She felt him stiffen as he fought to resist her and the inviting
body straining against his . . . fought and lost, and returned her kiss
with a hungry ardour that sent her senses spinning.
He laid bare her soul with caresses that brought tiny cries of
delight to her lips. She murmured his name as his mouth took hers
by storm and then left it, to devastate her body. She had won! The
sweet joy which rose inside her swept aside all inhibitions ... all
doubts . . .
'Oh, Adao, we shall have such fine children!' she breathed, 'I shall
give you strong sons, just like their father'
It took a moment for it to register that Adam was no longer kissing
her... not even holding her. Her eyes flew open in alarm. What had
she said? Done? He was standing by the bed, looking down at her,
and she recoiled from the sardonic smile that masked his features.
'There will be no children, Natalia. Ever. I am not going to touch
you. Look elsewhere to give your father his precious grandson.'

'Whatwhat are you saying?' As his eyes raked over her naked
loveliness, she realised how he had tricked her. Deliberately he
had set out to rouse her and had succeeded ... To hurt her! To
wound her! She wanted to strike him, but was too stunned by such
callousness to move, or to defend herself against the unjust
accusations flung at her.
'You have nothing to offer me. You are a child playing at being a
woman. That may have suited the others, but I am more selective. I
would rather pay for my pleasures than bed you!'
Snatching up his clothes, he turned and disappeared into the
dressing-room. Natalia heard the key turn in the lock, but it was
some time before she managed to lift herself and crawl beneath the
sheets, hugging them round her as if afraid he might return and
tear them from her and demand his rights. She huddled beneath
them, shivering violently, even though every part of her body
burned from his touch.
As the hours slipped past, she accepted that he was not coming
back. She would never be his wife! He had been forced to marry
her, and had given her his name, but that was all she would have.
Tears soaked the pillow beneath her cheek. She tried to hold them
back, but they engulfed her like a tidal wave. He had rejected her
love, treated her with less consideration than he would a paid
prostitute! She rocked to and fro in silent agony, overcome with
shame and self-pitythe next moment hating him! Reproaching
herself and then blaming him for that first kiss! If only he had
never touched her. . .What was the use!
How would she face her father and Alida in the morning? She
could not tell them the truth. What could she do? Where could she
go? She could not stay at the quinta and have her father watching
her every day, waiting for the first sign of pregnancy . . . That was

how it would be! Shame, and more shame, bitter retribution for her
own folly. The tears would not cease. She buried her face in the
silken pillows so that no sound carried to the room beyond.

CHAPTER SIX
ADAM TOOK a last look round the small room where his belongings
had been left during his stay at Alto Verde, to make sure that
everything had been replaced in his saddlebags and on the packhorse, although he knew that when Nuno cleared up after him, not
a thing would be overlooked. Then he moved out into the early
morning sunlight which was weakly trying to force its way
through dense white clouds, buttoning his leather jacket about him
as he did so. He was dressed casually for the journey home in
well-worn hide breeches, his head covered against the penetrating
sun he knew to expect about noon.
From beneath the wide-brimmed black hat, narrowed eyes bleakly
swept upwards for a brief moment, surveying the upstairs windows
of the house he had left at first light. Like a silent spectre he had
slipped out of the dressing-room as soon as he was able to see
clearly without lighting a candle, dressed, and unlocked the door to
Natalia's bedroom. Why had he locked it, he wondered with grim
amusement? Against heror against the resentment he harboured
that might have sent him back to finish what he had started? To
satisfy the desire to wound, to inflict pain such as he had endured
these past hours, or to recapture the bliss of those stolen moments
in the orchard? Never would he feel that way again with any
woman. He would ensure that. What a fool he had been to act like
an idiotic schoolboy over a trollop! 'With the looks of an angel'
was his next thought, as he paused beside the bed. Natalia lay on
her side facing him, one arm tucked beneath her head. The long
tousled curls lay in profusion over the pillow; some shadowed her
face, hiding it from himand the deathly pallor which lay upon
her cheeks. Soft, full lips were parted slightly. He remembered
their softness, their eagerness, when his own had touched them.
God! What had she done to him?

A few yards away, his men were quietening their restless horses.
He ignored their glances, and a scowling countenance was turned
in the direction of one man foolish enough to ask laughingly how
the groom was. He peered through the half-light at the two figures
approaching, and the heavy frown returned at the sight of Drew
and Alida. The girl was enveloped in a thick travelling cloak
which covered her from head to toe. Not that there would be
anyone to see them depart, he thought. After last night and the
abundance of wine that had flowed well into the early hours, there
would be no early risers. By the time the village began to stir, they
would be miles away. Then, perhaps, the tight restriction in his
chest would begin to ease.
'You're late,' he said ungraciously, tucking the pistol Nuno handed
him into the wide leather belt about his waist. Although in friendly
territory, he was always armed. Nestled in his boot was a longbladed knife, as deadly as his ability to use it. Every one of his
men, with the exception of his brother, was skilled in the bloody
art of silent warfare which had taught them to creep up behind a
man and slit his throat before he could utter a sound. Not his
favourite weapon, but silent and effective. He preferred the curved
cavalry sabre that hung at his side. 'I said first light!'
'You may not have slept, brother, but I did,' Drew drawled mildly.
'I take it that you did not have a pleasant wedding night?'
'That 's none of your business! We are ready to leave. I hope you
are a good horsewoman, senhora? I set a fast pace. I want to put
this place behind me as quickly as possible.'
'And my sister?' Alida said, staring up into the grim features. What
had taken place to make him look so devilishly angry? The few
brief minutes she had spent with Natalia after the ceremony had
been spent in trying to persuade her sister to accept the marriage

and the husband forced on her. 'Is it your intention to leave her
behind now? When will she be following us to Lisboa?'
'Never,' Adam snapped, swinging himself into the saddle of his
black horse. 'Natalia and I will never set eyes on each other again .
. .'
Over the loud gasp which came from Alida's lips, he heard his
brother murmur, 'Wrong . . . look!'
He could not believe the sight that met his eyes. Hair streaming
down her back ... He had not realised how long it was, falling to
her waist, and even in the faint sunlight, he could see strands of
fire among the gold. Natalia was running towards them. She was
clutching a wrap round her, yet it did little to hide the transparency
of the garment beneath. Her feet were bare, as though she had
departed from her bed in great haste. She must have seen them
from her window, he realised, and cursed his brother for not being
on time. The delay would cost them all dear.
'The bride is not anxious to be left alone,' Drew said, stepping back
to allow her to come close to Adam.
Adam stepped closer as she approached, to prevent her being
beside her sister when he spoke to her. What he had to say was for
her ears alone.
'I told you last night how it would be between us,' he hissed. 'Why
do you make a spectacle of yourself in this fashion? No tens
vergonha?'
'No, I have no shame,' Natalia flung back, her voice low to match
his. Her sapphire eyes were without tears, and in the depths of
them he saw firebrilliant blue sparks of anger only just

controlled. 'Nor pride. You have left me neither! I have come to

say goodbye to my sister.'
Brushing past him, she took Alida in her arms, and she could feel
Natalia trembling. With cold, was her first instinctive thought,
then, as she drew back and looked into Natalia's eyes, she knew
differently.
'What is it? What has happened? Hehe was not unkind?'
'No, he was not that,' came the toneless reply. She would not spoil
her sister's departure with her own troubles. She was a married
woman now, in control of her life, for the first time in seventeen
years. With Cesar, it would have been different. He would never
have allowed her one iota of freedom, but Adam had given her
hers! She would make the most of it. What did she care if he went
off and left her? 'I shall come and see you in a little while.'
'But of course you will, and then you can tell me what this is all
about.'
'It's nothing. I am being foolish. A nervous bride,' Natalia returned
with forced lightness. She was aware of Adam straining his ears to
catch some word and deliberately leaned closer to Alida,
whispering, as she kissed a cheek chilled by the early morning air,
'Soon, I promise. I shall dance at your wedding.'
'If Father allows you to come! If not, I shall expect you in Mafra.
Drew thinks he will be posted back there after Lisboa. Adam, too.
You are a soldier's wife now, and must go where your husband
goes. I intend to follow Drew no matter where he is sent. I could
not bear to be parted from him.'
'You will be happy this time, I know it,' Natalia said, and her heart
ached for the love she knew she must deny herself. She looked at

the silent man watching them. Adam's face betrayed no expression,

yet something about him made her uneasy.
She kissed and hugged her sister one last time, loath to let her go,
but it would not be for long. It was her intention to follow Adam to
Lisboahe could not stop her if she chose to do so. She would
make some excuse and stay with Alida, and somehow she would
make him pay for the humiliation he had heaped on her head, his
cruel refusal to listen to her declaration of love, the vile
accusations that she had known other men. He had only to touch
her to discover otherwise!
There was her answer! She would go to Lisboa. He could not deny
her as his wife, especially if she made herself known to his father
as if she were expected! He would have to acknowledge her ... to
share the same room, or risk everyone knowing what he had done
to her!
Drew helped Alida to mount. She reached down from the saddle
and clung to Natalia's hand, her pretty face distressed.
'I hate to leave you alone, but if I do not go now with Drew . . .
Come as soon as you can, and try to bring Father with you. He will
be lonely with us both absent. Be kind to him, Natalia. We shall
have our happiness, but he will have nothingno oneif we turn
our backs on him now. We can be generous.'
Lonely. Yes, he was that, Natalia acknowledged. So was she, but
they would not be able to share their troubles. They would never
be that close.
As she turned away, without a word to her husband, he caught her
arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

'Take the men and ride on,' he said to his brother. 'I'll catch up with
you in a few minutes. I must say goodbye to my wife.'
A thickset Spaniard paused beside them as the rest of the twenty
grinning men passed by, knowing they must resist the urge to turn
and watch what they considered to be an ardent farewell on the
part of their commanding officer or risk their sergeant's leather
whip across their shoulders. Adam jerked his head, and the man
nodded and rode on. Nuno, the last to ride out, paused and waited.
'I shall wait for you, chefe,' he said, and dark eyes glared at Natalia
with unconcealed venom. He disliked her. She had tricked his
beloved master into a loveless marriage, and his animosity knew
no bounds. He hoped she was cursed by the saints for the harm she
had done, the pain she had brought to a good and kind man. In his
way, he was as protective about Adam as Pilar was for her
mistress.
'No, join the others. I will be a moment only,' Adam ordered. The
boy nodded. He knew better than to disobey a direct order. His
back stiff with anger, he slowly rode after the guerrilleros.
'If you have any ideas about following me to Lisboa, forget them,'
he said flatly, and Natalia started so violently that he knew he had
been right. 'Stay out of Alida's life. . . Your troubles are not hers.
You brought them on yourself, and you must pay the penalty. She
and Drew will be married soon. Don't come to the wedding.'
'She is my sister. I shall do as I please,' Natalia snapped, defiance
blazing out of her pale face. How dare he treat me like one of his
cut-throat men! 'As your wife, I have rights . . .'
She cried out as he seized her by the shoulders, his fingers biting
cruelly through the thin material of her robe. His face came close

to hers, and she quailed at the fury registered in his tawny eyes. He
shook her just once, hard, then thrust her away from him.
'It is my dearest wish never to set eyes on you again! In Lisboa I
shall make arrangements to have the marriage annulled. If you are
sensible, it will be done quietly and discreetly. In time, the dowry
your father so generously gave me will be returned. I want nothing
to remind me of you or my visit to this accursed village. But if you
give me any trouble'his voice dropped to a threatening low 'I
shall see your name dragged in the gutter where you rightfully
belong! It is up to you. I shall not wish you luck in your search for
a husband to provide your father with his heir. I am sure you will
not need it.'
She swayed back from him, her eyes dilated in disbelief. Adam
swung himself into the saddle and wheeled the stallion about
without another word. Red dust rose up in a cloud to choke her as
he kneed the animal away at a furious pace, and within minutes
they were lost to view among the meandering houses. He had
gone! She was alone! Alone for ever!

A mile out of Alto Verde on the road to Lisboa, Alida reined in her
horse, her face a mask of indecision. 'I'm going back. I can't leave
her alone like this,' she declared, as Drew swung his horse in
beside her.
'Do you know what you are saying? We shall have little enough
time together as it is. Are you prepared to jeopardise our happiness
because your sister acted like a damned fool?'
'I know that neither you nor Adam believe she meant no harm, but
I know differently. She loves him, Drew. As deeply as I love you. I
shall never forget the look on her face as we leftnever! Your

brother is a cruel man. I don't know what he said to her, but he hurt
her deeply. She needs me.'
Ahead of them, Adam reined in and turned to stare back curiously
as Drew retorted sharply,
'I need you, too. I want to spend every moment with you. Besides,
my father is expecting to meet you. I have already sent word ahead
that we are coming.'
'You didn't tell me!' Alida gasped. 'Oh, Drew, I want to help her,
but I don't know how. You wouldn't desert Adam if he needed
you.'
'No, but this is a quite different situation from anything we shall
ever encounter,' he told her quietly. He understood her fears, but
accepted that neither of them could help Natalia for the moment.
Not that he particularly wanted to. If he offered a hand in
friendship again, it would be for Alida's sake only. He stood with
Adam in this.
'She and Adam must work this out together, painful as it is for both
of us . . . Yes, dear heart, both of us. We must give them time. A
few weeks' separation may bring them to their senses.'
'She did say she would soon come to Mafra.' Alida was beginning
to waver. She had so much been looking forward to being alone
with the man she loved. Making plans for this wedding would be
very different from the last time. 'But Adam said . . .'
'I'll deal with my brother if he's difficult,' Drew assured her,
kissing her lightly on the lips. How, he did not know. No one, not
even their father, could handle Adam when he dug his heels in.

'What was that all about?' demanded Adam, as Alida passed him
and Drew came level, slowing the pace of his horse to enable them
to converse. When he was told, his face darkened with anger.
'Don't try to back me into a corner. I told you how it was going to
be. The marriage will be annulled as soon as possible. This is
between us, you understand? There is no need for Alida to know
until the sordid business has been dealt with.'
'She was hoping . . . after you had been apart for a while, perhaps .
. . well, you know.'
'Nothing has happened between Natalia and myself. Nor will it,'
Adam returned coldly. 'I shall never acknowledge her as my wife,
and I shall be rid of her at the first available opportunity. Is that
clear enough for you?'
'Alida wants her to come to Mafra.'
'That's up to her. So long as she doesn't expect me to be there if
and when Natalia arrives. Don't let her influence you over this,
Drew, or your marriage will be wrecked before it's started. If you
have anything worth whilethen hold on to it,' he added with
heavy sarcasm, indicating to his brother that he still did not think
Alida capable of being faithful to one man.
'Just because life has turned sour on you, Adam, that doesn't mean
we all have to suffer,' Drew snapped, and Adam blinked at him in
surprise.
'You are right. Perhaps they are not alike. I'm sorry ... I didn't sleep
very well. . .'He balked at confiding to his brother his conduct of
the night before. He was not proud of himself, even though he
repeatedly told himself that Natalia had deserved no better. A
lesser man might have used her to satisfy the pain and anger, to

render hurt for hurt, and then leave, but he could not have done
that. He will still asking himself why!
'Let's ride,' he said gruffly.

'I have had a letter from Alida, Father. Drew has been ordered
back to Mafra, as she thought. They leave Lisboa at the end of this
week,' Natalia announced to the man sitting at the far end of the
long table, engrossed in a paper. Headlines blazed the advance of
French troops towards the Linhas de Torres Vedras, where the
English army was encamped within forts and earthworks, their
cannon trained upon the distant hills of Monte Agraco where
Massena had his vanguard, sweeping the countryside from behind
inpenetrable defences from coast to coast in an attempt to stave off
all chance of the enemy reaching the capital.
After a moment, Abilio lifted his eyes, allowing himself the
pleasure of studying her as she returned her attention to the letter
in her hand. A hundred times he had tried to ask her what was
wrong, but the words never materialised, and instead he found
himself chiding her time and time again, as the weeks passed, for
not going to her husband.
Natalia's hair was loose about her shoulders, framing a pale but
serene face. She wore a green skirther mother's favourite colour,
he rememberedand a lighter blouse which fastened high under
the slender neck with three rows of tiny pearl buttons. Her
countenance gave him no cause to believe all was not well with
her marriage. She had said that when she had made adequate
preparations she would join Adam Sorrell, but she wanted to take
so many things with her to grace her new home, wherever it might

be. Was she pleased with the man she had chosen, he wondered,
but he dared not ask for fear she misconstrued his meaning.
'I too, have heard from your sister. I am surprised, however, to
have received nothing from Major Sorrell. Neither have you, I see.
I thought at least an apology was in order for the swiftness of his
departure before I was even out of my bed.'
'I have told you, Father. He is not a man to prolong a parting. We
had been together only a few hours. He did not want to leave so
soon, but he had his orders.'
'He found time to linger at Alto Verde . . . and dally with you!'
Abilio broke off as a cloud crossed her face.
'Has Alida asked you to visit her in Mafra? I think I shall go, and
you should, too. It is time you got to know your son-in-law, as you
were not well enough to go to their wedding. Let there be peace
between us all. After all, you have doubled your chances of having
a grandson, have you not?'
Like him, she could not keep the sarcasm from her remarks.
Would there never be a time when they were at ease together? She
had come to desire it more and more since Alida left. Sometimes
the urge to confide in him was so overwhelming that she found
herself actually beginning to blurt out a full explanation. . . only
quickly to curb the impulsive words and turn away. He would not
go to Mafra, of course. He rarely went outside the quinta these
days, but when she had asked if he was ill and perhaps she should
send for the doctor, he had waved aside the idea.
This was a heaven-sent opportunity for her to see her sister
againand Adam. He could not prevent her from visiting Mafra
and staying at her sister's house. In her letter, Alida had made it
quite plain she thought Natalia had lingered long enough in Alto

Verde. She was to come as soon as possible, she wrote, and she
would arrange for Adam to be at the house upon her arrival.
'Let us hope I do not have to wait much longer, then,' Dom Abilio
said, rising to his feet.
What it was to be young and in love. New confidence had grown
in her since her marriage . . . Once, before life's disappointments
had soured him and the only woman he had ever loved had been
taken from him, he, too, had felt that way. Natalia's performance
was so impeccable that he never guessed the agony of mind she
experienced each night as she tossed and turned restlessly on her
empty marriage bed. Each morning she greeted him smilingly at
breakfast and then rode for hours alone in the surrounding
countryside as she had always done. In the afternoons she would
ponder over the enormous list she had drawn up, as if unable to
make up her mind what articles of furniture she wished to take
with her what clothes, draperies and linen.
Abilio paused beside her chair, his eyes once more centred on the
paper he held. After a moment he dropped it in front of her.
'From the news here, it seems Viscount Wellington is soon to
launch a new campaign to end this wretched war. You will have
little enough time to spend with your husband. Will you return
here if he goes into Spain?'
'II don't know. I hadn't thought so far ahead. I might remain with
Alida.'
'When your men go off to war, you must return hereboth of
youwhere I can take care of you. They will expect it of me.'
His words struck deep into Natalia's heart. He looked very old,
suddenly, and his hair seemed greyer than usual this morning, his

face more drawn. Or was it just a trick of the light? He had eaten
very little again. Perhaps she should send for the doctor without
his knowledge. She was no longer angry with him. He had asked
her if Adam was her choice of man, and when she had said he was,
he had given him to her. Just like that! Now it was up to her to
fight her way back into the affections of the man who had deserted
her.
'Of course,' she said, understanding. He wanted to be the first to
know if there was a child on the way. Poor Father, in her case he
might not live to see the day. 'We shall both come back in the
summer. You know how unpleasant the city is then,' she added,
hoping to offer a crumb of comfort to the father who had never
given her comfort or love and yet who, as she stared at him, roused
compassion in her. They had shared none of the things they
should, avoided each other's company whenever possible . . . Yet
now, at this moment of parting, something inexplicable reached
out to touch her heart.
That evening, as she was about to retire, the sound of a carriage
drawing up in the courtyard outside drew her to the window,
fearing Cesar might have returned to create another unpleasant
scene before her departure. The man who alighted was a stranger
to her. Powerfully built, with rugged features illuminated by the
patio lights and a shock of red hair.
'Do you know him?' she asked Pilar, and the woman shook her
head. 'What a time to come calling, too! It is almost eleven o'clock.
Does he not remind you of anyone?'
'Nao, menina. I am sure we have never seen him before. Into bed
with you now, we have an early start in the morning. You are set
on going to him?'

'Nothing will change my mind. At first I was full of bitterness and

anger,' Natalia confessed. 'I intended to make him fall in love with
me'she gave a shaky little laugh as she pondered the enormous
undertaking'and then desert him! But I know now I cannot do
that.
Perhaps he will have forgiven me, and we can start again. I shall
pray it is so.'
Natalia had barely started on her devotions before the small shrine
of the Virgin in a corner of the room, when a servant knocked on
the door with a message from her father requesting her to come
downstairs.
As she appeared in the doorway of the library, a heavy velvet robe
covering her night attire, the stranger turned to stare at her. As his
eyes alighted on her, to sweep her from head to toe, she realised
why he had seemed so familiar. The same boldness as he
scrutinised her in silence, the same way as Adam had looked at her
that very first night. It had to be his father! But here at the quinta?
Why? Something had happened to him? She choked back the fear
which rose inside her as the man crossed the room to take her in
his arms and subject her to a fierce bear-hug that squeezed the
breath from her body.
'Natalia! It has to be. And more lovely than my son's description of
you. A veritable picture of loveliness, he said, and how right he is,'
a voice boomed in her ear. Adam's words! She was too astounded
to speak. 'I am on my way to Mafra to visit an old friend, and I
thought why not get acquainted with my new daughter-in-law
before she rushes off to be with her husband? You are joining him
there, are you not?'

'Whyyes, of course.' From the smile on her father's face, she saw
he was pleased at this show of affection. Any fears he might have
harboured were laid to rest.
'Natalia, this is Adam's father, Senhor Charles Sorrell. What a
blessing his arrival could turn out to be . . . you could travel with
him. You would not mind acting as my daughter's chaperon, would
you, senhor?'
'It would be my pleasure.'
'You are too kind, but I could not trouble you . . .' Natalia began,
then the words froze in her throat as she realised the newcomer
was watching her closely. Something was not right. Adam had
never used such words to describe her ... if he had spoken of her at
all to his father. Of that she was sure. If he had forgiven her, he
would have come himself. This man had come to inspect her, she
decided, and to determine whether or not she was a fit wife for his
son. What had he been told?
She met his gaze with level, challenging blue eyes and saw a smile
touch the full mouth. A silent acknowledgment of the fact that she
knew his reasons for stopping at Alto Verde.
'If you can be ready in the morning, we can leave early,' Charles
Sorrell murmured. 'Once you are settled I expect Adam will find
a house soonyou can send for your things. I expect you are
anxious to be with him again and don't want to linger over
packing. My son's duties have kept him busy these past few weeks.
Not his fault, of course, but he was afraid you might think him an
unfeeling brute for not coming himself. He has new orders, from
Lord Wellington himself. What they are he has not told me, but I
expect they will take him into the thick of the fighting when it
starts again. Adam enjoys a fight. We are alike in that way. Now

Drew is not at all like either of us . . .'He broke off with a soft
laugh. 'But I will not bore you with talk of our shortcomings; if we
are to make an early start, you should get a good night's rest. On
the way I shall want to hear how you Captured Adam's heart in
such a short space of time. The man is so enamoured of you that I
can hardly believe it. I despaired of him ever settling down! You
will give him a strong, healthy son! Will she not, Senhor Lareira?'
'I pray she doesfor us both,' Abilio replied, and this time Charles
laughed heartily.
'If I know my son, she will have an army of youngsters!'
Abilio did not reply, but Natalia noticed his smile deepen in
satisfaction. Was she no more than a breeding mare to be
discussed in this manner? Men! That's all they thought about.
'It is late, and I was about to retire when you arrived,' she said
politely, but with a touch of ice in her voice that did not go
unnoticed by either man. 'Please excuse me, senhor. Father. I shall
see you both in the morning.'
'Of course, my dear.' Again the same tight hug; the lips laid to each
cheeknot without some warmth, she realised. The man was
genuinely pleased to have met her. What had Adam told him? Or
Alida? Her sister, knowing how she felt, could not have kept silent
in the face of Adam's refusal to accept her as his wife. Had she
pleaded Natalia's cause?
It was barely nine when Natalia found herself standing in the hall,
fumbling for words as she faced her father. Would he miss his
daughters, she wondered, as he muttered something about a safe
journey, and patter her hand. Why, oh why had he never taken
more time to know them? They were his own flesh and blood. She
tried, but could not bring herself, to kiss the proffered cheek.

'I shall be back before you know it,' she said, forcing a smile to her
lips. It was what he wanted to hear, after all.
'Will you?' The harshness of tone took her aback. Emotion choked
the usually calm voice, and she watched him fight to control it.
'Will you and your sister ever return here, Natalinha?'
Little Natalia! He had not used that term of endearment with her
since she became old enough to understand it. Now, of all times, to
remind her! She could not prevent the bright tears which sprang to
her eyes.
'Sim, pai. We shall come back. I promise.' The words came
unbidden to her lips.
She turned to go, and found his hand was on her arm. He drew her
to him, held her for a moment, looking deep into her blue eyes,
before kissing her on both cheeks. The show of affection added to
the sense of puzzlement and apprehension she was experiencing at
this strange departure. The arrival of Adam's father had shocked
her beyond words. Now her own father was actually being kind to
her and not caring who witnessed the scene. Charles Sorrell had
already gone out to the carriage, but the hall contained all the
servants waiting to bid her farewell. Pilar's face, as she stood
waiting for her mistress by the door, was a picture of amazement.
Abilio followed her to the door, but no further. She lifted a hand in
a farewell salute as the conveyance moved off. Villagers were
crowding about the gate, shouting their good wishes for the new
bride and the one yet to be, but she scarcely saw them. She could
not take her eyes off the solitary figure who stood in the doorway
watching, his arm raised . . .
As the dust began to settle on the roadway, Abilio realised that
people were drifting away, glancing at him with sympathetic faces

as they passed, until he was alone on the steps. The pain struck
again, searing through his chest with the viciousness of a red-hot
knife. He stumbled into the study, locked the door so that no
servants could disturb him, and poured himself a large glass of
wine. He drank it quickly and sank into a chair. Gradually it died,
leaving him weak and trembling . . . unable to move . . .

Charles Sorrell crossed one booted leg over the other, glanced at
Pilar who was looking out of the window at the passing landscape
and intermittently dozing, despite the rocking of the carriage, as
though trying to make up his mind about something. A frown
creased the heavy red brows as he directed his attention to the
quiet, simply dressed young woman facing him. Her travelling
gown of deep blue velvet enhanced the magnificent colour of her
eyes. Perched on top of the copper curls was a bonnet of a darker
colour, trimmed with ribbons which tied beneath her chin. Her
gloves were of white goatskin, hand-made, he suspected by the
villagers who adored her, as were the dainty leather shoes. Beside
her on the seat was an embroidered reticule and a heavy shawl of
black wool. If she had set out to make a good impression on him,
she would have succeededexcept that he had come prepared to
dislike her on sight. However, he had found that impossible. He
liked what he saw, and understood the attraction his son must have
felt at his first glimpse of this lovely creature.
'Does my appearance meet with your approval, sir?' Natalia
enquired politely. His scrutiny embarrassed her. His eyes were so
like those of Adampenetrating allowing nothing to remain
hidden. What had he talked about, closeted in the library with her
father until well past four in the morning? How much had he been
told?

'My son was right. You have the face of an angel and a sweet voice
to charm the birds from the trees, but I'll tell you this now, young
lady . . . you have turned a good-natured man into a veritable bear.
Why, he even argues with me, his own father. . . and if it hadn't
been for that sister of yours, I'd never have known why.'
'He . . . Adam never told you we are married?' Her words were
barely audible. 'Then he did not send for me? I knew it!'
'You are his wife, and your place is with him. That's why I came to
fetch you. He knows nothing about it. You'll just have to work
things out when you are together. Your sister wants me to believe
that would mean a great deal to you.'
'I love Adam. There is nothing more I want in this world than to be
his wife, but . . .'
'But you acted like an idiot... If I'm to believe you care for him,
that's what you wereand arefor expecting him to forgive you.
Good heavens, girl, he's never loved a woman in his life before
you . . . He's had womenwhat man, especially a soldier, has
not!but to think of taking a wife!' Charles's face grew quite red
with indignation as he considered the pale features before him, the
hands locked tightly together on the velvet skirts. He was not sure
what he had expected her to say when he confronted her with the
truth . . . He had been prepared for apologies . . . remorse . . . even
lies, but she said nothing, and sat perfectly still, her back stiff and
straight. He liked her for that and for the steady gaze of those eyes
now filled with shadows. He never trusted anyone who would not
look into his eyes.
'Adam's a hothead sometimes,' his voice was softer now, and
gentler. 'You've hurt him, and he wants to pay you back.'

'He has, believe me,' Natalia whispered. 'Hehe rejected me on

our wedding night.' A faint blush came to her cheeks with the
humiliating admission. 'But I still love him. If he will have me . . .'
'He's talking of an annulment. I persuaded him to leave it until
after Alida's wedding. In that way, I had a chance to get you to
Mafra to face him. Your sister is very convincing.'
'She knows I have never loved any man before . . . Nornor been
with one, as Adam accuses.'
'You've picked a jealous man to try to hold on to. Maybe you'll
succeedmaybe not. If I have my way, you will. I don't know
why, but I think you'd be good for him. He's been alone too long. .
. He needs other things in his life besides ambitious dreams . . .'
'I had dreams once,' Natalia broke in, not minding the roughness of
his speech when he talked with her. He was an honest man, she
decided, who dearly loved his son. Perhaps, together . . . 'Adam is
the answer to mine. If he will allow it, I shall try to make his come
true. I swear it! Somehow!'
'Are you prepared to go through hell for him, because if I know my
son, that's exactly where he'll take you until he's sure of you?'
Charles demanded.
'I shall pay any price to have him ... do anything . . . go anywhere!'
she cried, and Charles drew in a breath at the change in her. Gone
were the docility and meek manners. There was fire in her eyes
and a stubborn jutting of the well-defined chin. Determination in
the tightening of the soft mouth. Did his son fully understand what
he had left behind, he wondered, as he settled back in his seat? A
woman of spirit to match his own independent temperament. It
would be a battle of wills between them, and one he hoped he
would lose. This girl held Adam's happiness in her hands, and he

was now ready to concede that she did love him. He was a good
judge of character. Many years at the side of his sea-captain father
had trained him well for the day he set foot ashore to stay and
settle down in the land he had come to love and in which to go into
business for himself. And had taught him to assess whether a
person was trustworthy or not.
Adam shared his love of the sea and his shrewd mind for business,
as well as inheriting a fatal charm which seemed to attract every
pretty woman he encountered. His determination to remain a
bachelor, until he had accomplished more in his life, only
increased their desire to know him, to snare him and the tidy sum
of money already in his possession. Addle-brained little simpering
idiots, he mused, once again concentrating on the silent girl
opposite. She had more backbone than all of them put together. A
pity his son had been too blind with anger and bitter recriminations
to see what lay under his nose.
Natalia, increasingly aware of his gaze on her, kept her own
averted, intent on the countryside, and so did not see the frown
which returned to crease his brows. Did she know that her father
was seriously ill? he wondered. There was a coldness between
them he did not understand, even though Alida had told him of her
father's indifference and total lack of affection. The girls were both
to be highly prized as wives, yet Dom Abilio had seemingly thrust
them both off on to men who cared not a whit for their feelings. He
harboured a deep resentment within him. Charles had felt it as they
talked into the early hours. He had seen the attack which seized
Abilio and rendered him helplessincapable of movement or
speechfor several frightening minutes. And when it passed, he
had found himself swearing an oath to remain silent as to what he
had seen.

No wonder Natalia had reached out with both hands to grab what
she believed to be the reality of her dreams. Perhaps Adam would
relent when he saw her again, listen to reason, give the marriage a
chance. If he was not besotted with the girl, why had he been
drunk for the best part of his leave, resuming an affair with an old
flame and shirking the responsibilities he had once taken so
seriously? Besottedor so enamoured of her that he was afraid of
his own feelings? Would not admit, even if she were the cheat he
believedand Charles, who had enjoyed more than his fair share
of lovely beauties in his time, believed otherwise and intended to
say sothat he still wanted her! Perhaps even loved her. Of
course. Why had he not realised it before? Adam was in love!
Charles began to grow restless as the miles rolled by, impatient to
see his son's face when his wife alighted from the carriage.
Natalia began to grow anxious at the signs of increased activity
along the road to Mafra. More uniformed men marched back
towards the Linhas de Torres Vedras with full packs and
shouldered muskets. They passed cannon drawn by mule teams,
mounted Dragoons in blue and red uniforms and cylindrical
shakos, their breastplates and weapons gleaming in the sun. What
a fine sight they looked, she thought. Surely one sight of them
must put the French to flight?
Charles Sorrell pointed out the King's Own Regiment, or 4th Foot,
in bright red coats and black and white breeches. The 9th Foot
were known throughout Spain as the 'Holy Boys' because the crest
of Britannia worn on their hats had been mistaken for that of the
Virgin Mary. She prayed the mistake would keep them all safe, but
she doubted it. A small contingent of kilted Highlanders stood to
one side of the road watching the carriage go by, then started off
again, led by their piper playing a stirring tune to keep their spirits
up. As she watched the red and white tartan stockings disappear
from view, her heart began to grow heavy. Her father had been

rightthere was about to be another offensiveand Adam was

sure to be in the thick of it.
Somehow she contained her fears, and managed to sit still and
calm as they laboured slowly through the crowded streets of
Mafra, where more British uniforms jostled shoulder to shoulder
with Spanish infantry and yellow-coated Spanish Dragoons.
Charles watched her eyes grow more and more shadowed as the
journey neared its end, but could say nothing to ease her
apprehension. He had lingered too long before setting out for Alto
Verde. If he had waited for Adam to tell him what was wrong, he
would have waited for ever! Now it would be Natalia who was
forced to wait, to endure the agony of a long separation, the
possibility that the husband she had never known would be killed.
She was strong, she would survivebut she did not deserve such a
harsh fate, and neither did his son!
He helped her to alight before an imposing house of white and
grey stone, the residence left to Alida by her husband. The front
was a mass of wrought-iron balustrades which reminded her of the
quinta, and for a brief moment, she experienced a feeling of guilt.
She had run away rather than tell her father the truth, that perhaps
he would never have a grandchildfrom her at least and she did
not like the way it made her feel. If only he had not looked so
lonely and dejected as she left . . .
Then, her head lifting proudly, she thrust all thoughts, save one,
from her mind: the reason she had come to Mafra. To confront
Adam and make him accept her. Charles rang the ornate brass bell
hanging to one side of the large oak door. Natalia knew they would
have to wait several minutes for anyone to come. Alida had only
two servants, an aged housekeeper and her niece, and neither was
very quick on her feet. She managed a patient smile, and Charles
rang a second time. Was Adam here? Had her sister managed to

persuade him to come to the house? But, of course, she would not
know of Natalia's unexpected arrival . . . Better still if the meeting
was not planned. Adam was shrewd enough to know Alida's desire
to see them reunited.
The housekeeper at last swung back the massive portal and they
walked through into the pleasant courtyard which graced the front
of the two-storeyed building. On one side were the servants'
quarters and storehouse. On the other, a stable with the main
living-quarters above. Natalia's steps faltered as they went up a
wide flight of steps, trying to answer the housekeeper's enquiries
as to her health and that of her father with a relaxed smile on her
face. By the time they reached the long veranda that curved round
the whole house, giving access to all the upstairs room, she had to
fight down a rising panic.
She had eaten nothing at breakfast, and had drunk only a glass of
white wine when Charles suggested they stop for refreshments en
route. How she wished she had been more sensible. Her stomach
felt uncomfortably hollow and her head quite light.
Sweet-smelling flowers were everywherelining the patio, the
stairs, the balcony, Splashes of bright colour, reds, mauves,
brilliant scarlet and delicate pinks invaded her eyes, and the air
was heavy with the perfume of roses and lilies. Alida always had
had a magic way with flowers. The cool of the drawing-room was
most welcome after the heat of the carriage and the streets outside.
Although the nights were still cold, temperatures during the day
had begun to soar as summer came to the countryside.
'Where is my sister, Maria Lopes?' Natalia was beginning to think
it strange that Alida had not appeared before now. The house
seemed very quiet, the silence broken only by the sweet trilling of

one of the caged canaries. 'Has she gone shopping? Is Captain

Sorrell not here?'
'Nao, Dona Natalia ... No one is here. They have gone.'
'Gone!' Charles exclaimed, as she sank down into a chair, her
features so white that Pilar rushed to her side and began to fan her.
'Gone where? They could not have arrived more than four days
ago!'
'To Sobral, senhor. It was very sudden. Major Sorrell and his
brother received new orders, and left the same day. The senhora
went with them.'
Adam had been at the house, and she had missed him! Was fate
determined to snatch happiness from her grasp at every turn?
'There is a letter for you, Dona Natalia. And if the senhor is Senhor
Charles, then I have one for him also. I intended to send them
when I went to the market in the morning. I will bring them,' she
added, as Natalia nodded.
'Thank heavens she's as slow in her ways as she is, or we would
not know what is happening,' she said quietly.
'What will you do now?' Charles asked.
'That will depend on what news we receive.' Natalia opened her
letter in a feverish haste, unaware of Charles's interest. He saw her
start, a slender hand flutter unsteadily to her lips. Crossing to
where she sat, he plucked the paper from her lap where it had
fallen unnoticed, and read it in silence.

'He does not want to see me,' Natalia whispered. 'Alida writes
there is no hope . . . ever! He is still intending to have the marriage
annulled.'
'Over my dead body! The man has taken leave of his senses!'
Charles read his own letter while she waited in an agony of
suspense. 'Adam has been seconded to "special duties". By that, I
take it to mean he's doing exactly what he was before with his
Spanish guerrilleros. Only now, he says, he's also been asked to
train Portuguese as well. Drew goes with him to take command of
the cavalry screen which will monitor his activities and report back
to their headquarters. They are at Sobral de Monte Agrago, my
dear. It's not far.'
Not far. It could have been a thousand miles away, Natalia
thought. She had swallowed her fierce pride and followed him this
far, but she could not go on. Her composure began to crumble in
the face of this shattering new blow, and Charles's heart went out
to her.
'I am sorry. I tried to talk him out of this annulment nonsense
before he left Lisboa, but he is quite adamant. He tells me to
proceed with it, and inform him when he is a free man.'

CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR DAYS Natalia did not stir from the house, but remained
closeted in her room with her grief and her shame. Charles often
found her sitting beside the window, staring at the flower-strewn
balcony, knowing she did not see a single bloom, that her mind
was miles away in Sobral. He had made enquiries himself among
the many army acquaintances he had in Mafra, but he had been
unable to add very much to what they already knew.
Adam and his guerrilleros were operating in the countryside
beyond Monte Agraco. Drew and his troop of cavalry were
encamped on the slopes of the mountain itself, acting as a gobetween. The latter were well within range of the cannon on the
hillsides and were in no danger from a surprise attack, he assured
her. Of Adam, he said nothing more, and Natalia knew her
husband was once more risking his life behind enemy lines with
his highly-trained little group of men, reconnoitring the area,
locating the French and assessing their strength, determining their
course of action before he sketched his maps and sent them back to
Sobral in the care of his brother. She inwardly shivered whenever
she thought of the danger which must lurk all about him. The
information had been given to him in the strictest confidence,
Charles told her, and must not go beyond the house. She assured
him that it would not.
He tried in vain to draw her out of her gloom, proposing rides
together to enjoy the beautiful scenery that the town of Mafra
offered. At last she gave in to his insistent pleas and agreed to take
him on a sightseeing tour, for she had grown to know it well
during the year after Alida's husband had died, spending many
weeks there after the funeral.

The town itself claimed the great distinction of being one of the
oldest in Portugal, and one of the most fascinating with its ancient
monastery of the same name situated on a near-by plateau. Built
by Dom Joao V, the fulfilment of a vow that if God blessed him
with a son after three fruitless years of marriage, he would erect a
fine monument in His nameits mixture of Germanic, Italian and
Portuguese architecture was set against a background of wheeling
windmills. Later, when the immense structure began to attract
many foreign artists, drawn to gaze in awe and admiration at the
magnificent bells brought from Belgium and the Netherlands, the
exquisite statues from Rome, the marble from Carrara, the king
also had built the first school of sculpture, which in future years
produced fine altar pieces and statues now to be found in the
basilica.
Once Mafra had been a quiet little place where she had walked and
ridden with her sister, shutting out all thoughts of her own
approaching marriage. Now, it was a fortified town, she saw, as
she reined in on a hill on the road leading northward. The second
line of defence erected by Wellington's army stretched from the
Rio Tejo, where gun batteries covering the estuary were set among
thistles and rock roses, through Mafra to the Atlantic seaboard,
where sheer cliffs made it impossible for the enemy to land. On the
S-bend in the road ahead of her was one of the many forts
guarding the way to Lisboa.
The town itself was a veritable fort with twenty redoubts and guns
around the tapadathe Royal Park. Redoubts crossed scorched
orange groves, twisted through olive and almond trees, over land
that had once been covered with maize and crops of potatoes.
She was horrified by the devastation of the land by soldiers who
claimed to be their friends and were trying to deliver them from
the menace of the French army, for they had brought as much

hardship to the people as did the invaders. There was little enough
food to provide for the inhabitants already living inside the
protection of the lines, let alone those poor devils who had lost
their homes and been forced to seek shelter further south. The
additional mouths only produced more problems and aroused fresh
bitterness towards both sides. How she prayed the war would soon
end and that her lovely country could once more flourish and
grow, the wounds heal and people return to the important task of
recultivating barren earth. How lucky were the people of Alto
Verdeand her father, whose vineyards were still intact!
As Charles looked at her, Natalia flicked away a bright red
dragonfly which insisted on hovering in front of her nose, and
turned her horse about.

'What will you do now?' Pilar stood at the end of the bed, a frown
on her usually placid features as she stared at her mistress. The
night before, Charles Sorrell had announced he would be returning
to Lisboa in two days. They had been at the house for over two
weeks, and he could leave his business no longer. She knew that
Natalia had spent another sleepless night after the announcement.
'Will you return with him, as he suggests? Wait for Major Sorrell
in Lisboa?'
'I might as well go home as do that. If only I could reach Adam,
and talk to him. Surely he could not refuse to see me if I went to
Sobral?'
'Could he not?' Pilar shrugged noncommittally. 'His letter made it
quite clear he does not want to see you ever again.'
'I won't accept that!' Natalia sprang out of bed, almost upsetting the
tray on the table beside her. She had touched no breakfast, despite

her maid's reproving comments. 'Why am I allowing myself to be

treated like this?
I have done nothing wrong . . . He would treat a camp-follower
better than he does me. Do you think he has a mistress, Pilar?'
The thought had been haunting her for days. Had Adam, in his
anger and bitterness, taken another woman to give him solace?
What would she do if he had? Oust the creature from his bed and
demand her rights as his wife? In his eyes, she had none! There
was only one course open to her, once she found him again. To
ensure she was the only woman in his lifeby whatever means at
her disposal. But if she boldly arrived in Sobral and sought him
out, he might well send her packing again, and shame her before
his friends and colleagues.
Pilar took up a brush, and sitting her down, began to brush the long
hair with loving strokes. Natalia noticed that she did not answer
the vital question. Instead, the maid said, 'I curse the day he ever
came to Alto Verde! He is a fool, and not worthy of you. I, too, am
to blame for thinking he could make you happy.'
'Nonsense! It was none of your doing. Even if we had met
somewhere else, I know I would have fallen in love with him. Do
you believe there is just one special man in the world, Pilar, that a
woman will love, no matter what?'
'What is going on in that little mind, eh? Are you going with
Senhor Sorrell or back to the quinta?'
'Neither. I am going to Sobral,' Natalia declared. 'I know there is
the possibility that he will refuse to see me, but I could stay with
Alida . . .' Her lips quivered slightly as she considered the
possibility of yet another rejection. 'I have to talk to him, and
explain . . .'

'If you travel as the Senhora Natalia Sorrell, the wife of a British
officer and expect to be treated as such, I've no doubt he will hear
of your coming long before you reach Sobral. If it is your intention
to get to him without him receiving prior knowledge of your
intentions, you must do so by travelling as someone totally
inconspicuoussuch as a servant-girl. If you have the courage, of
course, menina?'
'Anyone has only to take one look at me to see I am no servant,'
Natalia replied, stunned by the suggestion. She had seen cart-loads
of women on their way to the front when she rode with Charles the
previous day, laughing and joking with the soldiers travelling with
them. If she did not travel under her own name, she might be taken
for one of them! Camp-followerslaundrywomen . . . or one of
the usual prostitutes who always trailed in the wake of an army.
'It will be necessary to alter your appearance, to darken your skin
and cut off most of your hair. It would be full of the most
unmentionable things if it was left long! Lord knows when you
would be able to take a proper bath!and I may not always be
able to stay close at hand to watch over you, though I swear I shall
try. When I have finished with you, not even the Major himself
will know you,' Pilar added with a slow, confident smile. 'Isn't that
what you want?'
'Cut my hair? Darken my skin?' Natalia looked at her as if she had
taken leave of her senses. She would not have her name and rank
to protect her. . . She would be alone and unprotected until she
reached Adam's side. It was an idiotic plan . . . foolish ... yet so
daring that it might just work. She could pretend she was on her
way to join Alida and her new husband! Yet why should she place
herself at risk for a man who did not care for her? Who had twice
denied her as his wife. She could not imagine herself as a dusky-

skinned servant-girl, and balked at the thought of scissors being

wielded on the burnished gold hair of which she was so proud.
'Supposing, just supposing . . .' she began, then broke off with a
shake of her head as Pilar laid down the brush. 'No! I cannot! And
yet, if he did not know me . . . I could stay with him . . . make him
love me! He wanted me that night, Pilar. I know he did! I gave him
love, and he scorned me.'
'Do you seek him out to tell him you still love him and wish to be
his wifeor do you want revenge, menina, to soothe your
wounded pride? Perhaps you could make him fall in love with
you? He is only a man, after all. . . And he will not know you.'
Now Pilar dared to raise the matter, Natalia found herself
pondering over her determination to follow her husband. She did
love him, but he had hurt her. It would be no more than he
deserved if she did not tell him who she was straight away.

'You want me to take a bath at this time of night?' Natalia

protested, only half awake and believing she had dreamed Pilar
was waking her at two in the morning.
Pulling back the bedclothes, the maid pushed her feet into slippers
and propelled her towards the adjoining room, where enormous
closets lined the walls. On a large rush mat was a porcelain bath,
delightfully decorated with pink rosebuds. Fresh towels were
draped over a chair, together with a piece of a folded black cloth.
'It has been many years since I last mixed this particular
concoction.' Pilar gave an odd smile as her mistress stared round
her in bewilderment. 'I do not want the dye to stain the towels, or

Senhor Sorrell might have me whipped for my part in this. He

might, anyway.'
'He would not do such a thing; he is a kind man. Besides, you are
my servant, I would not allow it . . .' Natalia's eyes widened, flew
to the bath and widened still more at the sight of the dark liquid
there. 'Now? Pilar, you did not say it would be tonight!'
'It has to be done while everyone is asleep. You are afraid? That is
understandable, but if you trust me you will take off your
nightgown and soak yourself. An hour should be long enough.
Some of theingredients were very hard to come by, and two I
could not get at all, so I had to add more walnut juice, which is
why you must spend longer in it than usual. It felt quite like old
times again.'
Natalia looked at her sharply as she lowered herself into the bath.
What did she mean? Pilar had been in her father's household for
over twenty years, but no one, including herself, knew very much
about the woman's background. The liquid terrified her. She would
emerge coal-black, and never be able to get her skin clean again!
Sensing her reluctance, Pilar gave her no time for regrets. Taking
up the pair of scissors which lay on top of the towels, she selected
a thick wad of hair and began to cut. Natalia gave a cry, and closed
her eyes. What had she done!
'It is not as strong as it looks,' she was assured in a soothing tone.
Snipsnip, the scissors continued their ruthless work as she
talked. Natalia sat bolt upright, her lips pressed tightly together,
eyes firmly closed. 'In a moment, you must immerse yourself
completely. If your eyebrows need more darkening, I can do that
afterwards. You will make a very alluring waif, menina. Major
Sorrell will stand no chance when he sees you. I'd forgotten how

your hair used to curl when you were a little girl. When it is dry, it
will do so again. Almost done . . .Be brave a little longer.'
Brave! She was shaking like an aspen-leaf by the time Pilar
allowed her to emerge from the bath and wrapped the black cloth
about her dripping body.
'Bring me a mirror quickly,' Natalia insisted, but the maid shook
her head.
'Not yet. Be patient and let me dry you. Then you are going back
to bed. I shall bring you some hot milk, and you will sleep.
Tomorrow we shall introduce the new maid to Dom Carlo. I took
the liberty of spending some of the money on suitable clothes
nothing special, you understand, and stout walking sandals.
Servants do not ride very often. Who knows what kind of
conditions you will encounter once you reach the Linhas!'
'Let me see myself.' Grabbing up the trailing ends of the cloth
about her, Natalia brushed aside Pilar's restraining hand and ran
back into the other room. Before the mirror, she came to an abrupt
halt. She could feel the blood draining from her face at what
confronted her, but it did not show. From beneath short, very
black, wet hair, vivid blue eyes stared out of a strange face. Her
skin glowed with a deep mahogany sheen. She did not look a
freak! In fact the effect was quite becoming, and her heart skipped
a beat to think that Adam might be drawn more to a dark-skinned
serving-maid than he was to his own wife.
'He will not know you. Not when I have done.' Pilar began to dry
her hair, watching her closely. 'You are pleased?' .
'Yes, and unsure . . . and yet somehow confident. Pilar, you are
wonderful! Where did you learn such things? What was in that
awful mixture?'

'Herbs, and the dyes of certain plants.'

'As simple as that? I know the women in Alto Verde use the juice
from wild irises to dye cloth, and I have heard that some of the
young girls, when they wish to make themselves more attractive,
darken their skin with oil from the olives. How they must smell!'
Natalia gingerly put her wrist beneath her nose. 'Thank goodness, I
don't.'
'I must rinse your hair with lemon-juice and rose-water, and then,
menina, you must sleep.'
'You haven't told me how you knew what to do. Are you a gipsy,
Pilar? You've never admitted itor denied it, either.'
'I am many things. But just this once, inquisitive one, I shall satisfy
a little of your curiosity so that you may realise what can be
achieved if you are prepared to be strong and fight for what you
want. I was born into a poor familythe eighth girl. We were ten
in all. By the time I was six, there were only three of us left.
Starvation and sickness had claimed many of my brothers and
sisters. My father deserted us when my mother could no longer
bear children. She tried to support us all by helping the sick of the
village. She had a way with herbs ... a knowledge passed to her
from her grandmother. She was repaid with fire. When she could
not prevent the young son of the head-man of our village from
dying, he ordered her to be burnt as a witch. I remember very little
of the years after that. I ran away that day to prevent myself being
sold into bondage. I lived as I couldstole what I had toin order
to stay alive. By chance, I came to Lisboa, and there found a
homefor a whilewith an old woman who plied a strange trade,
as I was soon to discover. Many fine ladies and gentlemen came to
her for her potions. Love-philtresdyes for their hair when it
began to greywhiteners for their old skin. She knew it all. I sat

and watched and listened. One day, she just died . . . and I began to
roam again.'
'And you came to Alto Verde, near dead from hunger and fever,'
Natalia breathed. What a wealth of knowledge lurked behind that
placid face. So many hardships, the loss of loved ones, yet she had
survived.
'I was pretty once,' Pilar murmured, watching her with a hint of
amusement in the depths of brown eyes. 'I learned quickly about
the worldand men.'
Natalia turned back to the mirror and surveyed herself in silence.
Was she this lovely tantalising colour all over? Would it make her
body more enticing to Adam? 'You have nothing to offer me. . . .
You are a child playing at being a woman. I would rather pay for
my pleasures than bed you.' His cruel, scathing remarks came back
to her, heightening her resolve, hardening her senses against any
traces of weakness. How was it possible that she wanted to hurt
him? To inflict pain as he had done to her? She loved him!
***
Charles was having breakfast when Pilar came into the room
followed by a dark-skinned girl dressed in a modest black skirt and
dark blue blouse. She followed the maid with head downbent and
hands clasped tightly together in front of her. Bare feet were thrust
into leather sandals. A cross of silver hung on a chain about her
neck.
'My mistress has bid me bring this girl to you, senhor. She found
her begging in the street yesterday, near starving, and took pity on
her. She intends to journey on to Sobral and thinks she might serve
as a maid. But she wishes for your approval,' Pilar said coolly. 'I
have bathed herfor she was filthy, of course. These beggar girls

always are. But I fed her first, so she was fairly quiet while I
scrubbed the grime from her skin. Do you find her presentable
enough for my mistress, or shall I give her a coin and send her
back into the streets where she belongs?'
'Oh, no, gracious senhor!' The girl gave a wail, and flung herself
on the floor at Charles's feet, clutching at his trouser-leg and
sobbing.
'Get up, girl, and let me look at you,' he demanded. He could
scarcely suppress the gasp which rose to his lips as she
straightened and he found himself staring into a pair of brilliant
blue eyes, so like those of Natalia that it momentarily stunned him.
'If your mistress wanted to take servants with her, she had only to
inform me and I would have selected more suitable companions,'
he declared, casting a dubious look at the quivering girl. Despite
the colour of her eyes, which Natalia was sure would give her
away both to him and to Adam, she realised he did not know her.
'I have no family, senhor. My mother is dead and my father
deserted us . . . May he burn in hell,' she muttered in a low, fierce
whisper. 'I'll work. I swear it by the Holy Virgin! I can sew . . . and
cook. Well, some,' she added, as Pilar's mouth twitched. She knew
how to cook, for she had spent many hours in the kitchens
watching the cook prepare bread and soups and learned how to
mix the fiery piri-piri spices for special sauces but as to the
actual cooking, she had always had servants to do that for her.
So many times Pilar had taken pity on her and pretended she was
indisposed, usually a malady of the stomach which would confine
her to bed for at least two daysand always when her father was
absent from the quinta. For one of those days, Natalia would roam
aloneand freein the countryside, while Alida was being

tutored. Then for blissful hours she would sit in a corner of the
kitchen, listening to the gossip, envying the activity going on about
her. Occasionally, when it was safe to do so, the cook would allow
her to knead the dough and grind the spices. She revelled in flour
up to her elbows, the smell of pimentos and onions, sweetsmelling garlic. There was much knowledge accumulated in her
brain that had never been put to good use.
As Charles put aside his paper, she added with mischievous
delight, 'Would you deny me the opportunity of cooking for my
husband, senhor?'
His eyes flew to her face, scanning it intently. Recognition
dawned. An oath broke from his lips . . . She steeled herself for
anger . . . and heard him roar with laughter.
'Damn me if you might not bewitch him after all, looking like that!
I take it that is your intention? Paying him back a little, maybe?'
'No,' Natalia protested. 'Well, perhaps a little . . . But don't you
agree I shall be able to get close to him like this? I shall pretend to
be Alida's maid. I shall be near him . . . For now, that's all I ask.'
'I should forbid this, you know. I shall never forgive myself if
anything happens to you. How do your propose to travel?'
'II hadn't thought . . .' She could not go by carriage, as that was
how ladies travelled. Servants walked. . .
'There is sure to be a supply wagon going to Sobral within the next
few days. I shall see a friend of mine and you can travel with it.
You are to let me know the moment you arrive in Sobral. Is that
clear, my impulsive, marvellous nora pequena?'

He used the Portuguese word for 'daughter-in-law' with such

warmth in his voice that Natalia threw her arms about his neck and
hugged him. She had grown very fond of Charles Sorrell.
'I shall be careful and send messages, I promise. Pilar will be with
me. We shall be quite safe. I have to do this, don't you understand?
I cannot bear to be without him. Even his scorn will be better than
nothing at all!'
Charles looked into her determined features, and knew that
nothing, short of taking her back with him to Lisboa by force,
would prevent her from going to his son, and a silent pride swelled
his heart to bursting-point.
'You are truly worthy of the Sorrell name.'

True to his word, before he returned to Lisboa, Charles made

arrangements for two of his son's household to follow him to
Sobral under the protection of a small supply wagon and ten
soldiers. Natalia had found herself crushed between sacks of flour,
grain and coffee and sugar on one side, and the enormous bulk of
one of the other four occupants, camp-followers on their way to
look for the men who had left them behind in Mafra or Lisboa.
Before the journey was a quarter of the way through, her cheeks
were burning profusely from the coarseness of the banter passing
between the women and the soldiers accompanying them. Now she
realised what she was up against. She had been taken for one of
them, although she insisted she was the maid of a lady of quality
and on the way to rejoin her mistress.
Her remarks had been greeted with broad smiles and whispered
comments. They thought her no better than they were!

She ignored their attempts to draw her into conversation, and

averted her gaze from a young Lieutenant riding alongside the
wagon who showed more than a passing interest in the slender,
dusky young woman with eyes as blue as English cornflowers. She
feigned sleepwondering how it would be when she reached
Sobral.
Pilar made the journey travelling in another wagon, which carried
livestock. Pigs, and chickens to feed the hundreds of mouths
waiting ahead. She said nothing when they were deposited in the
dusty main street of the town after Natalia had vigorously rejected
a suggestion by the Lieutenant that he find her accommodation.
She had a pretty shrewd idea where it would have been, and was
glad to see the wagons roll on towards the warehouses which had
been commandeered by the army on the edge of the town, but
stood brushing feathers from her hair and clothes in obvious
displeasure. Natalia had supposed that Alida would have lodgings
in the town, not close to the main front line, but all her questions
as to the whereabouts of the Senhora Alida Sorrell, wife of Captain
Drew Sorrell, came to nothing. Instead she received more than one
most outrageous proposal which sent the blood rushing to her
cheeks in embarrassment.
Often during the journey she had begun to wonder at the wiseness
of her disguise. The blueness of her eyes was accentuated by the
dark sheen of her skin. Her lips looked fuller, redder, than before.
Black curls twisted about her ears, danced about her cheek. She
looked differentfelt differentand it was becoming obvious that
men found her attractive. That was the strange part, even more
difficult to accept than the stranger who faced her in the morning
when she gazed into the mirror. She was no longer Natalia
Catarina Maria Lareira, tied by convention and the proud name she
bore. No longer need she contain the untamed spirit her father had

tried in vain to suppress. She was a simple servant-girl, and her

heart was free to give to whom she pleased.
No, it was not free. It belonged to Adam, and always would. But
now she couldand woulddo something about it.
The closer they had come to Sobral, the more intense the
devastation of the land, the heavier the fortifications. On the
skyline, windmills and forts stood side by side. Earthworks like
long black worms slithered across the bare earth. As they passed
scattered villages, curious eyes watched them. Once they were
ordered to stop by a patrol, but after the Lieutenant had spoken
with the officer in charge, laughing as he gazed back at the wagon
where the women sat, they were allowed through. Natalia lifted a
hand to push back a damp tendril of hair from her forehead. She
hardly felt the discomfort of wet clothes, for they had been
drenched in a brief shower an hour before, or the ache beginning to
invade her legs and back from the bumpy ride. All she could think
about was Adam!
They had arrived just as the watery sun was descending behind
dark clouds for the last time that day. The air was heavy and
oppressive, and distant thunder heralded the approach of a storm.
Men sprawled or sat outside tiny tascas and wine shops, and betted
whether it would come. Natalia noticed more than one uniformed
figure enjoying a game of dice, usually in the company of a
woman.
'We must find Alida before it gets dark. Someone must know her,'
Natalia said, searching the street for someone to speak to again.
Now she was not only tired, but beginning to realise how hungry
she was as appetising smells came wafting through open windows.

'Well, now, decided to wait for me after all, have you?' The young
Lieutenant was standing behind them, eyeing her with the same
candour as he had when she had sat in the wagon.
'I am still looking for my mistress. She is the wife of Captain Drew
Sorrell, of the Light Dragoons. Please tell me if you know where
they are? I was to have arrived yesterday, and she will be angry
with me.'
'Sorrell? Both Captain Sorrell and his brother are on the other side
of Monte Agrago, girl. Not here.'
'Notnot here?'
'You stupid girl!' Pilar pushed her to one side and faced the officer,
her dark eyes flashing with anger. 'I told her the mistress was not
in the town, but this idiot would insist we tried here first. I'll take a
stick to her if we don't find the Captain before the rain starts. My
bones won't stand a soaking again. . . And that ride. . . Senhor, you
have a kind face . . . For pity's sake, will you tell us where to find
the Captain?'
'Better than that, I'll take you to them. Captain Sorrell is my
commanding officer. I have dispatches for him from Mafra, so you
are welcome to travel with me if you wish. But as for getting there
before the rain comes . . .' He looked down at the raindrops already
soaking into his blue sleeve. 'You'll have to share a mule, but I
should be able to find you some protective clothing. It's the best I
can do, and you must keep up with me. I'm not too delighted to get
another soaking either, and I want to reach camp as quickly as
possible.'
'Obrigada, senhor. I shall remember you in my prayers,' Pilar
murmured, and Natalia managed to add a few words of gratitude

herself, so overcome with relief at the news that she felt quite
faint.
'I am sure my kindness will not go unappreciated.' The Lieutenant
was looking at Natalia as he spoke, and, to her horror, as he passed
her, he soundly pinched her bottom!
***
It took more than an hour from Sobral along winding tracks, that
were more like rivers of mud now as the heavens opened and a
deluge of rain descended upon the Lieutenant and his two women
companions and the escort of five troopers riding behind them. A
fierce wind buffeted the riders mercilessly, forcing Natalia to grip
tightly to the pommel of the saddle. Pilar, her arms tight around
her mistress's waist, muttered prayer after prayer for their safe
arrival, and reproached herself for bringing her 'baby' on such a
dangerous and obviously godforsaken journey. If He had wanted
her to be reunited with Adam Sorrell, he would have been at the
house in Mafra . . . They would not have had to make another
journey, on a stubborn mule who would not go at more than a
snail's pace, despite the driving rain. Natalia would not have had to
suffer the indignities of being ogled by the soldiers.
Both women were reeling with tiredness and discomfort when a
long low building came into sight a few yards ahead. So blinding
was the rain that they were upon it before it was possible to define
whether it was in fact a place of habitation, or a deserted peasant
hut now only used by brave shepherds and goat-herders when
watching their flocks.
Natalia almost fell out of the saddle into the waiting arms of the
young officer, but the moment her feet touched the ground, she
quickly pulled away. She wanted to give him no encouragement

not that he needed any, for with a wicked grin, he grabbed her up
in his arms and ran with her into the shelter of the house, leaving
poor Pilar to be helped down by one of the troopers, who only at
the last moment realised she was still sitting on the burro and
turned back to lift her from it.
The house was one of many which had been commandeered by the
army when its occupants retreated behind the safety of the lines.
The long, oak-beamed kitchen with its enormous open fire and the
smell of baking coming from the oven, set back in four feet of
solid wall, was a welcome sight to Natalia, who sank immediately
into the nearest chair.
Her wet clothes clung to her uncomfortably, and the way her
companion was eyeing the shapely figure outlined beneath them
did nothing to ease her discomfort. Through a low doorway
appeared a man, and she quickly lowered her head as Drew
advanced towards the table where the Lieutenant had laid down his
dispatch-pouch while he shook the water from his cape and shako,
and straightened the very sad-looking red plume.
'You've made good time, Lieutenant. Didn't beat the rain, though. I
was hoping it would hold off until tomorrow,' he said cheerfully,
oblivious of the water soaking the stone floor. 'Have you eaten
yet? My wife has some good vegetable soup on the stove. You are
welcome to stay and have some.'
'I am afraid I always put too much garlic in my soups for the
Lieutenant. He prefers Nuno's chicken with vegetables.' Alida
came into the room, and Natalia blinked in surprise at her
appearance. Her hair was pulled back into a tight knot at the nape
of her neck. She was wiping her hands on an apron tied about her
waist. Her dress was plain blue cotton, and on her feet were leather
sandals. Natalia had harboured deep reservations about her sister

being able to cope with the hardships and deprivations endured by

soldiers' wives, but now they vanished. Her smile was quite
dazzling, even though there were grey shadows beneath her eyes
as if she lacked a good night's sleep.
Natalia's stomach had growled when soup was mentioned, but now
to consider a plate of chicken and vegetables, it positively ached.
The Lieutenant took the hand extended to him and touched still
damp fingers to his lips. He obviously had the utmost respect for
the Captain's wife, and treated her with the courtesy he would have
shown if she had been greeting him in some elegant drawing-room
in the capital.
'With no offence to your cooking, ma'am, I've been drowned twice
today and I'd like to get into dry clothes. After that, some warming
brandy and, as you say, Nuno's chicken. Where that boy gets them
from I'll never know, but while he has them, I'll eat them! I was
brought up on a farm, and my appetite demands four large meals a
day.' Then, remembering the two silent women who stood behind
him, 'I've brought you the servants you were expecting. They came
up from Mafra with me. Good night, Captain Sorrell. Mrs Sorrell.'
At the word 'servants', Alida's gaze flew to the two faces. One she
did not recognise, but the other . . .
'Pilar! Oh, my dear woman, you are drowned . . . What are you
doing here?' She flew to her side, pulling away the blanket in
which she was enveloped and dropping it on the floor. 'Come to
the fire and warm yourself. Drew, fetch some soup for them both.
Nothing is wrong? Natalia . . . Father?'
'Nada, senhora, nada,' Pilar assured her, as she pulled off wet
shoes and rolled down her stockings under Drew's amused eyes.

'You've come to play bodyguard, have you then? She is quite safe
with me, you know! We are in no danger here.'
They took no notice of Natalia until that moment when she, too,
drew close to the fire and divested herself of the coat one of the
troopers had wrapped round her when the rain began. Pilar was the
only person they were interested in because they recognised her. . .
Hope rose inside her. If she could fool them . . . !
'May I stay by the fire, senhora, and have a little soup?' she asked
in a meek tone, and Drew quickly fetched another earthenware
bowl and filled it with piping hot soup crammed full of vegetables.
'I don't know you . . .' Alida turned to give her her full attention.
'Pilar, I have no need of a maid up here ... I have little enough to
do, as it is.' She broke off, her eyes narrowing in disbelief as the
bedraggled newcomer reached for the bowl, and she found herself
staring at long, slender fingers with nails manicured, not broken or
dirty as she would have expected. It could not be! 'Perhaps I do. . .'
Lifting her head, Natalia stared first at her sister and then into
Drew's astonished face, and heard his sharp intake of breath as
recognition dawned and she said stubbornly,
'I am not going back. I have come to find Adam and stay with him.
I know what you said in jour letter. He doesn't want me, but I love
him and I shall make him accept me'.
'The moment he sees you, he'll send you back to Mafra and not be
polite about it,' Drew said harshly. 'Are you mad, Natalia?
Whatever possessed you to arrive here looking likelike that?
Good heavens, girl, you might have been taken for . . .'
He broke off as Alida flashed him a warning glance, but Natalia
smiled and only shrugged her wet shoulders.

'A camp-follower? You would not believe the proposals I have

received already! More than one from the Lieutenant who brought
us here, I might add. If that is what I have to become to be with
Adam, so be it.'
'She has taken leave of her senses! Thank God the rain has delayed
him, or he would have been here when she arrived.' Drew ran a
hand exasperatedly through his unruly hair. 'She can return to
Mafra in the morning. I'll arrange it.'
'No,' Alida stated firmly, and he looked at her as if he had not
heard aright. 'She will stay here. Are you so blind, my husband?
She loves Adam as deeply as I love you. I am here with you.
Would you deny her the right to be with her husband?'
'You know how he feels about her?'
'I know his pride has been hurt and that she is the only one he can
take it out on,' Alida retorted. 'Let Natalia have her way. If she
fails, she must return to Mafra or to the quinta and accept that the
marriage will be annulled. But, if she succeeds . .'
'Are you telling me she intends to crawl into Adam's bed
pretending to be a camp-woman?' Drew snorted, unable to believe
such a conversation was going on. 'You have seen the kind of
women about here . . . some are wives, true, but the rest are little
more than paid whores who will find another man if the one they
are with goes into battle and gets killed!'
'There is a difference,' Natalia told him quietly, and something in
her tone halted his mounting anger. There was not only
determination on the dark face, but pride too. 'Until such time as
the marriage is annulled'
'Father is arranging that.'

'Not yet.' She smiled again, a knowing, confident smile that told
him she had won the heart of Charles Sorrell and gained precious
time to put her audacious scheme into effect. 'Until the marriage is
annulled, I am still his wife. He is my husband. There is nothing
wrong in what I do. Now, I am very hungry, and poor Pilar is near
dead with cold. Have you somewhere we can dry our clothes and
rest?'
For a long moment there was silence, and Alida began to look
quite anxious as her husband did not speak. Then, with a lifting of
his shoulders which indicated defeat, Drew said,
'Take them away. They are your responsibility. I'll try and find
some more bedding and clothes. God help us all when Adam gets
back!'

CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SMALL detachment of cavalry under Drew's command had
made itself comfortable around the farmhouse. Some soldiers,
preferring the luxury of a roof over their heads instead of the
draughty bivouacs spread along the river bank, had taken over an
enormous barn and slept beside their horses and an assortment of
other animals. Encamped at the far end, well away from the family
men and their wives, were the women who had drifted in from the
towns and villages. Between the heavily protected fort at Sobral
and the cavalry was situated a battery of cannon which was trained
on the distant countryside, guarded by a large contingent of
infantry.
Natalia spent the first few days after her arrival playing 'maid' to
her sister whenever she went out. Even in the house, Pilar often
insisted she maintained the pose just in case any strangers
appeared unexpectedly. It was not as easy as Natalia had thought it
would be.
She did not precede Alida through the door, Pilar reproved, but
walked a respectful distance to the rear. Neither did she speak
unless she was spoken to. If there were guests, she did not linger in
the room, expecting to be able to listen to the conversation. Natalia
did not argue, even though she found it most difficult to contain
her questions whenever she saw Drew speaking with one of his
men. Surely someone knew where Adam was, and when he would
return? He was overdue, and although Drew shrugged off the
possibility that he might have been captured by the enemy, she
knew it was in his mind.
When he returned, Adam would sleep in the room adjoining that
which Natalia shared with Pilar. On several occasions she had
been tempted to go into it, but the presence of Nuno always

deterred her. He guarded the door from within during the day,
Alida told her, and spent his time brushing Adam's uniform,
polishing his boots, and accumulating vintage brandy for his
return. At night he slept outside the door, his body stretched across
the opening, making it impossible for anyone to enter without
waking him. Alida thought him a very useful acquisition to her
scanty household, for if there was ever anything she wanted in the
way of food or wines, she had only to tell the boy and they would
appear within a few hours.
He had stared quite rudely at Natalia the first time they
encountered each other, but after that he had ignored her. He had
scarcely seen her for more than a few minutes at a time, Natalia
knew, and so there was no possibility of his associating the drablydressed serving-maid with the younger daughter of Senhor Abilio
Lareira.
Determined to carry out every duty required of her, however
distasteful, Natalia accompanied Pilar each day to the river, and
for the first time in her life found herself washing dirty clothes,
pounding them against flat stones until they were clean, and then
spreading them over near-by bushes to dry in the hot autumn
sunshine. Here, to her relief, she found she was accepted without
reservations. If anyone gave her a second glance, it was to envy
the sooty lashes veiling large blue eyes or the mop of short curls as
black as a raven's wing. Another servant-girlpretty enough,
perhaps, to catch the eye of a British officerbut no one
important.
Natalia had forced herself to accept that, in her disguise , she
seemed to be more attractive to men and must be careful not to
give any of the women cause for jealousy and so bring
unnecessary trouble down upon her head. It was impossible to stop
the soldiers speaking to her, for many of them whiled away bored

hours on the river bank, watching the women as they worked.

Many tried to make assignations with her, and she found the
easiest way to deter them was to pretend not only did she not
understand one word of English, but that she was also a little
simple-minded.
The only person on whom this did not have the desired effect was
the Lieutenant who had brought her to Sobral. Much to Alida's
amusement, Pilar's consternation and Natalia's frustration, the
young man persisted in his efforts to strike up a friendship. Or, as
the latter suspected, a more binding liaison.
On some pretext he would appear at the farmhouse, usually as they
were all about to eat an evening meal. With no one but Drew and
Alida about, Natalia and Pilar would sit at the table, but with the
presence of a stranger, Natalia was forced to help Pilar to serve the
food and then conduct herself as a mere servant until he had
departed.
It was a great relief when he did not appear for several days and
she was allowed to enjoy her simple meals in peace. One evening,
however, when she went down to the river to fetch water, he was
waiting for her. The brief but fierce tussle that ensued when he
grabbed hold of her and soundly kissed her, ended when the stone
flagon she had just filled was emptied over his head, completely
soaking him from head to toe.
Consumed with blind panic as he called her a very unladylike
name and tried to grab her again, Natalia picked up her skirts and
ranonly to collide headlong with a bearded, ill-dressed man
leading a limping horse through the trees.
'Ohlook where are you going!' she cried angrily, oblivious of the
hand that caught and steadied her as she thudded into him. Her

nose wrinkled at the odour clinging to himsweatthe smell of

horsestobacco. She looked up in disgust at the grime-covered
brown featuresand froze in disbelief and horror.
A strangled cry escaped her lips as she took to her heels again,
leaving Adam staring after her, too shocked by the image which
had momentarily presented itself to him to move for several
minutes. Those eyes! Her eyes! But the face of a gipsy wench!
Was the memory of his accursed wife never to leave him? She
haunted his dreams at night . . . Was he now to see her in every
woman he met?
He was tired, he reasoned. A good bottle of brandy inside him, and
then twelve hours' straight sleep, and he would be rational again.
How could he ever have compared that creature with Natalia? Her
skin was as white and smooth as alabaster. Her lips softly
coloured. Her body ... He swore under his breath and continued on
his way again, shutting out the memory of his wedding night. The
brief but hard contact of the girl's body against his had made him
remember how much he had wanted to possess the wife he did not
even acknowledge and longed to be rid of. By now his father
would be arranging the annulment. When he returned to Lisboa,
the unpleasant episode would be over and he would be free. How
strange that the knowledge did not give him the satisfaction it had
done a few weeks ago!
Alida was sitting on the velvet-covered couch someone had
requisitioned from Sobral and brought to the farmhouse to give
them a little comfort. It was very out-of-place amid the pine table
and the hard chairs, but for a little while each evening it gave her a
memory of home as she sat close to Drew and they talked in low
tones, their heads close together. They did not mean to shut her
out, Natalia realised, but the sight of them holding hands, kissing,

listening to the warmth and affection in their voices, made her feel
dismally unhappy.
Her sister looked up startled as she burst through the door, and
Drew came to his feet with a stifled exclamation as he saw her
distraught features.
'Natalia! What . . . ?'
'He's back!' Natalia could scarcely speak. 'Adam . . . Back by the
river . . .'
Without pausing in her headlong flight, she carried on into her
room and slammed the door behind her, to sink quivering on the
bed. Backsafeas she had prayed he would be! Could he have
recognised her? Trembling still in every limb, she rose and went to
look at herself in the piece of glass she had propped on the rickety
table. No. Pilar's potions had worked strong magic. The face which
stared back at her bore no resemblance whatsoever to that of
Natalia Catarina Maria Lareira. So long as she did not lose her
head and betray herself, she was safe!
He had looked so exhausted. Where had he been, what horrors had
he seen, to make him look so drained, as if the weight of the whole
world was bearing upon his shoulders? Loud voices came from the
other side of the door. Drew's, harsh with the relief at seeing his
brother again. Alida's, high-pitched with the strain she too had felt,
urging him to sit down and rest, to have food and drink. Nuno's
trying to make itself heard in the babble of conversation. He would
prepare a bath at once for the Major, and bring a bottle of his best
brandy while he lazed in the hot water. Natalia stood beside the
door, yet dared not venture out. Her welcome must be said in
silence, her tears unseen. The shock of seeing him made her feel

quite faint, and she was so long in gathering her composure that
Pilar came to fetch her .
'You must come, there is work to be done,' she hissed. 'There is
some left-over meat we can mix with rice and vegetables for the
Major. He has not eaten in two days. The boy is heating some
bath-water for him. I thought he would fall asleep the moment he
sat down . . . The poor man is exhausted, but now he and his
brother are deep into soldier talk. Quickly, menina. Is this not what
you have been waiting for?'
It was, Natalia reasoned, and with a deep breath, nodded assent.
Why should he recognise her if others had not? And if he did, he
could only send her away. Before he did that, she would say what
she had come to say. Either way, she had nothing to lose . . .
perhaps a husband to win back!
She hurried past Adam, sprawled in a chair, his long booted legs
stretched out before him, and began to help Pilar to prepare some
food. Nuno had already brought a bottle of brandy and poured a
large glass for his master. Drew was too much interested in what
his brother was saying to touch the one on the table in front of him.
Natalia positioned herself to one side of the fire so that she could
watch themor rather Adam. He had discarded his jacket. The
shirt beneath was as grubby as the rest of his clothes, she saw.
There was no sign of the elegant officer she had been introduced to
at Alto Verde, or the handsome, casually clad man who had ridden
with her the next day.
This man was a stranger. The tired brown face was considerably
harder than she remembered it, and there was anger in the taut
jawline as he spoke of the French atrocities he had seen,
perpetrated by Massena's scouts as they scoured the country for
informers, for food and women. Men hid their wives and daughters

when they approachedsometimes successfully, but not always,

for as the French rampaged through village after village searching
for non-existent stores of food, the unfortunate women were often
discovered and abused. Examples were made of anyone showing
resistance. Age was of no consequence, Adam told the hushed
listeners. He had himself cut down the body of a six-year-old boy
who had been hanged, together with his father and two brothers.
'There were times when I envisaged you coming to such a ghastly
end,' Drew intervened at one point, and reached for his glass for
the first time.
'You know I bear a charmed life. I would have been back to
rendezvous with you on time had we not run into a French courier.
A very obliging fellow, as it happened. After Julio had talked with
him for a while, he handed over all his dispatches quite willingly
and told us a great deal we didn't know before. For one, that
Robert Carrington had got himself captured and was on his way to
Massena himself. If they had broken him . . .'
'Who . . . ?' Alida began, but Drew had anticipated her question.
'A fellow officerin the same line of work as Adam. Well, go on,
man. Where is he? Did you get to him? You did go after him?
That's why you are late, isn't it?'
'By now he's with the surgeon in Sobral. He was in quite a state
when I managed to lift him from under the French noses, but he
survived the ride back and I've every hope he will mend within a
few weeks. They gave us a beating, though. I had only ten men
against forty. Now I have six. Four good men ... I won't forget
that...'
Adam drained his glass and refilled it and drank again, then laid
his head against the back of the chair with a heavy sigh.

'Alida, I'm sure your cooking is as excellent as when I went away,

but I don't have the stomach for it just now.'
'A meal would do you far more good than the brandy you are
drinking,' Alida reproved. 'Won't you try a little?'
Natalia quickly ladled a large amount of rice and meat on to a
platter and placed it before him. For the first time since entering,
Adam became aware of not only her presence, but that of Pilar
also. He stared long and hard at both women, his brows drawn
together into a suspicious frown.
Alida said, 'I am a lady of leisure again, even in the midst of a war.
My father sent Pilar to be with me.'
'And her?' Adam's eyes seemed to bore into Natalia's soul.
Somehow she feigned ignorance of his scrutiny and placed the pot
of coffee over the fire to reheat.
'A girl I found in Sobral last week,' Alida said calmly, while Drew
floundered for words. He knew he should stop this, but he could
not. 'She has Natalia's eyes, hasn't she? I think that's what first
attracted her to me. She was begging in the streets, poor thing.
Now that Pilar has cleaned her up, she is quite presentable. A little
simple, but willing enough to work, and conditions here are rather
primitive for someone like myself who has been cosseted all her
life.'
She bestowed a dazzling smile on Adam, who gradually relaxed in
his seat and turned his attention to the food before him. But he
only picked at it, and pushed it away after the second mouthful.
'Forgive me, I've no stomach for it. Tomorrow I promise I shall eat
like a horse. Nuno, is my bath hot?' He rose to his feet, stretching

cramped limbs. His eyes flickered towards Natalia as he turned

towards his room.
'Sim, chefe, and I have a fresh bottle for you.'
'I shall be asleep before I can drink it, but the thought is
appreciated.' Adam gripped his shoulder for a brief moment as he
passed the boy, and Nuno's face glowed with pride. Natalia
crushed the pain which rose in her. Smiles and kind words for his
brother and Alida, even for Nuno, but nothing for the wife who
must remain a stranger to him.
He followed the boy into his room. A few minutes later, Nuno
reappeared with an armful of clothes.
'The Major wishes these to be washed.' He dropped them at
Natalia's feet. 'There is no hurry. He will not require them for a
while.'
'I'll do them in the morning,' Pilar said, and bent to gather them up
again. She had caught sight of the rebellious gleam in Natalia's
eyes, and knew she had to act quickly to prevent the girl from
inadvertently giving herself away at the lad's cheekiness. Bundling
them into a cupboard, she snatched up a clean towel and a large
piece of soap and thrust them out towards the silent girl.
'It's time you did some work round here, my girl! The mistress is
too easy with you. Take these, and go and attend the Major.'
'That's my job . . .' Nuno began to protest, but Pilar waved a hand
towards the door. Alida and Drew exchanged amused glances at
the capable way the woman had taken charge. Poor Natalia,
expected to scrub her husband's back like a serving-girl! Still, she
wanted to get close to him.

'It's woman's work. You have better things to do. What about the
Major's horse? Has it been fed and watered? Have you laid out
clean clothes for the morning? Is his bed aired? Meu Deus, boy,
you have more than enough to do! Let this lazy creature work for
the food she eats. Well, girl, are you going to stand there all night?'
Natalia could feel the colour creeping into her cheeks as she left
the room. Adam was her husband, and so there was no shame in
waiting on him while he took a bath . . . but she had never seen
him unclothed! The room was very quiet as she gingerly pushed
open the door. He was immersed in the tub of hot water, a familiar
long, black cigarrillo between his lips. On the floor within easy
reach was a bottle of brandy, and the silver goblet she had often
seen Nuno polishing with loving care. He looked asleep.
She half turned, grateful of the chance to extricate herself from this
very precarious position, when, without opening his eyes, he
muttered, 'What do you want? Where's Nuno?'
'Hehe has gone to see your horse, senhor. II was told to bring
you these.' She held out the towel and soap, and one eye eased
open to regard her standing apprehensively on the threshold.
'Come in and close the door. You can scrub my back now that you
are here. It feels as if it has a week's grime still embedded in it.'
'Sim, senhor.' Somehow Natalia forced herself to the side of the
tub, conscious of Adam staring at her with narrowed gaze. Quickly
she moved behind him, and lathering the soap, began to rub it into
the smooth dark shoulders. Instantly memories came flooding
back. How she had lain in his arms the night of the wedding and
had felt the same strong muscles flexing beneath her fingers as he
kissed her. The strength of his embracethe dominating will that
had taken her by storm.

Suddenly her nervousness vanished, and it became the most

natural thing in the world to lather his arms and neck, the thick
black hair and the firm chest with its dark curls. Unknowingly, the
lightness of her touch became almost a caress, and Adam found
himself relaxing more and more beneath the long tapered fingers
which soothed the aches from his body as if by some miracle.
'Your fingers have magic in them, moca,' he said softly.
'Oh! You have a grey hair!' Natalia could have bitten off her
tongue at the thoughtless remark, but so great was her surprise
for she knew she had not noticed the silver thread at Alto Verde
that the words were uttered before she could contain them.
Adam's eyes searched her face, and then he gave a low, amused
laugh. 'I'm no youngster any more. Only one? I'm lucky.'
'The senhor is a very brave man to do what he does,' Natalia
murmured, quickly changing the conversation to hide her
confusion. He began to rise from the tub. With a gasp, she
snatched up the towel and thrust it into his hands before
deliberately dropping the soap and turning away to look for it.
Behind her, more laughter, and Adam's voice mocking gently.
'You can turn round. I'm quite decent!'
He stood dripping wet on the bare floor, the towel wrapped about
his waist, water still glistening in the black hair, and a wicked
smile on his face as he replenished the silver goblet with brandy.
For a long moment he stared down into those large blue eyes and
felt once more as if he were drowning.
'Go and see that my horse has been well cared for. Tell Nuno he
need not come back here tonight. I am sure he has some pretty

wench he's wanting to meet. You, perhaps?' The intensity of his

thoughts made his tone harsh.
'No, senhor. I do not have a noivo,' Natalia replied quietly. 'Does
the senhor require me to return with news of his horseor just to
return?'
'And whose idea would that be? Not yours, I'll warrant! My
brother's? Or his wife's? What I want is peace and quiet, moca.
Sleep. I can take my pick of a dozen women if the fancy takes me,
so why should I choose someone from the back alleys of Sobral?'
He was deliberately cruel because he wanted her to stay. The
realisation shocked him!
'The way the senhor has been staring at me, I thought perhaps I
reminded him of someone he cared for.'
'The woman in my thoughts has eyes as blue as yours, girl, but I
feel no affection for her.'
He thought of her! No matter what he said to Drew, or tried to
pretend to himself, she was in his thoughts, Natalia realised. She
had to be bold. Play the hussy if necessary. So long as he did not
send her away . . .
'Then perhaps I can make you forget her,' she said softly, and a
derisive gleam came into the green depths of the eyes which swept
her from head to toe.
'Perhaps you can. Come back if you wish.' With a shrug, Adam
turned away and began to dry himself. Was he out of his mind? He
did not really want the girlnot in that way! Since leaving Alto
Verde he had not even looked at another woman, despite many
invitations from ladies in the town. He did not socialise at all
except with his men. He had even drawn apart from Drew since his

marriage. He could not expect his brother to become involved with

his problems or try to deal with his black moods when he had a
young, pretty wife demanding all his attention.
It was strange that Pilar had been sent to care for Alida. Had she
quarrelled with Natalia or had Dom Abilio sent her to spy on him,
perhaps to try to get him to return and accept his wife? Never! He
was done with her! It was the waiting that tried his nerves, he told
himself. Once he was free again, he would be able to sleep soundly
at night. She would become nothing more than a bad dream that
disappeared with the coming of morning. A reassuring thought
why, then, was every muscle in his body tense, his senses alert,
listening for the footstep which would herald the return of the
servant-girl with Natalia's eyes?
When she returned, he would send her away. It was the only
decent thing to do. If he took her to his bed, he would vent all his
anger and bitterness on an innocent girl merely because she had
the unfortunate mischance to possess eyes of the same colour as
his wretched wife. He was not that kind of man! No, he would give
her a coin.
He watched her slip silently through the door and close it behind
her. The window behind him was open, and a light breeze invaded
the room, bringing with it the rich perfume of orange-blossom.
The muted glow from the single candle on the table beside the bed
enhanced the colour of the girl's skin, giving it a rich copper glow.
He could see the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the ill-fitting
dress, as though she had been running and was out of breath. In
haste to return to him? The little fool did not realise how she
would be used! She was probably desperate for money, and
anxious to please him with her willingness. Another reason not to
take advantage of her. He felt himself begin to waver,
remembering how pleasant it had been to feel the softness of her

against him even for one brief moment. Quickly turning away, he
picked up the coin he had placed on the table and held it out to her.
'Take this and go. You have done enough for me.'
Natalia could not believe her ears. He was sending her away! What
had changed his mind? She did not move. She might not get such a
chance again. She would not give up so easily.
'Did you not hear me, girl?' Damn her, Adam thought, why did she
look at him as if he had struck her? He was offering her money,
not a beating. 'Come, now, don't tell me I offend you?' He gestured
with the coin again. 'Take it. Buy yourself a pretty dress.'
Still no reply. No movement. He uttered a curse as he stepped
forward and saw tears glistening in her eyes. And more. A
reproach so terrible that it seared his soul. He was being
condemned for being noble. Heaven above! Without a word, she
turned to the door. As her hand reached for the latch, Adam said
quietly, 'Stay.'

When Natalia awoke the following morning, she was alone. Only
the imprint on the pillow beside her told her it had not been a
dream. She had shared her husband's bed, but she was still not his
wife! And then, directly in her line of vision as she lay listening to
singing in the kitchen, a sound so reminiscent of the quinta, she
saw the coin he had offered her the night before. There was
nothing else on the table except that, and she came up in the bed as
if stung by a vicious insect. Its meaning was only too clear.
Payment for her services. How dare he! She had stayed because
she wanted to. She had made that quite clear. She did not want him
to think she did this kind of this every night, with any man who
took her fancy. It may be the custom among other women in the

camp, she had told him, but it was not hers. And now he had had
the effrontery to shame her with payment! How often had he done
this before with others?
Her lips compressing into a tight, angry line, she leaned over and
took the coin and threw it against the far wall. Pilar gave her a
scrutinising look when she emerged to join them again, but the set
features deterred her from venturing a question. Even Alida waited
until breakfast was over before taxing her sister with what had
taken place. Her only reply was a shrug of slim shoulders and the
single word 'Nada.' Nothing. Before she could recover from her
astonishment, Natalia had snatched Adam's clothes from the
cupboard and hurried out of the house.
'I don't believe it,' Alida breathed, turning to her husband. 'Did
Adam say anything to you?'
'Why should he? He is his own master. I told you the crazy scheme
would not work. He hasn't looked at another woman since he
walked out on Natalia. Nor will he. It is too painful for him.'
'All the more reason to seek solace with someone sympathetic,
then, who is willing to listen to his troubles. Servant-girls are
always good listeners.'
'You don't know my brother,' Drew returned with a half-smile.
'Whatever happened between themif anythingis their
business, not ours, and if you care at all for your sister, you will
send her home before she is hurt. Last night Adam was damned
tiredtoo tired to recognise her, but if she stays, he might be
tempted to take a second look. Maybe a third. It's what you are
both hoping for, I know . . . But consider the consequences, I beg
you.'

'I already have, and so has Natalia. The decision to go or stay is

hers alone. I won't make her leave,' Alida replied firmly. 'Pilar, go
after her. See if you can make her tell you what took place.'
'That would not be wise, senhora.' The woman turned from the
window, a deep smile curving around her full mouth. 'The Major is
with her.'
'Answer me, girl!' Adam thundered. Curious faces turned in their
direction, and he scowled and lowered his voice so that it did not
carry beyond the two of them. The river bank was lined with
women washing clothes, who had stared at him and passed
comments as he strode towards the spot where Natalia was
engrossed in trying to get his shirt clean. 'Why did you not take the
coin I left for you?'
When he had found it in a corner of the room, he had known
instantly what had happened and had been seized with an
unexplicable anger towards her. She had nothing. She was nothing,
yet she refused his money! Proud little fool! There were not many
like her about.
'Was it not enough?' he taunted, tight-lipped.
Slowly Natalia raised her head and looked up at him. A thin sheen
of perspiration shone upon her skin from her exertions. She wore
no hat to protect her head, even though the sun was beating down
on her mercilessly, for Pilar had told her that exposure to its rays
would prolong her colouring and make it less vulnerable to fading.
His eyes were drawn to the front of her dress, which was wet
where she had splashed water from the river down the front of it as
she leaned over too far and almost lost her balance. She sat back
on her heels, holding his gaze, though it took all her will-power to
do so. A damp tendril of hair lay across one cheek. His fingers

itched to brush it away, and he was glad when she did so. The
same reproach was in her gaze, and he did not understand why.
What had he done wrong?
'I asked for no payment. I stayed with you because I wanted to.'
'Then you are angry because I fell asleep.' He had been holding her
in his arms, feeling content and relaxed. She had been stroking his
hair, her lips against his cheek . . . when, without warning, sleep
had claimed him. And the brandy, he mused, remembering how he
had awakened, and for some while seeing her lying beside him,
had not been able to remember what it had been like making love
to her. 'I apologise if I have injured your pride, moca, but if it's any
consolation, I haven't slept so well for months. Not a single dream.'
Until he said it, he had not realised how peaceful his repose had
been. No nightmares, no dreams of Natalia taunting him from their
wedding bed. How many nights had he relived that night?
'I am glad I was of some small use,' Natalia returned coldly,
returning her attention to the shirt at her feet.
'That in itself is worth something,' Adam replied, reaching for the
coin he had brought with him. Something in him was determined
she should have it. His conscience, perhaps?
'No.' Her voice cut across him like a whiplash. A woman nearby
laughed, and whispered to her companions, who looked at them.
One pulled the neck of her blouse lower over her shoulders,
invitingly. She obviously thought Natalia had just turned down the
English officer who was making his availability plain. 'There is
much anger in you, senhor. Much pain. I thought I could make you
forget whatever it is that troubles you for a few hours at least. I
was wrong, but that is no reason for you to treat me like a woman
of the streets. Please leave me alone. I have work to do.'

When she looked up, Adam was striding towards his horse among
the trees. He rode away without turning back. He was not at the
house when she returned with his clothes clean and dry, and she
gave them to Nuno to put away. She shut herself in her room for
most of the afternoon, refusing to answer any questions. Nothing
had happened, she told both Alida and Pilar in an adamant tone,
and nothing would now. Adam did not find her attractive, and she
had refused the one chance of getting close to him again. She
should have taken the money, she told herself. She was, after all,
only a servant-girl. A penniless nobody. She had too much pride!
He had wounded that pride, and she had struck back. It had been
the wrong thing to do. Now he was lost to her for ever.
'Do you like my master?' Nuno stared at her across the flames of
the fire. He was roasting a scrawny chicken on a spit over the redhot ashes of some almond branches. She had left the house to
escape her sister's searching looks and Pilar constantly hovering at
her side, nudging her from time to time as if to prompt her into
explanations, and sought solace beside the solitary figure.
Natalia lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. 'I do not
know him.'
'You stayed with him last night. He has not had a woman for a
long time. Not since . . .'The boy stopped, and jabbed the chicken
viciously with his knife.
'Since when . . .' Since Alto Verde? Was she the last woman he
had really looked at and wanted to make love to? She did not want
to believe he was in the habit of inviting servant-girls or women of
easy virtue to his bed. But was he not only a soldier, but a lonely
mana bitter man? All women would be the same to him!

'I don't remember.' Nuno speared the food on to an earthenware

platter, stared at her for a moment, then tore it in two and motioned
her to help herself. Natalia could barely conceal her delight. He
was a most uncommunicative young man where anyone other than
Adam was concerned. To be offered part of his evening meal was
an acceptance she had not expected.
'You will go back tonight?' he asked at length.
'No. He does not want me. But I would like to be his woman. To
belong to him. I have no one.'
'Then you are a fool,' Nuno said sharply. 'He belongs to no one, not
even his wife. She, least of all, has a claim on him.' He broke off
with an angry frown. 'It is not right for me to talk of things which
are none of my business or yours. Eat your chicken before than
old dragon comes looking for you.'
'She is asleep.' Natalia could not help smiling at the reference to
Pilar. She bit into the leg she had taken from the platter, and some
of the spicy sauce the boy had basted it with ran down from her
mouth to her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand,
imagining her father's face to see her eating like a common
peasant. It was delicious. She licked her greasy fingers and
reached for more.
A small furry shape materialised from the shadows beyond the fire
and came rubbing round her bare legs. It was a small, very skinny
cat. Its mottled coat of red and brown, streaked with fawn
markings, was matted and dirty. It mewed pitifully, and she
dropped a piece of chicken-skin at its feet. It pounced on the
morsel as if ravenous, and Nuno gave a derisive laugh.
'You are soft! I knew it. I have chased that wretched thing away
for the past two days. It should learn to fend for itself. If you spoil

it, it will come back again and again. As you will return to the
Major, whether he sends you away or not.'
'Everyone should have someone,' Natalia replied quietly. The
kitten at her feet mewed again and rubbed its scrawny little back
along her legs. With a soft laugh, she picked it up and fed it more
tiny pieces of chicken. 'Even a dejected creature like this needs
someone. Now it has me.'
'Can you not do better than a flea-ridden stray cat?' a voice
remarked from behind her, and Adam stepped into the firelight.
Immediately, Nuno jumped to his feet and took the reins of his
horse.
'Are you hungry, chefe? I have a cold chicken and wine.'
'Keep it for breakfast. I have eaten wellwith Lord Wellington
himself, as a matter of fact. I have been recommended for a
promotion. What do you say to that, my young friend?'
Natalia saw the smile on Adam's face as he spoke, and thought
how odd it was, almost mocking as, if he did not consider himself
worthy of such an honour. But had he not risked his life to venture
behind enemy lines to rescue a fellow officer? How lightly he
valued his existence!
'It is a great honour, chefe,' the boy gasped.
'Is it? A bullet or a sword-blade knows no rank. But, yes, it is an
honour.' He eyes rested on Natalia's downbent head. In the
flickering flames, her hair had an almost bluish sheen to it, and her
skin was like burnished copper. Bluntly he said, 'I have nothing to
offer you, moca.'

Natalia caught her breath. Was he intimating that he wanted her to

go with him? Slowly she raised her head, her long fingers still
stroking the kitten now curled up in her lap, purring contentedly.
He should have been happy, wanting to celebrate at his good news,
but she saw only a great sadness in his eyes, and heard the
loneliness in his voice.
'You have yourself. A small part, at least. What more can someone
like myself ask of a great soldier?'
'Love.' The word was harsh with pain, and she felt herself flush.
Was she the cause of this bitterness and anguish? Why? If he did
not care for his wife, the wife he had abandoned seemingly
without a second thought, why did he need to seek solace with
another woman? What devil haunted him?
'I do not ask for something that cannot be mine. You gave it all to
her, didn't you? The woman you married.'
'Perhaps I should cut out someone's tongue,' Adam muttered, and
Nuno hurriedly faded into the shadows with his master's horse.
Again those pale eyes dwelt on the girl in the firelight, and a
strange gleam flickered in their depths. Without another word, he
turned and strode off into the house.
How long Natalia remained alone beside the dying fire she did not
know. Off in the distance she could hear the cheeky chorus of
crickets and bullfrogs along the river bank. These sounds
intermingled with hushed voices and laughter from the darkness all
round her. Suddenly she realised that if she did not take the
initiativerisk Adam's anger and the very real chance of being
recognisedshe would lose him. Had she come all this way to sit
alone with only a stray kitten for company?

Pilar's mouth gaped as she came into the kitchen clutching the
animal to her breast.
'Take it.' She thrust it into the woman's hands as she began to rise
from her chair, her brain still fogged with sleep. 'It needs a bath.'
'Where do you think you are going?' Pilar hissed, and Alida, who
had fallen asleep on the sofa as she waited for Drew to return from
a staff meeting, sat up to stare at them both curiously.
'Did I hear voices? Is Drew back?'
'No, only Adam,' Natalia replied quietly, and went out before
either of them could utter another word.
The candle had been snuffed. The only light in the room came
from a shaft of bright moonlight falling through a high window
over the bed. It was sufficient to reveal the shadowy figure
reclining there.
'What have you done with your other stray?' Adam's voice came
mockingly out of the darkness.
'I have left it outside.' She closed the door and stepped hesitantly to
the bed. She could not see his face, only the outline of his long
body. He had not undressed, yet she was sure he had expected her.
Wanted her! He said nothing. He offered no word of
encouragement as she slowly slipped out of her dress and sank
down beside him. No endearment to put her at her ease. Had she
really expected any? She was merely a servant-girl going to the
bed of a handsome young man. He thought the worst of her, as he
had of his wife. There was no trust in him, no real affection, for
anyone except Drew, yet she sensed in him a great loneliness, a
withdrawal from friends and family alike. He had never said he
loved her at Alto Verde. It was she who had poured out her

innermost feelings, and in doing so, rendered herself vulnerable to

his wrath when he discovered she was already betrothed to another
man. Why had he not listened to her for one moment?
And yet, what did the past matter now? She was where she
belonged, in the bed of her husband. Whatever happened
tomorrow or the day after, he would never be able to take that
from her. This night was hers! Here, too, was her chance to be
revenged on him for all his scornful taunts and hateful remarks,
but she knew she could never bring herself to hurt him again. The
first time she had been a foolish child who had unwittingly brought
him pain. She must accept the small mercy God had granted her,
and wish for no more.
'If you wish to stay with me, you will never again mention my
wife. Do you understand, girl?' Adam said in a low tone. 'You
have her eyes, but I forgive you that, for you are in no way like
her. You are prepared to give everything, whereas she demanded
everything of me my very soul that I, Gold help me, was willing
to give up to have her, but in return she gave nothing. Nothing, do
you hear? She was the most beautiful creature I have ever met
and the most heartless.'
'Then you shall have my heart for what it is worth,' Natalia
whispered. She sought and found his hand, and touched it to her
mouth. 'I shall make you forget her.'
'I want neither your pity nor your affection, moca. What we shall
share will satisfy a need in us both, and has nothing to do with
affection. To me you will always be moca. A face without a name,
without a past. I want to know nothing about you, nor do I expect
questions from you.'

'As you wish.' His hands began to explore her body, pushing away
the last of her undergarments until they touched warm skin.
'You smell of Nuno's chicken,' he chuckled, and she gave an
indignant little cry and would have pulled away from him, but he
thrust his fingers into the mass of curls and tugged back her head,
taking her lips with fierce, possessive ardour. For a moment
Natalia felt her whole body stiffen, resisting the natural desire to
answer him, as memory of her wedding night rose in her mind.
That was the one and only time he had ever touched her so
intimately. She had begged him to make her his wife and he had
pretended to accept her, only to toss her cruelly aside and sleep
alone in the antechamber. She had cried herself to sleep that night,
and so many afterwards that she had lost count.
'You have nothing to offer me. You are a child playing at being a
woman. I would rather pay for my pleasures than bed you.'
He was certainly taking his revenge on her, with any woman who
took his fancy. She would show him she was no child. She was all
woman. His woman!
His mouth possessed hers for a moment longer before moving
slowly, caressingly to her cheek, the lobe of an ear, neck and
breasts until she moved beneath him restlessly. Her love, her
loyalty, her body, belonged to him alone. How she prayed that one
day he would realise it!
His lips moved back to hers, eager and waiting with a hunger that
startled him. He gave a soft chuckle.
'So you are not the little innocent you would have me believe! No
matter.'

Natalia cried out as the room spun about her, closed her eyes and
clung to him, caught up in a whirlpool of desire which seemed to
have no end. She heard Adam call out a name, thrust her lips
against his and held him tighter still as the world exploded.
Not until the early hours of the morning, when she awoke, did she
remember that the name had been hers!

CHAPTER NINE
'WHAT IS IT? Can you not tell me what troubles you?'
As she felt Adam move restlessly beside her, Natalia sat up.
Outside the high window it was growing light. This was the fourth
night he had gone without sleep. She had lain quiet while he tossed
in the bed, or rose to find his cigarillos and wander outside to sit
alone and smoke. Once she had followed him, only to find Nuno
crouching a few feet away, already protecting him in his own way
that shut out everyone else. Adam was unaware of either of them
as he stared off into the darkness, and she crept back to the room
without a word.
Two weeks of lying beside him at night, making love, coming to
know the soldier who had seen deathat times invited it with his
daring acts of bravery, especially when one of his comrades was in
dangeras well as the man who brooded on an incident in his past
which he could not forget and would not share with anyone.
Listening to his quiet voice coming to her out of the darkness,
telling of battle stratagems, lost friends, the growing boredom of
the English army encamped near by as they peered through
gathering autumn mists and dreamed of a fight.
Never of himself. The Adam she had grown to know and love at
Alto Verde was barred to her. The man who had spoken with such
deep affection in his tone of his home, the vineyards, the quinta he
one day hoped to have for his own never resurfaced. He was a
stranger she must learn to love all over again. It was not difficult.
All his men were anxious to be back in the field, he told her. In the
north, after having, in July, captured the fortress of Ciudad
Rodrigo from the British, the French commander Massena was
now preparing to hurl all his men into the capture of Portugal. But

to achieve his aim, he must first turn his full attention to the
second fortress which defended the road into PortugalAlmeida.
Natalia had listened to the rumours, the speculation that the army
would soon march to help in the defence of the inhabitants of the
garrison there, and had prepared herself to follow her man, but
Wellington had given no such order. No men were sent to block
Massena's path, although as well as the many stationed at Sobral,
there were fighting units and cannon on the fortified heights above
the River Alva who could have moved swiftly to effect a speedy
attack.
No one understood why they sat about day after day, or engaged in
needless drilling. What use was practice? They wanted the enemy
before them, to avenge old scores. Yet few questioned their
commander-in-chief. Natalia had become aware that they trusted
him implicitly, awaited his commands with a blind faith she found
frightening. His judgment was never wrong, never contested.
'Almeida has fallen.'
'But everyone said how well guarded it was, and with enough
provisions to last until help arrivedif the French attacked.'
'Or the rains bog Massena's army into the mud,' Adam commented,
realising she had already known of the town's surrender and had
been waiting for him to break the news to her.
She asked no questions of his comings and goings, whether he was
gone from the farmhouse for an hour or a day, but she was always
well informed as to what was going on. Nuno had told him how
she went down to the river and sat with the women, not joining in
their often bawdy conversations but sitting to one side of them,
listening to all the latest gossip, and the latest news, gained from a
great variety of sources.

She knew everything that went on about them, but never once,
since they had first come together, had he been subjected to the
slightest inquisitiveness on her part. As soon as he retired to his
room for the night, no matter at what hour, she would come to him
and remain until it grew light. Then she would dress and leave
him. When he reached out in the night for her, she was always
there, always ready to try to please him. During the day he hardly
ever saw her. He found himself beginning to look for those dusky
features and being disappointed when he did not see them.
He would never trust another woman, let alone love one and
render himself vulnerable again to the hell he had endured that
short time with Natalia. He had loved her. That was the bitterest
pill of all to swallow. He, who had remained out of reach of all the
eligible women who had wanted him, had been taken in by a pair
of bright blue eyes and a shy smile! Now he was forced to admit,
albeit grudgingly, that he had begun to care for the girl at his side.
There was a bond between them he could not define with words,
and he did not comprehend how she had succeeded in pushing
aside the barriers he had erected about himself, and entering his
solitary existence to share his pain and bitterness, without him
being aware of the intrusion.
But she was there whenever he needed her. Night after night, when
nightmares haunted him, her cool hands were on him soothingly,
her soft lips against his cheek. She gave herself, and asked nothing
in return. He had given her his protection for as long as she wished
ita small thing in return for such unselfishness. Would he have
given even that if she had not possessed Natalia's eyes? When he
made love, it was not to the girl with no name, but to his wife,
whose name came oftenunknowinglyto his lips as he slept.
More so now, since her arrival.

She snuggled close against him as he slipped an arm about her

shoulders and drew her down to him again. At the bottom of the
bed, the kitten she had adopted, fatter now and clean, watched
them through sleepy yellow eyes and yawned. What would happen
to these two when the army moved out? It was inevitable now!
There had to be a battle before much longer, or else Massena's
army would gain too strong a foothold in the mountains.
So far, the bands of guerrilleros he and his fellow officers had
trained, together with the Ordinanca, were causing havoc in the
Beira Mountains, killing French stragglers without mercy in
retaliation for their own ill-treatment at the hands of the enemy,
and Wellington's scorched-earth policy had laid bare most of the
countryside. The French would not be advancing on full stomachs
despite the three hundred and fifty thousand pounds of bread they
had discovered when Almeida was turned over to them.
The Ordinanca were Portuguese peasants, armed with an
assortment of ancient, but frightening weapons from blunderbusses
to the wooden quince-poles used for knocking down fruit, and as
effective in rendering a man insensible or killing him as any sword
or pistol. They wore no uniforms, but dressed in traditional style,
sporting woollen caps, breeches and stout boots. Under ancient
Portuguese law, they had always been called on in times of
emergency. The French, however, considered them as they did the
guerrilleros, little more than rebellious peasants, and prisoners
were hung from the trees without trial or ceremony.
Almeida had been a disaster, Adam thought, that not even
Wellington for all his brilliant mind could have conceived. A
French shell, landing before the cathedral, which was used by the
British as a powder arsenal, had struck gunpowder leaking from
one of the kegs being carried outside. The powder ignited, and the
cathedral, the castle and a good part of the town were obliterated in

a devastating explosion. Hundreds of the garrison perished in the

disaster, and the very next day, what was left of the town
surrendered.
'Will there be a battle now?' Natalia asked hesitantly.
'Soon, I'm sure.' Why did he have to sound as if it was what he
wanted, she thought. Why did men always like to fight and play at
soldiers? 'You will be safe here, but I have made provision for you
in the unlikely event that the French reach Sobral. Long before
then you will accompany Alida to Mafraor perhaps to Lisboa. I
have her promise.'
'I will not!' Natalia twisted round in his arms to look up at the
profile outlined above her. 'I shall come with you. You will need
me.'
'I need you alivenot blown to pieces, moca. Be sensible,' Adam
insisted. He did not know what he would do after the fight. He
made no plans; he dared not. 'If you don't do as I say, I shall have
you both taken to Mafra under guard. She, too, has some idiotic
idea of following her husband to war. It is no game we play. You
would not like what the French do to their prisoners . . . You have
the added disadvantage of being a very pretty young woman.'
'If you are tired of me, then say so, and I shall leave tomorrow!'
Natalia blinked back angry tears. It was unthinkable that she
should allow him to go without her. What if he were injuredor
killed! No! Her prayers, and her love, would protect him. She had
to believe they would bring him back to her.
But what then? She could not remain in her disguise in Mafra. The
strain of pretending to be someone she was not was beginning to
tell on her, even after this short time. And despite all the care she
had taken with her skin, she was aware of it gradually beginning to

lighten as the dye faded, and in her hair, when she subjected it to
daily scrutiny, there were more and more reddish tints.
Pilar's limited supply of powders was running out too quickly. She
wanted to be with Adam at all times, not just during the hours of
darkness when the shadowy room protected her secret. Avoiding
him during the day was becoming more difficult, and Alida's
excuses for her absence less convincing.
Drew had been insisting, for days now, that she return to Mafra
and take Alida with her. Like Adam, she suspected he knew more
than he would tell. Both women stubbornly refused to budge, but
Natalia feared that her nights of happiness were numbered. To go
now, before she was exposed and sent packing by the man she
adored with every fibre of her being . . . There was no choice for
her. She belonged at his side and there she would remainwith or
without his approval.
'Say you will go to Mafra, moca,' Adam said in a gentle tone. 'I'll
not part with you in this manner.'
His words chilled her. He was leaving!
'When?' Somehow she forced the single word to her lips.
'At first light. My men and I are ordered to Gouveia to await the
arrival of Wellington.'
'But his headquarters are at Celorico ... He is retreating while
Massena advances. . .' Natalia began and heard Adam sigh.
'Within the Linhas de Torres Vedras we have a fortress that is
stronger and more possible to defend than any other. Over one
hundred forts with trained men to defend them. Four hundred
cannon situated at strategic points. He knows what he is doing,

moca. If my guess is correct, the French do not even realise what is

waiting for them. Like a fly into the spider's web, they will come
unsuspecting . . .'
'And you will have the chance to fight. It's all you have been
waiting forall of you!' she cried.
'It is not all I want, exasperating creature,' Adam muttered, burying
his lips against the smooth hollow of her throat. 'I want you!'

'I want you to stay and guard the women, Nuno. I can spare no
other man for the task,' Adam said quietly, and caught the look of
disappointment which flashed across the boy's face before he
masked his utter lack of comprehension at the order. Even the fact
he had been chosen to do a man's job did not ease the momentary
pain. 'They are not to follow us, do you understand me? If they
attempt it, you are to see them escorted to Mafra, where they will
remain until Captain Sorrell and I return.'
'Sim, chefe. Am I not to follow you at all? Who will polish your
saddle? Brush your uniform, steal your food?'
'I am capable of looking after myself, but I thank you for your
concern. I am lucky to have someone who cares about me.'
'She does . . . the one with the bright eyes.' Nuno lowered his gaze
as Adam turned from checking the contents of his saddlebags and
stared at him from beneath arched bows.
'Does she now? And when did you become an authority on
women, especially her kind?'

'I see things ... I see her look at you, and I see the way you look at
herand for her, whenever she is not about.' The boy gave a
cheeky grin.
'You see too much! Fetch me some coffee if it is still hot,' Adam
retorted gruffly, and Nuno ran back into the house. It was Natalia
who reappeared however, a steaming mug of coffee held in both
hands. As she came quickly towards him in the half light, Adam
was reminded of another morning when he had ridden away from a
woman. More tears, he wondered? Entreaties to follow him? But
her eyes were dry although tired and without their usual depth of
colour which tore so at his heart-strings.
'I came to say goodbye. Do you mind?'
Wordlessly he shook his head and sipped at the hot liquid. He had
talked half the night, and needed something to revive him at this
unearthly hour. His men were assembling not far away, as always
anxious to be moving back into the line of battle. How soon, he
wondered? A few days? A week?
'I wish I had something to give you. A keepsakea talisman to
bring you back safely,' she whispered through trembling lips. She
was close to tears, but she contained them. She had to be strong, or
risk blurting out the truth here and now. 'But I have given you all I
have.'
'I know.' The gentleness in his voice touched her. For a moment he
allowed his fingers to dwell on the smooth curve of one cheek. His
eyes never left her face. 'I shall not forget you, moca. From the
very beginning you made that impossible. Come, kiss me goodbye
before I relent and take you with me this very minute . . .'
Natalia went eagerly into his arms, gaining comfort and courage
from their strength. His mouth on hers silenced an entreaty to

follow him when it was safe. There was an urgency, a desperation,

in the long-drawn-out kiss which left her spent and breathless
when she was released. The empty coffee mug was pressed into
her limp grasp, and she was left standing weak-kneed and dazed as
he flung himself into the saddle and rode quickly off to where his
guerrilleros were gathered on the river bank. Many were also
saying their last farewells.
As Natalia neared the house, she saw Drew standing in the
doorway, fastening the cuffs of his shirt. He had aged since the
first day they met at Alto Verde, she thought, looking into the thin,
tired face. She and Alida were an additional burden to the worries
he already had on his mind, and now Adam was leaving again.
Both were silently wondering if they would ever see him again,
and praying that they would.
'We said our goodbyes last night,' he said quietly, answering her
question before it was uttered. 'I thought the two of you would like
to be alone this morning.'
'Thank you. That was kindand thoughtful.' With a stifled sob she
came to him and laid her head against his chest, unable to hold
back her tears.
'I am so afraid for him, and for you. For days no one has talked of
anything but a confrontation with the French.'
'Isn't that what we have been waiting for, all these months? Why
we are here? Courage! Wellington knows what he is doing. Our
lines will hold.'
'Everyone is so confident.'
'Would you have it otherwise?' Drew chided gently. 'You will see
him again soon.'

'Sim, very soon,' Natalia murmured, and he held her away from
him with a frown.
'Adam told me you have promised to stay here and take care of
Alida,' he said meaningfully.
'Nonsense! We are both coming with you. What better escort could
we have?' Alida emerged from a side room, folding the clothes she
had taken from the closet. 'You can take these too, Pilar,' she said
to the woman following her. 'We shall travel light. Everything else
can be packed and sent back to Mafra. Now.' She came and stood
in front of her husband, and flashed a reassuring smile at her sister.
'Natalia and I will not budge on this, Drew. We have come this far
with you, and will go further. To the edge of the battlefield itself,
if necessary. You promised me we would not be parted again. We
shall not.'
'My promise did not include Natalia,' he returned gravely. 'I shall
have to answer to Adam if anything happens to her.'
'I have shared his bed, that is all,' Natalia intervened.
'I am nothing to him, but I know I cannot continue with this
deception much longer. A few weeks at the most. Pilar has a few
powders with her which will help to darken my skin again before I
leave, but I feel. . .' She shook her head, unable to put into words
the strangeness of the feelings that had gripped her for the past day
or two. 'Sometimes, when he looks at me, he says nothing, you
understand. Surely, if he recognised me, he would send me away?
But last night, he talked of Alto Verde ... of the wife who had
tricked him, betrayed him . . . and of his desire to be free of the
past. Oh, Drew, every word was like a sword being turned in my
heart, and I could say nothing! Never before has he mentioned it,
and he forbade me to remind him he had ever had a wife.'

'Then he knows! He must!' Drew exclaimed.

'How could he? Look at her,' Alida protested. 'They were alone
only once at Alto Verde. His impression of Natalia is of a ladya
well-dressed, refined young womannot a servant-girl with a
dubious past. We have no right to take this time away from her.
Are we not snatching every moment we can?'
'I don't like to remind you, but Adam swears he has no feelings
whatsoever for Natalia and never did,' Drew reminded her.
'That's why he was drunk for a week after leaving Alto Verde,'
Alida retorted. 'Of course he cares for her, but he's as stubborn as a
burro! He won't admit it, because, if he did, he might have to
reconsider what happened there. That perhaps Natalia had not
intentionally deceived him. Had I been betrothed to Cesar, I would
have done the same thing. The man was impossible. A lout!'
'Who is now a commissioned officer in the Portuguese army with
his own command,' Drew said. Both women stared at him aghast.
It was Natalia who found her voice first and managed to stammer,
'Hehe is not. . . here? He could not be!'
'He arrived yesterday. When the army moves, Captain Cesar Joao
Ferreira Duarte will be accompanying it.'
Natalia collapsed on the sofa with a gasp, her hands pressed
against her mouth. Pilar sank beside her to offer comfort. Adam
had not recognised her, for, as Alida had said, they had spent so
little time together alone, but Cesar was a different matter. He had
known her since childhood and was always visiting the quinta. He
would know her at once, especially if she was at Adam's side.
What then! She could imagine his delight at exposing her in

revenge for the shame she had brought upon his head by her
flirtation with another mana total stranger!
Looking up at the two silent, apprehensive faces before her, she
smiled bravely. Blue fire glowed in the depth of her eyes. The
news had not dulled her will to fight for the man she loved.
'I shall just have to stay out of his way, won't I?' she said with a
shrug of slim shoulders.
Alida hugged her. Drew said nothing. He was thinking that the
battle about to be fought with the French was nothing to the one
about to take place behind the scenes.

For over three weeks, Wellington did not move from his new
headquarters at Gouveia, but stood fast while his intelligence
services sent despatches back about Massena's advance towards
the capital. On the 17th of September, news came to him that the
French commander was leading his men along the road through
Viseu. Behind every rock his men were hampered by the sniping
of the Ordinanca, which added to the discomfort of marching on
empty stomachs. For although many forages were made for food,
the countryside had been stripped bare. Apart from a few insectinfested potatoes, there was nothing.
Natalia understood the stratagem now. The enemy were marching
hungrilybut confidentlytowards their goalLisboa. No
resistance, except for the Ordinanca and sporadic attacks by roving
bands of guerrilleros. One of those bands, she knew, was lead by
Adam. Each night she knelt by the tiny figure of the Madonna she
had brought with her and prayed for his safety. She cared nothing
for herself any more, gave no thought to the danger she personally

would be in when she followed the rest of the army. Her life was
unimportant, so long as he lived.
The French advanced, and Wellington withdrew all his forces in
their path, enticing them on; ordering his officers and men back
from the fortified heights overlooking the River Alva to an equally
strong position on a towering hog's back called Bussaco. Here he
positioned over fifty thousand men, both English and Portuguese,
and sixty cannon. Then he, too, moved, and relocated his
headquarters in the walled convent of Bussaco. Surrounded by his
staff, he awaited the arrival of Massena. The patient spider
awaiting the unsuspecting fly!

'Isn't it a beautiful view, Alida?' Natalia said, gazing onwards

towards the towering plateau where black and white windmills
were outlined on the heights, their sails singing out a shrill tune
which came to them on the early morning breeze. Early morning
mists had dispersed, revealing heather-covered cliffs dotted with
elegant pine trees, and spiky aloes stretched the whole length of
the ridge. The summer sun had baked the earth, and hardened it so
that clouds of dust rose from beneath their horses' hooves. It was
not as pretty as Alto Verde, she decided, but it was an aweinspiring sight. Was it here that Wellington would rout the French
and send them packing?
They had camped the night before alongside the River Mondego,
where two years before, on the first of August 1808, Wellington
had made his initial landing in Portugal with a small force of ten
thousand men to help the Portuguese and Spanish nationalists.
Natalia had been too excited to sleep. She had lain awake, listening
to the sound of the water near by, trying to calm the wild beating
of her heart at the knowledge that the following day she would see

Adam again. He was one of the privileged officers who shared

Wellington's accommodation in the walled convent at Bussaco.
She wondered if Drew had obtained the information by chance or
had deliberately found out his whereabouts for her. He said
nothing any longer about her presence with the army. He had
accepted that her love for his brother was as strong, as
indestructible, as that he shared with Alida. They had grown close
since Adam's departure almost three weeks before, and now he
was like a brother to her, caring little if it did raise a few eyebrows.
Had he guessed, she wondered? Or Alida, with her sharp eyes?
Natalia laid a hand over her abdomen, yet could feel no beat of life
from within to tell her whether what she prayed for was true. A
child growing inside herAdam's son! Proof of her love. He
would never believe her if she told him, of course. Better if she left
him while the magic still lingered. She might never have her
husbandbut she would have his child to love, to remind her of
how it had once been.
She knew she must leave soon. After the battle, she had decided,
when she knew Adam was safe, then she would return home to the
quinta. Perhapsif she prayed hard enoughAdam might one
day come to her . . . sim. When the English had routed the French,
and Portugal was free, then she would go home.
They stumbled upon a small band of French skirmishers, who were
returning behind their own lines after an unsuccessful attempt to
steal food under cover of dark, without warning. Natalia's horse
reared violently as men rose from behind the rocks to the left of
her, and the whine of a musket ball as it passed close to her ear
made her scream in fear. They were traversing a narrow defile at
the base of the plateau, already in sight of the English cannon and
the riflemen placed on the lower slopesthe two siters and Drew
riding slightly ahead of Pilar and Nuno, with two dozen

cavalrymen behind them. She heard Drew shout, but his words
were lost in the thunder of gunfire. Desperately she fought to
retain control of the frantic animal beneath her. As it reared again,
she was flung violently from the saddle against a solid wall of rock
with such force that she was rendered half senseless. Through
pain-filled eyes she saw Alida reeling in the saddle, the front of her
pale grey dress covered with blood. Drew was shouting orders, his
face a mask of stunned disbelief as he thrust himself across his
wife's body to shield her. Natalia saw his own body jerk suddenly,
tried to rise to run to them, but was knocked to the ground as Nuno
spurred his horse forward to give assistance.
The noise and confusion were unbelievable . . . the acrid smell of
gunpowder filled her lungs, together with the sickly smell of death.
Drew's men flashed past where she crouched, her hands over her
ears, her eyes focused on the spot where she had last seen her
sister and Drew. She could see neither of them now.
Silence. A last cry from somewhere beyond in the rocks ... a moan
from one of the wounded English cavalrymen who lay a few feet
away from her. Even as she stretched out a hand to see if she could
help him, his breathing stopped. Men were slipping and sliding
from the slopes above, and one helped her to her feet and guided
her to where Pilar sat on a rock, dabbing at a bloody graze on one
arm. She could not have stood without his support.
'It's nothing, child, a scratch,' she assured Natalia, seeing the
tremor in the fingers which gently touched the injured place.
'Alida . . .' Natalia whispered, twisting round in the arms which
still held her. 'She was hurt! I must go to her.'
'There's nothing you can do for your mistress now, girl.' The
soldier's tone was as gentle as he could make it. He had seen too

much death to be affected by the loss of two more liveseven if

one was a womanand he had no idea that the creature he held,
shocked, dishevelled, biting back tears, was anything other than
the servant-girl she appeared to be. 'She's in God's handsher
man, too.'
Nuno came into her blurred vision. The boy's face was streaked
with blood and dirt. She caught at his arm with trembling fingers,
and whispered pleadingly,
'Adao! Fetch Adao . . . Hurry!'
"Sim, senhora."
Natalia did not hear his answer, for no sooner were the words out
of her mouth than a blackness descended over her and she slumped
unconscious in the arms which held her.

A bell tolling somewhere in the far distance . . . voices . . . hands

gently probing her body. How she ached! Every part of her felt as
if it was bruised. What had happened to her? And then it came
flooding back, the tidal wave of painful memory. They were dead.
Both of them! Alida and Drew! She struggled to sit up, but waves
of nausea swept over her the moment she raised her head from the
rough pillow. She did not know the man bending over her, but the
face of the tall, silent man standing beside the window of the cell
in which she lay brought more painand bitter-sweet memories
which she knew now might never be repeated.
'How is she?' Adam asked, not moving from where he stood, feet
slightly apart, arms folded over his chest. Only Nuno and the
guerrilleros close to him knew the terrible pain and loss he had
suffered and by some magnificent effort kept locked behind an

impassive mask as he accompanied the body of his brother back to

the convent of Bussaco. They knew that, when the time was right,
when he was alone, out of sight of prying eyes, he would give way
to his grief.
'Remarkably well, considering the way she was thrown. Your man
told me she went into the air like a rag doll. Bruises, of course, and
a few grazes which I've cleaned. No concussion. She's lucky there.'
'Lucky!' The shrillness of Natalia's tone brought the doctor's eyes
instantly back to her face. Adam moved a step closer to the bed,
staring down into her face, at the cheeks smudged with dirt where
the tears had dried across them. There was a livid bruise on one
temple, and both her knees and a section of her right leg were raw
and bloody. 'They are dead!'
'And shock. I'll leave something to make her sleep,' the doctor
concluded matter-of-factly. 'Is there someone who can take care of
her for a day or two, until this has passed? I take it that she was
close to . . .'
'Yes, to a woman called Pilar. Thank you for your trouble.'
'Yes, quite . . .' The doctor threw him a sympathetic look as he left.
After twenty years in the medical profession he still disliked being
in the presence of the bereaved. They unnerved him. So many
different ways to absorb one's grief. Hysteriawithdrawala
refusal to acknowledge that a loved one was actually deadhe has
seen them all. When this damned war was over, he decided, he
would return to England and retire!
'Where are they?' Natalia asked dully. She managed to sit up,
despite the sharp pain along one side of her forehead, and swing
her legs over the end of the cot.

'In the chapel.' Adam turned back to stare sightlessly out of the
window again. 'I told you to stay in Sobral. You gave me your
word.'
'What does that matter now?' She wanted to scream at his
calmness. There was not a trace of emotion on his face or in his
voice. Had he no heart? His own brother was dead! 'I want to
seeher. Please?'
'You could have stopped her coming. It was your place to stop her.
You knew the dangers.' His tone was suddenly harsh and accusing,
and she flinched as though he had struck her.
'That's not fair!' She had no strength to fight his anger. Her
shoulders drooped, and she wiped away a tear which came
unbidden to her eye. 'The day you left, she said to me, "I have
come this far and will go further. To the edge of the battlefield
itself, if necessary." There was no way of stopping her. She wanted
to be with her husband. As I wanted to be with you.' He spun about
at her words, pale flecks of yellow gleaming in the narrowed green
eyes. 'If I was wrong, and you think I deserve your anger, then
reprimand me later . . . not now, please, Let me go to her?'
In silence he went to the door to open it, and watched as she reeled
towards him. He slipped a steadying hand beneath her elbow as
she looked about to fall. They walked the whole length of a long
cloistered patio where the sun danced in dizzy patterns before her
on the flagstones. It was high in the sky, she noticed, when she
lifted her eyes to glance upwards for a moment, and quickly
lowered them again as pain obscured her vision. How long had she
been unconscious?
A cowled monk standing outside a door ahead of them opened it
and stepped to one side as they approached. Natalia's steps faltered

on the threshold of the chapel. Firmly, but gently, Adam ushered

her inside and then let her go. But she did not notice. Her eyes
were instantly riveted on the two plain oak coffins side by side
before the altar. A woman enveloped in a heavy black shawl knelt
in prayer a few feet away. As if in a dream, Natalia forced herself
to look down into her sister's face. She almost cried with relief to
see the skin unblemished. Not a sign of injuryno mark to mar
her pretty face. It was as if she were asleep. She lay with her hands
folded across her breasts, the skirts of her gown neatly arranged
about her, all dust and grime brushed from the grey velvet. Wild
flowers covered the bloody patch where the musket ball had
entered, killing her instantly as it penetrated the heart.
'Bless you, Pilar,' she whispered huskily, dropping to her knees
beside the other woman, knowing instinctively it was she who had
devoted such care to these final preparations.
'Many's a time I've dressed her, and you . . . But I never dreamed...'
Pilar fell to weeping, rocking to and fro on the cold hard stone. 'I
can't bear to lose her . . . Only the other day she was telling me
how happy she was . . . How good life was . . .'
'We must be thankful she found happinessand the love of a
brave, kind man who adored her,' she returned, taking-Pilar in her
arms, seeking comfort and reassurance from this one person who
had always been there when she needed such things. But as sobs
racked the woman's shoulders, she realised she had none left to
give. The loss of Alida was as great for her as it was for Natalia.
She rose, swaying, to her feet, and heard the sound of footsteps
behind her as she bent and laid her lips against her sister's cold
cheeks. At Alida's side, Drew looked composed and tranquilat
peace.

'Together,' she muttered, stretching out a hand to grip the sleeve

that came into her view. 'They must always be togetheras they
were in life. They must not be separated . . .'
'They shall not.' Adam caught her as her knees began to buckle.
She fought weakly against the arms which enfolded her and lifted
her from the ground, wanting to stay with her sister until she was
taken away to her final resting-place. They had shared so much
that she did not want to be torn away so cruelly. 'Come, you need
to rest. I shall make all the arrangements.'

When Natalia awoke, the first thing she remembered was the warm
milk Adam had made her drink when he returned her to bed. She
knew by the languidness of her limbs that it had been doctored,
probably with the sleeping potion left to calm her. It was still light
outside, but she had no means of knowing what time it was or even
if it was the same day. And there was no sign of Pilar. She found
this strange.
Tentatively she stood up. She felt weak and disorientated, and
there was an uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach which sent
an icy chill of fear through her. Was she with child? Had the shock
of her sister's death somehow damaged the life she carried inside
her? She stood for a moment, long, slender fingers spread out over
her stomach, hoping for some sign, but she felt only sick. Yet, was
that in itself not a sign? God had shown her in this holy place that
she carried Adam's son!
As she opened the door, Nuno leapt to his feet. He had been
sprawled half-asleep across the entrance. The eyes which swept
over her were amazingly alert, she thought, and searching. What
was it she was trying to remember? It would not come . . .

Something he had said to her. Although she could not remember it,
the words had concerned her. Why should they? What could he
say to her that would upset her?
'My sis -,' she began, and then, quickly correcting herself, 'my
mistress . . . where is she?'
'In the ground, with her husband,' the boy returned. 'Shall I show
you? Are you all right?'
Natalia had reeled back against the door, a hand against her breast.
Buriedwithout her there! How could Adam have been so
heartless! Was this not proof that he did not know who she was?
Surely if he had known she was his wife, he would have woken
her for the final blessings before her sister and Drew were taken
from her for ever. She touched a hand to her forehead and found it
was burning fiercely. Did she have a fever? 'I shall take care of the
arrangements,' he had told herand he had. Was he just being
kind, or exacting a venomous revenge on her for her deception,
both here and at Alto Verde? Could any man be so cold
ruthless? Instinctively she knew that Adam was such a man. When
hurt, he would strike back with any means in his power. She did
not know what to think, or to believe, any more.
'Show me,' she whispered.
The single grave was in a quiet, sheltered corner of the convent
gardens, beneath a large almond tree. Natalia's eyes filled with
tears as she bent and gathered up a handful of earth and slowly
scattered it over the newly-dug mound. Someone, again Pilar, she
suspected, had dropped wild cactus-blossoms, bright red and
yellow canna blooms and orange-blossom to alleviate the starkness
of the dark earth.

'Rest well, dear sister, and you, Drew. Be as happy together now as
you were on earth. You are so lucky. What you have known and
what you have now, no one can take from you,' she whispered.
Nuno's eyes challenging hers across the grave were the last thing
she remembered.

'You little fool, why do you think I had you drugged?' Adam said,
leaning over the bed, glaring with unconcealed anger into her
tearful face. 'I didn't want you to suffer this. Do you enjoy
inflicting pain upon yourself?'
'I am used to it.' Natalia turned her face into the pillow and her
voice was muffled. How desperately she wanted to reach up and
bring his dark face down to hers, feel his lips crushing hers,
making her forget the horror of deathof lossof helplessness!
He had been at her side when she recovered from her faint, and so
had Pilar, who bathed her face with cool water and rocked her in
her arms until the spasm of weeping had passed. They were lost to
her, she must accept it ... If she had not decided to leave Adam and
return to her father, she knew she must do so now. Somehow she
would have to tell him that Alida was dead. Would he care? Would
he cry? She had never seen him shed a tear for anyone. Like
Adam, he was a man able to control his emotions. How glad she
was to be a weak woman who could cry and release the tumult
inside her. 'I'm sorry you have done so much. Muico obrigada.,
The hand laid upon her shoulder was very gentle. Strong fingers
caressed the smooth expanse of bare skin where her blouse had
slipped down.
'It is time to show you there is more in this world than pain and
fearand death.' She stiffened as she felt the hardness of his body

slide alongside hers on the narrow bed. What was he doing? Pilar
was still in the room. She twisted round in his arms to find they
were alone. He had removed his jacket and shirt and she could
smell the manly aroma of sweat and also horses on his skin, but
she did not mind. It was so wonderful to feel him against her
again, the strength of him, the tender caresses, the teasing kisses
beginning at the nape of her neck and creeping down to her
shoulder, the rise of her breast, exposed now beneath his exploring
fingers.
He had always been gentle with her, considerate of her needs as
well as his own, but never so much as at this moment. His kisses,
the hands which stroked, teased and inflamed her body were
intended to rouse her as never before and in doing so, perhaps,
make it possible for him to lose himself completely in the world
they created whenever they made love. She knew a part of him
was always withdrawn from her, locked away deep inside him,
that his satisfaction was never as great as her own.
His lips swept her skin, sending shivers of pleasure up and down
her spine and clearing away the moment of shame she felt for
being so happy when her sister was not yet cold in her grave. Alida
was still the lucky one, for she and Drew would never be separated
again. How soon would it be before Adam left her again? A day?
Two? How long before she turned her back on him and the life she
had been leading these past weeks to return home? Time and time
again she went back on her decision to leave, while each time he
touched her she wavered and decided to stay. But in the morning,
when she looked at her reflection, she knew that the masquerade
could not continue indefinitely.
With a stifled sob she slid her arms about his neck and held him
close to her.

'Love me, Adao,' she begged. 'Love me as though there were no

tomorrow.'

Natalia was still sleeping when Adam drew away from her and
quietly dressed. Wellington was to inspect the outposts that
morning, and he wanted to ensure that his men were good and
ready. The fight was near, he could feel it, and his senses
quickened at the thought of going into battle again, revenging
himself on the French who had taken his brother's life.
As he turned to leave, he paused, struck by Natalia's peaceful face.
She lay on her side, the covers thrown back, one arm pillowing her
head. They had shared something wonderful, quite unlike anything
he had known with any other woman, and he knew he still loved
her. Lightly brushing the hair from her cheekhow it had grown
in a few short weeks!his fingers lingered near a red-gold strand
against her temple before he bent and gently touched his lips to
hers. As he eased the bed-covers over her body, he realised that the
smooth, golden patch of skin between the hollow of her breasts,
which he had first noticed at the camp at Sobral, was no longer
there.

CHAPTER TEN
AT ADAM'S own request, he had been allowed to place his men
along the lower slopes of the huge mountain among the Portuguese
riflemen who were also placed under his immediate command. He
arrived at their positions to find that a skirmish had taken place a
few hours earlier under cover of the thick fog which blanketed the
whole area. Two of his men and several of the Portuguese
Cacadores further along the line had been wounded, but the French
had been driven back, and they would not have had time to assess
the strength of their opponents, he surmised, as he climbed to a
higher vantage-point in the hope of seeing the landscape better.
He could not even discover where his own men lay in the deep
heather or behind huge needle-pointed aloes. The night before, the
many bivouac fires of the enemy could be clearly seen, but now
the mist obscured everything. There was an eerie silence. He felt
as if nothing existed except him, yet he knew Massena had over
sixty thousand men assembled, some less than three miles away.
His own intelligence scouts had reported two near-by villages
occupied. San Antonio de Cantaro, from where the French had a
good look at Wellington's command-post, high on the hills outside
the convent, and Moura, on Bussaco's north-eastern slopes. Good
positions, Adam mused, held by crack troops, but to get at the
English they had to climb the mountain. This, in his opinion,
placed them at an immediate disadvantage.
When he returned, Nuno brought him a mug of hot coffee and
unwrapped the bundle he had brought with himfresh queijo de
manha, thick round cheeses made of goat's milk, and wedges of
still warm bread.
'You have not eaten,' he said, as Adam shook his head.

'I am not hungry just now.' He did not like the waiting which
always preceded a battle. He did not want time to think, to
remember, to make plans he might not be alive to implement. 'Pass
the word along that there will be no fires tonight, so the men
should eat heartily while they can. And no wine after dark. I don't
want the French stepping over them while they sleep.'
Finishing his coffee, he got to his feet, pulling the collar of his coat
high about his neck as he walked to his horse. This damned mist
chilled him to the bone! He needed to be alone, to rid his mind of
the tantalising memory of the sleeping girl he had left. No other
thoughts must remain but those of what was soon to happenthe
preparations for battle and the welfare of his men.
'Have my uniform ready for the morning. When the time comes, I
shall lead my brother's men too.' Four good men had also died in
the ambush that had claimed Drew and Alida, and he knew Drew's
men were as eager as himself to even the score. 'I'll be back before
long.'
'Shall I ride with you?' There was a sudden tightness about the firm
mouth, a hardness in the eyes, which made Nuno's feeling of
uneasiness grow.
'No, moco. Go and steal a chicken for when I return,' Adam
ordered with a faint smile.
For once, matching his wits against the eagle eyes of the cook was
the last thing the boy wanted to do. He had heard, although Adam
had said nothing, that there was a certain Portuguese officer by the
name of Cesar Duarte in command of the troops on the heights
above them. A loud-mouthed braggart, by all accounts, who drank
too much aguardente and spoke out of turn. In two short days he
had earned the dislike of his men and fellow officers alike.

It was inevitable that Adam should meet him. This particular area
was under his command, made up of riflemen from his own band
of guerrilleros, infantrymen, and, on the heights, cannon trained
on the winding cart track from San Antonio where General
Reynier's Second Division were entrenched. He was talking with
other officers on the ridge when another man joined them. Out of
the corner of his eye Adam glimpsed the grey uniform, lavishly
trimmed with gold, which the Portuguese officers wore, and a
moustachioed face which rang a warning bell deep in the recesses
of his mind, but it was not until he turned to be formally
introduced that he fully recognised the newcomer.
'Major Sorrell and I already know each other,' Cesar interrupted
rudely before the young Lieutenant could complete the formalities.
He reddened and coughed as Adam's eyes narrowed to green
diamond points. Without realising it, his hand dropped
instinctively to the pistol in his belt. The look Cesar gave him was
derisive, the dark eyes contemptuous, as they swept over the other
man's irregular mode of dress. He looked like a common peasant
instead of an English officer. And this was the man who had stolen
Natalia from him! She had lain with him in the fields like a whore,
but had repulsed his advancesand he had been betrothed to her.
She had belonged to him! A red mist of hate swam before his
vision. He heard Adam mutter something to his companions, and
turn away without even so much as a nod to acknowledge him.
'Sim, I know the Major very well,' he said in a loud voice. 'His
appearance bears out what I thought of him when we first met. A
low-born peasant with the manners of a pig!'
Adam came to an abrupt halt and spun about on his heel. A man
who knew him well, had ridden with him many times over the
years, laid a warning hand upon his arm, but it was shrugged off.
There was murder blazing in the eyes which seared Cesar's face,

but his hatred was so overwhelming that he was spurred on to

more insults, more innuendos, heedless of the cost!
'Shall I tell you gentlemen about this cur who masquerades as a
fine English gentleman? His eyes alighted on the daughter of a
certain wealthy landowner who out of the goodness of his heart
had offered the hospitality of his home. She was betrothed to me,
senhores. Our wedding date was fixed. And this, this . . .'he
uttered a foul Portuguese expletive that Adam had only ever heard
before from fishermen in Lisboa'seduced her one night.
Deprived her of her innocence and then the following morning
rode away, deserting her.'
'You seem to have forgotten one important fact, my foolish friend.'
Adam's voice was very quiet. Perfectly calm, without anger. The
men near by exchanged knowing looks. There had to be a
challenge! Adam Sorrell was not one to turn his back on such
insults. 'Natalia is my wife.'
Not until he had uttered the words did he realise that they might
not be true. He had askedno, demanded that his father arrange
an immediate annulment of the farcical marriage. The last letter he
had written regarding the subject had not yet been answered. Close
on its heels would be the news of Drew's death. He hoped one
would soften the terrible blow of the other.
'So. You are a coward as well as seducer of women! I hear you
have a gipsy girl in your bed now. Who did you steal her from?'
Cesar's sibilant hiss broke the thin wedge of Adam's composure.
His hand lashed out and struck Cesar across one cheek. Then, with
great deliberation, he drew it back and delivered a second blow.
Not the usual light slap that custom demanded, but one intended to

insult and inflict painwhich they did. Cesar's head snapped back,
and blood seeped from a split lower lip.
'At the moment I have more important things on my mind than
killing you, senhor, but rest assured that when our business here is
finished, and if you have not been despatched by some lucky
Frenchman, I shall have the pleasure of seeing you on the end of
my blade. My seconds will call on you to arrange the time and
place. The weapons will be sabres. I shall pray that the French do
not deprive me of our meeting. I bid you good morning,
gentlemen.' Adam nodded briefly to the silent cluster of men who
had gathered to watch and listen and speculate on the outcome of
the encounter, mounted his horse, and rode away without a
backward glance.
The whole incident had taken less than five minutes, but it kept the
entire encampment in conversation for the rest of the day and well
into the night. Adam Sorrell a married man, and him the most
eligible bachelor about! Well, that was what everyone had
thought! Sly devil! As tight as a drum, that one. The Portuguese
was a dead man, of course. Sabres were the Major's weapon, and
no one could best him!
Nuno was in full possession of all the details from one of the
women who brought them food around mid-day a full hour
before Adam returned. He was bursting with questions, but the
sight of Adam's taut features and pale glittering eyes deterred
them. Quickly he fetched a mug of hot coffee and took the horse
away to water and feed. When he returned, Adam was sprawled
beside the fire, the coffee still untouched. He seemed unaware of
his surroundings or the many curious glances cast at him by his
men.

The boy fanned the fading embers for a moment with an olive
branch before tossing several large potatoes into the grey ashes. He
again unwrapped the bundle containing the queijo de manha and
the bread, and presented it to Adam. This time it was accepted, but
with a nod only. His thoughts were elsewhere, Nuno realised, as he
returned to the fire and began to roast the chicken he had stolen
earlier. He had almost been caught coming out of the cook's supply
tent, and that had worried him. He was growing soft! He had no
reason to steal when Adam provided money to buy everything
but how he loved to resort to his old ways and prove what an adept
little thief he was! There was no one better in the whole camp.
Why, even soldiers came to him, and some women, too, wanting
perfume, soap, or little things to please their men. He had grown
quite rich from their needs. He knew Adam would not approve of
his sideline and so he said nothing, yet there were times when he
thought his master knew everything he did.
He needed to be distracted, the boy thought, sending a thoughtful
look over his shoulder at the silent man. He had not uttered a word
since he returned. He was not afraid of Cesar Duartethen what?
Of being killed in battle, perhaps, and never seeing her again?
Why then did he not tell her he knew?
After a moment he began to whistle softly to himself as he
prodded the plump chicken, remembering how he had once shared
one with the girl. She was clever, that one, and had ensnared the
lionbut how long could she keep him before he wished to be
free of his cage?
Adam's head jerked up as the boy began to sing in a husky, off-key
voice. His eyes narrowed sharply as he saw his sergeant Julio and
some of his men who were seated nearby, cleaning their weapons,
exchange grins and quickly avert their gaze as he looked their way.

'What is that nonsense you are singing?' he growled.

'A riddle of life, chefe,' the boy laughed cheekily.
'I took a woman to be my wife.
She was nothing but trouble and strife.
I ran awayshe followed me.
Now we live in harmony.'
'Have you been at my brandy again? Give me some coffee if it's
hot.'
'Don't you like riddles, chefe?' Nuno's grin was wicked as he
brought Adam another mug of steaming coffee, black and
unsweetened as he liked it. Perhaps he should have ladled some
sugar into it, he thought, as a sour look greeted it. 'I thought you
ought to know . . .'
'Did you think I wouldn't recognise my own wife?' Adam
interrupted, lowering his voice so that it did not carry beyond the
two of them. 'I knew her at once. It suits me to play her game,
that's all.'
It was a lie, but fierce pride forbade that he should admit it had
been almost a week before he had accepted the incredible truth
that the dark-skinned creature who crept into his bed each night
was really his wife the woman he had married and rejected in
the space of one short day! Loved and hated without ever truly
knowing her.
He knew her now. Every delight of her young body, the softness of
it, the magic that was for him alone. She had come to him as a
virgin, untouched by any other man, and the moment of discovery
as he entered her for the first time had overwhelmed him, and
brought to mind the terrible accusations he had heaped on her head

at Alto Verde. His abandonment of her on their wedding night and

subsequent rejection of her the following morning. Had he not
been so angry, so hurt, he would have known then . . .
Why had she followed him? So many possibilities haunted him as
he lay beside her. Seeking revenge for his actions on those two
shameful occasions? Perhaps the deception was intended for one
purpose onlyto get herself with child and so fulfil her father's
dream. If only he could believe, and accept without reservations,
the silent promises her body made each time it touched his.
'Chefe, do you want more coffee?' Nuno asked for the second time.
Adam shook his head and handed back his empty mug. This was
no time to think of heror the pastor the future. He might not
have one.
He was angry that Nuno had also recognised her and made it
known, for it forced him to accept his responsibilities towards her.
Dubious as he was as to her reasons for following him, she had
placed herself in danger and he must try to ensure her safety. He
could not just leave her to fend for herself.
'If anything happens to me, moco, you are to take her back to Alto
Verde. You will find ample money in my pack back at the
convent. And take anything else you need,' Adam told him quietly.
'Tell her . . . Well, you will think of something if it comes to it.'
What words were explicit enough to say what was in his heart?
Had been there since the first moment he saw her. Had withered
and almost died in the long weeks of separation when he had dwelt
in his own personal hell, believing her to be nothing less than a
little tramp, only to be reawakened, nurtured, intensified by the
blissful hours she had spent in his arms.

Whatever she was, whatever her reasons for being at his side, he
loved her, and wanted her so much his body ached, but he was sure
that, if he returned to her that evening, he would have to know the
truth. Were her motives purely selfish, or had she been driven to a
reckless, unthinking act by the same fires of passion which had
consumed them both that fateful night at Alto Verde? Perhaps he
would never know.
Nuno felt uneasy. He talked as if he might not survive the coming
battle. That was not his way!
'Tell her yourselfafterwards,' he answered, putting away the
remnants of bread and cheese. 'You are not going back to the
convent tonight?' Like most of the men, he had heard the rumours
of a dawn attack.
'No, I shall stay here. There is much to be done.'

'A letter?' Natalia stared at the envelope held out to her. No one
except Adam's father knew where she was. The soldier who had
been told to deliver it had heard of the dark-skinned beauty Major
Sorrell had for a bedmate, and also that she was not too bright.
Patiently he said, 'The letter is for your mistress, but she's dead,
isn't she, so you had best give it to the Major when he returns.
Comprendo?'
'Sim. We understand.' Pilar came forward to take the envelope and
usher him out of the room. 'It is from Lisboa.'
'Then it must be from the Senhor Charles!' Natalia's fingers
trembled slightly as she tore at the envelope and extracted a single

piece of paper. The bold neat handwriting leapt up at her, and she
gave a cry of distress. 'Papa is ill! Listen, Pilar.'
Dearest Alida and Natalia. Your last letter was most
welcome, telling me you are all well. I wish in return I could
write words of good news, but alas, I have to tell you that on
my visit to your father at Alto Verde last week, he collapsed
and was immediately put to bed, where he has remained
ever since. The doctor is concerned for his health, my dears.
I implore one or both of you to return home and be with
him. He is an old, sick man who desperately needs you.
Believe me, he does. (These last words were heavily
underlined.) God protect you all until we are together
againall of us!
Charles Sorrell.
Natalia clutched the paper to her breast. Ill, perhaps dyingand no
one there to care for him! The years of being neglected and
ignored seemed unimportant in the face of the knowledge that her
father needed her, at last! 'I must leave, and go to him!' As soon as
the words were uttered, she knew what she had said. The decision
had been made for her. She no longer had a choice whether to go
or stay. 'Gather together our things, but keep them out of sight,
Pilar. Adam must know nothing of this.'
'Be brave, menina,' the woman said, squeezing her arm
reassuringly. 'God will watch over them both.'
'We shall leave first thing tomorrow morning. There are always
wagons going back to Mafra. I shall take a horse from there, and
you can follow in the carriage. It will be more comfortable for
you.'

'I will not,' Pilar said with an indignant snort. 'You are not
travelling through the countryside alone and unprotected. We've
come this far together, and you'll not separate us now. I may break
every bone in my body, but we ride together!'
It was late that evening before Natalia realised that Adam was not
coming back to the convent. When he did, she would be gone from
his life, perhaps for ever. There was nothing she could do any
more, and perhaps it was for the best. She knew she might well
have given herself away, had he come to her and they had made
love as they did the night before. It had been so perfect, so
fulfilling. A memory to last for ever.
Poor Charles, she thought, remembering the warmth contained in
the short letter. In a few days he, too, would receive the sad news
of Drew's death. She would write as soon as she reached Alto
Verde and invite him to stay at the quinta. They had become good
friends in the short time they had known each other, and she had
so much to tell him. Perhaps he would find consolation in her
company, as she knew she would in his.
She was leaving so many people she loved. Drew and Alida lying
close together beneath the almond tree. She prayed that in spring
the white and pink blossom would gently fall upon their restingplace, a carpet of soft silky petals for the two ill-fated lovers.
Adamhe might miss her for a day or two, but he was a soldier
who could occupy his mind with many things. Besides, there
would be other women eager to share his bed once they knew she
had gone. Would he let them? Would his arms hold another, his
lips tease and inflame the heart of some camp-followera lady in
Lisboa perhaps, anxious to welcome the victorious English
officer?

The British had to win, of course. She could not envisage defeat,
for it would mean that the roads were open for the French to march
all the way to Lisboa. She shuddered and crossed her arms about
her body, wishing Adam were beside her on the narrow bed. The
thick convent walls shut out the sounds of activity outside, and at
long last she slept.

The attack came at dawn, as many had anticipated. Skirmishes at

first on the lower slopes between the Portuguese Cacadores and
French infiltrators, then, through the heavy mist which once again
Obscured the mountain, four enemy battalions began to advance
upon Bussaco.
Natalia heard the sound of cannon booming through the stillness
and leapt from the bed. Pilar ran after her as she flung open the
door and ran barefoot out into the cloisters, vainly trying to wrap a
shawl about her shoulders. The mist was heaviest about the
convent walls, for it was high on the hill, but it did not deaden the
ominous sound. It was fire from Wellington's command-post, she
realised, blasting the attackers with grape and canister. A horrible
way to die! Many wouldon both sides, before the day was over.
How could she leave now? Yet to linger . . .
'Come back; there is nothing we can do yet.' Pilar wrapped the
woollen shawl about her shivering shoulders and guided her back
inside.
'Later,' Natalia murmured. 'Sim. Later, they will be bringing back
the wounded . . . They will need help.'
Pilar cast her a worried look. Had she forgotten about the father
who lay ill at Alto Verde? She was going to remind her, but then
quickly turned away. The conflict on Natalia's face was tearing her

apart. Go or stay? Either way she might lose one of them! On her
way to find food for them both, Pilar knelt at the back of the
chapel and prayed as she had never prayed before. The cannon
continued to thunder, but she was oblivious to the noise.
Situated along the narrow cart track along which the French
commander General Reynier was to launch an attack behind the
British, and try to cut Wellington off from the rear, Adam's
guerrilleros and the Portuguese artillery hammered unmercifully at
the approaching men. Time and time again they were driven back,
time and time again the French gained another foothold another
inchfell back. Some held, many died, in the withering fire from
the slopes and the heights above.
The whole length and breadth of Bussaco ridge echoed with
cannon fire, the screams and moans of the dying and injured. It
was one of the bloodiest battles to be fought of the whole war.
Both sides had gauged the strategic necessity to hold this particular
area. They fought on the slopes, in the dense bushes and scrub,
were torn on needle-sharp cacti and aloes, blasted with grapeshot,
cut down by musket fire. In one short hour, with fog still
prevailing, the carnage was devastating.
Seeing the tide of men climbing relentlessly towards his position,
Adam rallied his guerrilleros, who mounted their horses and
charged down the hill, sweeping all before them to one side,
fighting hand to hand when horses fell beneath them. When his
own horse was brought down by fire, he leapt from the back of the
dead animal, as much incensed by its death as by that of his
brother, or by the sight of Julionot only the leader of his
guerrilleros, but a friendfelled in front of him, nearly sliced in
half by a sabre.

He fought like a man possesseda demon driven on by hatred and

deep-rooted emotions he was not even aware had come to the
surface to rally him again and again to urge his men onto drive
the enemy from the slopes and make their position safe. He
succeeded, but the cost was appalling. Half of his men dead,
another dozen critically wounded.
As Adam was climbing back to safety, a man rose out of the shrub
above him, a pistol levelled directly in his face. For a moment he
was transfixed with shock. Had the fool lost his mind? He wore a
Portuguese uniform could he not see Adam's was English?and
then behind the lethal barrel he glimpsed the hate-filled eyes of
Cesar Duarte and was suddenly seized with a wild desire to laugh.
Had he just survived the dreadful fighting below to be cut down by
a man supposedly fighting on his own side?
She would never know he loved her! The thought screamed
through his brain as he saw Cesar's finger grow white about the
trigger. Instinct hurled him sideways. At the same time as Nuno
rose from the boulder where he had been hiding and shot Cesar at
point-blank range, a wounded Frenchman some yards away
discharged his musket into Adam's back. Both men fell
simultaneously to the ground, two more victims of the storm which
raged about them . . . unnoticed except by the slight figure of the
young boy who scrambled wildly down towards his fallen friend.

Natalia was exhausted, but she would not allow herself to rest and
so to dwell on what was happening beyond the convent walls. As
soon as the first wounded were brought in, she fell to the task of
helping the monks to bring them inside the walls, into spare rooms,
outhouses, to lay them even on the hard ground until they could be
attended to by the doctors. Many died where they lay before they

could be attended to. Others begged for water, and thrashed madly
on straw pallets, cursing the limbs which caused them so much
pain, not knowing they were no longer there. She spent hours
making bandages, fetching and carrying with the other women,
falling naturally into the part that all women take when caught up
in the melee of war. Nurse, servant, friend, comforter, mother,
sister, sweetheart. Something to everyone in need, and knowing
deep in her heart that the very person to whom she wanted so
dearly to do and to be all these things might well be lying out in
the hills, dead or wounded.
Throughout the day the sound of cannon fire continued.
Sometimes the volleys of musket fire seemed quite close, at others,
far in the distance. Outside the convent, the loss of life on both
sides was apparent to all as the mists began to dispel and English
and French took their first good look at the results of their
encounters.
Wellington had held the heights of Bussaco. Elsewhere, regiments
of English fought alongside Irish, Scottish Highlanders beside
Portuguese musketeers, whose withering fire that day was to bring
them great renown. At times often outnumbered, these men held
their positions, gave ground only when ordered and then often
refought hard and long to retake it.
In his grey great-coat and cocked that, without the usual colourful
plumes that most commanders wore, a favourite target of enemy
snipers, Wellington instilled continual confidence in his men with
his clear, decisive orders. Suddenly through the raging noise was
heard General Craufurd's great voice, 'Avenge Sir John Moore!
Forward the Fifty-Second!' The death of that brave soldier, never
forgotten, at the hands of the French at Corunna in the early stages
of the war was avenged many times before the day was over.

*
'Are you A Moca?' Natalia looked up from the side of the wounded
man she was tending into the tired face of a woman wearing a
blood-streaked apron over a dress soaked with sweat. The odour
about her was nauseous, the odour of death. . . Mutely she nodded.
'Thought so! The boy Nuno said to find you. Your man's just been
brought inMajor Sorrell. They'll be finished with him in a while,
if you're interested.'
'Interested?' Natalia came to her feet like a sleepwalker. 'Is ... he ...
dead?'
'Did I say that? Lord, girl you look as if you are about to faint.
You'll be no use to themor himif you do. Go outside and get
some air, then find the surgeon's tent, the one nearest the shrine of
the Virgin. You'll find him there.' The woman was the commonlaw wife of an English soldier who had been with him from the
beginning of the conflict. Her young son, a drummer-boy in the
regiment, had been killed when the French stormed up the slopes
towards Wellington's command-post. Of her husband, she had no
news. For a moment the lined face softened and she laid a hand on
Natalia's shoulder. 'He's safe now, child. They are evacuating the
wounded back behind the lines at first light tomorrow.'
As Natalia began to mumble her thanks, the woman turned away
and was lost in the bustle surrounding them. She looked for Pilar,
but when she could not see her, quickly threaded her way through
the mass of bodies on the floor, shutting her ears to the pleading
voices which tried to detain her, and went outside. It was dark! She
blinked up at the star-laden sky almost stupidly. Where had the
day gone?

She stood for a while gulping in mouthfuls of clean, fresh air. The
ground as far as she could see was littered with bodiesFrench
wounded as well as English. So many, and some so young. She
experienced a moment of fleeting compassion as she stepped over
one injured boy, not aged more than eighteen. His wounds were so
dreadful that she could not feel hatred for him even though he was
one of the enemy.
Her breath caught in her throat as she found the surgeon's tent, and
she scanned the rows of faces outside. Many would die of their
injuries before morning, she realised. An orderly passed her,
carrying a basket filled with amputated limbs, and she quickly
covered her mouth with her hands to hold back the nausea. At Alto
Verde she had seen death and destruction, had witnessed the
villagers exacting their own brand of revenge on the enemy, but
this. . . This was war as she had never seen it. War like this had
never existed, even in her mind. Never could she have envisaged
anything so terribleso grotesque! All this to free her country
from Napoleon's yoke. It was a high price. Never would her people
be able to repay what had been done for them!
'Here, senhora!' Nuno came to his feet to guide her to where Adam
lay. 'Over here.'
She fell on her knees beside the still figure who was half covered
with the remnants of his bloodstained jacket. His shirt and
underclothes had been removed, and his chest was swathed in
bandages. He was so still! Natalia laid trembling fingers against
the thick covering, and almost wept at the slow beat of life which
throbbed beneath her fingers.
'He is drugged, senhora. Thank God, the surgeon attended to him
before they ran out of everything. Some of these poor devils will
scream all night because there is nothing to kill their pain. I doubt

if half of them will survive the journey back,' Nuno muttered. She
saw he was holding tightly to one of Adam's handsclinging like
a child to the only man who had ever shown him kindness and
affection.
Senhora! Now she rememberedhe had called her that the day
Drew and Alida died. He knew who she was! As realisation
dawned on her face, the boy said quickly,
'You will stay with him? I have to find food, and brandy.'
'He needs soup . . . something light,' she protested, knowing he
meant well.
'When the pain comes back, tonight or in the morning, he will
want something stronger than soup. You will not leave him?'
'Do you think I came all this way to desert him when he needs me
most?' Natalia replied softly. A faint smile flashed across the boy's
dust-streaked features. In silence he acknowledged whoand
whatshe was, and relinquished his precious charge into her
hands.
'Adao! Oh, meu amor, please don't die! I love you so much,' she
whispered, settling herself at his side. The night air was chill, and
she pulled the jacket high beneath Adam's chin. He did not stir as
she gently wiped the dirt and grime from his face and fetched cool
water to trickle between his dry lips. Despite the cold, his features
soon became covered with a film of perspiration, and she knew a
fever was raging inside him.
Not until Nuno returned with a bowl of hot soup, bread and cheese
and Adam's knapsacks, rescued from the room he had been using
before it was utilised for more wounded, did she discover how her
husband had been wounded.

'Cesar!' she whispered, sitting back on her heels. 'A duelare you
sure?'
'Ask anyone, senhora. It is common knowledge. If I had not killed
him, he would have shot the Major down in cold blood and
everyone would have thought the French did it. I had to do itI
am not ashamed.'
'You are a brave and loyal friend,' she said. 'Will you be my friend
too, Nuno? Help me get him away from here so that he can recover
quickly and grow strong again?'
'So that you can break his heart again? Perhaps it would be better
for him to die!'
The retort was so cruelso totally unexpectedthat Natalia
flinched as if he had struck her. Hostility was back in the boy's
eyes as he gazed at her.
'Tomorrow I shall find a cart and we shall leave here,' he said at
length. 'I shall drive, and you will care for him. I do this for him,
not for you, senhora. It would be better if you left before he is
himself again. Let him forget you.'
'ForgetMoca?' Adam's voice was hoarse as he struggled up on
one elbow. Fighting against the laudanum which dulled his brain,
his hand groped unsteadily for Natalia's dress. His fingers closed
round the material, gripping it hard. 'StayI love you . . .'
He fell back to the ground, his senses leaving him again. With a
cry, Natalia gathered his head to her breast and pressed a tearstreaked cheek to his. He loved not hernot Nataliabut the little
servant-girl who had shared his bed! She knew now he would
never return to Alto Verde and his wife. Slowly she raised her
head and looked at Nuno.

'As soon as I know he is out of danger, I will go home. A Moca

will cease to exist.'

The hard-fought battle of Bussaco had been so successful that it

allowed Wellington to continue with his stratagem of a supposed
retreat behind the Linhas de Torres Vedrasand Massena, the
eager fly anxious to avenge the defeat of his forces, followed
unsuspectingly.
Very early in the morning of the 29th of September, while camp
fires still flickered in the half light to deceive the enemy, the
English began to withdraw from their positions. By the time it was
light, the Coimbra road was packed with men and carts, cannon
and horsemen.
Nuno, his bargaining-powers strained to the limit, had, after many
unsuccessful hours of trudging from man to man, managed to sell
the two horses Natalia had given him which had once belonged to
Drew and Alida. Natalia had balked at parting with her sister's
brooch and rings, but she had been prepared even for that in the
last extreme if it meant being able to get Adam to safety.
All night long she had sat beside him, bathing his face, covering
him when he constantly threw back the blanket in his delirium.
The laudanum was wearing off, and the pain that twisted his
features as he was carefully lifted into the waiting wagon was like
the turning of a knife in her heart. Scarcely had she climbed up
beside him than she was almost pushed to the floor as wounded
men hauled themselves in after her. Pilar screamed at them and
tried to push them away, but they kept coming, dragging
themselves up like mad animals. They knew that to be left behind
would mean certain death unpleasant death at the hands of the

French. In desperation, Nuno whipped up the horses and Natalia

bent low over Adam's body, with Pilar pressing tight against her,
her arms as tightly round him as she dared lest she hurt him more,
hiding her face as men were spilled backwards on to the ground.
Vehement oaths and curses followed them out of earshot. As it
was, the cart was overloaded, with a dozen men crammed on the
small floor, most with severed limbs or bloodstained bandages
round some part of their bodies.
The bundle of food Nuno had given them had been tossed out in
the melee to make more room, and Pilar had managed to save only
one water-bottle. She kept it wedged firmly between her knees,
hiding it with her skirts from the others, and crouching low over
Adam to trickle a tiny amount surreptitiously between his lips
when it became necessary.
As the cart rumbled and jolted towards Coimbra, Nuno, the beggar
from the back streets of Lisboa, sat hunched over the reins of the
tired plodding mules, praying for the first time in his young life to
a God he had never before acknowledgedbegging silently, as
tears coursed down over his cheeks, for the life of Adam Sorrell.

'Whatwhat is happening?' Natalia cried. Ahead of them she

could see smoke and flames leaping skywards. Coimbra in flames!
How could it be? The French were close behind them, but it was
not possible that they had somehow managed to get ahead. Even
the tall spires of the cathedral were obscured by drifting clouds of
dense smoke. Both women crossed themselves as the men
accompanying them came to their knees, the same terrible thought
registering in their minds.

'I'll try to find a way round. Look at all those people ahead! We'll
never get through,' Nuno said, turning the mules off the road. The
cart lurched, and Adam gave a cry of agony. 'Hold him. Hold him
tight! I must make a way through.'
Natalia raised her head after a moment, and was horrified by the
scene. Not even after the battle of Bussaco had she seen such utter
chaos. People were streaming out of their houses, carrying
whatever belongings they could manage. Children lost their
mothers, and stood howling in the street until they were found or
swept along in the growing tide of human bodies. It appeared to
her as if every other building was on fireand she saw soldiers
with torches! The English were doing this! How could it be?
'Good old Nosey!' a wounded man beside her muttered, a smile
lighting up his bearded face. 'That's the way to do it. Leave nothing
for those blasted froggies!'
'They are burning people's homes,' Natalia whispered, appalled.
She had seen the scorched-earth policy for herself on the journey
from Mafra to Sobral, but the devastation, the heartache of what it
had entailed, the suffering to all concerned, did not come home to
her until now.
'If you leave it, you'll have the French at the gates of Lisboa within
a week. I haven't lost two brothers and my best friend fighting in
this cursed war to let that happen,' another soldier muttered,
scowling at her. 'Let 'em starve and die! And good riddance, I say.
Then, maybe, I can go home to my wife and family. I've been here
so long I'm beginning to forget what they look like!'
'Only 'cause you can't stand the look of your wife's face,' someone
else joked feebly, and Natalia turned away in disgust. She could
understand the necessity for what was being done, but she found

no humour in it. Nor would the poor souls fleeing for their lives
ahead of them, she suspected.
That night, when they made camp, Natalia sat beside Nuno,
watching the boy's face in the light of the flickering fire as she
asked, 'What now?' She was no hardened soldier. She was afraid
for Adam as well as for herself and Pilar and yeseven for Nuno.
He did not like her, of that she was sure, and in his young,
impressionable mind he had good reason, but she trusted him with
her own life and that of the man she loved. He would do nothing to
jeopardise that!
'Soon we shall be in Torres Vedras,' came the quiet reply. 'There
we leave theseothers,' he jerked his head in the direction of the
men who accompanied them. Only four remained now. Two had
died on the way and been left by the wayside. 'If the Major does
not have good medical attention, he will die. It is up to you.
Perhaps it is your wish to pay him back for leaving you? If that is
what is in your mind, I think I shall kill you!'
'If I did not care for him in that same way as you, then II would
hit you,' Natalia snapped, the thin reserve of her composure ready
to snap from the strain of the past frightening hours. 'We shall take
him to my sister's house in Mafra. There he will get well. From
there I can write to his father to let him know he is safe and well.'
'Safe? Well?' Nuno stared at her almost contemptuously. 'Safe,
perhaps. Well, he will never be after what you have done to him.
Never have I known him to be taken with a woman as he was with
you, and you betrayed his trust and his love!'
'You are mistaken,' she replied in a low fierce whisper as Adam
stirred restlessly nearby, beads of sweat breaking out on his
cheeks. 'He gave me nothing but a few minutes of his time. I gave

him my lovesomething no other man has ever had or will have.

He has destroyed me, foolish boy! When you have known love,
you will understand that people not only gain from it, but also lose.
I am the loser here. I carry inside me the child he will never
acknowledge and never see, because by now I am probably not
even his wife. He was rid of me as soon as possible. My words
were lost on himmy pleading and my pride. I offered
everything, and he rejected all. Yet I came after himneeded him,
wanted so desperately to make him believe in me. And how did I
do that? I dyed my skin and my hair and crawled into his bed like a
common camp-follower.'
'Forgive me, senhora.' There was sudden pain in Nuno's brown
eyes. 'I did not realise . . .'
'What a woman in love will do to be with her man? No, moco, you
did not. No more did I until I was alone with his hatred and
contempt. Now I have done all I can. I have no choice but to return
home. Soon this dye will fade, and ... I would go anyway, as soon
as he is well. My father also is ill and I do not know how long he
will live. I shall try to do for him what I have done for Adaoto
make him as happy as I can in whatever time is available to me.
You will say nothing of this to your master, do you understand
me? Give me your solemn word.'
'I shall do nothing to hurt him, you know that,' the boy replied
slowly. 'His happiness is my only concern.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN
NATALIA HAD been at Mafra for one week. She knew it was time to
leave, and return to Alto Verde, on the morning that Adam opened
his eyes for the first time and recognised her, and catching her by
the hand, drew her down on the bed beside him and soundly kissed
her. Such passion in that one kiss, which robbed himthem
bothof breath! So much more eloquent than anything he could
have said. His words at Bussaco. still haunted her during sleepless
nights.
'Stay, I love you!' If only she could! She had to leaveto
disappear without a trace. He would forget in time, as he had
forgotten the ardour he had shared with Natalia in the fields one
night. There would be others, she told herself. Women would flock
round him when he went to Lisboa.
For seven long days she had nursed him, with little or no rest
herself for the first four, until Adam's fever had broken and he had
begun to sleep peacefully and regain his strength. She had sat
patiently at his side, listening to his ramblings and often incoherent
mutterings. She relived past battles with him in Spain, as he talked
of places and people she had never heard of. She shared his agony
of mind at the death of his brother, and wept many tears for the
sister she would not see again. She held his hand when he tossed in
the throes of fever, knowing there were times he was not aware of
anyone being with him. She shrank from the venom in his voice
when he suddenly began to talk of Alto Verde . . . and then, one
week after they had returned to the house in Mafra, he opened his
eyes and smiled up at her, and she knew he was going to live.
'What's wrong, moca? You look so solemn?' Adam asked, as she
removed his breakfast tray and noted with satisfaction that he had
managed to consume most of the food she had brought him.

'What could be wrong? You are getting well again. My prayers

have been answered,' Natalia answered, setting the tray down to
make him more comfortable. When she went to draw away, his
fingers were tight about one wrist.
'I told you not to care for me. If I had been killed . . .'
'But you were not,' she flashed. 'Besides, there are times when a
woman has no choice in matters of the heart. It will all be decided
for her. By fate.'
'Fate!' He gave a short laugh. 'Are you part gipsy, to believe in
such things?'
'I only know that, if you had died, I would have died toohere.'
Natalia laid a hand against her breast. Leaving him would be like
dying too, she thought, watching his long fingers caress the back
of her skin.
The first thing he had done had been to get Nuno to shave him.
sitting ill at ease in the huge carved bed while the boy wielded the
razor. It was clear to Natalia that he had never been so helpless
before, and he did not like it!
As he moved restlessly, she watched his features pucker with pain,
and said quickly, 'Let me help you to turn over. Perhaps I can ease
a little of your discomfort.'
'I can think of many ways!' He gave her a wicked grin. He was fast
becoming his old self again, she realised, as she moved him over
on to his stomach. 'None of which I am capable of at the moment.
In a few days . . .'
In a few days she would be gone, and out of his life for ever. But
she would take with her the memories, and the child growing

within her. His child! Their child! From the bedside cabinet she
took the oil Pilar had given her when they first arrived. She had
been using it on his skin to lessen the effect of the many scars he
had sustained from the Bussaco battle. A musket ball had seared
one shoulder, inflicting only slight damage, but leaving a deep red
furrow on the bronzed skin. A Frenchman's sword had ripped open
his jacket and left another two lines across his chest. His whole
body, she discovered, had been covered with cuts and abrasions
where he had slithered and fallen on the slopes in the first wild
moments of the surprise attackand from the fall he had sustained
when his horse had been brought down beneath him.
All would heal in time. He would bear scars which were visible to
the eye. Hers were not. Hers would never heal.
'You have magic hands, moca!' Despite the pain she knew he still
felt from the wound in his back, he began to relax as always
beneath the slow, gentle motions of her hands. Gently she kneaded
the firm flesh, smoothed the oil over the broad shoulders and down
his back until her fingertips touched the swathing of bandages
about his middle. Even touching him like this made her inwardly
tremble, and she drew back.
'You must rest. The doctor will be here in a little while.'
'This afternoon, I think I shall get up for a while,' Adam declared,
as she settled the pillow comfortably beneath his head.
'You will not! You are too weak.'
'You are beginning to sound more like my wife than my . . .'
'Bedmate? Mistress?' She stepped back, eyes flashing.

'What is it? Why are you angry?' He frowned at the unexpected

bitterness in her voice. 'Don't you know you mean more to me than
anyone in this world?' The knife turned again inside her. Adam's
eyes, suddenly grave and penetrating, searched her face. 'It is
strange how, when I dream, it is her face I seeher pale-skinned
body I hold in my armsyet she gave me nothing. It is you who
give me comfort. With you I have found love.'
'In time, you will no doubt discard me as you did her!'
'Bastante! I will not take that, even from you.' The pale eyes
glittered angrily.
'I am sorry, Adao. I did not mean . . . I am so tired.' She turned and
ran from the room in tears. She could not remain in the house for
another day!

'Well? You have done it?' Natalia turned anxiously on Pilar when
she came into the kitchen. She was supervising the preparation of
nourishing broth for Adam's lunch. The last duty she would ever
perform for him. She had sent the woman out to hire a carriage to
take her back to Alto Verde. While he was eating, she intended to
slip out of the house unseen and take flight. In a few days, Pilar
would request permission to return to her old home.
'Sim. A carriage will be waiting in the praca at one o'clock. I had
to pay extra. The driver said he earns more money here, using his
vehicle for the English officers, than going so far away.'
'Far away? He will be back by nightfall and well able to earn
himself some more money if it pleases him,' Natalia retorted
indignantly. She could have used Alida's small carriage, but its
absence would be noticed and the driver questioned immediately

he returned to the houseand her whereabouts revealed. She must

simply disappear, and this seemed the easiest way. 'Good! I shall
go and rest for a while.'
'You cannot,' Pilar protested, looking agitated. She crossed herself
several times. 'Senhor Charles is here. He could not have received
the letter you sent because he has just come from Sobraland he
has someone with him. Menina, Sua Excelecia Wellington himself
has come to see Major Sorrell! I have put them in the sitting-room,
and given them wine.'
Charles Sorrell and Wellington! Natalia's tiredness vanished in an
instant.
'Is that all the hospitality we can offer them? Find them food, and
the best claret! And have a bottle of brandy brought from the
cellars.'
Adam, who had just begun to doze, was startled by the whirlwind
which swept into the room and began to tidy it.
'You have visitors! Your fatherand the General himself!
Downstairs. Sit up and let me make you look presentable.'
'Dammit, moca, do you think I'm going to receive Lord Wellington
sitting up in bed like a blasted invalid?' he said sharply, as she
smoothed the bed-covers. 'Help me up. And call Nuno to come and
dress me. No, you can do it, it will be quicker. My clotheswhere
are they?'
'In the closet, but. . . you are not well enough! To sit in a chair,
perhaps.' The pale eyes which came to rest on her quelled further
argument. 'Be it on your own head. What do I care if your wound
opens!'

In an angry silence she found his clothes and helped him into
them, watching apprehensively as his mouth tightened with the
pain of every movement and a pallor returned to his cheeks which
had she had hoped never to see again.
'Your arm, moca,' he said firmly. It was an order, not a request,
and meekly she slipped her arm through his and helped him to
negotiate the narrow flight of stairs which led downstairs. She
would have turned back at the doorway, but he retained a tight
hold on her and she was propelled firmly into the room.
'Adam, my boy! Is this a miracle? Pilar told me you were confined
to bed.'
Charles came striding across the room to clasp his hand. For a long
moment, father and son embraced each other, silently
acknowledging the grief they carried inside them at the death of
Drew, and comforted by the contact until they could be alone to
talk and ease the pain.
'Sit down before you fall,' Natalia pleaded, as Adam swayed
unsteadily, the blood draining from his face.
'As you can see, I have a good nurse,' he said drily.
'Who tenders excellent advice!' The man who rose from a chair in
front of them still wore the same large grey great-coat as when he
had directed the cannon fire on the heights of Bussaco. On a table
lay the plain cocked hat. Although she had seen him several times
in the camps, Natalia had never before been so close to the man
who had sworn to free Portugal from French domination. She
found herself scrutinised by sharp, brilliant, light-blue eyes. A
frank appraisal was being made of her, and he did not care if she
knew it. He had strong, intelligent features without the often
annoying arrogance which accompanied wealth and rankand

power. For the first time, she fully understood the magnitude of
this man. Had she been a soldier under his command, she would
have trusted him implicitly, and followed him anywhere.
A smile warmed the dark face as he took Adam's hand and soundly
shook it. 'I'm glad to see you on your feet again. Don't stand on
ceremony, that's not the way it is with us! Sit down and have a
glass of brandy. It is excellent. Do you know it's raining outside?
Torrents of the filthy stuff!' He gave a short laugh. 'Just what we
need, eh?'
'I think divine providence is on your side,' Adam replied,
managing a smile as he sank gratefully into a comfortable chair.
Natalia tried to hide her surprise at the familiarity between the two
men. It was obvious that the Viscount considered Adam more than
just another officer.
Charles looked from one to the other in puzzlement. 'May I ask
what is going on? The roads are floodedif it continues to rain,
they will be unusable.'
'Exactly.' Wellington and Adam spoke in unison.
'Good heavens! The French will be bogged down until spring! Our
men have the safety and protection of the lines, but the enemy
have nothing but scorched earth. No foodand glorious, glorious
rain. Oh, how it rains in Portugal! They will not be able to reach
Lisboa.'
'They were never meant to, Father. It was all part of an ingenious
plan of his lordship's, but until now we did not know if it would
work.'
'Only a select few of my officers knew anything about it,'
Wellington said, indicating that Adam was, indeed, high in his

esteem. 'I think others now are beginning to see the light.' He once
more picked up -his glass and savoured the contents. 'Another
three days should have my men exactly where I want them
deployed from Torres Vedras to the Atlantic. And the Tagus and
southwards to protect the capital itself. If necessary, I shall sit out
the winter and let the men have a well-earned rest. If the old fox
Massena hasn't given up and gone home by then, we shall oblige
him one last time.'
'Your visit is appreciated, sir. You know that,' Adam said, well
pleased by the news.
'As is your courage and braveryColonel Sorrell.' Natalia caught
her breath in delight. Charles beamed as the General took an
envelope from the inside of his great-coat and laid it on the table
beside Adam's chair. 'I wanted to bring you the good news myself,
and to tell you that your guerrilleros have arrived in Mafra. My
visit is a small reward for all you have done. If only I had a dozen
men with your capabilities!' Wellington said smilingly, and Natalia
was instantly touched by the sincerity in the quiet tones. Briefly he
clasped Adam's hand for a second time. 'Grow fit and strong again,
Colonel. I shall have need of you, come spring. I must leave you
now, but I hope to see you again soon. I think a little celebration is
in order, gentlemen? A dinner, a ball, perhapsand, of course,
you are both invited.'
'I may not be able to dance, but I'll break a bottle with you, sir,'
Adam replied. 'We accept, of course.'
'Not for the first time, eh? Good man! What's this I hear of you
having a wife hidden away somewhere in these hills? Bring her
too, I'd like to meet the woman who has infiltrated your
impenetrable defences!'

'Thank you,' It took Adam a moment to recover his composure. 'I'll

do my best to see that she is with me.'
Minutes passed before Natalia realised that Wellington had left the
room. Charles, who had escorted him to the door, came back and
stood before his son's chair questioningly. He dared not look at
Natalia. He had not given her more than a cursory glance since the
moment she enteredhe was afraid he would give himself away.
He could feel her uneasiness and growing frustration. How had she
managed it? Was it possible that Adam did not know her? She was
thin, and tired from days of constantly nursing him, and her skin
appeared lighter to him than when they had parted, although with
the high-fastening, long-sleeved dress she wore, it was
successfully hidden. But not the eyes. Not those exquisite,
wonderfully expressive blue eyes.
'Were you serious?' He replenished his glass of red wine. 'Would
you care for some of this? Good for the blood and, from what I
hear, you lost plenty on the way here.'
'I shall have plenty of time to make it up when I come to Lisboa. I
should be able to travel in a few more days. You must stay until
then, and we can get very drunk together. I've been meaning to
since Drewdiedbut . . .'Adam broke off with a grimace. 'I'll
have a brandy. That's good for the blood, tooor so you always
told me.'
'Do you think that's a good idea?' Natalia's protest faded as he
looked up at her, and something in the depth of those grey-green
eyes warned her that he did not welcome this show of
possessiveness.
'Am I serious about what?'
'Bringing Natalia to Mafra. In Lisboa, before you left. . .'

Adam swallowed some brandy and felt a fire ignite in his stomach,
but after a moment the pain in his back and chest was dulled and
he swallowed the other half. He needed to talk to his father. There
were so many things to be sorted out. Problems of his own making
. . . Well, not all his own.
'Will you arrange for a room to be made ready for my father,
moca. Have we enough food in the house for another mouth?'
'Probably. If not, I shall go shopping this afternoon.'
'No, send Pilar to me. You get some rest.'
'Did you do as I asked?' she heard Adam say as she slowly closed
the door after her, lingering as long as possible. Why did she feel
he wished to be rid of her?
'At once . . . Have you told her yet?'
'In good time . . . There are many things to be settled yet. There is
no hurrynot now.'
There was no doubt in Natalia's mind what they were discussing.
The first and most important thing always on Adam's mindthe
annulment of their marriage. And Charles had arranged it, even
though he knew of her love. How could he have been so cruel?
The answer was simple. He loved his son above her. What could
be more natural? She had gained nothing from the deception
except to confirm her husband's continued contempt for her and
his willingness to forget her in the arms of another woman.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned away and went upstairs.
A few minutes before one o'clock, she slipped out of the house by
a back door and hurried towards the praca, her heart in her mouth
for fear the carriage would not be there. It was. Tears blurred her

vision as much as the blinding rain. She climbed inside and pulled
the heavy shawl away from her face and shook the rain-spots from
her skirts. She would not be missed for some while, she was
confident of that. On the pretence of going to her room to rest, she
had left the housekeeper to serve Charles and Adam with their
lunch. Afterwards they would probably rest. Perhaps it would be
late afternoon before he wondered where she was. And when he
did? Noshe must think of him no more!
How tired she was! She would try to sleep on the short journey
home. She needed her strength to sustain the life inside her, even
though she felt as if it had all drained from her.
'Drive on!' she called up to the waiting man. Her voice was so
choked with emotion that she had to repeat the order.

Natalia gave an alarmed cry as she was rudely awakened from her
sleep and thrown roughly across the opposite seat. She could hear
the driver cursing as he fought to control the horses. The carriage
slithered precariously on the mud-drenched road, and came to a
halt. Ruefully rubbing a bruised shoulder, she resumed her seat
and looked out of the window to see what was happening. She
froze in horror at the figures who surrounded the carriage. She
recognised them immediately as Adam's guerrilleros. Five of
them, and staring at her in none too friendly a manner, and talking
to the driverNuno! Dear heaven, what was going on? Adam had
sent them after her, but why? And how had he discovered her
absence so quickly? Pilar! No one else could have betrayed her.
She could not believe her lifelong friend and adviser would fail
her!

The door was swung open. Nuno kneed his horse closer and
peered inside. The young face staring at her was without
expression. 'You will please to dismount and come with us.'
'I will not! How dare you stop me. Get out of my way at once!
That is an order,' she cried angrily. She could notshe would
notgo back!
'And who do you think you are, to be giving us orders? Only the
Major does that, and he told us to bring you back by any means
necessary. Do you understand me?' one of the guerrilleros
interrupted.
'Hehe said that?' Natalia shrank back in her seat as another of
the men dismounted and came to the door, glaring at her
warningly.
'Stealing to survive is one thing, my girl. Stealing from a man who
has befriended you, fed you, given you more than any other man,
I'll warrantis another! Women like you are flogged raw in my
village and sent packing! Get down.'
When Natalia still hesitated, he reached in and grasped her by the
arm, to pull her bodily from the seat. Her shawl was wound
unceremoniously about her head and shoulders, and despite futile
struggles, she was lifted up in front of one of the guerrilleros. An
arm went tightly about her waist, almost squeezing the breath from
her body.
'I shall have every one of you whipped for this!' she began.
Her words were drowned in the howls of laughter that came from
her companions. Miserably, she lapsed into silence. She was being
taken back to Mafra, and she could do nothing about it! The

guerrilleros wheeled their horses about, and at a fast pace headed

back towards the town.

The door of the sitting-room closed behind her, leaving Natalia

alone with the silent man standing at the window, his back towards
her. She was soaking wet, and water dripped from the hem of her
dress to form a puddle about her sandalled feet. She was cold, too,
and shivering, but she did not know if it was from the dreadful ride
she had been forced to endure or from her fear of what was to
happen.
Adam turned, and had to harden his heart at the sight of the
bedraggled spectacle. Not yet . . . He wanted to be sure. Of her
not of himself. He had known from the very beginning that there
would never be another woman in his life. He had refused to
accept it thennow it was different. He would keep her with him,
even if he had to lock her in her room!
'I have stolen nothing from you,' Natalia cried tremulously. The
gaze of those glittering eyes was unnerving.
'I know. Take off that wet shawl and sit down. We have things to
discuss,' Adam replied coolly, totally in command of the situation.
She had no idea of how his heart had somersaulted with the
unsteadiness of a young boy as she was pushed into the room. His
men had not been too gentle with her, but they had brought her
back. That was all that mattered.
'Then how dare you have me brought back likelike a common
thief! You don't own me.' Attack was her only defence. To make
him so angry that he would send her away willinglyat once.

Adam's eyes narrowed sharply. He poured himself some brandy,

and red wine for her. She shook her head when he offered it, and
he shrugged and put it down beside her. Reaching out, he pulled
the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it into a chair.
'That's better! Now I can see your face.' He stood before her, feet
slightly apart, one hand thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers,
the other holding the brandy balloon, the contents of which he
sampled slowly, every moment of silence prolonging her agony. It
was an easy stance, and there was even a slight smile on his
features as he surveyed the black curls pressed against her cheeks,
the quivering lips, the hands clasped tightly together before her,
but she knew his mind was active, searching for some explanation,
and she had none to give. Except the truth!
She looked for all the world like a frightened servant-girl waiting
to be reprimanded for some misdemeanour, Adam thought. Was
her fear really of himafter all they had shared? Could he have
been wrong again?
'I lost you once through my own stupidity. I have no intention of
making the same mistake again! As for stealing from me, that was
the truth. You stole my heart at Alto Verde, and again at Sobral.
And I do own you, Natalia. You are still my wife!'
The quiet words came at her like a thunderbolt, rocking her on her
feet. She gave a cry and pressed her hands over her mouth, her
eyes widening.
Ruthlessly Adam continued with the advantage her confusion gave
him. 'You presented yourself to me as a waif who did not even
have a name of her own, yet your skin when you came to my bed
that first night had been freshly bathed and perfumed, and your
clothes were scrupulously clean. Your hands, although they should

have been rough and calloused by work, were soft because you
have always put salve on them at night and I suspect you
continued to do so. Really, my dear, Pilar let you down there. Did
she not tell you that men notice such things? At least I do. I should
not be alive now if I had not trained myself to use every sense I
possess!'
Pilar! Had he forced her to tell him everything, or had she supplied
the information willingly? What did it matter ... He knew. Now he
would reject her again as he had done at Alto Verde. He did not
love his girl any more than he had loved Nataliahe had lied to
her, tricked her. She swayed unsteadily, but drew back when he
put out a hand to help her. He ignored the blue fire beginning to
glow in her eyes. She was growing angry, and that was what he
wanted. Now there would be truth between them, once and for all.
'You noticed all these things . . .' And the dye too, she thought,
which she had remembered too late! 'You said nothing. How you
must hate me! You were a beast to let me throw myself at you!'
'I heard no complaints . . . and I had none. Besides, I wanted to
find out what your game was. I thought you had some crazy notion
of revenge in your head for what had happened between us at Alto
Verde. Did you really believe I would not know you? My own
wife?' He flung the words at her, a contemptuous twist to his lips.
'I was not your wifenot really. No more than I am now.'
'It took me a long time to realise what lengths you would go to in
order to have a childto please your father.'
Natalia gasped at the cruel words. 'I didn't follow you... for that.'
'Why else? To prove to me your undying love? I didn't believe you
at Alto Verde, so why should I now?' Adam hurled the taunt at her

mercilessly, and the final insult snapped the thin thread of her
temper.
Her hand lashed out at his face, connected with the balloon he held
and sent it shattering against the panelled wall. Adam's lean fingers
coupled her wrist. His free hand clamped hard down upon her
shoulders, and she was dragged against his chest. The glittering
look in his eyes made her feel quite faint as he forced her face up
to his, and his mouth descended on hers. He kissed her as he had
kissed her that night at Alto Verde, before misunderstandings and
a forced marriage parted them and substituted hatred in his heart
for the love he had found in that ecstatic moment. He knew now
that he had never really hated her. She had proved that when she
came to him in her disguise, and he had lost himself in the worship
of her body, silently accepting he might one day lose her again, but
unable to reject what she offered. Paradise, indeed, for a man who
had never known love and often denied that any woman could be
totally faithful to one man.
Natalia's senses reeled, clamoured for more. She clung to him as
he moved her backwards to the couch and lowered her, the
hardness of his body settled over her, holding her fast. He brushed
the wet curls from her cheeks and kissed them, trailed gentle kisses
down over her throat as his hands explored her body beneath the
material of her dress.
'What are you?' he whispered against her ear. 'Natalia or moca?
Wife or mistress?'
Natalia opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Her long fingers
touched his cheek briefly, then the firm line of his mouth, and then
nestled in the dark hair curling about his neck.

'Whatever you wish me to be . . . Wife or mistress, it matters not,

so long as I am with you. But . . .' Tears sprang to her eyes as she
remembered the conversation she had overheard. 'II am not your
wife any more, am I? Charles has had the marriage annulled. I
heard . . .'
Adam cursed gently at the utter misery in her eyes. 'Idiota! The
moment I realised who you were . . .'At her gasp of surprise, a
second curse broke from his lips and then a half-smile, to
acknowledge how successfully she had deceived even him. 'Very
well, you fooled me for a day or two onlyafter which, I wrote to
my father at once to rescind my previous request. He had told me
everything. I tried to be angry with him, but how could I? If he had
not helped you on your way, perhaps you might never have
reached Sobral and we would not have spent so many enjoyable
nights together.'
'Why?' Natalia asked softly. He loved her. It was in his voice, his
touch, his eyes. He had looked at her like this at Alto Verde, but in
her innocence she had not recognised it as love. 'Tell me, Adao.
Let me hear it from your lips for me . . . For Natalia, not moca. For
the girl you married.'
'Enchantress! I love you. I would have told you that night, had we
not been interrupted. I should have gone to your father and asked
to marry you.'
'And Cesar would have challenged you, and you would have
discovered how foolish I had been! I did not mean to deceive you,
but II thought you were only flirting with me, that you did not
even regard me as a woman ... I would not forget you as I thought
you would methe moment you left.'

'I would have fought him to have you, as I shall fight any man who
even smiles at you after today. I am a very possessive man!'
'Forgive me?'
'Everyone is entitled to be foolish at some time in their lives!'
Adam kissed her again, drawing an instant response from her eager
lips. He cursed the injury which prevented him from carrying her
upstairs and showing her the depths of his love. They were both
free of the past now, of the misfortunes they had inadvertently
brought upon themselves. They had all the time in the world to
discover the wonder of their love.
'When I am better . . .' he warned teasingly, as her hand slid inside
his shirt against the warmth of his chest and his skin began to burn
like fire at the slight touch.
Her eyes bright with love, Natalia took his hand and laid it against
her stomach. 'Make haste, meu amor! We do not have very much
time . . .'

'Colonel and Mrs Sorrell.'

At the announcement, many heads in the crowded ballroom turned
to stare at the newly-arrived couplea tall and handsome man in a
blue uniform trimmed with gold, and the slender, exquisitely
gowned young woman at his side. Fans fluttered and conversation
buzzed as the couple began to make their way towards Viscount
Wellington, whose elevation to an earldom was already being
hinted at by gossip.
Natalia's gown was of white tulle over a white satin underdress. It
was cut very low across her breasts, with small puff sleeves that

left her arms bare. Jewels flashed at her throat and in her ears:
Adam's betrothal gifts, a magnificent sapphire necklace and
earrings to match the brilliance of her eyes. Her skin glowed with
colour in the candlelight, for not all the dye had been erased from
her skin despite Pilar's efforts. Adam, himself, had soundly
scrubbed her, and they had both ended up wet and laughing in each
other's arms.
The short hair, with which they had had more success, was swept
high on the crown of her head in a mass of red-gold curls and
surmounted by a diamond tiaraher husband's wedding present.
She moved with a grace and elegance which made her the envy of
every woman, and attracted the eyes of every man, but the hand
laid upon Adam's sleeve trembled slightly. This night was the
culmination of all her dreamsand it was only the beginning.
Somewhere in the sea of faces were Charles and her father, whose
health had improved sufficiently for him to come and stay at the
house. Had the news of an impending grandson had anything to do
with it? she wondered. If it had, she was too happy to mind. She
and Adam were all he had. If she could bring a little more
happiness into his lonely life by giving his dream, too, then she
would do so.
Adam's dark head bent towards her, a reassuring smile warmed the
bronzed features, and the love and pride blazing in his eyes
dispelled her nervousness.
Before the General and a dozen of his fellow officers, they halted.
Adam's hand again covered the slender fingers on his arm. His
quiet voice, vibrating with emotion such as she had never heard
expressed so openly before, spoke the words Natalia had thought
never to hearacknowledging her for the first time.

'My LordGentlemen. I have the honour to present to you my

wife, Natalia.'