Read Online Napoleon's Woman by Samantha Saxon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samantha Saxon
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brogue was deliberately light as he took in the dark circle under Aidan’s green eyes.
"Well, ‘bout time you know what it feels like," Aidan teased, flopping on the leather chair opposite him. "How are your parents?"
"Grand, although my mother is determined to have me suitably arranged with an heir suckling the breast of my undetermined wife precisely nine months later." Daniel chuckled, adding, "I think I’ll have to do a bit of research whilst I’m in town. Would na want the lad to go hungry."
"Perish the thought!" Aidan said, smiling.
Daniel chuckled and settled back in his chair, placing his right ankle on his left knee. "So, what about you, Aidan? You’ve been home, what? Six weeks?"
"Seven." Wessex requested a scotch and when it was delivered said, "Thank you," to the young servant.
"Ya been to Blackmore Hall?" Daniel asked when they were alone once again.
Aidan gave a curt nod. "I recuperated there."
They held each other’s eyes and Daniel was not sure what to said, but never being one to let that stop him, he asked, "What happened on the peninsula, Aidan?"
His gaunt companion stiffened in his chair. "It was war, Daniel. What do you think happened?" He paused. "Men died." Aidan swallowed half his scotch. " My men died."
Daniel’s brows furrowed and he ached for his oldest friend, but knowing Aidan would never speak unless pushed, he pushed. "What happened, Aidan?"
"Leave it DunDonell," Aidan warned, but Daniel saw the pain beneath the hard emptiness of his gaze.
"No." He shook his head. "I dinna think I will leave it, Aidan. Your sister is worried sick about ya, and you’ve lost a stone since last we met." Daniel took a deep breath and started again. Gently. "Tell me what happened on the Peninsula?"
His friend looked at the wall, the fireplace, the ceiling, anywhere but Daniel while he made his decision. Finally Aidan leaned forward, his black hair shielding his eyes from view as he stared at the carpet.
"Beresford…Beresford called the charge on Albuera," he began and then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and opened them again. "My regiment was ordered to hold the road to the village. It should have been a simple task as the French troops were on the far side. But…" Aidan paused. "They flanked us, cutting my regiment in half. I turned my mount and headed for the men trapped by the river, but the fighting was fierce, and I didn’t get there in time." Daniel felt his friend’s guilt, it was that thick. "I watched those men get cut down, surrounded by twice their number of French troops, heard their cries. . ." He stared at the carpet.
Daniel gave his friend a moment. "It was war, Aidan. You said yourself: men die in battle."
"Not my men!" Aidan snapped, pushing himself upright. "Not without me."
Daniel sat back, suddenly comprehending. He had never realized how much the death of Aidan’s father had affected his friend, never realized the burden of following such a heroic man. But he saw it now. "Is that how you were injured?"
His friend held his tongue and Daniel knew that Aidan had tried to defend his men, tried to die with them as his father had done.
"The next thing I remember, I was sitting in a room being interrogated by Napoleon’s mistress."
"A woman?"
"Yes, she English, Daniel, and she’s here."
"In London?" Aidan must have heard the skepticism in his voice.
"Yes, in London! And stop looking at me as though I belong in a madhouse. I saw her at Lord Reynolds’ ball."
"Perhaps you were mistaken?"
"Really, old man, the woman intended to hang me. I hardly think I would forget what she looked like," he said with a tone of exasperated tolerance that Daniel remembered all too well.
The viscount chuckled, "No, I suppose not." Amusement lightened Aidan continence. "So, what are ya plannin’ to do about it?"
"I don’t know, but I do know this." He sat forward again, determined this time. "She’s the reason I survived Albuera."
"I thought she tried to kill you?" Daniel
"Well, ‘bout time you know what it feels like," Aidan teased, flopping on the leather chair opposite him. "How are your parents?"
"Grand, although my mother is determined to have me suitably arranged with an heir suckling the breast of my undetermined wife precisely nine months later." Daniel chuckled, adding, "I think I’ll have to do a bit of research whilst I’m in town. Would na want the lad to go hungry."
"Perish the thought!" Aidan said, smiling.
Daniel chuckled and settled back in his chair, placing his right ankle on his left knee. "So, what about you, Aidan? You’ve been home, what? Six weeks?"
"Seven." Wessex requested a scotch and when it was delivered said, "Thank you," to the young servant.
"Ya been to Blackmore Hall?" Daniel asked when they were alone once again.
Aidan gave a curt nod. "I recuperated there."
They held each other’s eyes and Daniel was not sure what to said, but never being one to let that stop him, he asked, "What happened on the peninsula, Aidan?"
His gaunt companion stiffened in his chair. "It was war, Daniel. What do you think happened?" He paused. "Men died." Aidan swallowed half his scotch. " My men died."
Daniel’s brows furrowed and he ached for his oldest friend, but knowing Aidan would never speak unless pushed, he pushed. "What happened, Aidan?"
"Leave it DunDonell," Aidan warned, but Daniel saw the pain beneath the hard emptiness of his gaze.
"No." He shook his head. "I dinna think I will leave it, Aidan. Your sister is worried sick about ya, and you’ve lost a stone since last we met." Daniel took a deep breath and started again. Gently. "Tell me what happened on the Peninsula?"
His friend looked at the wall, the fireplace, the ceiling, anywhere but Daniel while he made his decision. Finally Aidan leaned forward, his black hair shielding his eyes from view as he stared at the carpet.
"Beresford…Beresford called the charge on Albuera," he began and then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and opened them again. "My regiment was ordered to hold the road to the village. It should have been a simple task as the French troops were on the far side. But…" Aidan paused. "They flanked us, cutting my regiment in half. I turned my mount and headed for the men trapped by the river, but the fighting was fierce, and I didn’t get there in time." Daniel felt his friend’s guilt, it was that thick. "I watched those men get cut down, surrounded by twice their number of French troops, heard their cries. . ." He stared at the carpet.
Daniel gave his friend a moment. "It was war, Aidan. You said yourself: men die in battle."
"Not my men!" Aidan snapped, pushing himself upright. "Not without me."
Daniel sat back, suddenly comprehending. He had never realized how much the death of Aidan’s father had affected his friend, never realized the burden of following such a heroic man. But he saw it now. "Is that how you were injured?"
His friend held his tongue and Daniel knew that Aidan had tried to defend his men, tried to die with them as his father had done.
"The next thing I remember, I was sitting in a room being interrogated by Napoleon’s mistress."
"A woman?"
"Yes, she English, Daniel, and she’s here."
"In London?" Aidan must have heard the skepticism in his voice.
"Yes, in London! And stop looking at me as though I belong in a madhouse. I saw her at Lord Reynolds’ ball."
"Perhaps you were mistaken?"
"Really, old man, the woman intended to hang me. I hardly think I would forget what she looked like," he said with a tone of exasperated tolerance that Daniel remembered all too well.
The viscount chuckled, "No, I suppose not." Amusement lightened Aidan continence. "So, what are ya plannin’ to do about it?"
"I don’t know, but I do know this." He sat forward again, determined this time. "She’s the reason I survived Albuera."
"I thought she tried to kill you?" Daniel
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