The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride Read online

  When she had pulled on a clean gown of pale grey, thin woollen cloth, she went to the window and looked out into the back courtyard. Captain Colby was there, talking and laughing with his men, and she thought they must have been training or working for they all looked hot and, as she watched, several of them took a long drink from a jug of her aunt’s good ale. Then Captain Colby pulled off his shirt and went to the pump, dipping his head under it. He shouted as the cold water cascaded over his head and shoulders, trickling down his back. Babette could not help but see that his skin had the soft golden colour that showed he sometimes worked with his shirt off, perhaps in his fields at home.

  His shoulders were broad and he had strong muscles in his back and upper arms. It was hardly surprising that she could still feel the imprint of his hands where he had held her in the woods.

  As he withdrew from the pump, he looked up at her window, his eyes meeting hers so intently that she drew back hurriedly. Her cheeks flushed as she realised he must think she was spying on him. Sensing that some of the other soldiers were about to follow his lead, she moved away from the window. She ought to have done so as soon as she saw what he intended, but she’d been fascinated by the strong tanned torso and the way the water had trickled from his hair down his back.

  He was a handsome man and there was something very attractive about him, a masculine presence that made her feel as if she would like to be taken in his arms and held there safely. Babette admitted that she felt drawn to him against her will, because his smile was so charming that she sometimes forgot that he was her enemy—but she must not forget, because her brother’s and Drew’s life might depend upon her keeping up her guard. The rebel captain was a clever man and, if she allowed him to, he might discover her secret.

  Babette finished her toilette and then left her room. When she reached the kitchen she found her uncle seated at the table drinking ale. It was their habit to eat in the kitchen at breakfast, for it saved the trouble of laying the table in the parlour. Babette went to the pantry and brought out the salted bacon, beginning to cut several thick slices. She fried them with slices of bread and brought them back to the table just as Captain Colby entered. He had put his shirt on again, but it clung wetly to his body and his hair was slicked back from his face and beginning to curl above his ears.

  ‘Will you have porridge, sir?’ she asked. ‘Or fried bacon and bread?’

  ‘Have you no mushrooms to offer me?’ he asked and smiled at her.

  ‘You need to be out early to gather them for everyone likes a tasty mushroom,’ Aunt Minnie said, not understanding that it was a joke between them. ‘I’m sure had my niece known you were partial to them, Captain, she would have risen early to pick them for you.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, ’twas but an idle jest,’ he said. ‘I will have porridge—and some bread and a little of that excellent honey, thank you, mistress.’

  ‘I shall pick some mushrooms for you tomorrow,’ Babette promised.

  ‘I fear I shall not be here to eat them,’ he said. ‘We shall be leaving you at first light tomorrow. I should be able to visit all the farms in the district your uncle thinks may have surplus to sell by this afternoon and then we shall avail ourselves of one more night of your hospitality, but we shall be long gone by the time you rise, mistress.’

  He was going the next day. Relief rushed through her, but then she felt a tinge of regret. Once they parted she would never see him again—and why would she wish to? Instinctively, she raised her head, as if to protect herself from her own thoughts. He was her enemy, and she must forget they had ever met.

  ‘Oh, must you leave?’ Sir Matthew asked. ‘I had thought you might make this your base and go further afield to find your supplies.’

  ‘I am almost tempted,’ Captain Colby said, ‘but I fear I must press on. I am expected back within a certain time and must gather as much as I can. If I fail, others will be sent to use more forceful methods.’

  ‘Then I shall come with you and lend my authority to you. We must see you have what you need before you leave.’

  ‘Horses are my most pressing need,’ Captain Colby said. ‘You have a fine mare in your stables...’

  ‘She is mine,’ Babette said. ‘She is my friend and I need her. She would not carry one of your men into battle. She is a lady’s mount.’

  His eyes met hers, and for a moment she thought he was about to overrule her wishes, but then he said, ‘Unfortunately, that is true, mistress, as I was about to tell your uncle. Had she been up to my weight I would have given a fair price for her.’

  ‘No money could buy my Darling,’ Babette said. ‘She is devoted to me and I to her.’

  ‘I would not take her from you, Mistress Babette, but others might not be so nice. You must be careful not to ride out alone, for I think the times are difficult and you might lose both her and...’ He frowned and shook his head.

  Babette realised that he was hinting that she might lose her virtue and her cheeks burned. He was right, of course, for not every man she met would be as scrupulous as he and had she met a certain type of man in the wood... She shook her head because it was not a pleasant thought. She had always thought herself safe in her uncle’s woods, but now there were too many strangers and it was no longer the case that she would be treated with respect because of who she was.

  Babette put a plate of porridge and some fresh bread in front of him. He touched her hand and, when she looked down at him, said, ‘I would speak with you later, mistress.’

  ‘As you wish, sir,’ she said, making a mental note to avoid him if she could. It would be much better for her if he left with her uncle and never returned.

  * * *

  After the men had eaten and left, Babette had helped her aunt to tidy the house and then gone out into the gardens. She tended the flowers and took a honeycomb from the hives, always careful to leave enough for the bees themselves.

  ‘Thank you kindly, dear friends,’ she said after she had filled her basin. ‘May the sun shine and the flowers bloom for you.’

  Babette had learned her craft from an old beekeeper, who had warned her that she must always thank the bees and wish them well, lest they be offended and leave the hive.

  ‘Bees be very touchy folk, Mistress Babette. They gives generously, but expects respect.’

  Despite herself, Babette found her thoughts returning again and again to the rebel captain. Why did he wish to speak to her later? What could he have to say that was so important he had warned her of his intention?

  Did he suspect that she had been tending a Royalist fugitive? Why was Drew Melbourne so important that John feared the rebel soldiers were searching for them?

  A little shiver went through her as she wondered if he were a spy for the King, but then she thrust the idea from her mind. She must pretend to know nothing of them, for if one slip of hers betrayed them she would not forgive herself.

  * * *

  She spent the rest of the day baking, sorting linen and polishing. Every so often she looked out of the window, wishing that she dared slip away to the woods to enquire how her brother and Drew were managing, but John had told her to wait for him. She did not want to lead soldiers to their hiding place and forced herself to wait for the night in patience.

  John would come for food and she would tell him the good news—the rebels were to move on and he would be able to bring Drew to the house. Her aunt would welcome them and give them food to see them on their way. If they travelled on horseback, as she thought they must, her trunk would have to be sent on to the castle by wagon. However, she would pack a few things so that she would be ready to leave when John came.

  * * *

  It was almost dusk when Babette saw the men returning. For a moment she could not make out what was happening, for they had brought three horses, two cows and a calf with them, besides some sacks of grain�
��but something was not as it should be. There was an air of apprehension about them, something that made her tingle at the nape of her neck. She was about to go out to investigate when her uncle came hurrying into the kitchen.

  ‘Captain Colby has been wounded,’ he said. ‘I have sent someone for the doctor, but he is bleeding heavily. If his wound is not bound, I fear he may die before help can each him.’

  Aunt Minnie gave a little scream. ‘Lord have mercy,’ she cried. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘We did not see, for we were fired on in the woods as we returned home. The first shot missed, but Colby went after whoever had fired, and another shot took him down. It was an attempt at cold, deliberate murder.’

  Babette felt icy all over. Had John shot the rebel captain? Somehow she had not thought her brother a man to shoot another in ambush, to kill in cold blood. It would indeed be murder, and the idea that it could have been John made her shiver.

  Her aunt seemed turned to stone, standing indecisively, a look of panic in her eyes. Babette cleared the table as the men brought the captain into the kitchen. He was unconscious, his face deathly pale, and she could see that he had lost a lot of blood.

  ‘Lay him here,’ she said in a tone of command. ‘Aunt Minnie, a bowl of water as cold as you can get it, please, and some linen. I need a clean cloth to bathe him with and then lengths of it to bind him.’

  ‘Yes, Babs,’ her aunt said meekly. She had never hidden the fact that the sight of blood made her faint and turned her head as she offered the bowl. ‘Angelina, go up to your room, please.’

  ‘No, I shall stay and help Babs,’ her cousin said. ‘Give me the bowl, Mother. You go up and prepare the bed for him.’

  Suddenly their roles had been reversed, for her cousin’s tone was decisive and strong. Aunt Minnie, who looked on the verge of fainting, went without another word, and Angelina took her place. She held the bowl steadily and when the water was thick with blood she changed it without being asked.

  Babette saw that the ball had penetrated only the first layer of flesh on Captain Colby’s shoulder. She could see it protruding through his skin and decided that it would be better to cut it out than wait for the doctor. Instructing her cousin to light a candle, she held one of the sharp butchery knives to the flame for long enough to purify it and then plunged it into cold water. Inserting the pointed tip into the flesh, she made one clean cut, thrust the knife under the lead ball and flipped it out. It shot out and bounced on the table before running off the edge. Captain Colby screamed, opened his eyes, swore and tried to sit up.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Babette said. ‘The ball is out and you will heal better with a clean wound.’

  ‘Witch,’ he muttered and fell back into a swoon.

  Babette fetched a pot of healing balm from the medicine cupboard where her aunt kept her cures. It was some that Babette had made herself a couple of days earlier for Drew Melbourne in case he needed more. She applied a good scoop on to a pad of clean linen, pressed it to the wound and then asked her uncle to hold him up while she bound linen tightly over his chest and shoulder to hold it tight.

  ‘You have a fine skill at nursing,’ her uncle said, looking at her oddly. ‘Who taught you—and why did Captain Colby call you a witch?’

  ‘My mother taught me how to care for the sick. She nursed any who were ill at the castle—and it was in nursing a beggar who came to our door that she took a fever and died. Captain Colby was merely jesting, Uncle. He meant nothing by it.’

  ‘Such jests are dangerous, Babette,’ Sir Matthew said and looked at her coldly. ‘I know you are innocent, but few young women could deal as skilfully with a man’s injury—and folk are oft superstitious. It will go no further than this room, but should such rumours start you would not be safe here.’

  Babette looked at him in shock and dismay. Why, he almost believed it himself! Yes, he did believe it. There was a wariness about him that she had never seen before and she knew he was suspicious of her art in healing—yet the salves were simple such as any woman with a little knowledge of herbs might make and she had used no incantations to make it.

  Feeling slightly hurt that her uncle should even doubt her for a moment and puzzled that a man she had respected and thought intelligent should give way to foolish superstition over a jest, she realised that it would be as well if she were to leave his house soon.

  Yet even as she longed to leave this house, which had seemed a place of peace and sanctuary until now, she knew she could not. Captain Colby would have died before the doctor could reach him. Her aunt was not good at nursing, though she did her best when one of the household was sick—and she would not permit Angelina to care for a man who was not a relative. Babette could not leave this house until he was strong and well again.

  Somehow she would have to get a message to her brother and tell him that the rebel captain would not be leaving just yet.

  * * *

  In the morning, Sir Matthew told her that Captain Colby’s second-in-command had decided to split their forces.

  ‘Fourteen of the men will take the livestock and supplies they have bought and go on to the appointed meeting. Five will remain here to guard and escort their leader when he recovers—or carry news of his death if the worst happens.’

  ‘He will not die,’ Babette said more fiercely than she intended, for her uncle seemed to accept the inevitability of death too easily. Had it been left to him he would have prayed for his cousin and done no more.

  The doctor had visited, praised Babette’s work, given her a recipe for fever, which she already knew, and left, saying that she could do as much for her patient as he, and to send for him only if the arm became infected and needed amputation.

  Babette had smiled and thanked him, relieved that he at least had not questioned her skills, nor thought of her as a witch. She had noticed one or two of her uncle’s servants looking at her oddly, as he had a few times, though he continued to be polite and courteous to her when they met. Yet she had the feeling that he was uncomfortable with her in his house. He had become reserved, distant, and once she thought she saw fear in his eyes. Did he think that she might ill wish him?

  * * *

  Babette had visited Captain Colby three times in the night. For the first half of it he was burning up, tossing and turning, but at three in the morning he was cooler and no longer sweating. When she went in to see him at six that morning he opened his eyes and frowned at her.

  ‘What are you doing here, Mistress Babs?’

  ‘You were wounded badly, sir. I have been nursing you. Do you not remember? I had to cut out the ball. You screamed, opened your eyes and called me a witch.’

  ‘Did I?’ He smiled oddly. ‘It must have hurt like hell to bring me out of that faint. Forgive me, mistress. I did not mean to insult you—and I do thank you sincerely for your help. I have been wounded before and lain in agony for days before a surgeon cut out the ball and that led to days and weeks of fever. It would appear that your treatment has saved me a deal of pain and sickness.’

  ‘My uncle thinks me a witch because of it,’ Babette said. ‘I think he is a little afraid of me, though I have given him no cause.’

  ‘If I have caused you harm through a foolish jest...’ His forehead creased. ‘It was not intended to be taken seriously, merely a teasing thing between us... Forgive me. I shall speak to him as soon as I get up.’

  ‘You will not leave your bed today, sir. You lost a deal of blood before they got you home. Had I not acted as I did I think...’

  ‘You think they would have let me die before the physician came?’ He nodded. ‘Not every woman has your skills or your cool head, mistress. I thank my good fortune that you were here—and perhaps one day I may repay you for your care of me.’

  ‘If you can convince my uncle that I am not a witch and it was merely a jest, it will be enough,
’ Babette replied with a smile. ‘I shall go now and fetch you some gruel...but I will bring you brandywine, too. My uncle keeps a small flask for such a purpose as this.’

  Smiling at him, she left the room and went down to the kitchen, where her uncle and the servants had met her with strange looks. Somehow his fear of her had communicated itself to those who served him. How could he think that she was truly a witch—that she would harm the family who had shown her kindness and given her a home?

  She hoped fervently that Captain Colby would soon be able to continue his journey so that she might return to the castle.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as she could get away, Babs took some food from the pantry and made her escape. She went alone and ran all the way to the hut where her brother and Drew Melbourne had taken shelter, her pulse racing. Would they still be here?

  The hut looked deserted, but as she approached, a voice called to her from the bushes and she spun round, looking for whence it had come. The thorn bush rustled, and then her brother emerged, looking harassed.

  ‘Soldiers were searching here yesterday and this morning,’ he said. ‘I dare not leave Drew alone, though he is better than he was. Has your rebel troop gone?’

  ‘Some of them,’ Babette said. ‘Captain Colby was wounded yesterday evening as they passed through the woods. Most of his men took the goods they had purchased and went on to their headquarters, as arranged, but he is lying in bed at my uncle’s house and five of his men remain to guard him.’

  ‘Perhaps it was they who were searching,’ John said and frowned. ‘Who attacked him? Is there a Royalist force nearby? Could you get a message to them?’

  ‘My uncle said nothing of a Royalist force,’ Babette said and frowned. ‘He called the attack on Captain Colby a cowardly ambush from the trees—the man did not face them, but hid and took a shot without revealing himself.’