Page 50 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
Ellen’s heart dropped to the soles of her dancing slippers.No!The denial screamed inside her. She did not want to face this…
* * *
Ellen had known the battle would come. But knowing, and accepting it was a reality, were two very different things. At the ball Paul had left her sitting in a chair for nearly an hour, as he had found the other officers of the 52nd, then disappeared with the lieutenant colonel in search of the Duke of Wellington. When he had returned, he had an air of determination – the soldier. His jaw had been taut and the grip on her arm firm, as he told her they must go home.
She knew they were not only leaving the ball, but he was also about to leave her.
Yet what could she do? Nothing. It would be wrong to plead with him to stay; it was his duty to go, and it was honourable and right. But the thought of him walking into a battle made her heart hurt.
What if he never comes back?
Ellen pushed the thought away – she did not want to even think it.
As they walked back through the shadows the moonlight cast across the streets, she did not speak, afraid that if she did, she would sob.
He was silent too. She could tell from the tenseness in his muscles and the intent look in his eyes as he stared ahead, his mind was on war.
When they reached their rooms, he changed immediately, stripping off his best uniform coat. Then he put on another. When he strapped his sword on, something tumbled over in her stomach. Horror. Fear.
He picked up his canvas bag that he could hang from his shoulder, and packed his razor, a clean shirt, and little else.
‘May I do anything to help you?’ Her voice came out at last. She could not let him leave without speaking.
He looked at her, as though only now he remembered she was there. ‘No, Ellen.’ He straightened, his eyes glowing a beautiful heated blue, and opened his arms. ‘Come here.’
She went to him, her arms slipping about his lean waist. She could not hold the tears back.
‘You will manage, Ellen, whatever happens, because you must. Do you understand?’
She nodded against his chest. She knew she would; he had told her what to do if he did not return. But… her heart could not endure it… how would she breathe if anything happened to him?
His fingers stroked through her hair, knocking out pins as she wept against his uniform which smelt of soap and starch from washing.
He had it washed to wear into battle… She felt like laughing and crying all at once.
Paul held her away a little, looking into her eyes. His eyes burned with a word he did not speak.Sorry, his eyes told her.I am sorry I brought you here.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. She must cease crying. It was making this worse for him. ‘I do not regret marrying you, not at all. You have made me happier than I ever thought it possible to be.’
He pressed a quick kiss on her lips, a chaste kiss.
‘And you will fight for our country,’ she said, ‘and I shall be proud of you, and you will come back and make me even happier.’
He nodded, then his head bent and this kiss was not chaste at all but searing with intensity. ‘I love you,’ he said in an earthy voice when he broke it.
‘I love you too.’
His eyes still looked regretful, yet he smiled. ‘I had better finish packing.’ He let her go and turned to the bag he was packing. ‘I have told you what you must do,’ he stated as he pushed spare items of uniform into the bag. He did not say –if I die.
She knew. ‘Yes.’
‘And you remember…’ He glanced over his shoulder meeting her gaze for a moment.
‘Yes.’
He looked towards his packing. ‘Swear to me, again, if there is any news that we have lost, you will do everything possible to get out of Brussels and travel to Ostend, with anyone who will take you. When you reach there, sell whatever you have to get a passage back to England and go to my father. If I survive, I will come and find you there.’
She caught hold of his arm to stop his hurried packing. ‘You will survive.’ She wanted to say,swear to me you will survive.
