Page 62 of The General's Gift
She wanted young love. Fresh promises. Lightness of heart. While he had breathed battle air instead of perfume, seen carnage instead of carnations, slept in hay instead of goose down.
Pain spread, hollowing him out from sternum to spine. Hope—the wild, reckless thing he had dared to cradle for the span of a heartbeat—turned sharp in his grip, cutting until he bled inside. To become her vision meant surrendering everything he was. And once a general surrendered himself, what remained?
So he locked the pain. Because his Little Tulle deserved the fairy tale. And her guardian would find her a young prince whocould share her cloud castle, even if it crushed the one beating organ left inside his chest.
She lifted her face to him, oblivious of his thoughts. As she smiled at him, radiant and full of belief in a future he could never give her, he did the hardest thing of all—he smiled back.
“Your right flank is lagging. If this were the field, you’d have a gap wide enough for the enemy to punch through.” Hawk said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Only if the enemy is foolish enough to walk straight into my line of fire.” Nicki pointed his chin at the fray. “But I’ll be sure to remind the French to attack from the front. Talking about them… We’ll land in Portugal by summer’s end, but the French will have dug in by then. Are we moving to cut their supply lines, or do we press for open engagement?”
Hawk looked at his son. The resemblance to him twenty years past struck him. Was he ever that eager? Of course, he had been. Nicki believed he was ready for another promotion, but he was not. Hawk had been younger when he took command. And he had not been ready either.
“War strategy will be decided among the generals. You’ll know when you need to know, Nicki. And you will do your duty like all the lieutenants in the army.”
Nicki’s jaw tightened, but his face remained unreadable. Disappointment clouded his gaze before he nodded. “So youdidn’t pull me from my troop to discuss strategy?”
Indeed, he didn’t. Hawk kept his eyes on the field. “Leighton will court Lady Cecilia.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. But Leighton was young. He could give her all the firsts she deserved.
Nicki scoffed. “Of course he will. Typical. We prepare for embarkation, and he prepares to woo a heiress.”
“Leighton sold his commission. He's left the army.”
And Celeste would not have to wait for a husband who might never return. She would have him by her side. To love her and to hold their children. She would not die alone, bearing his offspring while he was fighting, months away from any news.
The soldiers below changed formation, their collective movement seamless. If only men’s emotions could be trained into such precision.
“Desertion in all but name. Has he no notion of duty?” Nicki asked.
“A man’s duty is not always found in the army.”
Hawk owed this to his best friend. He had given him his word to protect his daughter. A duty he could not—would not—forsake. She deserved the fairy tale. What could be more enchanting than a young duke, rich and cultured, who would cherish her and never leave her side?
“I invited him to a picnic. He will come tomorrow with his sister.”
Nicki frowned. “Why would you allow—”
“You will escort Lady Cecilia.”
Nicki stiffened. “Have I been detached from my regiment to play nursemaid?”
Hawk’s jaw tightened. “You’ve been detached to fulfill an obligation to my ward.”
Nicki crossed his arms. “Then why don’t you escort her yourself?”
Hawk gripped the railing tighter than necessary. Because he could not stand to see Leighton drooling over her. Because even now, his insides were clamoring with the need to keep her to himself. “Because she needs to spend time with people her own age."
Nicki straightened, his tone sharp. “Just my luck. While the regiment prepares for war, I’ll be on chaperone detail.”
Hawk exhaled as a headache pounded at his skull. “It is one afternoon, Lieutenant. Your troop won’t crumble without you.”
He lifted his chin slightly, standing rigid. “Is that an order from my general?”
Hawk met his eyes, a beat too long. “It is a request from your father.”
Nicki blinked. Then, slow as a blade sliding from a sheath, his lips twisted. He snapped off a mock salute.
“Seems there’s a first for everything.”
