Page 73 of Romancing the Rifleman
Ah.It made more sense now, why she had wanted to marry him.It wasn’t so muchhim, per se, as the opportunity to escape the life she had hated.He had been a means to an end, nothing more.He didn’t mind.Really, he didn’t.He understood.
Although perhaps a tinypart of him was… disappointed.
There was no use thinking like that.Had he known before the wedding, would he have done anything differently?Hell, no.He would have seized upon any chance to be with Diana.And he refused to tarnish his time with her by feeling sorry for himself.
Diana was still speaking.“The other thing you need to understand is that I’m coming with you.”
He gave her a wry look.“I’d noticed that.I mean, here you are.”
“Not just on this assignment, but wherever you get deployed,” she clarified.“I intend to follow the drum.”
Now that got his attention.Never once had he imagined that Diana would want such a thing.“It’s too dangerous.”
A mulish set came over her jaw.“And yet, other women do it.”
It was true.It wasn’t uncommon for officers to bring their wives along on deployments, even in times of active warfare.Sometimes, this meant renting lodgings in the nearest town, which might be two miles from where their husbands were encamped, or two hundred.
But some women insisted on staying much closer to their husbands’ sides, sharing their billet, when housing was available, or sleeping with them in their tent when it was not.
A handful went even further, sleeping next to their husbands on the bare ground, and searching for their fallen partners on the battlefield, sometimes while fighting was still going on around them.It was far too easy to picture the dauntless Diana doing just that, an image that made his heart tighten and his vision go fuzzy around the edges.
He hit upon a convenient excuse.“Your brother won’t like it.”
That earned him a glower.“My brother is not my keeper.”
He snorted.“We can carve that on my tombstone after he murders me.”
She waved this off.“Don’t be absurd.He’s not going to murder you.”
He rolled his eyes.“I wouldn’t be so sure.I’ve faced the French, and I am far more frightened of your brother.”
“Harrington.”She squeezed him again.“I’m not going to be rash.I’ve no intention of riding into the battle with bullets whizzing past my head like Susannah Dalbiac.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid you’ll do,” he muttered.
A slight narrowing of her eyes was the only sign she gave that she had heard him.“But I believe it is possible for us to find some middle ground.Every moment of a deployment is not spent locked in combat.I have formed the impression that you spend most of your time sitting around, waiting for something to happen.”
Damned if he could argue with that.To be sure, there were long marches and the occasional battle.But soldiers spent upwards of ninety percent of their time waiting to receive orders.
He tried to choose his words carefully.“The problem is, the handful of moments when you aren’t waiting can be very, very dangerous.And the situation can shift quickly.”
She nodded.“And that is why it will be important for us to discuss the particulars of each situation.If danger is imminent, I will fall back to a safe distance.”She caught his gaze and held it.“But you must acknowledge that there will be times when you’re billeted in a town a hundred miles from the enemy, awaiting orders, and there is no reason I could not be there with you.”
He frowned.“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”
She did that thing with her eyebrow.“Are you suggesting that I have bad judgment?”
That brought him up short.“No.I know you have the best judgment.”
Her eyes flashed, and he knew this had been the right thing to say.“Then we must trust one another.We will discuss the particulars of each situation and make a rational decision.Together.”
He sighed.“I still don’t know.”
She crawled into his lap, and he knew enough about military strategy to recognize her shift in tactics.Her voice was husky as she said, “You must admit, there are some advantages to having me along.”
His breath had gone ragged.“Are there?”
“Mm-hmm.”She stroked his chest.“I’ve demonstrated my competence with a shotgun.I’m sure at times there will be better game than seagulls.”Her hand drifted lower, lingering on his stomach as she leaned forward and whispered, “Imagine returning to your tent after a hard day of drilling your troops to find a pair of pheasants roasting over the fire.”
