His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford

smiled innocently. ‘So I’ve noticed, sir.’

      ‘Touché!’

      Her riposte had been justified, he admitted. All the same he hadn’t missed the mischievous glance that had accompanied it. There had been no malice in the look. On the contrary, it had been quite unwittingly seductive. The fact that it had been unintended made it all the more effective. He smiled in self-mockery. Any overture to Miss Huntley would likely result in him getting shot, or run through with a sword. She was more than capable of holding her own. It didn’t displease him. Whatever else, it meant that the journey wasn’t going to be dull.

      Their stroll had brought them to the arroyo, but the stream in its stony bed was reduced to a mere trickle now. A few stunted trees clung to the margins. Heat struck upwards from the baked earth and carried with it the scent of wild thyme and dry grass.

      ‘Despite the shortcomings of some members of the military,’ he continued, ‘you are fortunate to have a friend in Colonel Albermarle.’

      ‘He has been kindness itself. He and my father go back many years.’

      ‘When this mission is over you will see your father again.’

      ‘I pray that I may. I cannot bear to think of him in a foreign prison.’

      Her expression grew wistful and he was unexpectedly touched. Her affection for her parent was clearly genuine, as was her desire for his freedom. Her youth made her seem more vulnerable. Once again he felt the weight of his responsibility.

      ‘How old are you, Sabrina?’

      ‘I’m nineteen.’ Her eyes met and held his. ‘How old are you?’

      His lips twitched. ‘Eight and twenty.’

      ‘Now you know about me will you not tell me something of yourself?’

      ‘You will find it dull. Unlike you I had a most conventional upbringing: Eton, Cambridge and the army. As the younger son I was expected to carve out a career for myself. My father bought me a commission and then let me get on with it.’

      ‘Do you have any sisters?’

      ‘One. Her name is Harriet. She is four years younger than I and married now with children of her own.’

      ‘And your brother?’

      There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘Hugh, who is two years older.’

      ‘Are you close?’

      ‘Not especially.’ It was, he thought, a massive understatement. The antipathy he had come to feel for his brother had, at one point, come perilously close to hatred.

      ‘Is he married?’

      The grey eyes glinted. ‘Yes. His wife is called Clarissa and they have two children.’

      It had been easier to say than he had imagined. It was said that time salved all wounds; it must have made more of a difference than he had ever envisaged.

      Sabrina smiled. ‘I find it hard to see you as an uncle.’

      He regarded her steadily. ‘Do you?’

      ‘Yes, the soldier in you seems to preclude it.’

      ‘In truth I have seen little of my nieces and nephews,’ he admitted, ‘but that is due to the demands of the army and not to any shortcomings of theirs. I happen to like children.’

      The statement was surprising and oddly pleasing. It was a side to him that she would never have suspected. They turned and began to walk back towards the inn.

      ‘How came you to be involved in army work?’ he continued. ‘It is an unusual occupation for a young woman.’

      ‘It was at my own request,’ she replied. ‘I wanted to do something towards the war effort.’

      ‘A noble aspiration, but not entirely without risk.’

      ‘The risk has been minimal, until now.’

      He regarded her steadily. ‘You’ve taken a dangerous gamble, my dear.’

      ‘So have you.’

      ‘True, though I think the odds are stacked more in my favour.’

      Sabrina was unable to decipher what lay behind that for the tone was compounded of several things.

      ‘The odds are always stacked in a man’s favour,’ she replied.

      ‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

      ‘Of course, but then much depends on the man, does it not?’

      ‘And I have done little to impress you thus far.’ He paused. ‘I admit that on the occasion of our first meeting my behaviour was abysmal. I suppose there’s no chance of my being forgiven?’

      ‘Not the least chance, sir.’

      He sighed. ‘No, I imagine not.’ There followed another brief pause. Then, ‘Did you deliver your fruit safely, by the way?’

      For a moment she stared at him, unable to believe her ears. Then she saw the gleam in his eyes and, unable to help herself, gave a gurgle of laughter.

      ‘Yes, I did deliver it, no thanks to you, you odious man.’

      His enjoyment grew. ‘I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.’

      It was hard to know what to make of that either, but she had a strong suspicion he was quizzing her.

      ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘it wasn’t just fruit.’

      ‘What then?’

      ‘Guns for the army.’

      ‘Good lord! Did your godfather know?’

      ‘He sent me.’ Seeing his expression she lifted one finely arched brow. ‘Why should he not? The risk was small. Besides, I can take care of myself.’

      ‘No doubt,’ he replied, ‘but now that responsibility falls to me.’

      ‘A worrying thought, sir.’

      ‘Do you doubt my ability to protect you?’

      The green eyes gleamed in their turn. ‘Well, yes. Did you not abandon me to spend a night in the open with five men and a broken wagon?’

      ‘Wretch! You’re not going to let me forget it, are you?’

      ‘Certainly not,’ she replied.

      At this point all his preconceived ideas had vanished; she was unlike anyone he had ever met. In his experience young women did not usually meet his eye in just that way, and certainly didn’t engage in verbal sparring. Beauty and wit were an attractive combination. She wasn’t afraid of him either. He wasn’t even sure if she liked him. On balance, he suspected not.

      They returned to the inn and paid their shot before resuming the journey in a more companionable silence. Sabrina’s gaze went to the window but in truth she saw little of the passing countryside. Her mind was focused on the man sitting opposite. Thus far she had not allowed herself to think too far ahead, but now the implications of their relationship crowded in. For the first time in her life she was thrown together with a man whom she knew hardly at all and in circumstances that required a certain amount of intimacy. Falconbridge was unlikely to do anything that might jeopardise the success of their mission, and he didn’t seem the type to force unwanted attentions on any woman. However, she had learned early not to put her trust in appearances. Faith was a loaded pistol and she had a brace of them, should the need arise.

      As for the rest, the villages they passed were few and mean, little more than clusters of hovels whose inhabitants eked a subsistence living from a grudging soil. It didn’t shock her for she had seen it many times on her travels, but it did occur to her to wonder where they would spend the night. In the past she had slept in many places and knew that she would infinitely prefer a well-kept barn to a dirty