A Stranger at Castonbury. Amanda McCabe

but she did. She shook her head and said, ‘Not now, Captain Webster. I must go.’

      And she looked back to Jamie to see that he had glimpsed her too. He made his way to her side through the crowd, and his handsome face looked so very solemn.

      ‘You are moving out today?’ she said.

      ‘I must ride out within the hour,’ he answered.

      He took her arm and led her around to the line of trees behind the camp, where they had so often walked together before. Grey clouds were gathering on the horizon to block out the sunlight, as if to echo her sudden feeling of dread.

      ‘But where are you going?’ she asked, holding on to his hand.

      ‘I am not sure yet. But I will write to you soon, and tell you where to meet me.’ Jamie’s arms suddenly came around her, pulling her close, and she shut her eyes to memorise the way he felt, his scent, everything about him. About this moment. She felt everything rushing in on them, faster than she had expected. Jamie was leaving. And even if—when—he did come back, there would be so much for them to work on, to try and understand.

      ‘Will you be careful?’ she whispered.

      ‘Of course. If you will as well.’

      Catalina gave a choked laugh. ‘I am not the one hurtling into battle.’

      ‘We will be together again soon, I promise. You must not worry, no matter what you hear of what is happening.’ Jamie sounded confident, as confident as the smile he gave her, but still Catalina was so unsure.

      She nodded and tried to give him a smile in return. ‘Yes, we must. You have promised to show me Castonbury.’

      He kissed her hard, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go even as she clung to him.

      ‘Until we meet again, my Catalina,’ he said with one more kiss. And then he let her go and he was gone.

      And Catalina sank to her knees, unable to hold back her tears.

       Chapter Three

      Jamie stood on the muddy banks of the Bidasoa river and examined its rough currents as the rain that had been threatening to come down all morning now beat at his head. He wiped the drops from his eyes and tried to look across to the other side, but the storm was too thick and grey.

      ‘What do you think, Señor Hatherton?’ he heard Xavier Sanchez say.

      He turned to face the Spaniard, who stood several safer feet back with the horses. Xavier was one of the Spanish agents working for the British government and had been Jamie’s contact on many previous errands. He was usually a brave man, but today his dark eyes were cautious as he peered out at the river from under his sodden hat.

      Jamie turned back to the water. His instructions had been clear; he had to get to Toulouse before the regiment and rendezvous with their Spanish contacts. He had to cross the river to do that, just as the rest of the army would soon have to do, and time was of the essence.

      And the sooner he finished this job, the sooner he would be able to return to Catalina … and the sooner they could start a real life together.

      ‘We need to move closer to Toulouse as soon as possible,’ Jamie said. ‘And you must carry word back to camp of an “accident” so we can separate.’

      ‘But the river, señor …’

      ‘We are travelling light,’ Jamie said. And he was a strong swimmer from long days on the lake at Castonbury with his siblings. ‘I need to move today. You can follow on later, as we planned.’

      Sanchez looked doubtful, but he nodded. ‘I will follow with the horses soon, Señor Hatherton.’

      Jamie stripped off his coat and boots and tucked them then into the saddlebags. He carefully waded into the water that rushed up over the banks. It was freezing cold, swollen by the rain, and his legs went numb as the currents swirled around them. When the water reached his waist, he took a breath and dived deep.

      The cold closed over him like a thousand knives, but he pushed away the pain and kept swimming. He couldn’t see anything around him, just swirls of grey and brown. He could only push towards where he knew the opposite bank lay. The deception of his accident had suddenly become all too real.

      He was moving strongly, the only thought in his mind his goal. Suddenly a strong current jolted him like a blow to the midsection. It caught him and tossed him around, pushing him even as he fought against it. He felt himself being swept inexorably downstream, twisted and turned.

      He struggled fiercely against the water, writhing in its powerful grip. Everything was turning grey and hazy as he couldn’t surface for a breath.

      Catalina’s face was suddenly clear in his mind, her smile, her dark eyes. He had to fight this, to get back to her.

      Something suddenly brushed past his hand, and he reached out to grab on to it. It was the root of a tree on the bank, sticking out into the river. He held on to its rough, delicate-seeming strength even as the water worked to claim him. He pulled himself up and sucked in a deep breath of precious air.

      But the respite was not to last. Something hard and heavy, borne on the current, slammed into his body. He fell back down into the deep water and his head landed on something sharp. As if from a distance, he heard a sickening crack. There was a piercing pain—and everything went dark as the river closed over him.

      ‘Catalina! Quick, over here. I need your help.’

      Catalina spun around from the bandage she was tying off on a wounded arm to see one of the other nurses and the English doctor labouring over another patient. She gave her own soldier one more smile and hurried to help them.

      The hospital tent had been chaos all day. The push to Toulouse was beginning in earnest, with different regiments pouring through and leaving their wounded to be seen to. Most of them moved on after, in a hurry to join with the main forces, but the people who were left had to tend to the sick and arrange for their transportation onwards as the French were in quick pursuit. The rain that had been pouring down steadily only added to the clamour, miring everyone in mud and damp. Gunfire was constantly heard in the distance.

      Catalina had hardly slept or eaten since Jamie left. She had no time to think of such things as she ran from task to task, always hearing those explosions in the distance, rivalling the thunder. The world had shrunk to only that noise, and emergency after emergency.

      But she couldn’t cease worrying about Jamie. Was he well? Was he safe? What dangerous task was he embroiled in? Reports of flooding at the Bidasoa made her even more concerned. She had received no message from him yet.

      All she could do was keep working, keep helping everyone she could.

      ‘Soon,’ she whispered as she rinsed her hands in a basin. Jamie would be back soon.

      As she dried her hands, she glimpsed the sapphire ring glinting on her finger. It was always with her, reminding her of hopes and dreams that felt so very fragile now.

      She pushed away her worries and went to help with the new patient. Once he was seen to, there was another and then another. The day had grown very late by the time she was able to duck out of the hot, stuffy tent for a breath of fresh air.

      The rain had ceased for the moment, though the sound of gunfire seemed even closer. Catalina found a quiet spot by a tree just outside camp where she could be alone just for an instant. She tilted her head back to stare at the dark grey sky and let the cool breeze wash over her.

      She thought about what Jamie had said about his home, about the beauty and peace of it. She feared she would get lost in its grandeur, but she did long for something pretty, something quiet. Someplace where she could walk with Jamie, hand in hand, the two of them in the fresh English spring.

      ‘Mrs Moreno, what a surprise,’ someone said suddenly, shattering her reverie. ‘I so seldom see you alone.’

      Catalina