4 Under Siege by Edward Marston Page A

you?’
    ‘No, no, you’re a very attractive woman, Rachel.’
    ‘Those soldiers seemed to think so. It’s just as well I didn’t understand everything they said.’ She giggled. ‘They were making some very rude remarks.’ She patted the bed beside her. ‘Come and join me, Monsieur Borrel.’
    ‘I’ll sleep on the floor, if you don’t mind.’
    ‘I do mind. I want some company.’
    ‘You heard what I said. I’m already spoken for.’
    ‘Why not come to bed and tell me all about her?’ said Rachel, beckoning him to her. ‘We’ll simply talk, I promise you.’
    Daniel knew that it was a promise she had no intention of keeping. By the light of the single candle, she was doing her best to look seductive, pulling her nightdress down to expose both shoulders and beaming at him. Resisting temptation, Daniel took one of the blankets from the bed and placed it on the floor.
    She was piqued. ‘Don’t I even get a kiss?’
    Daniel got up and placed a kiss on her forehead.
    ‘Good night, Madame Borell,’ he said, blowing out the candle.
    ‘You know where I am, if you change your mind.’
    But Daniel had no urge whatsoever to do so. After taking off his clothes, he settled down on the blanket in his nightshirt, trying to adjust his body to the undulations in the oak flooring. As he lay there in the dark, he reviewed what he’d so far learnt and what he needed to do on the following day. He was soon interrupted by loud snores from the bed. Rachel had given up all hope of enticing him into it. While she was deeply asleep, Daniel remained awake. Instincts sharpened by years of being on continual guard against attack made him listen intently. The floorboards in the passageway were creaking gently. Somebody was on the move.
    The only weapon he’d brought with him was the dagger that Rachel had given him as a gift. Reaching for it, he kept it concealed beneath the blanket. His ears hadn’t deceived him. The footsteps stopped outside the door and someone tentatively lifted the latch. A moment later, the door swung open and Daniel saw a figure enter in the gloom. The newcomer groped his way to the bed.
    ‘Rachel, Rachel,’ he said, drunkenly, ‘where are you, my love?’
    She woke with a start. ‘Is that you, Alain?’
    ‘No, it’s me, Sergeant Furneaux.’
    He dived on top of her and groped her breast. Rachel was horrified. Apart from anything else, the Frenchman was stark naked.
    ‘Get off me!’ she cried, pushing him away.
    ‘I want you,’ he insisted, silencing her protests with a kiss.
    It was as far as his courtship was allowed to go. Leaping up from the floor, Daniel dragged him from the bed and knocked him out with a single punch. Covering the interloper with a blanket, he put him over his shoulder and took him out of the room. Too drunk to know what he was doing, Sergeant Furneaux was now too dazed to know what was happening. Daniel carried him down the stairs and out into the yard, removing the blanket before dropping him in the horse trough. He left Furneaux spluttering in the water.
    When he got back to the bedroom, Daniel saw that Rachel had lit the candle again. She was shocked and frightened.
    ‘What have you done to him?’ she asked.
    ‘The same thing I’d do to any man who tries to molest my wife,’ he said with a grin. ‘Don’t worry about him. By morning, he won’t remember a thing about it.’

C HAPTER S IX
     
     
    Renowned for the roar of his voice and the strictness of his discipline, Henry Welbeck was not the ogre he always appeared to those under him. He really cared for his men and hated the thought of losing some of them every time an engagement with the enemy took place. Though nobody would have guessed it, he took an almost paternal interest in his charges, striving to turn uncouth recruits into responsible human beings and schooling them to be capable soldiers in order to give them a better chance of survival. Nothing upset him more than to lead a burial detail over a