dedicated.”
Comprehension slowly dawned. “Not all women,” she replied, smiling up at him, “but to a woman who appreciates the finer qualities in a man, he is almost irresistible.”
Pleased with his scowl, she bade him a civil goodnight, shut the door on him, and returned to her study.
Chapter 6
Her smile soon faded. He had given her a lot to think about. It would have been so much simpler if they had been able to sift through everything together. But that was assuming that Marcus had been open and aboveboard with her. She shrugged, thinking of her own duplicity, which far surpassed his.
Staring into space, she reviewed everything that Marcus had told her. Intuitively she felt he had been telling the truth, that his object really was to draw Catalina into the open so that he could proceed with a Scottish divorce. One option was to simply tell him that she was Catalina. But she was afraid to do that. He was out to punish Catalina, and there was no saying what he might do. No, she wasn’t quite ready to go that far yet.
The next thing she did, as she always did after an interview, was make notes. Ten minutes later, she set down her pen, rested her elbows on the flat of her desk and cupped her cheeks with her hands. Major Carruthers would have to be informed of everything Marcus had told her tonight. And
El Grande
, of course. Would he be interested? Would he care? Would it be enough to draw him back to the land of the living? There was only one way to find out. She must write to them both. For a long, long time, she remained as she was, thinking of
El Grande
and the year she’d spent with the partisans.
It had all started in Lisbon, not long after she’d buried her father and was making plans to return to England. That’s when Major Carruthers approached her. A crisis had arisen in British Intelligence and he was short of one Sketching Officer to send into the field. These were spies who went behind enemy lines to sketch military targets so that there would be no unpleasant surprises when Wellington deployed his armies. Major Carruthers had seen some of the sketches she’d done of Madrid, before the retreat, and though she’d sketched only for pleasure, he knew she had the talent for this particular mission. And so she was recruited as a British spy.
She’d met
El Grande
on that first mission, when he and his band of guerrillas accompanied her to the target, a bridge that the British wanted to blow up to secure their position. It was the first time she’d changed her appearance to make herself look Spanish, the first time
El Grande
had claimed she was his sister as a ruse to infiltrate French lines. It was a ruse they were to use many times, until fact and fantasy became blurred in everyone’s mind.
One mission led to another, and before long it made more sense for her to remain with the partisans. The McNallys were asking too many awkward questions about her strange absences. In the end, she told them she was returning to England as companion to an elderly English lady she’d met in Lisbon. It was the only way she could explain that lost year of her life, the year she’d lived with the partisans.
At first, she’d felt aimless, and hadn’t much cared what became of her. She was just getting over the trauma of her father’s sudden death and the horrible quarrel with Amy. In time, she’d come to care about the partisans and their struggle against the French. She’d learned their language and shared their hardships.
It wasn’t long before she was doing a lot more than sketching military targets. She became a true partisan. Their cause became her cause. She learned to shoot, ride, and fight as well as any of them. It wasn’t that she liked war, but she looked back on that time as one of the most rewarding periods of her life. She’d known the kind of freedom few women ever experienced, especially English ladies. Oh, to ride with El
Grande
and the partisans once again, and camp under a canopy of
Comprehension slowly dawned. “Not all women,” she replied, smiling up at him, “but to a woman who appreciates the finer qualities in a man, he is almost irresistible.”
Pleased with his scowl, she bade him a civil goodnight, shut the door on him, and returned to her study.
Chapter 6
Her smile soon faded. He had given her a lot to think about. It would have been so much simpler if they had been able to sift through everything together. But that was assuming that Marcus had been open and aboveboard with her. She shrugged, thinking of her own duplicity, which far surpassed his.
Staring into space, she reviewed everything that Marcus had told her. Intuitively she felt he had been telling the truth, that his object really was to draw Catalina into the open so that he could proceed with a Scottish divorce. One option was to simply tell him that she was Catalina. But she was afraid to do that. He was out to punish Catalina, and there was no saying what he might do. No, she wasn’t quite ready to go that far yet.
The next thing she did, as she always did after an interview, was make notes. Ten minutes later, she set down her pen, rested her elbows on the flat of her desk and cupped her cheeks with her hands. Major Carruthers would have to be informed of everything Marcus had told her tonight. And
El Grande
, of course. Would he be interested? Would he care? Would it be enough to draw him back to the land of the living? There was only one way to find out. She must write to them both. For a long, long time, she remained as she was, thinking of
El Grande
and the year she’d spent with the partisans.
It had all started in Lisbon, not long after she’d buried her father and was making plans to return to England. That’s when Major Carruthers approached her. A crisis had arisen in British Intelligence and he was short of one Sketching Officer to send into the field. These were spies who went behind enemy lines to sketch military targets so that there would be no unpleasant surprises when Wellington deployed his armies. Major Carruthers had seen some of the sketches she’d done of Madrid, before the retreat, and though she’d sketched only for pleasure, he knew she had the talent for this particular mission. And so she was recruited as a British spy.
She’d met
El Grande
on that first mission, when he and his band of guerrillas accompanied her to the target, a bridge that the British wanted to blow up to secure their position. It was the first time she’d changed her appearance to make herself look Spanish, the first time
El Grande
had claimed she was his sister as a ruse to infiltrate French lines. It was a ruse they were to use many times, until fact and fantasy became blurred in everyone’s mind.
One mission led to another, and before long it made more sense for her to remain with the partisans. The McNallys were asking too many awkward questions about her strange absences. In the end, she told them she was returning to England as companion to an elderly English lady she’d met in Lisbon. It was the only way she could explain that lost year of her life, the year she’d lived with the partisans.
At first, she’d felt aimless, and hadn’t much cared what became of her. She was just getting over the trauma of her father’s sudden death and the horrible quarrel with Amy. In time, she’d come to care about the partisans and their struggle against the French. She’d learned their language and shared their hardships.
It wasn’t long before she was doing a lot more than sketching military targets. She became a true partisan. Their cause became her cause. She learned to shoot, ride, and fight as well as any of them. It wasn’t that she liked war, but she looked back on that time as one of the most rewarding periods of her life. She’d known the kind of freedom few women ever experienced, especially English ladies. Oh, to ride with El
Grande
and the partisans once again, and camp under a canopy of
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