His shoulder muscles tightened in concern. “Are you cold?”
The second she opened her mouth to speak, her teeth chattered. “A little.”
“A problem I shall soon solve.” He sent her a gallant and confident grin.
Slade deposited the saddle bags on the ground, unbuckled his weapons, and laid those down as well. He noted with no little interest the blackened area from an old fire several feet from the mouth of the cave. It was quite fortuitous that the previous occupants of the cave had left behind a pile of dry, broken branches.
Slade opened his saddle bag and pulled out the steel and flint. After a couple of tries, he was able to generate enough sparks on the small pyramid of shavings he’d made with his knife to get a flame. He carefully added branches one by one, so as not to smother the flame but feed it. Soon he had a healthy fire going.
He took off his coat and laid it on the ground to dry. He then eyed Fifi. She had unbuttoned her wet cloak and laid it out next to his, not far from the fire. Her expression softened.
The inner glow in her eyes as she gazed at him squeezed his heart. “Come warm yourself,” he said.
Slade’s mouth went dry. His gaze followed her movements as she came to sit next to him by the fire. His fingers still carried the memory of her soft, lustrous intimate skin at their tips. And his lips still recalled the sweet plumpness of her mouth. His hands now craved exploring the dip of her waist, and the glorious swells of her hips and breasts hidden under the riding habit. His breath audibly rushed in and out of his nostrils as his body temperature spiked.
CHAPTER 56
Awry sort of expression settled on her features as she considered the flames. “You are very skilled at building fires. Have you been stranded in many caves?” Fifi asked.
Slade chuckled. “I have, in fact. When we were in southwest Belgium during the War of Austrian Succession, at Fontenoy in 1745, we often stayed overnight in caves. It was safer from enemy soldiers during the night. I became quite adept at building campfires.”
Her delicate brows furrowed. “Was Dettingen different from Fontenoy?”
“Both were cold and unpleasant. But after Dettingen in 1743, I knew what to expect and was better prepared when we arrived in Belgium. In addition to battling the French, some soldiers battled dysentery, smallpox and malnutrition. The prisoners had it worse. Many had to be shot rather than confined. Prisoners required rations and soldiers to guard them, both of which had been in short supply,” he said.
The flashbacks made his shoulders tighten.
He didn’t mention his cavalier attitude near enemy lines. Nor did he mention it nearly got him killed a time or two—hisgoal after losing Sylvia and before learning about the Movement. Their aim, which is that of the French government, being to undermine and weaken the British monarchy and government.
Slade got an introduction to the Movement and Donald Lochiel, codename Bullfinch, while he was in Fontenoy. Bullfinch, one of the seven men of Moidart, are special advisors to the rebel prince, Charles Edward Stuart. His savior, Bullfinch, had given him a new goal, to make trouble for the British. The man had been his savior but couldn’t be trusted, because he’d feed you information to get you to do what he wants, which wasn’t necessarily the truth. The people who got along well with Bullfinch, were the ones who knew this about the man. Slade had made a fortune during the wars supplying the Movement with weapons because he believed in their cause and being a British colonel was the best way to help them with information on the latest British weaponry and to make money in the process. No one but Bullfinch knew he was a double agent and now, he’d bet his life Fifi was here to see the crafty old Bullfinch.
Fifi was eying him, but she’d gone still. The gentle lines on her forehead were somber. “I am sorry you were thrown into fighting. It sounds dreadful. Have you ever regretted joining the army?”
Slade shook his head. “No. I needed a shock to dislodge me from myself. It wasn’t pleasant, but it accomplished that much,” he said.
Before he could stop himself, he continued. “And you, what is the most dreadful experience you’ve ever had?”
Her eyes widened, and her lips slackened at his question.
Slade held his breath for her answer.
A sliver of intense anguish flashed across her pretty eyes. He imagined he saw fear, turmoil, and anger there as well, but it was so fleeting, he couldn’t be sure.
Her anguish ripped him to shreds. And her fear made him vow inwardly to slay all her demons. But he liked the anger. It was the fighter, the warrior goddess in her.
He shifted on the sandy ground to face her, gently taking her left hand in his. Her skin was smooth, but her fingers chilled. He rubbed her palm in between both of his, then placed it close to his lips to blow his warm breath on her skin. He didn’t miss the hitching of her breath, as she stared at his lips. His body tightened in response because it was the same hitching of breath every time he’d touched her intimate flesh during the past two weeks. He loved all the sounds she made, but this one especially. He enjoyed knowing he affected her as much as she affected him. After finishing her left hand, he moved to her right.
Her next words surprised him. But they shouldn’t have.
“Alex’s death was beyond bleak. A ray of sunshine snuffed out from the earth. A great loss, it ripped a bleeding hole in everyone’s heart, that will never heal, including in mine.”
There was pain in the crack of her voice.
“You are stronger than you think, Fifi. You have the heart of a goddess and the strengthof a warrior. You bend. But you will never break. It’s your ability to survive and adapt after bleak things that steals my breath and leaves me in awe of you,” he said, his tone soft with an undertone of steel.
His words left an intense softness in her expression.
She shook her head. “You don’t know—” she started to say.
