Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

This time, she signed the letters: “Your devoted wife, Alyssa.” Griffin’s eyes felt gritty and moist. Squeezing them shut, he rubbed the sockets with his fingers, massaging away the ache.

He had hoped that she might sign them with love…but perhaps that was an unreasonable hope from a lonely soldier who dared not burden her with his feelings by doing the same.

He opened his eyes, unfastened the back cover of his new watch, and stared down at the miniature of his wife.

A year ago he hadn’t wanted a wife. Now that he had a devoted one, Griff realized he wanted a loving one. A year ago he couldn’t wait to join his regiment. Now, all he wanted was to go home to his wife and see if he might help her go from devoted to loving with a few hundred kisses and a li

fetime of passion.

* * *

Griffin awoke with a start to find Samson nickering in his ear. Griff reached out to caress the gelding’s soft muzzle.

The camp was beginning to stir, and Samson wanted his morning treat. Griff tugged off his leather cavalry gloves, then reached into his pocket and brought out a small square tin. He opened the square and removed a lump of sugar candy for Samson.

“She didn’t forget you, boy,” Griff glanced over at the miniature of Alyssa in the watch lying atop the writing desk where he’d placed it earlier in the evening.

Samson nickered a bit louder, and Griffin fed him the candy.

Alyssa had been making and sending the sweets since he’d arrived in Spain. She had read somewhere that soldiers in battle required frequent doses of sugar, and she’d made certain that Griffin kept an ample supply.

Since Griffin preferred his sugar in the distilled liquid form, he had taken to sharing the candy with Samson.

After feeding Samson his sugar lump and a handful of grain from the supply in his kit, Griffin loosened Samson’s girth and began to clean beneath the saddle and the blanket.

Eastman appeared with a bucket of fresh water from the well and a washbasin. Griffin removed Samson’s bridle to feed and water him, then cleaned the bit and checked the leather for cracks and wear before he replaced the bridle and tightened Samson’s girth.

Once his horse’s needs had been met, Griff washed his own face, cleaned his teeth, and shaved. He buttoned his collar, straightened his uniform jacket, then took Samson by the reins and led him down the street to the house where Colonel Jeffcoat was billeted. Other officers of the Eleventh Blues milled about, having turned out for the regimental briefing and morning assignments.

Hughey was there waiting.

“You’re up early,” Griffin teased.

“I had an important errand to run.” Hughey smiled. “I delivered a potted lemon tree and a lace mantilla to the dispatch rider before daylight. I hope she likes it.”

“She’ll love it,” Griff said. “You know she married me for my garden.”

Hughey laughed, and Griffin clapped him on the back.

“It’s true,” Griff assured him as he led the way into the colonel’s quarters.

Ten minutes later, General Crawford’s Light Division, including the Eleventh Blues under command of Colonel Raleigh Jeffcoat, set out for the ridge above the village to join Picton’s Third Division, Spencer’s First Division, and Houstun’s Seventh Division.

The French, under command of General Junot, sent ten battalions against Colonel Williams and the twenty-two hundred men garrisoned in the village.

The fighting was desperate and nasty, with skirmishes lasting throughout the day.

The French took the town in the second assault on Colonel Williams’ troops and Lord Wellington began amassing three regiments to retake it.

The Eleventh Blues never made it to the ridge. They were called back to join Wellington in the afternoon hours.

Griffin led the Eleventh Blues’ second cavalry charge, following Colonel Jeffcoat’s first assault. Lieutenant Hughes, who normally rode at Griffin’s side, was assigned to lead the third charge.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Hughey called as Griffin readied himself to lead his charge. “I’ll watch your back.”

Griffin saluted. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see you in the village.”

Hughey snapped a salute. “I’m right behind you.”