The Dangerous Mr. Ryder

Henry was at the inn already when they arrived. He had made himself thoroughly at home as usual, Jack noticed, sitting on a bench under a spreading tree, a tankard on the table in front of him and a serving girl with a twinkle in her eye flirting as she talked to him.

‘Here they are now. You be off inside, mam’selle, and bring out the luncheon, just like I ordered it.’

‘Found an admirer?’ Jack asked in French, swinging down from his gelding and keeping half an eye on Eva. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to her sex by making too much of a fuss, but she dismounted easily, handed him the reins and went to sit beside Henry at the shadowy end of the bench.

‘Huh.’ Henry sniffed at the teasing, but smiled at Eva. ‘Bonjour, madame.’

‘Are you all right? No adventures along the road?’ she asked anxiously as Jack walked the horses round to the stable yard.

She looked serious when he returned, but the girl setting a laden tray on the table and laying out tankards and plates kept him silent until they were alone. ‘Quietly, and in French,’ he warned. ‘Trouble Henry?’

‘I think I’ve set eyes upon madame’s brother-in-law.’

‘Antoine?’ Eva went pale and Jack put his hand over hers. She sent him a flickering smile of reassurance and freed herself. Embarrassed at the show of affection in front of the groom, Jack guessed.

‘If he’s a sharp-nosed streak of misery?’ Henry asked. ‘Brown hair, Maubourg uniform with enough silver braid for a general?’

‘That’s Antoine,’ Eva nodded. ‘But in uniform?’

‘With a mounted troop behind his carriage, all pale blue and silver.’

‘That is our uniform, but this is France. We’re a neutral country, he cannot bring troops across the frontier like that, for goodness’ sake!’

‘You can if Maubourg is now allied to the Emperor,’ Jack pointed out, then snatched his hand off the table as Eva slammed her knife, point down, into the wood. Henry jumped. Both men regarded her furious face with guarded interest; Jack had not seen her lose her temper since that first glimpse through the castle window.

‘The bastard!’ She glared as Jack tried to shush her. ‘Oh, very well, I know, becoming angry does no good. But he has no right to take us to war with half Europe, the maniac—only Philippe can do that. How many men had he?’

‘About fifty,’ Henry estimated. ‘Hard to see, they made so much dust.’

‘Excuse me.’ Eva slid off the bench. ‘I cannot eat while I am this furious. I will be back in a minute.’

They watched her while she strode off towards the little river that vanished beneath the mill.

‘They had outriders checking every vehicle going north,’ Henry added, tearing a lump of bread off and spreading it liberally with pâté. ‘Cantered up alongsi

de, peered in, then off. Here, guv’nor, try this.’ He pushed the pâté towards Jack, who took it and began spreading his own piece of bread, his attention half on Eva, who was standing, hands thrust into her breeches pockets, staring at the water.

‘You didn’t take any notice of what I said back at the inn, did you? Knew you wouldn’t,’ Henry said gloomily. ‘You shouldn’t have done it, you know, guv’nor, for all that she’s a nice lady, and lonely with it.’ He ignored Jack’s glare. ‘Look at her, she’s all of a glow. Lovely to see, that is, but what about when you get to England?’

‘Damn your impudence.’ Jack grabbed the tankard and half-drained it. ‘Of course she’s glowing—she’s furious.’

‘No, before then. I could see when you arrived. She was all sort of soft and…glowing. And have you had a look in a mirror yourself lately?’

‘If you tell me I’m all soft and glowing, I’ll darken your daylights for you,’ Jack warned ominously.

‘You look happier than I’ve seen you look since I’ve known you, and that’s since you were a lad,’ Henry said frankly. ‘I just hope you can stay that way. You don’t want it all ending in tears.’

‘Damn it, man, we’re in the middle of a mission, this is no time for your romantic tarradiddles.’

But the impudent old devil’s words struck home. So that was what it was he was feeling: happiness. An odd sensation he seemed to recall from a long time ago. Different from satisfaction, gratification, relaxation, contentment. Something deeper. Something that threatened to make him weak. Damn it, he was sitting here, eating pâté and listening to his groom, however trusted, however much of a friend, lecture him on how to behave with the woman he—

Jack’s thoughts juddered to a halt. No. He was not going there, he was not going to think about Eva beyond the pleasure of making love to her between now and their return to England. He was not going to analyse this strange, warm, profound sensation and he was certainly not going to speculate on how he would feel when he handed her over in London.

‘Jack?’ She was there by his side, a rueful smile on her lips. ‘I’ve sworn at a poor innocent moorhen, kicked pebbles at an inoffensive water lily and I feel better now.’

‘Good.’ He moved so she could sit down on the bench again. ‘Eat up, this is good food.’

‘No doubt tested on your way south.’ She was tucking in with a healthy appetite, he was glad to see. The elegant toying with her food had vanished; this was a healthy young woman getting a lot of exercise in the fresh air. He caught himself grinning, recalling exactly what sort of exercise might have contributed to the appetite, and got his face straight before Henry noticed.