He twisted round to see the figures jammed in the doorway. Moss, in trousers and braces, Maggie, her hair twisted into rag curlers, a rolling pin in her hand. Both of them stared aghast at him as he knelt there, stark naked, with a screaming woman in his arms. There was the sound of feet pounding up the stairs, Dog was howling. Moss turned and Flint saw the room behind was filled with the men, dressed anyhow, most of them with weapons in their hands.
‘Adam Flint, what in heaven’s name are you doing to that poor girl?’
‘I had a nightmare,’ Rose whispered against Adam’s bare shoulder.
‘Go on, downstairs the lot of you, and shut the dog up, for pity’s sake!’ someone said. ‘The French haven’t invaded, it’s just a girl with bad dreams.’
It was Moss, she realised. The feet tramped off downstairs, Dog fell silent.
Adam’s skin was slick with sweat, his breathing was short, as though he had been running. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of Maggie.
‘Maggie, will you please leave?’ he said harshly.
‘The poor girl needs a cuddle. Take her to bed,’ the older woman advised, ignoring the order.
He did not turn. ‘She is in bed.’
‘Yours, you dunderheaded man!’ Maggie sounded torn between amusement and irritation.
‘Then, with all due respect, Maggie—get the hell out of here.’ The words seemed to escape between gritted teeth.
‘Just admiring the view.’ Maggie’s chuckle faded as the outer door closed behind her.
‘I cannot say I blame her,’ Rose ventured when Adam stayed silent, holding her close. How can I joke at a moment like this? What must they all have thought of me?
After a moment he released her, rocked back on his heels and stared. ‘You can speak.’
‘So I can.’ She had a voice and she had not realised. ‘I can speak.’ Rose sat up and tried to recall the nightmare before it vanished into incoherence. ‘I had a dream, about the battlefield, about Gerald. It was just as it had happened, but this time, when I tugged at his shoulder and his body turned over…he spoke, even though he only had half a face. I screamed and this time the sound came out. I screamed and screamed.’
‘I know.’ He was holding himself rigid, but she saw the tremor in his hands, the sweat on his forehead.
‘Adam? What is wrong? I can speak again, aren’t you pleased?’
‘I was asleep. It startled me.’
There was more to it than that. He was used to night alarms, she had heard the clang as he had tossed the sword aside. This was not a man who broke out in a sweat because of screams in the night or whose hands shook because of a sudden shock. ‘Tell me,’ she coaxed, encircling as much of the broad shoulders as she could, kissing the bristly cheek that was all her lips could reach. All he would let her reach.
‘You don’t want to know,’ he muttered. ‘You have seen enough of horrors.’
‘Tell me.’ She gave him a little shake.
Adam shrugged. His face was expressionless. ‘When I woke just now I was back in Badajoz when the city had fallen after the siege. The men went wild and for almost three days we could not restore order. They were insane with anger over the length of the siege, the loss of so many comrades. For some the relief made them drunk.
‘Those are the excuses, if there are any. There was shooting, pillaging. Women were raped, murdered. Many women. Girls, nuns. I can still hear the screaming. Officers were shot by our own men as they tried to control it.’ His hand went to the scar she had noticed just below his right collarbone, he did not seem to realise he was touching it.
‘You were hurt?’
Adam nodded. Shrugged.
‘Not…not any of the Rogues?’
‘No.’
Rose remembered his expression as he had charged across that clearing towards the men who threatened her, what he had done to them. Then she looked at him squarely in the face, put out her hand to tilt his head towards her.
This was not a man who had just been shocked out of deep sleep. His face was the face of a man who had hardly slept, a man whose thoughts were as painful as a wound. She remembered his reaction in the night when he realised she had been a virgin. No. No, he cannot compare himself to those men, simply because he did not know.
‘Adam, you saved me.’ Her voice felt rusty with disuse and screaming. ‘It was not your fault…last night. It didn’t occur to me that I should have told you I was a virgin.’ Suddenly shy, she ducked her head. ‘It was thoughtless of me. Selfish. I wanted you.’ He was silent. After a heartbeat he shook his head, a tense jerk of his chin. From somewhere she found the strength to say, ‘I still do.’