A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

‘Behave,’ she chided, taking care to flatten her palm completely before she put her fingers anywhere near those teeth. He lipped up the carrot with surprising delicacy and Rose laughed. ‘You are a gentleman, after all.’ He butted her shoulder so she began to scratch his nose, then under his chin until he leaned his head heavily against her, begging for more.

‘You are like your master,’ she murmured. ‘You look fierce and underneath—’

The tug on her arm that jerked her back flattened her against a solid wall of man. ‘Adam!’

‘Dear God, that horse is a killer, what in blazes were you thinking of?’ Adam shook her, none too gently, picked her up and dumped her on a bale of hay. He had shed his uniform jacket, pulled off his stock, rolled up his sleeves, although the curved sabre still hung by his side. He looked ready for a fight, for a battle and somehow she had got in his way.

The fact that there was real anxiety in his eyes did nothing to quench the flare of irritation at being taken for an idiot. ‘I know horses and I knew he’d be safe. I hadn’t gone into the stall, I have sense enough for that.’ She stood up. Adam’s hands on her shoulders promptly pushed her back down again.

‘You know about horses? Since when have you known that?’

‘Since I came in here just now and felt confident with them,’ she retorted. ‘The big black is the horse you brought me back on, isn’t he?’

Some of the tension went out of Adam’s stance. ‘Old Nick. That’s what I called him after ten minutes’ acquaintance. He’s Spanish and trained in all the classical manoeuvres of a fighting horse and he works on the general principle of kill first, ask questions afterward. I bought him from a Spanish grandee who had eaten his way through his entire stable just to keep his household alive. The stallion had been left until last. I lived on credit for the rest of the year—’ he shrugged ‘—but he was worth it.’

Rose ducked under his arm and went back to the stallion. ‘He likes me.’ The animal’s eyes were half-closed as she rubbed the soft spot under his chin. ‘If he was a cat he’d be purring.’

‘Interesting.’ Adam came over. ‘He must like women, or he was trained early not to hurt them. He tolerates me—under threat of being gelded—until I’m mounted and then he’s totally obedient.’ He stoked the proud arch of the stallion’s neck and Old Nick bared his teeth. ‘See? One day, when we’ve access to a field, I’ll show you what he can do, although I suspect I don’t know the half of it. I must find a dressage master to put him through his paces.’

‘Will you breed from him?’

‘Yes, if I can find mares big enough.’

‘English or Irish hunters,’ Rose suggested. ‘Something meant for heavy country. It would be interesting, breeding horses.’

‘Hmm.’

That was hardly forthcoming. Rose peered round the stallion’s nose. ‘What are you thinking about, Adam?’

‘The future.’

‘Peace will be declared soon, I suppose. Napoleon can’t recover from this, surely?’ Silence. ‘But I suppose you’ll have your orders soon.’ It was more of a question than a statement.

‘I’m stuck in Brussels for now. The Rogues could be split up between other artillery units while I’m pushing paper around. Even if Randall recovers I doubt he’ll stay in the army now the war is all but won, he’s too many responsibilities ba

ck in England.’

Rose noticed he did not say back home. ‘How is Lord Randall?’

‘They had to operate on him, remove the bullet. Foster says he became agitated and it shifted.’ She could not see his face, but he sounded shaken. ‘And that was my fault for telling him about Sarah. Chest surgery is hideously dangerous. For them to decide to operate then it must have moved close to his heart or his lungs or a major blood vessel.’

She thought she heard him mutter, ‘If Randall dies, that really is all I have of family gone. And that’s a damn selfish way to look at it.’

There was a silence she did not know how to break, then Adam said, ‘Foster thinks he’ll recover. We’ve fought the war we were formed for. Time for change.’

‘Adam, you are talking to me, not telling the men what you think they ought to hear. I can tell you aren’t happy.’ Her hand slid under Old Nick’s nose to catch his wrist. ‘What are your orders? Could you take over the Rogues?’

‘Perhaps. Or Bartlett. I can’t see him leaving the army. As for me, nothing has changed. For now I am still a cross between a hospital superintendent and a constable.’ The sudden burst of anger made Old Nick toss his head and her hand slipped from Adam’s wrist.

‘I don’t imagine you enjoy being separated from the army. No action, no excitement.’

‘Are you attempting to be soothing and understanding, Rose?’ His voice was a dark growl. The stallion shifted uneasily.

‘Probably,’ she admitted. ‘What do you want to do, Adam?’ She was still sounding reasonable and soothing, she realised. Probably patronising.

‘Want?’ Adam ducked under the horse’s head and came up right in front of her. ‘I want the war back. I want the certainty of one enemy and my duty. I want to carry on doing something I know I am good at. I want to keep the only family I’ve had since I was fourteen. And I am damn sure that none of that is going to happen, not if I don’t shift for myself.’

He smiled at her, a curve of his lips that left his eyes bleak. ‘You did ask. So now I have to work out what I can do, so you will have to forgive me if I am rather less positive than my fellow officers, all gentlemen who have something to go home to.’ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath while she struggled for the right words. ‘And I apologise for inflicting my temper over my lack of purpose on you.’