A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

The Harrisons moved on and Flint squeezed Rose’s arm against his side. ‘Well done.’ He wanted to hug her, kiss her, take her mind off all the nosy biddies. He wanted to take her to bed, and that had nothing to do with her welfare, as he knew perfectly well.

The truth was, he had grown accustomed to her, attuned to her, in a way he had never experienced with another woman. She had become a necessary drug to him, both stimulating him and soothing him. Was it because he was her first lover? He was going to be her last as well, he was determined on that and he recognised the possessive instinct that swept over him as something new.

Never before had he fought against that moment when it seemed time for a parting of the ways, but now he knew he would do whatever it took to keep Rose, regardless of whether she was carrying his child or not.

*

This business of walking in the Parc was simple enough, Flint concluded after twenty minutes of uneventful socialising. Smile, salute, keep half an ear on the small talk, make certain he showed Rose nothing but the most respectful, and slightly distant, attention. He obviously had a highly inflated opinion of his own notoriety for no one had so much as raised an eyebrow at being introduced to him and several ladies had given him their card and pointed out the days they were At Home.

They had almost reached the far end. ‘Would you like to walk back along another path and look at the palace? There’s nothing much to be seen around headquarters, everything is packed up to follow Wellington towards Paris.’

‘Then let us go back towards the palace by all means. It is too nice a morning to go inside before we have to. Do you wish you were with the army, Adam, not stuck in Brussels?’

‘Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know. Napoleon is in Paris, they say, Wellington’s chasing, he’s probably at Cambrai by now. They may need artillery there, but they’ve got enough without me or the Rogues.’

He never thought he would say that, never thought he would lose his taste for a fight. Was this attachment to Rose making him soft? Probably not. He had come to the end of that chapter of his life, the world was changing, he was changing and it had taken this situation to make him face the fact.

‘I’m probably best doing what I can here. The soldiers need keeping an eye on.’ As men began to recover they were more of a handful, although to be honest he was grateful for the work to take his mind off Rose and the fact that his bed was cold at night.

‘Adam, I think those ladies over there know you.’ Rose’s elbow was sharp in his ribs. ‘They seem to be trying to attract your attention.’

Ladies? Surely not. Pointing or muttering, perhaps. Or Rose was too innocent to recognise a high flier when she saw one. He followed her gaze and almost turned on his heel. An expensive bit of muslin would be preferable to the two bearing down on them.

‘Lady Archer, Mrs Gardener.’ Just nod and carry on past… But, no, they had to stop and exclaim in delight over his being safe and well. They begged an introduction to Rose, they said nothing whatsoever out of place and their smiles and their eyes and their fingertips on his arm all shouted as loudly as a scream that they had both been in his bed and would be pleased to repeat the experience.

He dared not snub them, certainly had no intention of responding to their overtures, but they seemed to understand why all too well and their expressions as they studied Rose said quite clearly that they admired his enterprise, and probably his presumption, too.

‘Do look after our hero, Miss Tatton,’ Mrs Gardener said, smiling at Rose in a way that had Flint itching to pitch her into the nearby fountain. ‘He is such a dear friend from Peninsula days. Good day, Major. You must come to the little reception I am holding tomorrow. Don’t stand on ceremony.’ She lowered her lashes over wide blue eyes. ‘But then, you never did.’

Rose must have been holding her breath until they were out of earshot,

he heard her expel it in one furious whoosh. ‘Two of your mistresses at once, Major? They were your mistresses, I take it? Are we likely to encounter any more?’

She tugged her hand out from his arm and stalked off to the nearest bench, her skirt flicking in time with her angry gait. Flint took one moment to admire the sway of her hips and the hint of deliciously rounded bottom the swinging skirt outlined, then joined her. Rose sat and crossed her arms in as clear a display of rejection as he’d ever seen. ‘Well?’ She was furious and he found it curiously arousing. She is jealous.

‘They were never my mistresses. Lovers, yes, occasionally.’ He set one booted foot on the bench halfway along and leaned his elbow on his knee, his body as he turned towards her effectively screening her from passers-by.

‘Both together?’ she asked in an outraged squeak.

‘Certainly not.’ Although they’d have been game for it, he was quite certain.

‘And they are widows?’

‘No.’

‘Then that, Major, was adultery.’ She turned and stared at the fountain as though it was of riveting interest. ‘And their husbands were your fellow officers, I presume?’

Flint swore silently in Spanish, French and gutter English. Put like that it sounded both dishonourable and immoral. ‘They are both in marriages that were in name only.’ He hated justifying himself, let alone to Rose, but the cat was out of the bag now, she would never trust him if he could not make her understand. ‘Archer is considerably older than his wife and no longer able to get it…I mean, no longer able to perform his marital duties.’ Now he sounded like the parson. ‘Gardener is not sexually interested in women. And you will not repeat that.’

‘I have no intention of discussing your amorous encounters,’ Rose snapped. ‘What do you mean, not sexually interested in women? You mean he has taken a vow of celibacy?’

‘No,’ Flint retorted. ‘He prefers men for sex.’

‘What?’ She stared at him. ‘I had no idea, I have never heard of such a thing.’

‘Because it is against the law and a hanging offence.’ Flint grounded his foot and sat down beside her, disconcerted by the hazel eyes fixed on his face. ‘It isn’t all that uncommon, actually. One just ignores it.’

‘You…I mean…um…’ Rose looked away so he could just see the curve of her cheek. It was flushed pink.