Читать книгу Major Westhaven's Unwilling Ward - Emily Bascom - Страница 8

South Carolina, America—April 1781

Major Daniel Westhaven knew he was dying from the moment he opened his eyes.

He was lying on muddy grass, still on the battlefield, the air around him filled with smoke, the stench of burning flesh—and the cries of his men. As he blinked, he became aware of the pain coursing through his lower body, robbing him of breath, making him so dizzy he thought he would pass out again.

He took a deep breath and tried to take stock.

The ground beneath him was wet, his breeches similarly sodden. When he put out a hand to explore this wetness he found it was blood. His blood. Panic ran in quicksilver streams through his limbs.

Focus on something else…

His men.

Turning his head, he could see his second-in-command lying motionless beside him, face ashen, eyes tightly closed. ‘Pevensey?’

There was a low groan and, slowly, Captain Robert Pevensey opened his eyes. ‘Daniel?’ A hand, caked in blood, reached out and, after fumbling in his direction, grabbed his arm.

‘It’s me, Robbie.’

Fear showed clear on the man’s blanched white face. ‘I can’t see!’

There was a large wound in the younger man’s chest and blood matted in the hair and long grass at the back of his head. From what Daniel could see, Robbie had not long to live, either.

Daniel was growing ever more dizzy, but he managed to disengage the hand that gripped him, taking the cold fingers of his friend tightly in his own.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he said thickly. ‘Try to sleep a little.’

‘You’re a damned dreadful liar.’ The voice was weak, but there was a wry smile in it. ‘What state are you in?’

‘Not too bad.’

‘I hope to God that’s true, at least.’ Robbie’s eyes closed slowly.

Daniel squeezed his fingers, but he was no longer sure the younger man could feel him. ‘Pevensey?’

‘Wait.’ Withdrawing his hand, Pevensey reached into his jacket and pulled something out—a miniature in an oval frame, Daniel realised, as it was handed across to him. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m here.’ Daniel, with some effort, took it and squinted at the tiny likeness, exquisitely detailed. Green eyes stared back at him, flowing honey-blonde hair and a sweetly smiling mouth. ‘Who’s this? Your sweetheart?’

‘Lily. My sister, you remember.’

How could he have forgotten? Daniel cursed his befuddled brain. He had seen this painting before, six months ago, during the most serious conversation of his life—and he knew with a dreadful sinking feeling what was coming next.

‘Daniel?’ The other man’s breath was coming in gasps now. ‘I need to ask you…’

Alarmed by the way the colour was draining from his friend’s face, Daniel touched his arm and attempted to sound authoritative. ‘Save your strength, Captain. There’ll be time enough later.’

With an effort, Robbie shook his head. ‘Please. Listen to me.’

His friend knew he was dying, that much was obvious. Daniel frowned, trying to concentrate, though his own mind felt increasingly fuzzy. ‘Go on.’

‘Remember…what I asked you?’

‘I remember.’

‘You still have the…’ Robbie groaned, eyes closing momentarily.

‘I still have the papers, yes. Of course.’

‘You…are the best man I know. She will need a guardian. Please, promise me you will do as you said and care for her—watch over her. Find her…a husband. It pains me to ask…but I am all she has, and without me…’

Daniel hesitated. He knew he would never make it back to London. This sister of Robbie’s would be alone in the world regardless of what he had said six months ago, and it was no longer in his power to prevent it…However, the belief that she would be helped was important to this man, among the most loyal of his officers but—more importantly—among the best of his friends. And God knew he would do it if he was able.

‘Daniel?’ The face that turned towards him held all manner of pain, sightless eyes wide and panicked. ‘Are you there?’

‘I’m here,’ he said again. ‘I promised you, and I’ll not go back on that promise. I’ll see that your sister is provided for.’

A long sigh escaped Robbie’s pale lips. ‘God bless you.’

‘She is fortunate to have such a brother.’

‘And…’ A grimace of pain crossed the young man’s face. ‘I am fortunate to have a friend such as you…to…’ He bit down on a moan of agony. ‘Just…tell her…I died well…will you?’

‘I’ll tell her.’ He shoved the miniature into his jacket and found his captain’s hand once more. ‘You’ve served bravely and well. Better than most. She will hear of it, I promise.’

‘Thank you, my friend. Now, just—’

‘Robbie.’ As his own pain gnawed more intensely, Daniel was struggling to maintain his focus. ‘Rest.’

‘Just…one more thing.’

‘Name it.’

Green eyes turned to his face. ‘It has been an honour fighting with you—but more so, knowing you. Your father will be…beside himself with pride.’

Daniel’s throat closed. ‘God go with you, my friend.’

Robbie’s blood-caked lips parted in a radiant smile, even as his eyelids drifted shut. Then, where the space between them had been filled with his ragged breathing, there was nothing but silence.

The fingers in Daniel’s grip went slack.

He closed his eyes and tried to force down the grief that welled up from within. He told himself it did not matter, this lie to a dying man. His soul was condemned at any rate, he was sure. But he would have liked to fulfil his promise…if only for the sake of this friendship, forged in a futile war.

A horrible cold was creeping over him now, seeping into his bones as the blood flowed from his body. He would be grateful to sleep a little, also…But just for a moment the image of a beautiful woman, all honeyed tresses and smiling green eyes, floated before him. Her full lips smiled at him, as soothing as they were sensuous, and Daniel thought they formed his name, just for a moment.

‘Major!’

Very far above him, a voice penetrated the fog of exhaustion and pain. An Irish accent, urgent. His lieutenant was calling him.

Daniel knew as he slipped away from the pain, body slackening, that whatever it was, it was important no longer.