my mother was half English, and I understand everything.” She brushed that aside and, gripping his stirrup, said in a rush, “Take me with you, to your army. I will be your servant, dress as a boy—I look like a boy, I know. I will cut off my hair, and nobody will know I am a girl. Please, I beg of you—”
“I can’t do that.” Luke cut her off gently. “It’s impossible.”
“But Ramón will come,” she said in despair. “He will take me from the convent and… and…”
“I can’t take you with me,” Luke told her. “My life is too dangerous.”
“And mine is not? Please, Lieutenant Ripton.” She stared up at him in mute entreaty.
“No.” Luke held out a hand to help her remount. It went very much against the grain not to help her, but it was quite impossible to smuggle her into camp as his servant. All he could do was to deliver her to the convent, to her aunt. Herfather must have known what he was doing when he sent her there. Surely.
“Then I will stay here,” she said, not moving.
“Here? In the mountains? Don’t be ridiculous. You won’t survive a week out here.” He gestured to the rugged landscape.
“I can. I know how to live off the land. My father taught me how to be a
guerrillera
.” She gestured at the surroundings. “Better here in the mountains than in Ramón’s hands. My father taught me to hunt and—”
“No. Now get on this horse,” Luke ordered. “I promise you I will look after you. No one will take you; no one will force you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You promise?”
“On my honor as an English officer and a gentleman.” What the hell was he doing, promising such a thing?
She gave him a long, searching look, then offered a satisfied nod and mounted up behind him. As they moved off, she laid her cheek against his back, and her skinny little arms wrapped trustfully around him.
Luke felt it with a sinking heart. What had he done? And how the hell was he going to keep his rash promise?
The answer came to him as they rode into a small village. The first building they saw was a little stone church. A priest stood by the doorway, his face toward them, as if expecting them.
It was Fate, thought Luke. Fate had looked after him so far in this war. He would trust it again.
“Isabella,” he said. “I think I know of a way to save you from Ramón”
“How?”
“You will need to trust me. I promise you can, but you must do this of your own free will.”
“Do what?” The voice was small but laced with hope. The weight of her expectation made him hesitate.
He dismounted and lifted Isabella down so he could talk to her face-to-face. She turned her bruised and battered littleface up to his. “Do what?” The trust in her clear golden eyes was disturbing.
The enormity of what he was about to do flooded his consciousness. He was risking everything, his career, the respect of his peers… but he could not simply leave her to her fate.
He explained. “If I marry you, Ramón cannot.”
Her eyes widened. “Marry
you
? You want me to marry you?”
He nodded. “Only if you want to.” Luke swallowed, feeling the whole basis of his life slowly slipping away. What would his friends say? What would his mother say? He had no doubt what his commanding officer would say.
“Yes I will marry you, Lieutenant Ripton.” She said it in a rush, as if she feared he would change his mind.
“It’s just a device to stop Ramón,” he warned her.
She nodded. “I understand. And afterward I will come and be your wife in the army.”
“No, I told you, it’s too dangerous.”
“But—”
“Afterward you will go to the Convent of the Angels and live there until it is safe.”
“But—”
“You will not be coming with me. You’re not old enough to be married. This is only to keep you from Ramón, understand.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She glanced at the church. “We will do it here? Now?”
“If you want to.”
“I do.”
The priest took some
Learning to Kill: Stories