Temptation by Leda Swann Read Free Book Online

rifles well. There will be an inspection of your kit tomorrow morning, and then more target practice until you can all hit the target from double the distance. With every shot.”
    With the rumors of a conflict growing, shaking the men out of the round of desultory inspections, halfhearted parades, and mind-numbing patrols was essential.
    Having had little to do in recent times, they’d all gotten lazy. Each day their standards had slipped just a tiny bit, an unnoticeable amount. It was only when he suddenly woke up a few months down the track and saw how slipshod the whole outfit had become that he even realized what had been happening.
    He grimaced as he strode into the officers’ mess tent. He’d gotten as lazy as the rest of them.
    But he would be lazy no longer.
    Beatrice was waiting for him in England. He had something worth fighting for, worth living for. Someone to come home to.
    For her sake, and for the sake of his men, he would work them all until they dropped.
    The officers’ batman met him at the door, a tray in his hand. “A shipment arrived today, sir. I believe there was a letter for you in the pile.”
    His heart in his throat, he rifled through the letters on the silver tray, feeling a triumphant smile cross his face when he spied her handwriting.
    He had a letter from Beatrice. She had replied to him, and by the weight of the paper it was no brief scrawled note, but a wonderfully long missive full of heart and soul.
    Suddenly the weariness of the day left him and he no longer felt the discomfort of his damp clothes or the sunburn on his neck and cheeks. He felt ten foot tall and ready to conquer the known world.
    He grabbed the letter and carefully slit open the seal with the letter knife. Then, ignoring his fellow officers’ calls to join him at the table, he hunkered down in the corner of the officers’ mess and began to read.

Four
     
     
    Westminster, London, August 1880
     
    Dearest Percy,
    Oh, what I would give to lie under the stars with you. I can see us now, our bodies close, sharing warmth while we gaze into the blazing heavens. How primeval that would be, to do as our distant ancestors did and find stories of bravery and love among the constellations.
    High overhead at the moment is the star Vega, one of the brightest in the sky and part of Lyra, the lyre, an instrument played so beautifully by Orpheus that savage beasts were soothed into placidness (I am fortunate that father insisted on a wide education for me!).
    Our hands are entwined as we talk of the lives of those old Gods, of their wicked ways and their meddling in human affairs. We laugh as our imaginations run wild, each of us making up stories as wild and saucy as those of Zeus and his many consorts and offspring.
    It seems quite natural and comfortable when I move closer to you, my head resting on your chest with your arm around me . The air is becoming chill with a light dew forming yet we refuse to move. I can hear the beating of your heart, I can feel your breathing as my hand caresses your chest.
    It frustrates me so that our clothes are keeping us apart, it would be so wonderful to have your skin next to mine. Then we would truly be like our cave-living ancestors, with nothing around us but nature, a warm fur to keep away the chill, and no one to admonish us for being improper.
    The stars wheel overhead in their timeless paths. We sleep, close, until wakened by the first birds of the dawn.
    I shall sleep now, hoping for such a dream. Write to me soon.
    Love ,
Beatrice
     
    P.S. Percy, my love. Be your boldest in your reply. Hold nothing back.
     
    Beatrice lingered over the letter she had just received in reply to her last from Captain Carterton. She could not possibly take it down to share with the others, as had become their habit over the last few months since they had started writing to the soldiers over in South Africa. It was so much more personal than any of the letters the girls had received from the other