"I wish I had your confidence." Sofia fidgeted with her bracelet. "It's very selfish of me, but the worst part of taking the throne is knowing that I must marry for political reasons. That's what princesses do. But Pap always promised that I would be able to choose my own husband, within reason. Instead, I'll have to marry some horrid, pop-eyed royal duke who will want to push me aside and govern my country as he sees fit."

"You're a long way from having to do that, Sofi!" Athena said firmly. "No need to worry about such things today. The war is over and we should be celebrating. Your father and brother may be on their way home already."

"I wish I believed that." Sofia collected Sombra from the desk, then held the cat close for long moments before she raised her gaze, her dark eyes stark. "Promise you won't leave me while I still need you, Athena! Please."

Athena hesitated. She'd never intended to stay so long in San Gabriel. Her heart yearned for the green fields and peace of England. But she could not abandon Sofia, or San Gabriel.

Wondering if she'd ever return to the home of her heart, even though she'd never been very welcome there, she said quietly, "I'll stay, Sofi. For as long as you need me."

Chapter 4.

The road through the mountains from Spain to San Gabriel was ancient and worn deep into the earth. Will wondered if Roman troops had marched through these stony hills and pa.s.ses. Perhaps not, since Roman roads were usually wider and smoother.

As his small group of Gabrilenos emerged from the sunken stretch of road, Sergeant Gilberto Oliviera spurred his horse forward. "San Gabriel! Home!" he called, his voice vibrating with emotion. Then he pulled his mount back as he laughed. "And our beloved homeland is drowning in fog so we cannot see it!"

Will and the rest of the riders joined the young sergeant and looked down the road ahead. Sure enough, the long, oval valley below was filled with white clouds. Toward the far end, a rounded hilltop just barely broke through the mist.

Oliviera explained to Will, "This happens sometimes, though usually only in winter. If it was clear, you could see all of San Gabriel from here. The river that runs through the valley, the royal castle, the villages, the fields and trees and vineyards." He released his breath softly. "Home."

"I look forward to seeing my own home." Will chuckled. "We have mists much more often." Raising his voice, he called out, "I know you're impatient, but have a care. Your families will be really angry if you break your necks on their doorsteps, and I don't want them to blame me!"

With a ripple of laughter and excitement, the troop started down the track at a reasonable speed. There was enough width for a wagon or two riders, so Will fell in beside Oliviera. The sergeant had run away from home to fight the French at a ridiculously young age. Though still young, he'd seen almost as many years of war as Will. He kept his men under such good control, Will suspected that his own services as a commander hadn't been needed. Duval's real interest must be information about how San Gabriel was faring.

Will asked, "What do you look forward to most after greeting your family?"

Oliviera considered. "After my family, Gabrileno wine! It is the best wine you will ever drink, Major. One swallow and I will truly know I am home. You shall share that wine because you must stay with my family. My father is the chamberlain to the royal castle and we live within the walls. There will be ample s.p.a.ce for you and Sergeant Murphy."

Living in the castle would be a good way to learn the country. Wondering what he'd find, Will said, "Thank you, I accept most gratefully."

Martinez, the lead rider, called out, "The shrine of Madonna de las Rosas is ahead! We must give thanks to Our Lady for our safe return!" He spurred his horse forward eagerly.

Squinting, Will could see the faint shape of a tower through the mist. The outlines of the small structure solidified as he drew nearer. Ahead, Martinez halted in front of the shrine and gave an anguished cry.

His fellow riders responded to that anguish at top speed. As Will pulled up, he saw that the building was in ruins. The front wall had collapsed and there was just enough of the stone structure left to support the battered tower. Behind were the remains of a small building that had been totally destroyed.

Oliviera made a low, pained sound as he swung from his horse. "The shrine was built to offer welcome to travelers coming from Spain. There was water and a small shelter for rest. And now . . . !" He spat. "May those French swine rot in h.e.l.l for this!"

The other Gabrilenos stared at blackened stone and charred rafters, their expressions stricken. Will guessed that this destruction brought home to them the reality of what San Gabriel had suffered. If a shrine could be destroyed, what, then, their homes and families?

Will dismounted as he studied the exposed interior. This close, he could see that some effort had been made to clear away the burned rubble and restore order. "The enemy could damage the building, but they could not destroy the sacredness of this place," he said quietly as he recognized a familiar shape inside the ruined structure.

He stepped inside and laid his hand on two charred rafters that had been nailed together in the shape of a cross as tall as he was. "Your countrymen have done what they could. Soon there will be the time and labor to rebuild completely." He gestured at a small, crudely carved wooden figure in front of the cross. "A cross, and a statue of the Madonna and child. What more does a shrine need?"

Oliviera swallowed hard. "You are right. Those G.o.dless brutes did not destroy the holy spirit of this place." He knelt and crossed himself. Will stepped back as the other members of the troop did the same. One of the older soldiers spoke a prayer of thanksgiving for their safe return home.

But when they rose, one by one, their expressions had lost the earlier jubilation. They were steeling themselves to face what other damage their country might have suffered.

The mood of the Gabrilenos was grim as they rode down into the valley. Dusk was starting to fall. The gathering darkness combined with the fog made Will feel as if he was riding through a haunted land.

The track led into a grove, and vicious oaths rang out at the sight of the blackened trees. One of the men snarled, "They torched the cork trees, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

Another man said, "Cork trees recover from fire better than any other trees. Look, there is new growth coming." He spat. "But may the Frenchmen who did this pay the price for their sins by never having a decent bottle of wine again!"

Will smiled a little. In this wine-loving part of the world, that curse was more ferocious than rotting in h.e.l.l.

A quarter mile farther along, a young man called Ramos said tensely, "Soon we will come to my family home. I pray G.o.d they are safe and well!"

Ramos spurred his way to the head of the group. When he reached a lane leading to a farmhouse, he turned onto it. The house at the end looked abandoned, with no lights or other signs of life.

As the troop followed Ramos, Will saw that the structure was solidly built of local stone, but one end was charred and the roof in that section had collapsed. Ramos urged his horse into a gallop, crying, "Mam! Pap!"

Grimly Will loosened his lightweight, accurate carbine in its saddle holster as he approached the farmhouse. Though the house looked deserted, a soldier who wanted to survive learned to take nothing for granted.

The shutters in a window opened a little, showing parallel bars of light from inside. A woman shrieked, "Julio, mi hijo!"

As people rushed from the house, Ramos vaulted from his horse, calling, "Mam! Mam!"

As soon as the young man touched the ground, he was engulfed in family. Will sighed with relief and settled back in his saddle. This was one story that wasn't ending in tragedy.

Ramos's father gave his son a long, bone-crushing hug as silent tears ran down his cheeks. Then he stepped back so other family members could greet their returning son.

Will led his horse over to the patriarch, saying, "I'm glad to see this reunion, Senor Ramos. We saw some of the marks of war on our way down the mountain. How is San Gabriel faring? Your soldiers have had little news from home."

The older man turned and recognized Will's scarlet uniform with a nod of respect. "It has been difficult since the French pig Baudin stormed through our valley. Very difficult." He gazed at his son, his heart in his eyes. "But with our young men returning, surely we will rebuild and grow strong again."

That sounded more like hope than optimism. Will said, "This is only the beginning. In a few weeks, the rest of your soldiers will also be home."

He took his leave of Senor Ramos, then returned to his horse and collected the other riders to resume their journey. Since the mountain night was growing cold, he tugged on his greatcoat, which was warm and many-pocketed and designed for riding.

He and that coat had gone through a great deal together. With luck, he wouldn't have to sleep in it tonight. But as he guided his mount deeper into the misty valley, he wondered what he would find at Castelo Blanco.

Weeks had pa.s.sed since news of Napoleon's abdication had reached San Gabriel. Unfortunately, it had not been followed by any news about the captured king and prince. There were occasions when no news was good news, but this wasn't one of them.

Unable to sleep, Athena rose and donned her robe and sheepskin slippers against the cold. Though her room had a fireplace, fuel was in short supply and not to be used without good cause.

She opened her notebook, which grew larger by the day. She had lists of things that must be done, broken down by their urgency, followed by more notes about possible solutions.

There were other, shorter lists of resources. Isolated in the mountains, San Gabriel has always been largely self-sufficient. There were no reserves of money in foreign banks. Much of the country's treasure had gone to outfitting the troops sent to war. General Baudin had stolen anything of value he could get his greedy hands on. There wasn't much money left here.

Plus, having so many men go off to war had created a severe shortage of labor. Those Gabrilenos left-women, children, young and old-had worked hard, but there weren't enough people to do all the planting, harvesting, and maintenance.

She frowned at her notebook and wished she knew when the surviving soldiers would return. While fighting the Corsican Monster was no doubt brave and n.o.ble, Athena, as a woman, couldn't help thinking that staying home and doing the unglamorous work of raising food and running the farms and vineyards would have been more useful.

Where did one seek help for a damaged, remote little kingdom that most Europeans had never heard of? Her annual allowance was enough to provide her independence and the freedom to travel, but it didn't go far in a place with so many needs. She'd used a whole year's income in advance to buy food over the recent winter.

Her mouth tightened when she thought of her father. He could help if he wanted to, but he'd never want to. That had been established long ago.

If San Gabriel's soldiers returned home soon, might some of them bring loot that could benefit their family and friends?

She was smiling wryly at the thought when a scream brought her to rigid attention. It was followed by more shouting, barking, and cries as if a battle was raging right here in the castle. Could bandits have broken in? The castle was virtually impregnable; but in these quiet days, the only guard on the gate was a twelve-year-old boy, Senor Oliviera's youngest son.

Athena reached for her rifle, sure the disturbance was in the Olivieras' apartment. She checked swiftly to see that the weapon was properly loaded, slung her ammunition bag over one shoulder, and raced from her room to the stairs.

Sofia emerged from her room, blinking awake and looking worried. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Athena snapped. "But stay back, and be prepared to run if necessary!"

She hurtled down the first flight, spinning around a corner to the second flight down. Athena wasn't much of an army, but she was the closest thing to it in the castle.

By the time Will and his two remaining companions reached the Castelo Blanco, he'd been witness to numerous joyous reunions, but even they paled compared to Sergeant Oliviera's welcome. When they reached the gate in the curtain wall that led into the castle courtyard, they were greeted by a very young Oliviera brother who was standing guard. The boy had peered out through the small window in the middle of the door, then flung it open, crying, "Gilberto!" in a voice so high-pitched it almost disappeared.

Laughing, the sergeant leaned from his saddle and pulled his brother up onto the horse with a fierce hug. "I hardly recognize you, Albano! When we leave our horses in the stables, can you feed and bed them down while I take my friends inside? We've all had a long journey."

"Oh, yes!" Grinning ear to ear, Albano bounced on his brother's leg as they rode their horses halfway around the castle to the stables behind.

Will was glad to dismount, and he looked forward to sleeping in a real bed in a real building. After tending to his horse, he slung his saddlebags over one arm and took his carbine in the other hand; it was not something one left in a stable. Then they all headed inside, the sergeant leading the way.

The Olivieras occupied a ground-level apartment with an entrance opposite the stables. Since Albano was outside, the door hadn't been locked and Gilberto led the way into a sizable hall. Half a dozen candlesticks with gla.s.s chimneys were set on the table, but only one was lit. The candle produced hardly enough light to reveal heavy doors in each of the three walls, and a barely visible stairwell in the shadowed far-right corner.

Gilberto strode across the room to fling open the door in the left-hand wall, revealing a large, well-lit kitchen. He called, "Mam, I'm home!" as if he'd been gone for the day rather than years.

His announcement triggered a response that made the earlier reunions Will had witnessed pale in comparison. A mob of Olivieras poured into the kitchen and boiled around him in noisy waves. There were ancient aunts and grandparents and a couple of knee-hugging toddlers. A woman who must be his mother gave an earsplitting, wordless scream of joy when she embraced her son as if she'd never let him go.

Others echoed his mother's scream. If Will hadn't known better, he'd have thought a ma.s.sacre was in progress. A large gray-muzzled dog joined in, barking frantically as he stropped Gilberto's legs, almost knocking him over. The Olivieras were a handsome lot. One young woman who was probably a sister was so beautiful that Murphy just stared at her, his jaw slack.

The delirious happiness in the room was as exhausting as it was exhilarating. Murphy followed Gilberto into the apartment, his gaze still on the girl, but Will stayed back in the hall. He'd wait until the tumult subsided before introducing himself.

He strolled across the room to stretch his legs, admiring the intricate patterns of the tile floor. He had not known how beautiful tile could be until he came to the Peninsula. But the furnishings were spartan. Apart from the refectory table, there was only a pair of creaky-looking chairs that might collapse if he tried to sit down.

The tile medallion in the center of the hall floor had a coat of arms, likely that of the country or the ruling family. He was admiring the artistry when he heard swift footsteps from the stairs. When the steps ended, he looked up-and saw that the candlelight illuminated the barrel of a rifle pointed at his chest from the shadows. "Drop the gun!" a voice snapped in the Gabrileno dialect. "Very, very carefully." The command was repeated in French.

Will said peaceably in Gabrileno, "I mean no harm. Sergeant Oliviera has returned to his family, and I'm a British officer who accompanied him." He let his saddlebags fall to the stone floor and slowly leaned over to set the carbine on top.

"You're certainly not local," the voice growled. "Say something in English."

"As you wish," he said in English. "If you allow me to remove my greatcoat, I can show you my uniform."

The rifle barrel didn't waver. "Take the coat off slowly," the voice said in crisp English. "If you move your hand toward a weapon, I'll shoot you."

Not making any sudden moves, Will peeled off the greatcoat. His uniform was shabby and mended in places, but unmistakably British red. "My name is William Masterson and I'm from Oxfordshire."

After a taut silence, the rifle was lowered and a magnificent Amazon stepped from the shadows. Now that Will didn't have a weapon pointing at him, he realized that the rich, low voice belonged to a female.

Tiny sparks of energy tingled through him and long-dormant parts of his body began sizzling to life. He stared, entranced. The Amazon was close to six feet tall and she had the fair complexion of a Northerner. Even swaddled in a dark, ankle-length robe, she was strikingly attractive, with strong, regular features, a braid of warm brown hair falling down her back, and dangerous hazel-gold eyes.

And she handled the rifle with the ease of an expert. Not just an Amazon warrior, but the Amazon queen in person. He drew a slow, deep breath before saying, "I gather you're English also?"

"Athena Markham of no particular place, but yes, English." Her low voice had a well-educated accent. "Sorry I was so threatening, but it's been a difficult year, and the screaming sounded like an attack."

"I thought the same thing." He glanced to the door that led into the Olivieras' apartment. The noise had abated some. "I'm grateful you held your fire."

"Learning how to shoot is easier than learning when not to." She studied his uniform. "A major in the Fifty-second Foot. As part of the Light Battalion, you've probably seen just about every major battle in the Peninsular Wars."

"Yes, and more skirmishes than I can remember," he agreed. "With Napoleon defeated, I'm heading for home, and San Gabriel is on my route. You live here?"

"For the last five years." Her eyes glinted. "And you're the largest man I've seen in all those years."

Will laughed. "The Gabrilenos I've met tend to be wiry and compact. I feel like Gulliver in Lilliput."

"I've felt like that since I arrived. I'm sure I'm the tallest woman in San Gabriel."

"Are you a palace guard?" he asked half seriously.

"No, Lady Athena is my companion," a light female voice said in English with only a faint trace of accent. "Or my governess. Or the acting regent of San Gabriel."

A pet.i.te, strikingly pretty young girl with dark hair and eyes stepped from the stairwell behind Athena Markham, a pistol gripped in both hands. Unlike her companion, she didn't look skilled with firearms, but she did look determined. Luckily, the weapon was pointing downward.

"I told you to stay away and be prepared to run," Miss Markham said, sounding unsurprised that she hadn't been obeyed.

The girl raised her chin. "And leave you to face danger alone? I must be brave!"

Making a guess, Will asked, "Are you Her Royal Highness Princess Maria Sofia?"

"I am," the girl said grandly. "I did not hear what all the noise is about. It appears that no one is murdering the Olivieras."

"They are celebrating the return of their oldest son, Sergeant Gilberto Oliviera," Will explained. "His arrival was unexpected."

"Gilberto is home? It is right that we celebrate!" The princess set her pistol on the refectory table so quickly that it skidded across the top as she darted inside the Olivieras' apartment. Mercifully, the weapon didn't fire.

Will watched her disappear into the happy turmoil. "I feel very old and very boringly British."

"I know exactly how you feel, Major Masterson." Miss Markham-Lady Athena?-smiled as she lit one of the extra candlesticks on the sideboard. After collecting the princess's pistol, she said, "You need a bed for the night, I a.s.sume, and I would love to hear the latest news. Come upstairs to the family floor and I'll find you a room. If you're not too tired, I'll also ply you with wine and cheese as long as you'll tell me what's happening in the outside world."

"I'll happily accept both bed and board," he said as he lifted his saddlebags and carbine. In England, her suggestion would have been considered improper. Here it was recognition that they were both adults, a long way from home, who just happened to be male and female.

So Will told himself as he followed Miss Markham up two flights of stairs to the family quarters. He also told himself that a gentleman wouldn't be so blatantly admiring of the way her strong, supple body moved under her heavy robe, or the way the wavering candlelight caressed hidden curves.

Luckily, she couldn't see how ungentlemanly he was being.