Free Beloved Enemy by Jane Feather

may." Were they, with these ha l f-threats, half-promises, laying the groundwork for a
relationship that must encompass both that of lovers and of prisoner and
captor?
    "I do not doubt it," he replied matter-of-fact l y. " I knew
you were resourceful, but I had not realized to what extent. Shall we return to
the house? I wish to know who was the man you kissed, where they have been
hidden, what it was you said to him at the last, and what other subversion you
have been engaged in. "
    " I
will not tell you."
    " You
will eventually" He spoke with calm certainty, looking down at her, his
expression perfectly composed. " You are a
veritable gypsy . . . Ginny. Is that not what those you kiss, call you?"
    " It
is what my friends call me." She returned his gaze steadfastly.
    He smiled slightly. " I
wonder then what I shoul d call you, my lover and my enemy, my
raggle-taggle gypsy of the bare brown legs and sandy feet and filthy hands . "
    Ginny inadvertendy dropped her eyes to her hands. They were
indeed filthy, and she knew not how to an swer
his question, or even whether he required an answ e r.
    " Unhitch
your skirt," he instructed in the same even tone. " You cannot appear thus in front of my
men."
    Ginny flushed and obeyed, for once at a loss for words. His calmness in the face of what had just
happened filled her with unease rather than reassurance. The certainty of his
statement that she would eventually tell him what he wanted to know sent
pinpricks of fear down her spine, and she shivered in the warm overcast
morning. What did he intend to do with her now that he knew what she was?
Certainly not the passive victim of a war in which she playe d no part, but an active participant in the enemy
cause, one who, for six months, had been responsible for ensuring the sa fety and escape of wanted men.
    " Come,"
he repeated. " It is time to make an end of this— or, perhaps, a beginning. "
    Ginny turned and walked across the beach toward the cliff
path. Alex, after a moment of surprise, ran sifter her. " Where the devil do you think you're
going?"
    " T o the house," she replied.
"As you commanded." gestured to the pa th ,  and Alex stared in astonishment upward at the sheer cliff. " Up there? "
    She shrugged. " I
have always done so. It is the shor t est route."
    " For
a goat, maybe, " Alex declared. " No wonder you are always so dirty!
Well, I do not aspire to mountain climbing. We will use the human path. " So saying, he took her hand and
marched off across the beach. Ginny was obliged to run to keep up with the
length and rapidity of his stride that did not shorten or slow as he mounted
the incline. Whe n she stumbled, he jerked her forward
impatiently, for all the world like an irate parent with a recalcitrant toddler
at hand.
    They reached the cliff top, and Ginny blanched at the picture
they would present as he hauled her across the stableyard and into the house.
    "Please," she begged. " Can we not walk in a more dignified
fashion?"
    He stopped and looked down at her. "So, the
raggle-taggle gypsy does have a care for appearances."
    "It is not necessary to drag me behind you. I am coming
as fast as I am able." Some of the old fire appeared in her eyes and
received a faint glint of humor in response, and the release of her hand.
    "Take my arm, then, mistress mine, and we will proceed
in as stately a fashion as your bare feet will allow . "
    With a courtly mocking bow, he offered his arm and, having no
choice, Ginny gritted her teeth and played along with the farce. They sauntered
across the stableyard, the colonel responding punctiliously to the salutes of
the soldiers whose eyes seemed to Ginny to be riveted on her feet, her sandy ki rt le, the dirt-encrusted nails of her hand resting on
her escort's crisp linen shirt sleeve, her hair disheveled by running and
scrambling. She wanted to weep with mortification and nearly did so when the
colonel stopped in the hall to answer some question of a middle-aged major, and
when she