Free Beloved Enemy by Jane Feather Page A

attempted to move away, up the stairs to her own sanctuary, he told
her, in the tone of voice he reserved for erring ensigns, to remain where she
was.
    She stood rigidly at his side, staring at the thick surface
of dust on an oak bench beside the front door. It was where her father had been
used to sit when his soiled boots were removed. He had had a passion for
cleanliness, loved the gleam of wood and the shine of pewter and copper. Not
even his adored daughter had escaped censure when he discovered her muddied and
in torn clothing. What would he think now of his beloved house occupied by
booted soldiers? Of his dust-laden, tarnished possessions? Of his daughter who
had betrayed the king's cause, the cause John Redfern had died for, by yielding
to a body and a compulsion she had been unable to resist? Who stood now, a
gypsy wanton, a prisoner possessed by a man who was the captor of her spirit,
her body, and her person?
    Alex concluded his conversation and ushered her into the
dining room where he closed the door firmly.
    "Was it necessary to humiliate me in that manner?"
Ginny whirled on him, too angry now to be frightened.
    "That rather depends on what one considers
necessary," he said evenly, picking up the sheaf of papers on the refectory
table. "I have suffered considerable humiliation at your hands this day.
It seemed not unreasonable to exact a small penalty." He frowned as he
scanned one of the papers, continuing almost absently, "I also wished to
make clear to you that you remain under my command. Since you have warned me that you will do all you may to evade your position as a
ward of Parliament, I deemed it necessary to show you the nature of my
authority." He strode to the door. "Diccon?" The aide-de-camp
appeared and saluted smartly. "The messenger who brought the letter from
Governor Hammond, is he still here?"
    " Yes,
Colonel. He is in the kitchen. I thought you might wish to speak with
him."
    "You thought well, Diccon. Send him to me."
    "If you will excuse me, Colonel, I shall go to my
chamber," Ginny said stiffly, moving to the door in the wake of the
lieutenant.
    "No, I do not excuse you." He replaced the papers
on his desk. " We shall both remain in this room
until you give m e the information I require. " He looked at her directly. " I am sorry, but this is wartime. You
may terminate whatever inconvenience and discomfort you will suffer any time
you choose. I wish to know the identity of the wounded man, how he became so,
where they have been hiding, and what instructions you gave him. Then you will
tell me what else you have been doing in the past six months."
    " Why
must you know?" Ginny felt the cold sweat of despair. " You must have seen us from the cliff path. You had ti me e nough to call for reinforcements; yet you let them go. "
    " Yes"
he agreed. "I let them go because of you. Had I called for reinforcements,
you and they would be on your way to Winchester, and there would be nothing I
could do to save you. The methods employed there to extract information from a
prisoner are considerably less subtle than any I might use. Your friends would
have heard you scream, as you would have heard th e m. And afterward, when you had g iven your interrogators all you knew, and much that you didn't in order to escape
the pain, when you desired only death, they would have hanged you. "
    " You
have seen this ?" She gazed in horror.
    " Yes,
I have seen it. And because I have, I would not condemn you to such a fate in
spite of your treachery. "
    There was a sharp rap on the door, and Ginny sat on the
window seat, cold, hungry, exhausted, and devastated by the brutality of the
truths she had just been given. She had been aware of those truths in the furthest reaches of her mind, but
they were not thing s one allowed oneself to think about.
Alex had forced her to think of them ,
to feel and to smell the degradation of inflicted pain, to hear the mewling
cries from the broken body, to know the coarse prick of the