Free Far Too Tempted by Emma Wildes Page B

our grandparents, and so on. Our families have a very long history together. I would think that this would be the logical step under the circumstances. Stop being obstinate and just bathe, dress and come downstairs when you are ready.”
    “Alex—” she began stubbornly.
    “I’m through discussing this.” He spun on his heel and was gone.
    Tears stung her eyes afresh, making her swallow very hard. How she hated it when he was right.
     
     
    “General Pierson wrote to me.” Marcus eyed Alex from across his desk and lifted a brow. “He said you were shot three times but no one seems sure what exactly happened. It was my impression the battle was over and the fortress in your hands.”
    The study was filled with afternoon sun, blocks of light falling over the deep red and greens of the thick rug and touching the dusty books in the oak cases lining the walls. It was good to be back at Grayston, the familiar surroundings bringing back a long-absent sense of comfort and ease after four years of strife.
    “It was.” Alex strolled across the room to the brandy decanter. Picking up a glass, he splashed in a full measure, not wanting to recall that confrontation back in Badajoz. Not wanting to recall Badajoz, period. The British troops might have acquitted themselves as valiant soldiers but some had not come off well as human beings. It was easier to lie. “And no, before you ask, I have no idea what exactly happened. Many besides myself were hit by wild senseless fire. Once inside, the city was utter chaos, bullets flying everywhere.” He took a sip and grimaced. “If I could forget that particular battle, it would be fine with me.”
    “Don’t make light of it. The general also wrote your wounds were life threatening. I was never so glad to receive word you were back safe in England and on the mend. Rest assured, I kept Mother in the dark until the news was favorable.”
    What could he say? Alex took an appreciative sip and nodded. “Thanks, Marcus. I’m sure that was best.”
    His older brother looked at him out of level blue eyes. “Tell me this, Badajoz aside, I heard Albuera was a nightmare, thousands fell, and the English people are not getting the truth about the battle. Word is that it was not the victory being reported to the public. In your opinion, was Wellington in the wrong on this?”
    He shrugged, stifling a wince at the twinge in his shoulder. “Truth and politics rarely go hand in hand. By God, you know that, who better? The House of Lords is often a cesspool of rumor. Just remember we finally took Badajoz and are moving forward. King Joseph and his court would do well to flee Madrid. Wellington hopes to hold it by fall.”
    “This campaign seems never-ending.”
    “You’re telling me this?” Cold humor intervened and Alex could not help the jaded smile that curved his lips. Dropping into a chair by the cold fireplace, he crossed his booted legs negligently at the ankle. “I want nothing more than for the whole thing to be resolved, the ambitious emperor to be deposed, and to retire to a life of perfect boredom right next door.”
    “Next door.” The words drifted into the civilized confines of the room and Marcus frowned. “Speaking of that, what happened? I’m not sure I understand how Robert came to leave the country so precipitously and you to possess his house. I am delighted for us to be neighbors, mind you, but curious.”
    Jessica’s desolate face swam into Alex’s mind, unwanted. Her unhappy eyes, her stiff stance as she tried to defy her feelings, her final sobbing acquiescence in his arms. She’d always been a spritely, spirited creature. To see her so abandoned and desolate was painful, and he once again wanted to put his hands around Robert’s neck and punish his selfishness.
    He spoke slowly, “You must know his financial situation had gotten desperate.”
    “I knew. I tried to talk to him to no avail.” Marcus—practical Marcus—sounded intensely disapproving. “He