My True Love by Karen Ranney

Author:Karen Ranney [Ranney, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: 9780380805914
Google: t1UWLgh8UVQC
Amazon: 038080591X
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2000-01-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Stephen placed the codex back into its coffer, locked it away where it would be safe. One last survey of his desk assured him that he had left nothing behind.

A branch of candles lit the way to his suite of rooms. The sound of muted laughter echoed through the corridor. A last tankard of ale, one final night of camaraderie before returning to war. The remainder of his regiment had arrived at Harrington Court that afternoon in preparation for a dawn departure. Wives had been kissed good-bye, sweethearts promised a safe return. He wondered how many pretty maids employed here would weep into the corner of their apron come morning.

He entered his suite, closed the door softly behind him. He’d not had a manservant since leaving London and had not felt the lack. In war there was so little privacy that he relished the moments when they came. A valet or personal aide would have been an intrusion. But tonight he felt too solitary. As if he, among all of the inhabitants of Harrington Court, was the only one to be alone and without companionship.

Sleep was not, surprisingly, difficult before a battle. Perhaps it was because his mind decreed that his body needed rest in order to fight for its survival the next day. Against a tree, on a sagging cot, huddled beneath a blanket, he’d managed to sleep. But tonight, he suspected, rest would not come as easily.

Until he’d received the summons from the king, he’d not realized how much anger had been a part of his decision to return home. Charles listened to men who flattered and fawned, not to men who’d fought the battles and faced death every day. Or he paid heed to his nephew, Prince Rupert, a man who did not mind using the men of the Langlinais Regiment of Horse as chess pieces or cannon fodder.

His respite from the war had not changed the nature of it.

He didn’t anticipate returning to it. Yet he would. Another inconsistency in a life filled with them. He was no Roundhead, yet he was considered as stern as a Puritan. He secretly questioned the Royalist cause; at the same time he was sought out and lauded by those who had the king’s ear. He hated war, yet his regiment was the most victorious of all the Royalist cavalry.

But the incongruities of his life stretched beyond the battlefield. His life in London had not been a celibate one, yet the last two years had been temperate. In a house filled with people he was lonely. He was a commander who counseled respect for women, yet his waking thoughts and nightly dreams were filled with images of a woman he was honor-bound to protect.

He should have said good-bye to her. Anne. What would he have said? What could there be said? Wait for me. The timing was uncertain. His survival was uncertain. Stay. A statement he could not have made. The message would have been clear, honorable intent. But he could not make promises to anyone other than the king.

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