Coming Home by Vonnie Hughes Page A

donkeys she had set out for Porto. They had kept to byways, fearful of soldiers on the main highways. It was wartime, and two women on their own were easy targets for marauding males bent on destruction or celebration.
    On the wooded slopes outside Porto the maid had deserted her to flee home to Coimbra, which, in a way, had been a blessing. Otherwise the maid, too, would have become a fallen woman like herself. On her own she had been able to keep secret what had happened – the dreadful thing she had done on the wooded slopes outside Porto.
    But now they had reached the shores of England. Tomorrow morning she would set foot on England’s soil for the first time in eighteen years. She must bury the past. And she must try to behave like a well-bred Englishwoman. She would learn. Dr Barreiro had often praised her ability to assimilate new ideas.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    â€˜M ISS COLEBROOK, TIME to wake up,’ Colly whispered as he stroked her shoulder. It was a shame to wake her. After his appalling behaviour the night before they had both lain awake for hours. She had tried to lie still, but he had heard her unsteady breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheet.
    He smiled at the relaxed, tempting body outlined through the transparent shift. The independent Miss Colebrook would hate to know how vulnerable she looked. She might not have the currently popular lush curves, but every single inch of her was delicious.
    He frowned as she struggled up from the bunk. She was much thinner than when he had first met her. At first he had presumed her slenderness was caused by the strenuous work she did in the hospital, but during the voyage he noticed that she ate very little. And, after she had eaten, sometimes she sat very still, breathing deeply.
    When he left the cabin to give her privacy for her ablutions, he was still in a brown study. Was she ill? Was that why she wanted so desperately to be with her relatives? He chewed his lip. How did he go about finding out if her illness was serious? He had no rights where she was concerned because once they left Portsmouth their marriage charade would be over. They would travel to Trewbridge together but would no longer be ‘Mr and Mrs Hetherington.’
    He must ensure that Lieutenants Davidson and Harding were not standing close by when he handed his and Juliana’s travel documents to the Customs officials. Davidson had already made one or two airy comments about ‘How quickly some people get married these days’. Colly was sure the man did not believe they were married. Then again, perhaps his guilt was causing him to be unnecessarily sensitive. The fact that he had saved Davidson’s bacon at Douro when Davidson had been too pig-headed to listen to his sergeant should keep the young man’s mouth shut. And, of course, Juliana had nursed Davidson at Sao Nazaire. Colly hoped that the lieutenant’s sense of obligation would
persuade him to keep his suspicions to himself. Anyway, once they left Portsmouth they were unlikely to meet up with their fellow travellers again. Colly had checked the manifest and discovered that Davidson had listed an address near Keynsham, care of his aunt and uncle. It was a long way from Trewbridge but it was quite close to Heather Hill. That didn’t matter. Colly had no intention of returning to Heather Hill ever again.
    They passed through Customs without mishap, and Colly paid a soldier to help him with their baggage as far as the Saracen’s Head. Some of the soldiers planned to stay at the Mariners’ Rest or one of the cheap inns in the back streets, but most were already making bookings on the stage or hiring horses to escape Portsmouth as soon as possible. Some were desperate to get home, provided they were lucky enough to have a home. Those who did not would head for the thrills of London. When they had run through their pay, they would sign up for another eight years with the army, or sit begging in the