Shattered Rainbows by Mary Jo Putney Page B

rueful. "Like a mad spring ram, I would bash my head into the wall until it fell down."
    She laughed. "A good trait for a soldier."
    "This is actually my third go-around in the army. I first bought a commission at twenty-one. The military situation was very frustrating, though, so I sold out after a couple of years."
    She made mental calculations from what he had told her of his battle experience. "You must have bought another commission "after Wellington went to the Peninsula."
    He nodded. "It was appealing to know that real progress was finally being made against Napoleon." His expression became opaque. "And there were… other reasons."
    Painful ones, from his expression. "So you sold out when the emperor abdicated, then returned yet again." She tilted her head to one side. "Why do men fight?"
    He gave her a bemused glance. "Having spent your life among soldiers, surely you know the answer to that."
    "Not really."
    "Well, the army and navy are honorable careers for gentlemen, particularly younger sons like me who need something to keep us out of trouble," he said dryly.
    "Yes, but that doesn't explain why many men take pleasure in what is so terrible." She thought of the army hospitals she had worked in, and shivered. "Half the soldiers I know are panting for another chance to be blown to bloody bits."
    He swirled his brandy as he thought. "There is no greater horror than war. Yet at the same time, one never feels more alive. It's both a heightening of life and an escape from it. That can become a drug."
    "Did it for you?"
    "No, but there was a danger that it would. It's one reason I sold out." His expression changed. "Why am I prosing on like this? You must be bored senseless."
    "Not at all. You've taught me more about the essence of war than I've learned in a lifetime surrounded by soldiers." She sighed.
    "Your answer explains why there are always more men yearning- to fight, even at the risk of death."
    As silence fell, she leaned her head against the high chair back, idly studying Michael's fire-washed features. He really
was extraordinarily attractive, all lean, pantherish muscle. She could watch him
for hours, memorizing the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and the way his
white shirt emphasized the breath of his shoulders. As his long, tanned fingers
fondled Louis's ears, she wondered what they would feel like on her___
    With a shock, she realized that the languid warmth in her limbs was desire. She had forgotten what it felt like.
    Luckily she did not have a passionate nature. Even at sixteen, when she had thought herself in
love with Colin, her common sense had been firmly in control of her behavior. After marriage taught her that passion was a wicked trap, she had never once been tempted to respond to the men who wanted to coax her into immorality.
    She had learned early that her appearance could incite men to behave like
idiots, which was not only embarrassing but potentially dangerous. Twice Colin
had challenged men for distressing his wife. Fortunately the men in question had
given apologies and no duels had resulted, but the incidents had made her
realize that she must find a way to make men behave.
    By the age of nineteen, she had learned the trick. A reputation for unswerving virtue was part of her method, coupled with a sisterly manner and a total absence of flirtatiousness. Realizing that they could never be lovers, men either left her alone or became friends and protectors. It had been years since a man had given her real trouble, and Michael was too much a gentleman to change that.
    Wanting to hear his deep voice again, she said, "You mentioned that one of your Fallen Angel friends had married. Do the others have wives also?"
    "Lucien married this past Christmas- Eve." Michael-smiled fondly. "His wife, Kit, is like a gazelle, all long legs and shy eyes. But she has a mind like a rapier, and the courage of a lioness. I don't know if Rafe will ever marry. I think he prefers his life exactly