social engagements.
‘Very well, show him in.’
Jones blushed. ‘Um, it’s a her, sir. I rather fancy you’ll be pleased.’ The corporal retreated quickly, giving his new captain no time to reply.
Isabel Youngsummers appeared in the doorway. ‘I do hope I am not disturbing you, Captain?’
Jack felt his temper disappear in a waft of French perfume. ‘Not at all.’ He rushed around the desk, kicking against its side as his haste made him clumsy. ‘Please take a seat.’ He pulled out the chair recently vacated by Fenris.
‘No thank you. I must not stay. I have no chaperone.’
Jack coloured. ‘Of course.’
‘I simply wished to enquire whether you have any particular requests for tomorrow’s picnic.’
Jack was left standing uncomfortably close to Isabel, holding the chair awkwardly, as if using it as a shield to keep them apart. He let go and retreated to his own side of the desk.
‘No thank you. I eat anything,’ he blurted, then kicked himself. He sounded like a greedy schoolboy.
Isabel simply smiled. ‘That is easy, then. My father insists on taking enough food to feed the five thousand. Just in case, as it were.’
For the first time Jack sensed the young woman’s own awkwardness. He realised she was here on a pretence, her question of no consequence whatsoever. The idea that she had come just to see him pleased him enormously.
‘It is kind of you to think of me.’
Isabel blushed. The flush spread up from the nape of her neck and Jack had to fight the urge to stare.
‘Until tomorrow, then.’ He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he ended the conversation with regret.
Isabel said nothing as she turned and left him alone once more. But the smell of her perfume lingered, the delicate fragrance reminding Jack of her presence. Perhaps he would look forward to the next day’s exploration after all.
‘There it is!’
Isabel squealed in delight as she pointed ahead. Silhouetted against the skyline the rough-hewn stone tower stood like a beacon, calling to the hot and dusty party that was struggling to climb the rocky pathway leading to the crest of the rough, craggy slope, just as it had called to the thousands before them.
A dozen birds of prey circled around the tower’s summit, drifting and soaring on eddies of warm air that swirled around the hilltop on which it had been built. Its sides were pitted and scarred, the cracks and fissures evidence of the trial of standing through the centuries, buffeted by storms and lashed by the monsoon rains. Most of the slopes around it showed the signs of attempts at cultivation, generations of farmers working tirelessly to grow a meagre crop in the thin soil. Yet none encroached near the tower and a wide band of desolate scrub surrounded the tall spire as if it had sucked all the goodness from the ground, like a leech sucking the blood from an open wound.
The slopes below the tower were blanketed with the simple mud and thatch houses of the people who tried to eke out an existence far from the main towns. Herds of goats wandered the hillside, their pitiful bleats and cries the only sound disturbing the peace of the high ground. The local people relied on their herds for food; the arid, dusty soil was of little use to any inclined to farm. The animals’ tireless search for nourishment made the surrounding hills all the more desolate, the few shrubs that clung to life little more than thorny twigs, any trace of greenery stripped away by the goats’ relentless foraging.
Jack tried to find some enthusiasm now that the tower was finally in sight. It was something of a relief to have escaped his difficult subaltern for the day. He had not spoken to Lieutenant Fenris since the previous morning, any further unpleasantness avoided at least for the moment. His body was less relieved. His backside was sore after hours spent in the saddle, the constant motion of the horse waking the pain in his back that sent spasms racing up and down his spine. He
‘Very well, show him in.’
Jones blushed. ‘Um, it’s a her, sir. I rather fancy you’ll be pleased.’ The corporal retreated quickly, giving his new captain no time to reply.
Isabel Youngsummers appeared in the doorway. ‘I do hope I am not disturbing you, Captain?’
Jack felt his temper disappear in a waft of French perfume. ‘Not at all.’ He rushed around the desk, kicking against its side as his haste made him clumsy. ‘Please take a seat.’ He pulled out the chair recently vacated by Fenris.
‘No thank you. I must not stay. I have no chaperone.’
Jack coloured. ‘Of course.’
‘I simply wished to enquire whether you have any particular requests for tomorrow’s picnic.’
Jack was left standing uncomfortably close to Isabel, holding the chair awkwardly, as if using it as a shield to keep them apart. He let go and retreated to his own side of the desk.
‘No thank you. I eat anything,’ he blurted, then kicked himself. He sounded like a greedy schoolboy.
Isabel simply smiled. ‘That is easy, then. My father insists on taking enough food to feed the five thousand. Just in case, as it were.’
For the first time Jack sensed the young woman’s own awkwardness. He realised she was here on a pretence, her question of no consequence whatsoever. The idea that she had come just to see him pleased him enormously.
‘It is kind of you to think of me.’
Isabel blushed. The flush spread up from the nape of her neck and Jack had to fight the urge to stare.
‘Until tomorrow, then.’ He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he ended the conversation with regret.
Isabel said nothing as she turned and left him alone once more. But the smell of her perfume lingered, the delicate fragrance reminding Jack of her presence. Perhaps he would look forward to the next day’s exploration after all.
‘There it is!’
Isabel squealed in delight as she pointed ahead. Silhouetted against the skyline the rough-hewn stone tower stood like a beacon, calling to the hot and dusty party that was struggling to climb the rocky pathway leading to the crest of the rough, craggy slope, just as it had called to the thousands before them.
A dozen birds of prey circled around the tower’s summit, drifting and soaring on eddies of warm air that swirled around the hilltop on which it had been built. Its sides were pitted and scarred, the cracks and fissures evidence of the trial of standing through the centuries, buffeted by storms and lashed by the monsoon rains. Most of the slopes around it showed the signs of attempts at cultivation, generations of farmers working tirelessly to grow a meagre crop in the thin soil. Yet none encroached near the tower and a wide band of desolate scrub surrounded the tall spire as if it had sucked all the goodness from the ground, like a leech sucking the blood from an open wound.
The slopes below the tower were blanketed with the simple mud and thatch houses of the people who tried to eke out an existence far from the main towns. Herds of goats wandered the hillside, their pitiful bleats and cries the only sound disturbing the peace of the high ground. The local people relied on their herds for food; the arid, dusty soil was of little use to any inclined to farm. The animals’ tireless search for nourishment made the surrounding hills all the more desolate, the few shrubs that clung to life little more than thorny twigs, any trace of greenery stripped away by the goats’ relentless foraging.
Jack tried to find some enthusiasm now that the tower was finally in sight. It was something of a relief to have escaped his difficult subaltern for the day. He had not spoken to Lieutenant Fenris since the previous morning, any further unpleasantness avoided at least for the moment. His body was less relieved. His backside was sore after hours spent in the saddle, the constant motion of the horse waking the pain in his back that sent spasms racing up and down his spine. He
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