Read Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) for Free Online

was not something one left in a stable. Then they all headed inside, the sergeant leading the way.
    The Olivieras occupied a ground-level apartment with an entrance opposite the stables. Since Albano was outside, the door hadn’t been locked and Gilberto led the way into a sizable hall. Half a dozen candlesticks with glass chimneys were set on the table, but only one was lit. The candle produced hardly enough light to reveal heavy doors in each of the three walls, and a barely visible stairwell in the shadowed far-right corner.
    Gilberto strode across the room to fling open the door in the left-hand wall, revealing a large, well-lit kitchen. He called, “Mamá, I’m home!” as if he’d been gone for the day rather than years.
    His announcement triggered a response that made the earlier reunions Will had witnessed pale in comparison. A mob of Olivieras poured into the kitchen and boiled around him in noisy waves. There were ancient aunts and grandparents and a couple of knee-hugging toddlers. A woman who must be his mother gave an earsplitting, wordless scream of joy when she embraced her son as if she’d never let him go.
    Others echoed his mother’s scream. If Will hadn’t known better, he’d have thought a massacre was in progress. A large gray-muzzled dog joined in, barking frantically as he stropped Gilberto’s legs, almost knocking him over. The Olivieras were a handsome lot. One young woman who was probably a sister was so beautiful that Murphy just stared at her, his jaw slack.
    The delirious happiness in the room was as exhausting as it was exhilarating. Murphy followed Gilberto into the apartment, his gaze still on the girl, but Will stayed back in the hall. He’d wait until the tumult subsided before introducing himself.
    He strolled across the room to stretch his legs, admiring the intricate patterns of the tile floor. He had not known how beautiful tile could be until he came to the Peninsula. But the furnishings were spartan. Apart from the refectory table, there was only a pair of creaky-looking chairs that might collapse if he tried to sit down.
    The tile medallion in the center of the hall floor had a coat of arms, likely that of the country or the ruling family. He was admiring the artistry when he heard swift footsteps from the stairs. When the steps ended, he looked up—and saw that the candlelight illuminated the barrel of a rifle pointed at his chest from the shadows. “Drop the gun!” a voice snapped in the Gabrileño dialect. “Very, very carefully.” The command was repeated in French.
    Will said peaceably in Gabrileño, “I mean no harm. Sergeant Oliviera has returned to his family, and I’m a British officer who accompanied him.” He let his saddlebags fall to the stone floor and slowly leaned over to set the carbine on top.
    “You’re certainly not local,” the voice growled. “Say something in English.”
    “As you wish,” he said in English. “If you allow me to remove my greatcoat, I can show you my uniform.”
    The rifle barrel didn’t waver. “Take the coat off slowly,” the voice said in crisp English. “If you move your hand toward a weapon, I’ll shoot you.”
    Not making any sudden moves, Will peeled off the greatcoat. His uniform was shabby and mended in places, but unmistakably British red. “My name is William Masterson and I’m from Oxfordshire.”
    After a taut silence, the rifle was lowered and a magnificent Amazon stepped from the shadows. Now that Will didn’t have a weapon pointing at him, he realized that the rich, low voice belonged to a female.
    Tiny sparks of energy tingled through him and long-dormant parts of his body began sizzling to life. He stared, entranced. The Amazon was close to six feet tall and she had the fair complexion of a Northerner. Even swaddled in a dark, ankle-length robe, she was strikingly attractive, with strong, regular features, a braid of warm brown hair falling down her back, and dangerous hazel-gold eyes.
    And she