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Consuela’s body slumped against Honor’s. Unwilling to create any more delay, Honor took the extra weight and hoped Consuela slept.

 
Chapter Four
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    Enemy patrols and foul weather had extended Vidal’s voyage from London to Gibraltar by several days, and now, standing in front of the local guide, his frustration at further delays threatened to rob the last tenuous hold on his temper.
    The man introduced himself only as Juan. “We move under the cover of darkness.“ Seconds before a group of French soldiers rounded the corner, he grabbed Vidal by the arm and dragged him into the shadows. “Already they are looking for you. This is not good. We go tonight. Come now.”
    Maintaining his grip, Juan pulled Vidal along the narrow street, stopped at a door and without knocking, pushed it open and hauled Vidal in behind him.
    The room was small, dark and stark, and sounds from somewhere within the house told him they were not alone. Someone set a mug of warm liquid on the table in front of him, and Vidal drank gratefully. He didn’t care about the unidentifiable taste. It lessened the chill in his soul at the prospect of what lay ahead. Not the physical challenge. He accepted it would be difficult and almost welcomed it.
    It was the thought of seeing Honor again, knowing they’d be in close company for many days, even weeks, and keeping his feelings in check. No other woman had threatened his emotional control the way Honor had managed to, and when she’d chosen Devlin as her husband, Vidal made himself scarce, only coming home to stand as his friend’s groomsman before returning to the Peninsula.
    â€œWe swim.”
    â€œWhat?” The sound of Juan’s voice disrupted his thoughts.
    â€œIt is dangerous for the Spanish and French patrol the waters, but it is the only way. If we survive…”
    â€œAnd our chances?” Why had Lord Liverpool sent him out here if the odds were so badly stacked against them?
    â€œSlim.” Juan held his gaze.
    Was the man challenging his ability to withstand a little hardship? Vidal nodded.
    â€œSo be it. Slim is better than none.”
    * * * *
    It had been touch and go. Thankfully Vidal dived seconds before an oar from one of the boats just missed his skull. A shout from another boat started a concerted hunt for them further out to sea until someone decided it had been a dolphin and not a man. Minutes later the vessels returned to shore and he and Juan swam along the coastline before making for the Spanish beach, where they’d been met by three men.
    â€œWe must go. Joseph Bonaparte’s army is badly controlled and mismanaged, but they are also afraid of Wellington’s intention to take Madrid which makes them edgy. They’re everywhere. Trust no one.”
    Instead of concern, Juan had grinned at the speaker and laughed. “I see you are full of optimism, as always.” He clapped the man on the back. “I bring you the English lord. You must take him to Phillipe without delay. Already they have been informed he is here.” Juan thumbed towards the water.
    A string of Spanish oaths filled the air and the three men urged Vidal and Juan away from the shore.
    â€œTomorrow I will guide you.” The man walking beside him addressed Vidal in broken English. “You will call me ‘Dick’.” A shout of laughter went up, but no one explained the joke.
    * * * *
    In the end Juan guided him inland.
    â€œDoes it always rain so hard?” The paths had turned to rivers of mud. “I thought you said it wasn’t far to our destination?” Vidal didn’t bother to swipe at the water trickling down his neck anymore.
    â€œNo, if we used the direct route it is not, but we have to take these less travelled trails to evade renegades, French soldiers, and Spanish partisans. Also villagers are afraid of strangers, for they fear the French deserters almost as much as they dread their