Page 16 of Once Upon a Reckless Rogue

“I am going to my mother’s village.”

Christina shook her head. “Why? Stay here with me. We will rebuild the house.”

“No. I can’t,” Elena said softly. “Do what you like with the land, but I cannot stay. I have to help someone get to…his friends.”

“Who is this person you must help? The one you were healing? Surely, he can go on his own.”

Elena sat in the chair at the small round table. “He…needs me.” Christina raised a brow at her. “Not in that way,” she added quickly. “He was tortured by the French and still needs tending to.”

“Who is he?”

How could she tell her friend she was helping an English captain of the British army? “I cannot tell you who he is, but know that I would not be doing this if I didn’t think it was important.”

“But can you trust him?”

Elena thought about Tomas reading her notes, cursing her for not telling him and, most likely, searching for her. Did she trust him? As far as she knew, he had always been honest with her. Treated her with respect even if he did not always agree with her. “Yes, I trust him,” she finally said.

Christina studied her face for a moment before nodding. After stoking the fire in the oven, she then slid the bread inside. “Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I need your help, Christina. Can you get me supplies? I dare not go to the market. The less people know my plans the better.”

“It is a long way to La Barossa,” Christina said. “You will need a cart, and a goat or a donkey.”

Relief washed over her, and she let her shoulders drop. “I have these.” Elena took out her mother’s jewelry. “Can you sell them for me?”

Christina frowned at the small sack of jewelry. “Of course, there will be questions.”

“Say I left them to you so you can rebuild the house for your son.”

“How will I get you the supplies and money?”

“I will be back in two days. Is that enough time? I have a list of things I need. I cannot thank you enough for your help, Christina, and for your kindness always.”

Hugging Elena again, Christina caressed her face. “My dear girl, you have been good to me, and your father saved my sweet boy when he was a bebe. It is the least I can do. If you change your mind my door is open, and you can stay as long as you like.”

“I will not change my mind, but I will write when it is safe and let you know where I have settled.”

Her neighbor poured Elena some milk. “Buena. I will make you a tortilla de patatas. You are far too skinny. Take some back for your…amigo too.”

The thought of the omelet made with potatoes, onions, and eggs made her stomach growl with hunger.

Elena spent another hour with her neighbor before picking up some things from what remained of the garden. Christina gave her bread, sausage, and cheese and some wine and fresh apples. Tomas would think they were feasting tonight, and when his belly was full of the food and his head happy from the wine, she would tell him her plan.

Knowing the French had left gave her confidence to use the path back to the fort. Her basket was full of supplies and her heart full of the prospect of finally moving out of the fort.

As Elena got closer, she became more nervous about what her reception might be. Had Tomas been able to read her notes? When she rounded the corner, she saw him standing at the wall that overlooked the sea. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it was Juan. Tall, straight posture, the stature of a man of confidence. She dropped her basket and went to stand next to Tomas, taking in the vista before them.

*

He felt her presence next to him but kept his eyes on the relentless waves before him.

“It is a pretty view,” she said.

He did not look towards her but simply said, “Where did you go?”

“To get supplies. We were running out. Did you not see my note?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “What note?”