Beloved Enemy Read Free Page B

Anyway, that smile was quite irresistible. It
started in her eyes, which crinkled at the corners in the most appealing
fashion, before the full lips curved to reveal unusually fine white teeth. Her
face lost all its cold-eyed irony and became that of a vibrant young woman well
aware of her charms and possessed of a delicious sense of humor. Alex Marshall
suddenly wished he had met her at some other time and place.
    "As you wish." His voice was brusque, hiding these
uncomfortable reflections. " You will
be pleased to remember, however, that you now fall under my command, and as you
will learn from my soldiers, I do not tolerate disobedience." Swinging on
his heel, he left her bedchamber.
    Ginny nodded to herself. There was little reason to doubt his statement. Her
only course lay in placation and the appearance of total obedience. For as long
as she was allowed to move freely around the estate, accustoming the men to her
presence and the routine nature of her movements, she could continue to provide
for Edmund and Peter, keeping the secret on which hung all their lives.
    With swift decision, she strode from the room, along the
gallery that ran three sides of the second floor
overlooking the entrance hall below. She paused for a moment, hiding behind a
carved pillar to look down on a lively scene. The men marching through her
house for all the world as if it were their own were clearly officers, to judge
by their in signia and the spurs on their booted
feet that rang out on the stone-flagged floor. They appeared to be taking
inventory and were doing so in a seemingly orderly fashion, their voices as
educated and well modulated as their colonel's.
    Of course, this civil war
was not a war between classes, Ginny reflected. It was a war of political and
religious convictions, and there were as
many of the well-born fighting for Parliament as there were fighting for King
Charles. Many of the noblest houses had been split asunder, brother against
brother, father against son. Was Alex Marshall a case in point?     
    Ginny slipped down the backstairs that gave direct access to
the kitchens. There were men here, too, but common soldiers carting supplies —
sides of beef and pork that they hung in the cold, flagged pantries, sacks of
flour and meal, leathern flagons of wine. Oliver Cromwell's New Model Army
clearly looked after itself. Outside, the stableyard w a s a hive of activity as the cavalry saw to the needs
of their mounts.  The Redfern estate was typical of its kind and geared to the
breeding and purchasing of horses. They were the only form of transport and
were now beginning to replace oxen for the heavy farm work. No self-sufficient
estate could afford to ignore their needs. As a result, there was ample
accommodation in the now-empty barns and stables for the twenty horses of the
elite cavalry.
    Virginia had kept two horses: her own mare that had been her father's wedding
gift, and a cart horse to pull the dray when she went to collect her payment of
grain and hay. They both appeared restless at this abrupt intrusion into the
quiet lives they had led for the last six months. No move, however, had been
made to dispossess them of their stalls, and she fed, watered, and soothed
them.
    The horses were considerably more amenable than Betsy. Ginny
disliked the cow intensely. She was an obstinate creature, that would kick over
the pail any chance she had. But Ginny had chosen to keep her over her more
docile sisters because she gave the richest milk with a heavy golden crown of
cream that made excellent butter and cheese.
    The cow left her pasture willingly enough and moved docilely
to the barn. She needed relief, after all, and was prepared to be good until it
was afforded her. Only when her swollen udders were empty did she decide to
kick up her heels. Ginny sat on the three-legged stool, resting her head
against the warm, heaving flank as her fingers, skillful now after months of
practice, kneaded and pulled. It was hard