Gallant Scoundrel Read Free Page A

gaining a familiarity with foreign peoples, languages, cultures and geography that few male scholars could boast.
    Her unusual first name, Greek for “welcome stranger,” stemmed from both parents’ fascination with an obscure Greek myth about the goddess Athena, who allegedly masqueraded as a beggar woman, then showered gifts upon the only family that welcomed her into their home.  
    Though Harry knew he was by no means the only man in camp who admired Xena, after a week or two he began to believe—to hope—that she was coming to prefer his company to any of the others.  
    “How did you convince your father to allow you to come to Portugal with him?” he asked one evening as he helped her pack up the surgery tent in preparation for the next day’s march.
    The grin she flashed him over the stack of linens she held made his pulse quicken. “He knew full well I’d pass myself off as a lad and enlist the moment he was gone, otherwise.”  
    “Able a soldier as you’d be, your skill in the surgery doubtless saves more lives. I don’t like to think how many more of those recently wounded would have died if left solely to the tender mercies of Corporal Jenkins.”
    Xena shook her head. “That man creates far more work than he saves me, for I must keep half an eye on him at all times to prevent him causing more harm than good. Why, just last week he tried to begin an amputation before compressing the artery—poor Private Miller would have bled to death in minutes had I not intervened.”
    “Jenkins is no worse than what passes for a surgeon in most camps,” Harry reminded her. “Ours is possibly the luckiest regiment in all Wellesley’s army to have you.”  
    That was too direct a compliment for Xena’s taste, for she frowned warningly. “I am simply fortunate that my travels in Asia and elsewhere provided me with greater knowledge and better methods than most attempting to act in that capacity. I also have the advantage of being a woman.”  
    “Advantage! How so?”
    At his startled tone her smile returned. “I was no more than twelve when it became clear to me that women are far the more rational sex the world over. Men frequently allow their judgment to be clouded by passion or pride, while women take a more practical view of life.”
    Though her declaration went counter to all he’d previously believed, Harry did not laugh. Xena’s views, as refreshing as her manner of speech and dress, were part of what he found so irresistible about her. “On what do you base such an, ah, interesting conclusion?” he asked, wanting to hear more.
    “Study, experience and careful observation. No matter the country or culture, women learn at an early age to do whatever is necessary in order to survive and prosper. Indeed, they must, as they rarely have much, if any, lawful say over the disposition of their own persons or property. That is true even in such a supposedly civilized country as England.”
    Harry supposed he could not deny that. “And you conclude that the male sex as a whole is responsible for this widespread injustice?”
    “Who else? ’Tis they who wrote the laws that ensure they hold all the power, despite being so very prone to corruption by it.” She shook her head in resigned disgust. “In all my travels, I have encountered a disappointingly small handful of men, other than my father, worthy of my respect or trust.”
    Harry made no further attempt to argue with her but silently resolved to someday be numbered among that handful.

C HAPTER 2

    A S THE 45th and other regiments under General Wellesley’s command marched eastward across Portugal toward Spain, Harry’s persistence with Xena Maxwell paid off. What had begun as a case of mistaken identity eventually progressed to friendship…and more.
    One evening the two of them happened to be alone in the tent Xena shared with her father and ayah . A rare occurrence, but her Indian servant was off washing their linens in a nearby stream