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Still, he had to think of how he was going to get to the small cove just outside Cadiz. The pickup point. He had contacts in various towns, and once he could get to them, he could get money and supplies. The problem was, he was almost certain it could only have been one of his contacts who had betrayed his whereabouts to the French. But who?

She wanted him to plan, but how could he when he had no idea how long it would be until sweet Doctor Elena gave him the nod that he was well enough to travel? The thought of traveling with her was not unwanted. He enjoyed her company, mostly, but he had not traveled with a woman since he had taken his mother and sister to London for June’s coming out. That involved well-sprung carriages and decent accommodation at decent coaching inns. And his pockets had not been to let.

Traveling in a foreign country was hard enough. Despite England’s help in the ousting of the French from Spain, they were still not trusted as Spain and England had a love-hate relationship for centuries.

To plan such a trip, one needed a map. He didn’t even know where he was. His captors had blindfolded him for the two-day trip to the fort.

While he was pretending to plan, he was actually thinking about how confident she was in her actions, how she really knew what she was about. The only thing he knew about injuries was that one should put pressure on an open wound. That a hot knife was the best way to cauterize a wound and that amputation could save or condemn a man in a battlefield hospital.

Fighting men had low expectations of survival. It was as simple as that. If you caught a lead shot, you were most likely going to die. If a cannon blew up near you, losing a leg was the least of your problems. Elena Diaz knew nothing about fighting in a war, or the men who fought in them. She had complained about her brother’s duty to her because she did not understand patriotism in its simplest form. If a man did not stand up for his country, what kind of man was he?

However, he also understood her wanting to have someone to fight for her. Juan had left her unprotected. Would she have been in this predicament if her brother had been around? Would Thomas have left his sister June if her mother was no longer around and a foreign force had occupied England? Would he have left her unprotected to pursue this life?

Thomas tilted his head to the side. Was she…singing? He moved to the center of the room. He could not see her, but he could hear her a little better. The tune was vaguely familiar. Had she sung it when he was unconscious? Was that where he had heard it? In the periphery of his opium-addled mind?

He wanted to move closer but did not want to invade her privacy while she was bathing. Oh, how he wanted to look, just a peek. It was only fair. She had seen all of him.

He took a step to the left. It was wrong, but he could not help it. Found himself taking another step, and then another until he could just make her out in the shadows of the corridor. Lightning lit the sky, and there she stood, like a painting from the Louvre, her form in all its glory. Mesmerized by the sight of her curves, he sucked in a breath. The rumble and boom of thunder shook the ground. She shrieked and threw a chemise over her head, just as more lightning lit the sky with branches of light as she ran straight into him in the doorway. He circled her with his arms as best he could.

“It is all right. I’m here,” he said, a little lost for what else to say.

“I hate storms.” Her voice was muffled as she had buried her head in his shirt.

He patted her back with one hand. “You should have said earlier.”

“I was trying to be brave. I hoped it would pass over or…”

“Is that why you were singing—to try and keep yourself calm?”

Elena looked up at him, her eyes searching his before nodding.

With her head back on his chest, he said, “I thought I had heard that song before. Maybe, when I was sleeping or under the influence of the poppy?” Another flash of light split the sky, and she tensed in his arms. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” He guided her back into the room, away from the light show above them.

“I sing it when I need to concentrate or keep calm. It helps me push everything else away.”

“Well, you have a beautiful voice.” He wanted to distract her with questions to take her mind off the storm. “Where did you learn the song?”

“My mother used to sing it to me when there was fighting nearby. I would cry when I heard the guns.” She let go of him and took a step back. Thunder shook the ground again, and she flew straight back into his arms.

“Go and sit down. I’ll get you some tea.”

Instead, she went straight to her table as if she needed to check he had not touched anything while she had been away.

She jumped again when the sky cracked above. Hugging herself, she turned towards him. “It’s silly, I know.”

“It is not silly at all. I’ve seen grown men wet themselves at the sound of cannon fire.”

She studied him as he gathered their cups. “You do not seem afraid of anything.”

He stopped in the doorway. “Of course I am; I’m only human. I fear death, like most people, but more I fear that I will never get back to England. I have left something very important unresolved.”

“A woman?”

Thomas smiled. “Yes, but not what you think. My ward.”

There was another crack of lightning above them. Elena went to her pallet, and Thomas wrapped her blanket around her.

“What is a ward?”