The Sometime Bride Read Online Free PDF

relief. An angry Blas was not part of her vision for their walk through the dark streets of Lisbon. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “There is a specially marked loaf, with a swirl of dough on top. I give it to Gordon Somersby, and he takes it to his father. The other loaves are left in the kitchen for general use. So, you see, there is no danger. But if you do not wish to be part of it, I assure you Marcio will be happy to return to the role of escort.”
    “ Vamanos ,” Blas growled, disconcerted by a sudden rush of anger at the thought of Marcio Cardoso and Catarina Audley walking these dark streets together. A tight-lipped silence stretched between them until they were admitted to the warmth of the brick-floored kitchens of the British Embassy.
    “ You’re late, Cat,” cried a pleasant-faced young man of some sixteen years. His open cheerfulness dissolved into grim suspicion as he caught sight of the black-haired peasant coming out of the shadows behind Catarina.
    “ He is called Blas,” Cat replied to the unspoken question, “but you might as well know he is English as it will be stupidly uncomfortable if we must pretend with each other.”
    Gordon Somersby examined Blas with the rudely critical gaze of the young. “You don’t look English,” he said.
    “ Spanish grandmother and maybe a Moor or two on the family tree.” How dare this young whelp challenge him?
    Cat regarded the two young men with dismay. They looked like fighting cocks just entering the ring. The contest, however, was remarkably short-lived. The only casualty was to a young man’s pride. Gordon Somersby, for all his years in diplomatic circles, was still a boy. Blas could give him five years and infinitely more experience.
    Young Somersby, conceding defeat in the silent duel, squared his shoulders and recalled his manners. “Come sit with us then. Cat and I usually talk for a while.”
    As Catarina seated herself at the large kitchen table, she threw off her shawl. Tantalizing strands of burnished copper hair, dangling over an expanse of creamy skin, highlighted her décolletage. A slow flush spread up Gordon Somersby’s face. Blas merely leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Catarina’s bosom. A wry smile of appreciation tinged his lips.
    Gordon sent Blas a ferocious scowl, swallowing hard before he was able to speak. “Cat, my mother said to tell you she has made all the arrangements for you to return to England with us. Father thinks the French could be here within the month.”
    “ Never! I will not go.”
    “ Cat, you have to!” Gordon’s boyish features mirrored his earnest concern. “Dom João has been resisting Boney’s ultimatum about not trading with us, but father says . . . well, you know how wishy-washy the prince is. And the Portuguese army is leaderless, next to useless. Father says that if Marshal Junot comes with an army, as everyone says he will, the royal family will go into exile in Brazil, and Portugal will give up without a fight.”
    “ At the very first echo of the pas de charge ,” Blas agreed drily. “And down will go any Englishman foolish enough to still be in Lisbon. Confiscation of property will be just a starting point.”
    “ Been doing your homework, I see,” said Gordon, not quite covering his resentment of the intruder.
    “ Which is why, Cat,” said Blas—if the puppy could use this short form of her name, so could he!—”Somersby is absolutely right. You must return to England.”
    “ It is out of the question,” Catarina stated flatly. “But you must give my thanks to your good mama, Gordon, and tell her that my father has made other arrangements. I am sure he has discussed it with Lord Strangford,” she added airily, not hesitating to cast the name of the British Ambassador before the two young men frowning at her so fiercely.
    Outmaneuvered, Gordon Somersby changed the subject. “I can’t understand why the Spanish don’t see what’s coming. Father says he’d