Sharpes Battle   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

"He was going for his pistol," the woman offered in explanation,"so I shot him."

"Bravo!" one of the admiring officers called. The taunting Frenchman had turned away in disgust.

"Is that…? Is she…? Is it…?" Runciman asked incoherently.

"It's a woman, General," Sharpe said drily.

"Oh, my word, Sharpe! So he… she is."

She was a striking-looking woman too, Sharpe thought, whose fierce looks were made even more noticeable by the man's uniform that had been tailored to her trim figure. She swept off her plumed hat to salute Lord Kiely, then leaned over to kiss his Lordship. "It's the mistress, General," Sharpe said. "Major Hogan told me about her. She collects uniforms from all her lovers' regiments."

"Oh, my word. You mean they're not married and we're to be introduced?" Runciman asked in alarm, but it was too late to escape, for Lord Kiely was already beckoning the two English officers forward. He introduced Runciman first, then gestured towards Sharpe. "Captain Richard Sharpe, my dear, our tutor in modern fighting." Kiely did not try to disguise the sneer as he so described Sharpe.

"Ma'am," Sharpe said awkwardly. Juanita gave Runciman one withering glance, then appraised Sharpe for a long time while her pack of hunting dogs sniffed about his horse's legs. The woman's gaze was unfriendly and she finally turned away without even acknowledging the rifleman's presence. "So why did you shoot the dragoon, ma'am?" Sharpe asked, trying to provoke her.

She turned back to him. "Because he was going to shoot my Lord Kiely," she answered defiantly. "I saw him reach for his pistol."

She had not seen anything of the kind, Sharpe thought, but he would achieve nothing by challenging her bare-faced lie. She had shot to preserve her lover's life, nothing else, and Sharpe felt a pang of jealousy that the wastrel Kiely should have found himself such a brazen, defiant and remarkable woman. She was no beauty, but something in her clever, feral face stirred Sharpe, though he would be damned before he let her know she had that power. "You've come far, ma'am?" he asked.

"From Madrid, Captain," she said frostily.

"And the French didn't stop you?" Sharpe asked pointedly.

"I don't need French permission to travel in my own country, Captain, nor, in my own country, do I need explain myself to impertinent British officers." She spurred away, summoning her shaggy-haired, long-legged hounds to follow her.

"She doesn't like you, Sharpe," Runciman said.

"It's a mutual thing, General," Sharpe said. "I wouldn't trust the bitch an inch.