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Jenna Montague looked up at Major Garrett Fairchild. “You know I am always delighted to have Papa’s officers dine with us. Evers and I always manage to turn up enough provisions somehow.”

The major smiled, admiration in his eyes. “You’re the best of troopers, Jenna! In all these months in the Peninsula, never once have I seen you tire or complain however difficult the march or vermin-ridden the billet. Your papa is a lucky man.” His voice softened. “I must thank you, too. Your calm, level-headed influence is the major reason I’m no longer volunteering for hazardous expeditions like the Hope.”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Heavens, what a sorry fellow I was when I reported in! So sure my world was blighted because a beautiful, spoiled chit who must never have loved me anyway scorned my eagerly tendered heart! So ready to die gloriously in battle to make her regret wedding an older, wealthier peer.” He shook his head. “I wonder now how you tolerated me.”

Despite his light tone, Jenna heard in his voice a raw edge of pain. Major Garrett Fairchild may have indeed made progress in recovering from his broken heart, but he wasn’t yet free of the spell of the lovely Lucinda. A woman Jenna would hate forever without once having met her for putting that look of misery in Major Fairchild’s eyes.

“I suppose I would have despised you, had I not soon discovered how excellent a partner you are at whist,” she replied, resorting to the gentle humor that, she’d found early on, could nearly always pull him out of melancholy. “And once I saw how splendidly you dance, I should have humored you were Bonaparte himself.”

He looked away, absently rubbing the hand that rested on his sleeve. Jenna’s heartbeat quickened and a familiar, hopeless warmth curled in her belly.

“Not that I expect anything will happen, but I do want you to know how much I’ve come to treasure our friendship. I’ve never known a woman so capable of creating around her an aura of calm and cheer. You manage to bring even to this primitive place some semblance of graciousness.” He shook his head. “What an odd ‘family’ we are - Harry with his reckless enthusiasm, Alastair following him about like a puppy, Lord Anthony with his airs, me with my moods! Your papa is an excellent commander, but you are the heart of us.”

Oh, that I might have your heart! she thought, but dared not say. Even if the major’s feelings were warming toward her, she knew instinctively it was still too soon.

While she fumbled for a reply, Garrett clasped her hand. “No sister could be sweeter or more dear,” he said, and brought her hand to his lips.

Mercifully, that gallant gesture masked the wince she wasn’t able to completely suppress.

“You - and the grim reality of battle - have made me realize something I should never have overlooked. Life is precious, and ’tis one’s true friends that make it so.”

Was it only hopeful imagining that made her see tenderness in his eyes? Before she could decide, he released her hand and bowed. “Until tomorrow, Jenna.”

You make life precious, she thought. “May God protect you!” she called as he walked away. God protect them all.

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