lacomandante:
To be back in this tent, after what seemed so long away, was both a comfort and a challenge for her. A simple mission, in and out…and though it had been a success, Teresa had not come out of it unscathed. She was lucky, to even be standing before him now, though the wound still ached and hindered her- she would not tell him that.
“I am, thank you,” she replied politely, for he had been so gracious to allow her husband time to spend with her, though they had missed Christmas, and most of the last days of the year together. Just enough time to make sure she was on the mend, and though she knew Lord Wellesley granted that time more for Sharpe’s well being than hers, she appreciated it all the same.
But her gaze dropped briefly, unsure of how he would take her request, before standing tall before him, no inclination of her wound evident in her posture. She set her jaw, determination stirring within her- she would not let her wounds win. She would fight.
“I wish to rejoin the war effort.”
Wellesley’s eyes flicked up and down seeking for any hint of weakness, knowing that she would hide any discomfort. Sharpe and her were well-suited together.
There was no denying she was a valuable asset. To lose her in a battle would be a terrible waste. He cleared his throat and began to search through his papers. Near the middle of pile he pulled one out. Scrawled writing covered the torn half page. Well worn creases covered the paper in a checked pattern.
“I may have a use for your talents.” He offered the paper over for her to read. “This came to me from a man in Valladolid. What do you make of it?”
