Sharpe's Sergeant

Chapter 16 Truce

As the slick sheen of sweat that covered their bodies began to dry, Sean could feel the goose bumps over Camden’s glistening body start to rise. He thought to pull the duvet over them both, but as he rose up on one elbow he stopped to study every detail of her face. It was the face of his dreams; the ones that had haunted him for an agonizing eight months. With her eyes closed, her mouth relaxed with a slight little girl smile of satisfaction, he could barely believe she was there with him. As he noticed a slight shiver come over her, he wrapped the duvet around them, drawing her tight against him. She snuggled her chin against his chest, tilting her head to look at his face as she opened her eyes. Sean looked into her vivid clear blue eyes, seeing a lecherous glint in them that made him smile that wide, light-up-the-world smile of his.

Camden felt her breath catch as she received his smile’s full impact, the same smile he had flashed after picking her up off the floor that night at the pub; the one famous for making women come in their pants, the one she couldn’t say no to. She noticed a few stray silver-white hairs along the temples of Sean’s fine reddish-blond hair, a warm soft tan on his chiseled face, those lively green liquid eyes. Gently, she pushed a long lock behind his ear and traced down his long Sharpe sideburns, along his stubbled jaw, the fine lines of his neck, over his sculptured shoulder. And then she laughed. One of those laughs that come rumbling from deep down, low, throaty, sensuous.

“Oh, you’re good. You are really good, bud,” Camden somehow got out between laughs, “You know exactly what you’re doing don’t you?”

“What are ye on about? Tis’ nowt,” Sean defended, a hint of naughtiness in the lively green of his eyes. He liked the way she laughed; it was deep, uninhibited, sensual, satisfying, no silly little girl giggles.

“Oh, let’s see,” Camden began, “mesmerizing, enigmatic, cunningly intelligent, electrifying, charismatic, naughty, cheeky, intense, magnetic, and enthralling. Then there’s sex on legs, walking testosterone, Saint Sean of the Sacred Arse, a nice bit of rough, magic hands, orgasm-inducing voice. Need I go on?”

“Well, I can’t ‘elp meself if I’m irresistible to women,” Sean’s smile broadened into a soft laugh, “Tis’ not intentional.”

“But you are always aware of what you’re doing, aren’t you?” Camden countered, nodding her head, “You use it, you work it, don’t you?”

“Me mum always said a lad should use ‘is God-given arsets,” Sean tried to deflect, his ears starting to turn pink and his laughs growing louder, “You can blame me fans fer reall-eh bringing out me trouser ferret, though. I got to do me best to live up to their image o' me, don’t I?”

“So you’re admitting to being a horny old goat?” Camden confronted.

“Blood-eh ‘ell no!” Sean objected, choking back his laugh, “I’ll admit to bein’ a tad cavalier in me personal life and takin’ advantage of certain ‘opportunities’, but nott-in’ like that. I’ll confess that I do use me reputation and me reputation does include all them things you mentioned and some ‘o it I jest can’t ‘elp, like me smile, me ‘ands, me arse, and as fer’ being naughty and cheeky, what can I say, with this craggy ol’ face I need all the ‘elp I can get. Some things come ‘round just by bein’ an actor. They help keep me workin’. But, much of me reputation is way overblown by the media. I can’t even chat up a pretty lass at a party wi’out someone saying that I’m shaggin’ ‘er. Oi, since we’re discussin’ the subject, what about you, miss? I ‘ear yer’ no saint either.”

“Let’s see, self-assured, arrogant, dismissive, cold, detached, aloof, demanding, bossy yet a commanding presence in spite of my size,” Camden reasoned aloud, “As for physical traits, I can recall comments about my tight little ass, my perky tits, my elfin face, my porcelain skin and I’ve lost track of all the words used in reference to my eyes. Nobody, however, has ever talked about my sexual prowess or put me in the same category as the Energizer Bunny.

“That’s that American toy thing from the telly advert, right? That toy that keeps goin’ an’ goin’?” Sean asked, his brows knitting, his smile returning, “Ye ‘aven’t been reading none o’ me fan fiction now, ‘ave ye? Truth be, I’m no different than most o’ me mates; I’m jest as likely to ‘ave a beer and a fag and roll over and go to sleep after a quick shag than do all that romantic stuff the ladies fantasize about me. Now, if ‘ats wat ye want, ye need to go lookin’ fer Mellors or Vronsky, or maybe even Sharpe.”

“I hate to sound ignorant, but who are Mellors and Vronsky?” Camden asked, “I know who Sharpe is and Andy McNab; Sean Miller even. Smitty loaned me all of his alpha male videos about two months ago. Course I didn’t know why he insisted I watch them at the time.”

“Maybe tis’ better that ye’ don’t know,” Sean countered, his ears getting pink again, “That way you’ll never ‘ave any higher expectations of me than ye’ ‘ave now.

“I just can’t get over how surreal it is that I have an international sex symbol here in my own bed.” With that declaration, Camden and Sean both started laughing so hard tears came to their eyes.

“And I can’t believe I’m in the bed of a proper soldier with the willpower and appetite of Richard Sharpe!” Sean teased, sending them both into a new fit of laughter.


A loud knock at the door interrupted their sound sleep, bringing reality crashing back in on them and a realization that the better part of the night had passed as the dark sky had turned into the blue-gray haze that comes just before dawn. With a groan of annoyance, Camden rolled over to the edge of the bed, reaching to find her kimono. Pulling it on as she moved to the door, Sean slept on soundly. With another knock, she heard Smitty talking to someone with an unfamiliar voice on the other side of the door.