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    The Soldier's Tale
    The Soldier's Tale
    The Soldier's Tale
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    The Soldier's Tale

    By RJ Scott

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    About this ebook

    Book Two in The Fitzwarren Inheritance

    Corporal Daniel Francis has returned to his childhood home in England to heal; the only one of his unit that survived a roadside bomb. His reasons for skipping medication are based on a stubborn refusal to become an addict, and he is overwhelmed with survivor's guilt.

    Doctor Sean Lester has joined his father's surgery and when he is held at knife point by a patient high on drugs it is Daniel that leaps to his rescue-much to his horror.

    When Sean nearly runs Daniel down in the dark he finds a man who needs help, and resolves to be the person to show Daniel that it is possible to live through guilt and find happiness.

    Set against the backdrop of the Fitzwarren family curse, The Soldiers Tale is a story of one man's fight to find his place in a new world outside of the Army.

    Book 1 - The Psychic's Tale by Chris Quinton
    Book 3 - The Lord's Tale by Sue Brown

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRJ Scott
    Release dateJun 6, 2013
    ISBN9781301730032
    The Soldier's Tale
    Author

    RJ Scott

    RJ Scott is the author of the best selling Male/Male romances The Christmas Throwaway, The Heart Of Texas and the Sanctuary Series of books.She writes romances between two strong men and always gives them the happy ever after they deserve.

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    • 3/5
      An interesting idea but a bit too fast paced to do it justice.

    Book preview

    The Soldier's Tale - RJ Scott

    The Soldier’s Tale

    Fitzwarren Inheritance Book 2

    RJ Scott

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2012 by RJ Scott

    Second Edition: June 2013

    Cover design: Meredith Russell

    Editor: Silver Publishing

    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of US Copyright Law.

    Dedication

    Always for my family.

    Trademarks Acknowledgement

    The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

    Audi: Audi AG

    Audi TT Roadster: Volkswagen Group

    Bentley: Bentley Motors Limited

    Browning: Browning International, SA

    Cambridge: University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK

    iPod: Apple, Inc.

    Land Rover: Tata Motors

    Olympics: IOC

    Rolls Royce: Rolls-Royce Motor Cars Limited

    Salisbury District Hospital: Salisbury NHS Foundation Trust

    Sertraline HCL: Pfizer

    The Corps of Royal Engineers: a division of the British Armed Forces

    Volvo: AB Volvo

    Contents

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Prologue

    From a book written in 1899:

    The History of Steeple Westford by the Rev. Horace Simpkins

    So in the autumn of the year 1644, Jonathan Curtess cursed Belvedere Fitzwarren, saying, I curse you and your children's children, that you shall all live out your allotted years, and that those years shall be filled with grief and loss and betrayal, even as you have betrayed and bereaved me.

    Much has been written of the actions undertaken in the name of punishment. It is not the place or situation of this book to provide conjecture at any great length on the situations regarding the curse other than the facts to hand. Artefacts recovered under the patronage of Her Majesty Victoriana Regina remained with the estate of Belvedere Fitzwarren.

    Oscar Curtess, lately of Steeple Aston, had in his possession several items procured from the estate sale of the descendants of the Fitzwarren family. Amongst them a dagger that has the distinction of being attached to the rumour that it is the very knife that saved Jonathan Curtess from a slow death in fire.

    The remains of Jonathan Curtess, the second of the most unfortunate to die at the stones, were interred by his remaining family, but there is little knowledge of location.

    Chapter One

    Uhnnnn, damn it, sod it, bloody hell—ghuuu. Daniel Francis couldn't keep the grunts of pain and expletives from spilling out of his mouth. Letting loose the torrent of noise was the only thing that grounded him. He had only meant to rest for a few minutes, but, God, how much worse could this pain get? He was trapped now, sitting in the dark, surrounded by the scent of pine toilet cleaner, like some kind of bloody cripple. Scared. Stupid. A waste of space.

    What had happened to the man he'd once been? Why the hell was he stuck in the men's toilet at his local surgery, literally scared to death to walk out into the waiting room? He had been doing so well today pushing the pain away. He had taken the pain meds like he was supposed to. They took the edge off the throbbing long enough to fake how well he was doing, and he had yet again survived his monthly visit to see a doctor. In this case, it was the second time since coming home that he had seen Lester, Sr. The doctor had been his usual efficient self, dismissing Daniel with a cursory glance at his records on the screen in front of him.

    Here are the scripts for your pain meds and muscle relaxants. I've lowered the level of Sertraline although I'm not comfortable with your request to do so. Keep to the prescription, use the ice packs. Come back and see me in three weeks so we can re-evaluate, and I can re-issue your medication.

    The doctor had continued with the usual inane questions that experts always threw at him, and Daniel made a show of listening while he focused in on grey hair, bushy eyebrows, and pale grey eyes. He was half listening, already deciding he'd had enough of the blurred edge to his world on these damn tablets. He would fill the prescription, but that didn't mean he had to take the capsules. The doctor certainly didn't need to know. Daniel was his own man, and he could make his own decisions. He wasn't a kid who had to do what he was told all the bloody time. Hell, he'd had enough of that in the Army.

    As a non-commissioned officer in the Royal Engineers, Corporal Daniel Francis was an explosive ordinance disposal expert—part of a small unit of highly-trained specialists. Men and women who provided munitions neutralization and disposal for both military operations and training exercises around the world, he was trained, experienced, good at his job.

    Daniel missed his friends and his fellow soldiers, and he felt the familiar twinge of loneliness that always came with the memories of the soldiers he had commanded. They had been a tight team of six men and one woman, their work enabling the Army to handle battlefield conditions with fewer distractions. They were experts in their field, providing mine clearances and defusing roadside bombs in war zones, and they had been employed in post-conflict situations as well. Daniel's expertise, and that of his team, provided the skills needed to sweep fields and roads and to clear homes and other buildings in towns, making what remained of any civilian population safe.

    Corporal Francis had become the go-to man, the person the recruits turned to when they were unsure, the one whom the rest of the unit relied on as a sounding board as they puzzled out difficult situations. He was capable of focusing completely on the mine or bomb or incendiary in front of him, using his skills as the key to surviving a disarmament. He kept the balance between absolute certainty in both his skills and those of his unit and knowing precisely when the time had come to pull back and relieve the horrendous pressure on his men. Daniel had been able to call on his ability to sink into utter stillness at any given time.

    Corporal Francis was decorated with awards and citations, resulting from situations that he and his team had survived. Others who praised and paid and wrote articles in newspapers back home called it incredible bravery. He and his team, however, simply called it a job.

    That was then, but he had to live in the now.

    Daniel Francis, invalided from service, no longer a corporal by name or possessing the ability to be a corporal by physical action, sat cowering in a sodding bathroom unable to even attempt a short walk home. He was damaged goods. Twisted and scarred and unable to even bloody breathe properly at this moment.

    How are you feeling today? the doctor had asked with a raised eyebrow. Daniel had hesitated before answering. Post traumatic stress disorder was probably not something Dr Lester had much experience in, and the questions he asked were from some kind of script clearly approved by some specialist somewhere.

    And Christ, that had been a leading question. The headache that had been nagging at Daniel all day went full blown and intense as he'd tried to formulate a suitable answer.

    I'm good, he'd finally said, as firmly as he could. There was

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