A War Within (Epic WWI Love Story)

by Katherine Hastings

  It was agony knowing he was just outside, but she hadn’t gone to the barn yet today. What could she say after last night? Though she didn’t know what she would say, she knew what she wanted to do. Kiss him. It would take all her willpower not to launch herself into his arms.

  After pulling on a jade-green riding dress that matched her eyes, she brushed out her hair and put a little red stain on her lips before steeling her nerves and heading to the barn. When she made her way through the gardens, she looked up to see menacing clouds hovering off in the distance. A storm was coming, but from the looks of it she still had time to sneak in a ride. Reaching the barn, she paused and heard the familiar sound of the straw being swept into the wheelbarrow and knew Auguste wasn’t far.

  With a deep breath, and a promise not to take matters into her own hands and kiss him first, Isabelle rounded the corner and leaned up again the wall. She watched Auguste sorting through the straw in Le Vent’s stall and just the sight of him caused her heart to gallop out of control.

  “It’s just me. No need to threaten me with the pitchfork this time,” she said, and Auguste turned around. An amused smile lifted his lips and deepened his dimples. Just one look from those eyes and she kissed the last of her senses goodbye.

  “Good morning, Isabelle. I’m glad to see you all made it home safe last night,” he said, setting down his pitchfork and stepping toward her.

  Isabelle pushed off the wall and walked toward him. “Yes, it was quite a ride home with my drunken father singing, and Alexis yapping up a storm about her date with Theodore today. I thought the neighbors might kick us out of their carriage and you’d have found us trudging down the road when you came home.”

  Auguste laughed as the two of them drew closer.

  “I must say I was quite surprised to see you there last night. A pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. You had said you had nothing to wear and wouldn’t be attending.” She stepped directly in front of him.

  “Well, Raulf had the suit and thought it was a shame to let it go to waste. It was a last-minute decision,” he said with a smile.

  “Really? And I thought it was because you wanted to come see me in my dress.” She arched a brow.

  “Well, I would be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the reason.”

  The last bit of distance between them closed with his final step. There it was again. That desire in his eyes that reflected in her own. They stood immobile, her breath quickening beneath his want-filled gaze. When his eyes drifted to her lips, the thought of his kiss ripped the last of the good sense from her head. Rising on her tiptoes she leaned in, stretching tall to reach her arms around his neck. But instead of sweeping her up in his arms like she envisioned, he caught her by the wrists, stepping back with a shocked expression that made it feel like a horse had kicked her square in the gut.

  “Oh. I’m... I’m sorry. I... I just thought. Never mind. Forget it,” Isabelle said as she began backing away from him.

  “Isabelle. I... I didn’t mean to...”

  It took all her strength to hide the quake in her voice. “Forget it, Auguste. Just forget it. It was stupid and clearly I misread you. I will leave you alone and try to stay out of your way. I can’t believe I was so stupid. I thought you...” Her words trailed off, and she spun on her heel and ran out of the stall.

  “Isabelle!” he called after her.

  “Leave me alone, Auguste!” She turned and glared at him. The power of her anger stopped him in his tracks. Just as he started after her again, Raulf emerged from the corner and walked into the aisle.

  “Good morning, Isabelle,” he said, seemingly unaware of the altercation.

  “Good morning, Raulf. Could you get Chantal ready for me? Quickly?”

  Raulf looked startled by the snappiness in her tone.

  “Right away, Isabelle,” he said as he hurried into Chantal’s stall and pulled her out. Isabelle stayed close to his side to prevent Auguste from approaching her again. The tears burned behind her eyes, but she fought them off, refusing to let either man see her cry. When Raulf finished tightening her girth, she snatched the reins from his hands and tugged Chantal outside behind her.

  “Don’t go far. There’s a storm coming,” Raulf warned, visibly concerned by her behavior. He lifted her into the saddle and she flipped her custom riding dress to drape around her mare’s haunches

  With a quick nod, she galloped Chantal away from the barn. She didn’t care about warnings, soldiers, or storms... all she cared about was getting away from Auguste.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE KNEW SHE SHOULD have warmed Chantal up first, but her rage had overcome her good horse sense and the mare needed no encouragement. They flew through the fields behind the house. She couldn’t get away from Auguste fast enough. The crisp wind whipped her face but she galloped on, letting the mare choose the speed and relishing her fast pace. When she passed the pond by the house, she watched the weeping willow tree she loved so much disappear in a flash behind her. Isabelle could feel Chantal’s desire to run today and it matched her own, so the two continued on at an impressive speed.

  Long after they passed the pond, Chantal finally began puffing, so Isabelle slowed her down to a walk to allow her to catch her breath. How could he? Rage and embarrassment resurfaced. She felt stupid for being so sure there was something between them. It was clear now he was just playing games with her. He was batting her around like one of the farm cats plays with a mouse. And she’d fallen for it all like a complete idiot.

  Thoughts and emotions raced through Isabelle as Chantal, feeling her urgency, picked up a trot and the two headed deeper into the woods. While they trotted along, she replayed the almost-kiss over and over in her head. Each rendition caused her to cringe and flood with embarrassment, then rage, and finally sadness. The emotions repeated over and over until she realized how far from home they’d strayed.

  As a child, she used to ride out here with her father, back when he used to ride, but it had been years since she had been in these deep woods. Knowing Chantal needed a breather, she slowed her to a walk and they each let out an exhausted sigh. As humiliated as Isabelle was, she had half a mind to ride the two days to her aunt’s in the city and never come back. If she knew how to get there, she would have done it to avoid returning to see him again.

  A raindrop landed on her nose and splashed up into her eye. Wiping it with the back of her hand, she peered up through the treetops to see those threatening clouds she’d noticed in the distance hanging over her head. In her reckless gallop she’d run straight into the storm. The drops started coming down hard and she realized it had been a big mistake traveling this far in bad weather. Chantal began to jig as the rain started coming down in sheets.

  “It’s okay, girl,” Isabelle said, patting her neck in an effort to calm her nerves.

  The sky had gone from gray to black and Isabelle struggled to see clearly through the dark and the rain. A low rumble in the distance drove home the need to get back and do it quickly. Turning Chantal toward home, she encouraged the tired mare into a trot, which was as fast as she could safely go in this weather.

  Even though she was tired, Chantal responded and quickened her pace as she sensed home. With the darkness and the blinding rain, Isabelle lost her sense of direction and questioned if she was going the right way. Her father had always taught her when lost to loosen the reins and the horse would take you home. Hearing him in her head, she began to slip the reins through her wet fingers when a deafening crack broke through the silence and a flash of light illuminated the dark sky. Chantal spooked to the left and Isabelle lost her balance. She shrieked and grasped at the new slack in the reins, but that only upset the startled mare more. With a shrill scream, Chantal reared up and Isabelle clutched at her mane in a futile attempt to regain her balance. The wet mane was too slippery and Isabelle plummeted to the ground.

  Struggling to catch her breath after having the wind knocked out of her, she lay on the ground and watched
her terrified mare gallop into the darkness. “Chantal!” she tried to yell but the pressure on her chest made it impossible to get the sound out.

  Laying on the drenched ground, gasping for breath, she felt a snake of fear slither up her spine. Disoriented and cold, the reality of her situation sank in and her need to get home quickly overshadowed her desire to get away from Auguste. After several minutes, her ability to inhale returned, and she pulled herself up to her feet. The fall left her slightly disoriented but a quick check told her that it was nothing more than a few bruises. Isabelle looked around and everything looked the same. When Chantal had reared, she’d spun around and now Isabelle had no idea in which direction to head. Struggling to keep her calm, she decided to try and find Chantal’s hoof prints hoping they would lead her home.

  After fifteen minutes of searching, Isabelle finally found hoof prints in the mud. She began in that direction, calling for Chantal, and stopping periodically to move the leaves and try to find more prints. When the rain pelted her skin and another crack of lightning shot across the sky, she realized she needed to take shelter. She took cover under a juniper tree, clutching her body to quell its incessant shivering. The downpour drowned out the sound of her chattering teeth.

  After what felt like hours, she heard a cracking in the trees. Chantal? She must have come back. Isabelle climbed out from under the canopy of leaves and followed the sound toward a parting of the trees that opened into a field. The sound of rushing water piqued her interest, and she moved toward it, trying to determine if it was the stream she would recognize or just a rush of water from the rain. If it was the stream, she would be able to follow it most of the way home.

  “Chantal!” she called again as she emerged into the field. The loss of the shelter from the trees made the pouring rain seem worse and Isabelle squinted her eyes to keep from getting water in them.

  “Chantal!” she shouted while she picked her way through the field. When she saw the stream cutting across it, she let out a deep breath and for the first time since being unseated, knew what direction she needed to go. As she approached the water’s edge, she saw movement up ahead and hurried toward it, calling Chantal’s name. But when she drew closer, the shape became clear, and she stuttered to a fearful stop. It wasn’t her horse up ahead. It was a soldier. Anxious to take cover, she crouched down in the grass. It must be one of the deserters her father had warned her about. Her pulse quickened when she thought about all the stories she’d heard of these once honorable men turned monsters from the horrors of war.

  Staying low in the grass, she crawled away toward the shelter of the woods. Reciting prayers in her head, she slid through the wet grass hoping he hadn’t seen her or heard her calling through the storm.

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

  Isabelle froze. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. Attempting to scramble to her feet, she wanted to bolt to the woods. As she pushed off to run, he caught her by the ankle and her body slammed back down into the mud. Screaming, she clawed at the grass and struggled to free her ankle, but the soldier had a good grip on it and only laughed as she kicked out at him and tried to pull her leg away.

  “Feisty one, ain’t ya?” he said with a laugh. “Pretty one, too. Now, now, don’t struggle. It’s always worse if you struggle.”

  Isabelle turned onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, trying again to free her foot and back-pedal away. For the first time she saw him clearly. Standing above her was a French soldier who looked haggard and worn. Cold, hollow eyes moved from her face to her breasts barely hidden under her soaking wet dress.

  “Please, don’t hurt me. I got lost in the rain and I lost my horse. Please don’t hurt me. Please,” Isabelle begged.

  “Oh, no need to worry, little lady. I’m not going to hurt you.” The man flashed a dark smile at her that showed several missing teeth. “In fact, I’m going to do the opposite.”

  Isabelle’s eyes widened as she tried one last time to get up and run. The man caught her by the leg again and this time she was able to kick him squarely in the thigh, only missing his groin by several inches. His eyes flashed white with anger as he grabbed her foot and dragged her backward.

  “Kick me? Looks like I need to teach you a little lesson!”

  Isabelle screamed as the man grabbed her other foot. She fought with everything in her to get away but his superior strength overcame her struggles. He dragged her another ten feet and she felt the rocks and mud tearing at her clothing. When he finally stopped, she squinted through the driving rain to see him smiling down at her, holding both her ankles firmly. Squirming and kicking, she freed one of her legs, but with his now-free hand, he reached for his pistol. Dropping her other leg, he pointed it directly at her.

  “Move again and you’ll get a bullet in the head,” he said, his dark eyes moving up and down over her soaking dress.

  Tears burned down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops, while fear like she’d never known coursed through her veins. Knowing she was no match for his gun, she decided it was better to survive. Closing her eyes tight, she prepared for what was to come.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had me a woman,” he snarled, and the words made her cringe.

  “And you’ll never have one again.” A deep voice cut through the storm. Isabelle’s eyes shot open, and she saw a man towering behind the soldier. Auguste. His blue eyes were ablaze with a ferocity as if the storm had trapped its lightning within them.

  “What the hell?” the soldier yelled, spinning around with his gun. Auguste zigzagged like lightning. He sidestepped past the soldier, and like the strike of a snake, his fist smacked the man in the back of the head. The force of it sent the soldier falling forward, and he stumbled as he tried to regain his balance. Giving him no time to find his footing, Auguste attacked. A powerful kick to the back sent the soldier crumbling to his knees.

  The soldier rolled over, pointing his gun, trying to find his target, but Auguste’s supreme speed eluded the desperate man’s feeble attempts. Auguste kicked the gun from the soldier’s hands and Isabelle watched it land in the stream and sink below the rushing water. After struggling to his feet, the soldier took a wild swing trying to connect to Auguste, but he dodged it with ease and landed three blows to the man’s face before he’d finished his own swing. Isabelle was in awe of how he moved with the ferocity and power of a lion. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had delicately twirled her around the dance floor only last night. His eyes were on fire with a rage that rivaled the ferocious storm coming down around them.

  Auguste spun around behind the soldier and his muscular arms squeezed a path around the man’s neck. While she stared into the soldier’s wide eyes, his face turned the color of her mother’s prized red roses. Thrashing his arms about, he fought to gain his breath, clawing and pounding on Auguste’s unyielding forearms that bulged with the force of his exertion. Unable to look away, Isabelle watched him succumb, giving up the fight while the life drained from his eyes. A loud snap made her jump and the man’s arms dropped to his sides. The last of the life in his eyes disappeared and Isabelle watched his body drop to the ground in a heap when Auguste released his grip.

  Auguste stood in the pouring rain with his chest heaving while he stared down at the body. His gaze slowly moved up until it settled on her own. The rage that was there before vanished in an instant, and once again the same blue eyes she’d stared at on the dance floor looked back at her.

  “Auguste,” she breathed, her voice cracking as she started to sob. Climbing to her feet, she looked at the dead body and it felt like the ground beneath her started to move.

  “Isabelle!” he shouted, leaping toward her and catching her in his arms as she collapsed. Blinking hard, she looked up and saw his magnetic blue eyes looking down on her as she drifted off into the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  HOLDING HER IN HIS arms, he swiped a hand across her face, pushing a piece of wet hair from
her eyes. Her cold, clammy skin was freezing to the touch from the icy cold rain and the relentless wind. A shiver moved through her body and he pulled her tight to his chest. Between the harrowing experience and the elements, she was going into shock. There was no way he would get her home in this condition when they were still an hour of hard riding away. Survival instincts and training made shelter his top priority. Thinking hard on his next course of action, he remembered seeing a cabin on his ride through the woods while he searched for her. It was not far from here and offered his best chance at getting her safe and dry.

  Auguste whistled and called out for Beau. Knowing the rain and thunder would drown out his voice, he didn’t wait for the horse to appear. Holding her tight in his arms, he pushed through the rain, continuing to whistle for Beau until he saw the silhouette of his soaking horse come trotting from the woods. Auguste smiled, calling the horse’s name and Beau came running up, sliding to a stop beside him.

  “Good boy,” he said, grateful for his loyal mount. Beau stood immobile while he slid her body over the front of the saddle and climbed up behind her. Lifting her gently, he pulled her into his lap and her head fell limp on his shoulder.

  Auguste pushed Beau forward and he cantered into the woods. His heart still hammered just as hard as it had when he’d seen Chantal galloping back alone. When Isabelle had been gone too long, he’d gone out to search for her and had passed the terrified mare racing back in the storm. It had taken all of his tracking skills to find her and when he’d seen her in the grips of that man... his lip curled in a snarl, remembering the rage that had ripped through him seeing her in harm’s way. The fear in her eyes had sent a surge through his body like he had never felt before. He’d been in many battles, but none had lit a fire inside of him that burned hotter than seeing her in danger. It had raged so intensely he’d worried the soldier would feel the heat coming off him as he’d crept up behind him.