No Greater Love

by Cate Dean

  “She’s been called worse. My aunt was a bitter woman, but she loved me, and gave me a home when I needed one. I won’t blame you for how you feel about her, but remember that she is the one who sent me.” The men muttered, some of them nodding. “She wanted to make amends, but like everything else, she’s doing it her way.”

  “Then get on with it, lass. Tell us what our punishment is to be.”

  Serena took a deep breath, and read directly from the instructions. “The pendant will choose the wearer, taking them back to the time it came from. Once they arrive, they will have seven days for the woman of the pendant’s choosing to fall in love with them.”

  She had to stop when shouting echoed through the cavern.

  They finally calmed down, enough for her to continue.

  “If they are able to accomplish this, the pendant will return to this place, and they will be free, to live their lives. If they are not, the pendant will drag them back, and be bound here for all eternity.” She lifted her head, and forced herself to look at every man. They had already suffered, no matter their reason for being here. Trust Addie to put them through another trial by fire before she let them go.

  Aiden shocked her by nodding, no anger in his eyes. “She’ll be giving us a fair chance to earn our freedom, then.”

  “Hardly fair,” Robert said. He was angry, his jaw muscle working as he obviously struggled to stay calm. “We’ll be going back to God only knows what time, and we have to get a strange woman to fall in love with us in a week? We’re already set to fail, before we even begin.”

  “Maybe.” Nick laid his left hand on Robert’s shoulder. “But it’s more of a chance than we had before Serena arrived. I’m willing to take it.” He turned to her. “How do we start this?”

  She scanned the new instructions. “It says that every man has to agree. Then the first pendant will choose, and send the wearer to its time.” When she looked up, she saw most of them nodding. “Knowing Addie, she’d want a verbal agreement.”

  Multiple shouts of “Yes” and “Aye” filled the air, with no hesitation. Serena clutched the papers, relieved at their easy acceptance. It may change, but for now, she could send the first man out, and pray for his success.

  Nick stepped to her, his hand warm on her shoulder. “It’s time to do this, gorgeous.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath, and found the simple incantation to unlock the pendants.

  “With these words, I beseech,

  open to me, so I may reach.

  North to South, East to West,

  help me give these men their test.

  Agreement is given, the time is at hand,

  arise, and send each man to the chosen land.”

  The emerald in Serena’s pendant glowed, hot against her skin, even through the thick cotton of her dress. She gasped, grabbing the chain to lift it away from her chest.

  “No,” she said when Nick reached for her. “I don’t know what—might happen.” The heat faded, the glow in the emerald dimming from eye-aching to simply bright. It also lost the milky, shifting smoke, and winked at her, a clear and rich green. “I think—it might have worked.”

  She looked over at the ledge. One of the pendants slowly untangled itself, the silver chain shimmering in the light coming off the wall behind it. Serena didn’t need to ask who had been chosen—with a pained gasp, Nick dropped to his knees.

  “God—” He clutched his right arm, and his pain drove through her.

  She watched the pendant snake through the air, the chain opening to slide over his head. The second the pendant touched his chest, he let out a raw scream and disappeared.

  Five

  NICK LANDED ON the hard surface right side first, leading with his shoulder.

  He swallowed the scream in his throat as pain roared down his arm. With a groan, he used his left hand to push himself to his back, and stared up at a grey sky that promised rain. What little he had seen of his surroundings didn’t look familiar, but he knew the smell in the air intimately.

  It was the smell of death.

  “What are you doing out of your bed?”

  He lifted his head, and saw a vision in grey headed for him. A long white cloth covered most of her hair, but what did show, along with her blonde eyebrows, told him her hair color.

  “I don’t think—”

  Orders in your pocket.

  He flinched at the voice echoing in his head—a voice he’d know anywhere. Adriana managed to reach out even when she was dead. “Orders,” he whispered, his raw, rasping voice barely audible. “In my pocket.”

  “You’re an American?”

  He cleared his throat, hoping it would help. “Last time I checked.”

  She smiled, and crouched next to him. “May I see these orders?”

  Nick reached in his right pocket, cursing Adriana under his breath. Of course she’d put them on his weak side. His fingers shook as he handed them over.

  Her smile faded, and she studied his right arm. Nick glanced down; his t-shirt had torn when he landed, revealing the red, ugly scars left by the shrapnel. “I will also take a closer look at your shoulder.” She looked at the paper in her hand. “Captain.”

  He blinked up at her. “Thanks.”

  Her arm slipped around his waist, and with surprising strength, she pulled him to his feet, holding on when he swayed. She was tall, just a couple of inches shorter than his own six feet.

  “Steady?” He nodded, and took advantage of her support by leaning into her. “Move slowly, Captain, and point the way to your hut.”

  “Sorry, beautiful. I don’t know. Just got here.” Literally.

  “Not unusual. This is a large and often confusing setup. My name is Victoria Belham. You may call me Victoria.”

  He stared at her, surprised. His former girlfriend, Rachel, had been a history teacher. If he was where he suspected, based on what he could see, he knew something about the society conventions.

  “Isn’t that a little familiar?”

  “Absolutely. But I have been here too long, and have seen too much, to suffer ridiculous formalities. If it makes you uncomfortable, then you may call me Sister Belham.”

  Panic shot through him. Her head covering did look like a veil—the kind he saw on nuns in his time. “You’re not—a nun?”

  Her laughter sent a different kind of panic through him. “A nurse, Captain. I forget that you have different titles in the States.” She moved forward, keeping a tight grip on him. “Straight ahead, now. We’ll get you sorted.”

  “Nick—since we’re ignoring the formalities.”

  She flashed him that brilliant smile again. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Nick.”

  “So, where exactly is here?”

  A frown marred her smooth forehead. “You really did take a blow to the head, didn’t you?” She reached up and touched his right temple. Nick hissed in pain at the contact, not surprised when her fingers came away bloody. No wonder his head hurt like a bitch. “I will take you to administration first, then we can find out which hut you were assigned.”

  “I don’t remember checking in with...” He couldn’t even fake his lack of knowledge on this one.

  “Captain Philips.”

  “Right.”

  “We will take care of that, as well. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  He proved it by managing to stay on his feet as they walked along the raised boardwalk. A woman in the same uniform ran up to Victoria.

  “Sister Belham—Major Reed is asking for you, in Ward One.”

  “Thank you, Lilian.” The young nurse crossed her arms, and Victoria sighed. “Sister Wood.”

  “Now that you are in charge, Sister, you need to—”

  “Keep Matron’s professional standards.” Pain edged her quiet voice, and the young nurse blinked back tears. “Thank you for the reminder. We will follow behind you.”

  Sister Wood gave Nick a long, appraising look before she turned around and headed down the un
stable boardwalk.

  Victoria bit back a smile. “Get used to the attention, especially from the younger nurses.” She looked up at Nick. “It looks as if we are taking a short detour. Will you be all right?”

  “Lead on.”

  She guided him to a huge mud-splattered wood building, and his knees decided to give up on him just after they stepped inside.

  “I have you, Nick.” Victoria lowered him to a wooden stool near the door. “Wait here.”

  He watched her maneuver through the hut. The smell of rot and death choked the air, and he could tell which of the men writhing and moaning on the bloody beds were close to it.

  A young soldier arched off the bed next to him. Nick grabbed his shoulder, helped him settle back to the bed. Blood stained the bandage wrapped around his chest.

  “You’re going to be okay, soldier.”

  “Can’t—breathe—” His fingers dug into Nick’s right arm. Nick ignored the pain, cradled the boy’s face with his left hand. “Please—”

  “Slow, shallow breaths, boy.” He was hyperventilating, and Nick needed to get him calm. “What’s your name?”

  “Private—Will Copeland.”

  “Hope you don’t mind if I shorten that to Will. Eyes on me, Will. Focus on me, and breathe.”

  “Yank,” he whispered.”

  “Nothing gets past you Brits.” Will choked out a laugh, and started coughing. “Sorry. Slowly, Will. You’ve got this.”

  Will’s grip on his arm eased, and his breathing became less frantic. Out of habit, Nick started to examine him. The wounds under his bandage were clean, and less severe than he’d expected.

  He laid his hand on Will’s right leg, and the boy moaned. Dread shot through Nick.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “Yes, sir.” Will swallowed. “Back of my leg, on the calf. I remember scraping it against something during the last rush, before I—was injured.”

  “He is downplaying what happened.” Victoria appeared at Nick’s side. “Our Will dragged several of his fellow soldiers to safety, only stopping when he was hit by stray shrapnel. What have you found?”

  “His right leg. It hurt him when I touched it, and he said he might have cut it.”

  “On the battlefield?” Her voice sounded tense. When Will nodded, she moved to his right side and gently lifted his leg off the bed. Blood stained the sheet, and an ugly stench that Nick had never experienced before stung his nose. Will sucked in his breath, gripping the edge of the bed. “Sister Wood.” The nurse who had stopped Victoria outside hustled over to the bed. “I need some solution and one of the doctors. We have a septic wound.”

  “Right away, Sister Belham.”

  “Forgive me for missing this, Will.” Her quiet voice barely rose above the noise around him, but Nick heard it, and the pain that edged it. “I will take care of it myself.”

  “Not your fault, Sister.” Sweat slid down his face, and Nick could tell he was fighting back the need to scream. Nick knew the signs. “You were not even the nurse checking us. I wasn’t so lucky. And so many men came in with me—I forgot about my leg, what with my—chest wound, and all.”

  She smiled, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with the corner of her apron. “We should have looked beyond the obvious wound. Nick, can you help remove his sock? I want to keep his leg off the bed.”

  “Yeah.” He knelt next to her and rolled the sock off, appalled by the condition of his foot. “Damn—sorry. I wasn’t expecting—ˮ

  “Trench foot. It’s not as common as it was at the start of the war, but it still happens. Will was fortunate—he had a mild case, and it is healing up nicely.”

  “All the rain,” Will whispered. “And our pump gave out. Dry socks have been a gift.”

  “I bet. Nothing worse than cold, wet socks.” Nick lowered his voice when he asked his next question. “Is that smell what I’m afraid it is?”

  “Sepsis. It happens so fast, and even a small wound can quickly turn septic.” She held up her left hand, and Nick frowned when he saw the ugly scars on her index finger. “These started as small nicks. My hand swelled so badly the doctors were afraid I might lose it. I spent nearly three months in a convalescing hospital.”

  “Is it that common?”

  She nodded. “Enough that doctors rushed to create methods to treat it.”

  Sister Wood came back, a young, exhausted man following her.

  “What’s this I hear about sepsis in my recovery ward?”

  Victoria looked up at him, her face set, her voice cold. “It was discovered by our new orderly, Major Reed.”

  His nostrils flared, and he stomped around the bed. “Out of the way.”

  Victoria looked like she wanted to smack him. “I will not. He has already suffered enough, because his wound was not found in the initial examination.”

  The doctor turned red. Nick assumed he was a doctor, since he was pompous enough to qualify. “Are you—do you dare accuse me of negligence?”

  “I am stating the obvious. Sir. Sister Wood, bring the bucket over here. I will need your assistance.”

  “Of course, Sister Belham.” She kept glancing at the fuming doctor as she hauled the heavy, steaming bucket around to their side of the bed. Nick stood to help her, but she waved him off. “This is lighter than the milk buckets I used to carry around at home. If you could move him for us while we work, that would be help I am happy to accept.”

  “You got it.”

  Victoria pulled off her stained white oversleeves, then rolled up the sleeves of her uniform, taking the scissors from Sister Wood.

  She cut away Will’s pajama leg, revealing his calf. She didn’t show any reaction, but he could tell by her clenched jaw, and how quickly she worked, that she was worried by what she saw.

  Will’s leg was dark and swollen—so swollen Nick expected his skin to split.

  “Nick.” Victoria’s voice jerked him away from Will’s leg. “Can you help him sit? I need to soak his leg.”

  “Yeah.” He stood, and moved to the other side of the bed, passing the doctor. The man’s bluster died the second he saw Will’s leg, and he took Nick’s place next to Victoria, as focused as she as on saving the boy’s leg. He was just a boy, not much older than eighteen. Nick shoved down his anger and slid his right arm under Will’s shoulders. “Ready to sit?”

  Will nodded, his jaw clenched. Nick ignored the pain in his shoulder and lifted the boy, easing him around so his legs hung off the side of the bed. This time Will did scream, reaching for his leg.

  “Nick.” Victoria snapped his name.

  He knew without her asking what she needed. Wrapping his strong left arm around Will, he held the boy in place while they soaked his leg, cleaned out his wound. Nick had a feeling it was too late, but he prayed for the happy ending.

  Three buckets later, the doctor nodded, and dried and bandaged Will’s leg himself. “I’ll have him moved to the other ward, so I can keep a close eye on him. I’ll be assuming you want to follow through, Sister Belham.”

  She met his eyes. “I do, Major Reed.”

  “He’ll not be a special, unless he takes a turn, but I’ll give you leave to tend him when you see fit.”

  Before Victoria could say anything else, he stomped off.

  “Pompous ass,” she muttered.

  Nick swallowed a laugh, and helped her and Sister Wood lower Will to the bed. Once the boy was settled, she leaned over him, laying her hand on his forehead.

  “We will be moving you soon. I am going to do everything I can for your leg, Will, but I need you to know—ˮ

  “I may lose it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I know, Sister. Thank you, for all you do. We appreciate having you here, when things get dicey out there.”

  “You are the reason I am here.” She brushed sweat soaked hair off his forehead and kissed his cheek. “Rest now.”

  Nick waited until Sister Wood left, then moved to Victoria’s side. Close up, he saw her fighting to control her emotions.
“Why don’t we go outside? You look like you can use some fresh air.”

  “I should stay with—ˮ

  “He’s already asleep.”

  She glanced down, and let out a ragged sigh. “He is so brave. They all are, even after all this time.” She lowered her head, and he finally heard the tears in her voice when she spoke again. “I hate this damned war.”

  “Come on.” He laid his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the building, not stopping until they were in a semi-private spot. “It’s okay to let go. I won’t judge you.”

  Instead of crying, she took a few deep breaths, her hands twisting together. After seeing the ugly scars, Nick knew that must be hurting her. He laid his hand over hers, and she lifted her head.

  Tears spiked her lashes, and she looked so vulnerable he wanted to take her into his arms.

  “You are quite good at this,” she said.

  “What—flirting at inappropriate times?”

  Her laughter sent heat through him. He’d wanted to lighten the mood, but he didn’t expect to be so attracted by a simple laugh, to crave one of her smiles. They’d just met, and he normally didn’t do anything but lust at first sight.

  That hadn’t worked so well for him.

  “Will is one of the lucky who come through here.” Her voice yanked him back to the moment. “He made it here early, before bacteria set in his wounds. Hopefully, you found the wound in his leg in time for him to recover.” She didn’t sound optimistic.

  “So, he’ll make it?”

  “I will do all I can be make certain he does.” She sounded so fierce. He found himself liking that side of her—the mama bear protecting her cubs. In this case, the boys in her charge. She studied Nick, her clear blue eyes so open, so trusting. God, she was beautiful, even with blood and dirt on her cheek. She obviously cared about the men she treated. What Nick had witnessed was proof of just how much. That care showed in every touch, every smile. “What are you thinking, Nick?”

  He could hardly tell her what he was really thinking, so he lied. Again. “That I really should be vertical for a while. My head is pounding.”

  She cursed under her breath, and Nick bit back a smile. “Forgive me. We were sidetracked, and you should already be in a bed. I will take you to Major Philips right now, then I want to examine your shoulder, before you retire. How old is it?”