by Cate Dean
“Nine months.”
“Can you fire a weapon?”
“If I have to.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not supposed to.”
She frowned. “You should have been sent home.”
“I’m stubborn.” That much was true. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Wild horses, men attempting to ride them?”
He stared at her. “On the nose.”
“I have a fondness for things American, much to my mother’s horror.”
Nick laughed, and immediately regretted it. “God, that hurt.”
“All right.” Victoria checked Will one last time, then stood and moved to Nick. “Let’s get you to Administration.”
A TALL, POWERFUL man stood when Nick and Victoria walked into the building.
“Sister?”
“Major Philips, meet your new orderly.”
He raised his eyebrow, studied Nick. “I am not expecting a new orderly.”
Victoria pulled the folded paper out of her apron pocket and handed it over. “His orders.”
Philips scanned the paper. “Captain Nick Saunders. High rank for an orderly. I received no word of your arrival. Not that I can’t use you, because we are desperate for help.” He moved around the small, scarred wood desk and sat. “I am Tom Philips, and as of two days ago, the man in charge of this hospital.”
Victoria jerked, and Nick looked down at her. “What happened?”
She shook her head. Philips answered him, his voice low and exhausted.
“There was a fly by attack, at the edge of the hospital grounds. We lost three doctors, two nurses, and five orderlies. It has been devastating, and not only for the loss of life.” Philips rubbed his forehead, and Nick caught the grief in his eyes before he managed to bury it. “The bloody Germans have been pushing hard, and we’ve been overrun because of it. There is still one patient missing, a young private from the 43rd Field Ambulance.”
“Damn.” Nick hid his surprise. “I’m sorry.”
The missing patient had to be Kit. Nick had arrived just two days after Kit was yanked by the curse. He had a feeling it wasn’t coincidence.
Philips scrubbed at his face and leaned back in the chair, his shoulders slumped. “We were not the first to be hit. Several hospitals closer to the front were also attacked. It seems to be a new German tactic. Just a guess, but it doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.” With a sigh, he stood, and held out his hand. “Expected or not, you are welcome.” He looked at Victoria. “You can take him to Cooper’s quarters.”
She nodded, pale but composed. “Yes, Major.”
“Dismissed.” He bent over the papers on his desk.
Victoria took Nick’s left arm and led him out of the building. “You will be in the doctor’s quarters. I’m afraid you will be sharing with Major Reed.”
“The pompous ass?”
She stifled a laugh. “Yes. If you are very fortunate, you will not see him often. He is something of a tyrant in the wards, but he is the best doctor I’ve ever worked with, which is why I put up with his tantrums.” She stopped in front of a small hut. “Here we are.”
They entered the hut, and Nick didn’t even have time to look around before she pulled him toward a bed and grabbed a small folding stool to sit next to him.
“Time to clean that head wound. I am going to apologize in advance for any pain.”
He smiled. “Apology accepted.”
She touched his temple and he gripped the edge of the bed as fire ignited under her fingers. He must have landed harder than he thought.
“This is recent, Nick. What did you do to yourself?”
“I don’t remember,” he whispered. That much was true. He remembered nothing after the burn of the chain as it touched his skin. Not until he woke in the middle of a hospital camp. He did recognize the uniforms he saw in the med hut, and mention of a missing patient had confirmed his suspicions. Kit’s pendant had chosen him, and sent him to 1918. The last year of World War I. “All I need is some sleep.”
“I am going to clean that wound first.” She stood, moving to a small nightstand, and came back with a bowl of water, pulling a roll of bandage out of her apron pocket. “Forgive me for any pain I may cause.”
She cupped his chin with her free hand—and he understood why a second later when she laid the bandage on his open wound.
Fire roared across his skin at contact. He fought the need to jerk away from her as she thoroughly cleaned the wound. He’d learned enough from Rachel to know what it had been like here, with trench warfare and the unexpected, horrifying cost of being wounded.
Surrounded by the rich French mud, even a small cut was quickly infected. The men were often so far away from the nearest source of treatment, they’d die from the infection long before the wound could kill them.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice soft. Her free hand gently rubbed Nick’s right arm, a soothing, and unfortunately, an arousing touch. He hoped the blanket she’d laid over him was thick enough to keep her from seeing just how arousing. “I will scrounge a meal for you, and then I want you to sleep.”
“Stay with me.” The pain was already subsiding, and exhaustion quickly took its place.
“A tempting invitation, my handsome captain.” She brushed the overlong bangs off his forehead, and laid her fingers on his cheek. “You’re a bit feverish, which I do not like. I am going to check your shoulder.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could touch him. “The wounds are older. You don’t need to—”
“Nick.” She closed her hand over his. “Any disability you may have is not you.” His heart pounded faster as she spoke his fears out loud. “What happened to you is the fault of the enemy. You won, because you survived it.” She leaned in, her breath warm on his cheek. “You survived it. Now, please, let me help you.”
No one had ever been so direct with him about his injuries, not even at the VA hospital. This woman understood, in a way they never could, just how much of a victory surviving was.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” She pulled a pair of scissors out of the pocket of her apron and carefully cut away the remains of his t-shirt sleeve. Mud was already drying on his skin, and she frowned as she cleaned it off the scars—this time with cool water. “You should have been sent home, Nick.” She sighed, and kept cleaning. “Let me guess—you were needed, and as long as you were able to stand upright, hold a weapon, you were well enough to fight.”
“Are things that desperate?”
“Only a wound affecting their medical status will keep them out of the fighting.” She looked at him, and the pain clouding her clear blue eyes made him want to take her in his arms. “Boys, fighting a man’s war. We have lost so many, Nick. It breaks my heart when they pass through here, and recover enough to return to the fighting. I want to ship them off home in the night, before they can be taken away.”
He closed his hand around hers, not surprised that her fingers were cold, and shaking. “I’m not going anywhere, not until I can stand up without fear of falling on my face.” She managed a smile at his words. “Why don’t you go home?”
For the first time, tears blurred her eyes. “I have nothing to return home for, not with my Richard—” She cut herself off, and took a deep breath. “Forgive me. I am tired, and my professional demeanor slipped a bit.”
“No need to apologize for being human, Victoria. It’s usually the first thing we lose in war. Don’t be ashamed that you still feel.”
She eased her hand out of his and wiped at her eyes. “Let me finish cleaning you up, then you can have some much-needed rest.”
Nick relaxed under her touch, the experience of being shoved through time finally catching up with him. Sleep sounded like a fantastic idea. He could assess the situation once his head was clear. For now, he was in as safe a place as he could be under the circumstances.
Victoria wrapped his shoulder in fresh bandage, as a precaution, then produced a clean button-down shirt.
“From the former resident. He has an entire wardrobe here, and you are close in size. Since Major Philips had no notice of your arrival, and you have none of your belongings with you, please feel free to use his clothing.” She swallowed, and he watched her fight back tears. “Lieutenant Cooper had no family, so there is no one to send it to.”
“I’m so sorry, Victoria.”
She let out a sigh, and wiped her eyes. “It was senseless, Nick. Why would they target hospitals?”
“To destroy morale. Hit you where it would wound deepest.”
“It is working.” She looked at him, and the despair he had a feeling she fought on a daily basis clouded her eyes. “When will this end?” Nick wanted to tell her that it was soon—wanted to help ease some of the pain on her face. “I hardly expect an answer, Nick. Forgive me for losing control.”
He caught her hand before she could stand. “Never apologize for caring, beautiful.” She nodded, her throat working. Nick let her go, watched her fold the shirt and set it on the small table next to the bed. “I’ll be happy to have something to change into once I’ve had some sleep.”
She stood, smoothing her bloodstained apron and skirt. “I will return with some food. Stay put.”
Nick watched her walk out of the hut, and finally relaxed once she was out of sight. The first thing he did was remove his dog tags, tucking them in the pocket of his loose, muddy trousers. If anyone saw them, he’d be hard pressed to explain who he was, and how he really got here.
Six
VICTORIA BELHAM WALKED on the duck board that made up raised passages across the thick, sucking mud, headed for the administration hut. She would remember a man like Nick arriving in camp—especially an American.
He was so different from her Richard, tall and muscled where Richard had been shorter than she was, and lean. Her husband had been a runner before the war, and a barrister. His skills in a court had done him little good on the battlefield. She had to assume that his running skills had been more useful; she would never know, since she had never seen him after he marched off for France.
His death so early in the war had prompted her to join the Territorial Force Nursing Service. As a professional nurse, she felt it was her duty to offer her services to the soldiers coming home, wounded in body and spirit.
But she had wanted to do more, so she signed up for a transfer to one of the hospitals here in France.
She had needed to be here, to be where Richard had sacrificed his life, and her heart. The horror that had greeted her was beyond any she could have imagined. Three years had left her numb to a good deal of the suffering, but she still cared, too deeply, for every man she treated.
She prayed for those who were sent home, damaged by a war that had taken far more than they had expected to give. She mourned those who were sent back to the front, to face more of the terror and deprivation they thought they had escaped.
With a choked sob, she stumbled around to the back of the closest hut, pressing her fist against her mouth to muffle her crying. Too many hours awake, too much death. Perhaps it was time to leave—
“Sister Belham!” The high-pitched, panicked shout had her wiping her eyes and stepping out to the main part of the camp. The newest VAD, Katherine Sykes, stumbled along the boardwalk, her face whiter than her cap. She spotted Victoria and veered to her. “Oh, Sister—there’s another one—in the second ward—”
Victoria caught her outflung arm and steadied her. “Slow down, Katherine, take a breath. Then tell me what’s happened.”
“Another soldier, murdered! Just like the other two.”
Fear squeezed Victoria’s heart. She forced herself to calm before she spoke again. “You are certain? There was no wound that may have killed him?”
“A fresh knife wound, to his heart.”
“All right.” Victoria gathered her into a tight embrace, aware that the girl was terrified. Katherine had been so brave since she first arrived, despite her shock at the appalling conditions. Beyond her, Victoria saw Nick step out of the doctor’s hut, wearing Cooper’s shirt. He had also donned a pair of wool dress trousers, which made his heavy boots look as out of place as a tea hat on a cow. “Go and find Major Reed. I will meet you in the hut. Who was it, Katherine?”
“The leg amputation from yesterday.”
“Corporal Logan.” Victoria said a silent prayer for the boy, then gently pushed Katherine forward. “Go on. I will join you.”
Katherine moved as quickly as she could over the unstable path, pausing to stare at Nick before she passed him. He bowed to her, then waited until she was out of sight before he approached Victoria.
“What’s going on?” His deep, warm voice surrounded her. She wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, feel safe, if only for a short time.
Instead, she straightened her shoulders, clasping her hands in front of her to keep from reaching for him.
“One of the patients has been murdered.” Nick’s eyes widened. “He is the third in the past week. If he is like the others, the murderer sliced open the femoral artery on his leg, then a knife wound to the heart. He would have bled out quickly.”
“The young nurse said he was an amputee.” He joined her as she headed for the med hut. “What about the other victims?”
“All of them.” Victoria stared up at him. “The opened femoral was on their amputated leg. What made you think—”
He waved off her question. “I enjoy reading mysteries.” There was much more to him than that; she was certain of it. “I’d like to go with you, examine him.”
“You will have to get past Major Reed.” She looked him up and down. “Though your stature alone may sway him.”
He gave her a brilliant, heart-stopping smile. “Are you saying I’m big and strong?”
She propped her hands on her hips. “I am saying, Captain, that you are taller than the Major. I am taller than the Major, so please, try not to give him a reason to lose his volatile temper when you ask.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her.
Victoria smiled, then shook her head at him and led the way to the second med hut. As they approached, she braced herself for what she would find inside. Nick stopped her outside the entrance.
“There’s no need for you to—”
“I am the nurse in charge now.” She cleared her throat. “Matron Penner was one of the victims of the attack. It is my duty to go in there, and take care of my patient.”
She moved past him and pushed open the door.
It looked as if half the camp was there, pushing against the soldiers attempting to keep them from the victim.
“Enough.” Victoria stalked forward and crossed her arms, staring down every man who dared meet her gaze. “You will not treat this poor man’s death like a circus sideshow. Now get out, all of you. Get. Out.”
She watched them tromp out, grumbling under their breath. Major Reed appeared, disheveled and angry. “Fools, acting like this was a circus.”
“They were curious, and most likely scared. I am going to take a look at Corporal Logan.” He gave her a blank look. “The victim.”
“Fine.” He snapped out the word.
She turned away from him before she started lecturing—again—about keeping the patients human, rather than the numbers he enjoyed assigning to them. She did not want to know Corporal Jonathon Logan’s number.
He lay in his bunk, his face finally eased of the pain that had dogged him since he was brought into camp. There was little blood around the wound to his chest, which meant he was like the others—the knife wound had been inflicted after he was dead. She carefully lifted the blanket. Blood saturated his stump, and the blanket tucked under it.
She closed her eyes. Just like the others.
Whoever did this knew anatomy, and knew how to kill cleanly. If he had not just appeared, she would have suspected Nick. He had an air of a man familiar with death. But the murders had begun almost a fortnight ago, which exonerated him.
&nbs
p; “May I?” Nick stood on the opposite side of the bed, waiting for permission.
Victoria nodded, and stood back to watch him. He carefully examined all of the Corporal’s wounds, ending with the most recent. He looked up at her, his green eyes dark with pain.
“Would he have survived?”
“He had a good chance,” she said. “The leg was amputated while he was strong enough to endure it. He was young, so young,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around her waist, cold at the sight of him, so still. “Sorry.” She took a shaky breath, and squared her shoulders. “I had him on the list of soldiers returning home.”
“I’m so sorry, Victoria.” He moved around the bed and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I know what it’s like to lose someone when you don’t expect to. It hurts like a bitch, and you never quite get over it. Sorry,” he flashed a pale version of his smile. “I haven’t spent much time in the company of women lately.”
“Some of these women swear like sailors.” His smile lightened her heart, eased some of the constant ache. “There will be no need to apologize from this point on.”
“Got it.” He studied Corporal Logan. “He didn’t suffer, but you probably already knew that. I’ve seen this before, Victoria, and it won’t end with him.” She swallowed, afraid of what he would say next. “You have an angel of death.”
NICK ESCORTED VICTORIA to her small hut, not wanting her to be alone with a murderer in the camp.
He also wanted to spend more time with her.
Serena had told him that the pendant would choose the woman, put her in his path. Since Victoria had been right there seconds after he arrived, he was going to assume she was the one. He desperately wanted her to be the one.
She was beautiful in a fresh, unspoiled way, smart, funny, and from what he could see of her figure under the layers of clothing, she had a stunning one. He wasn’t normally attracted to a woman like her, but she drew him in a way no other woman had, with her strength of character, and a heart that simply cared so much.
