No Greater Love

by Cate Dean

  She turned to him, smiling. There was an edge of sadness to it that he wanted to kiss away.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I hardly needed the escort, since I am not in danger of dying anytime soon, but I do appreciate your gallant gesture.”

  Nick indulged his need to touch her and took her left hand, bending over to kiss her knuckles. Her skin was rough, more scars marking them. Nursing the wounded soldiers was more dangerous than he would have thought. He lifted his head and smiled at her. “I am here all week, milady.”

  This time her laughter was full and carefree. “I do like you, Nick, despite myself.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  She sobered, too fast for it to be good. “It is not what you did, but what you are. I swore after Richard that I would never fall for a soldier again.” She turned away from him, but he could hear the tears in her voice. “Please, keep your distance, Captain. I am already becoming attached, and I will not allow that to happen.”

  Before he could say anything, she pushed the door open and closed it between them.

  Nick stared at the door, his heart pounding. “Damn it.”

  “I’ve had the same reaction to Mrs. Belham.” The amused voice spun Nick. His right hand went to his waist, and a pistol that was no longer there. When he realized what he was doing, he lowered his hand. Major Philips raised one eyebrow, and Nick swore under his breath. The man had clearly noticed. “I hope you’re settling in, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I was hoping I could talk you into a consultation. I know we’ve only recently met, but I am a quick judge of men. You strike me as a man who has spent most of his career as a leader.”

  Nick ran his left hand through his hair. “A good judge as well. Since sleep doesn’t seem to want me, I might as well keep busy. Lead on, Major.”

  NICK SPENT AN hour going over troop movements, their relation to the camp, and how to keep the wounded and staff safe in the event of another attack. One Philips expected sooner rather than later.

  It shocked him to see just how close they were to the fighting. Now he understood why the Germans would go after hospitals—an easy target, and close enough to make sense.

  His head pounded by the time he sat back, his stomach finally wanting food. However long he’d spent in that limbo hell where Adriana had thrown him, it had screwed up his system. Now that he was back in the real world, his body’s needs came roaring back to life.

  Philips raised an eyebrow at his growling stomach. “Sounds like you need a break. At the very least, I can feed you in exchange for your advice.”

  “Deal.” Nick used the camp table to help himself stand—and nearly pitched forward when the world turned sideways.

  “Whoa, old man. I’ve got you, now.” Philips caught him around the waist and lowered him to the chair. “I’m going to fetch one of the doctors. No.” He held up his hand when Nick started to protest. “You are whiter than your shirt. I’ve a feeling it’s more from the need for food than anything else.” He flashed a smile, one that faded quickly. “But I’ll not lose another man on my watch. Stay put.”

  Nick lowered his head after Philips stepped out of the office. His fingers brushed across the wound on his temple, and came away bloody. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, then dragged after it. How much of it was his abrupt and painful trip here, and how much was because of his confinement, he’d probably never know.

  Whatever it took, he wasn’t going back to that endless void.

  The silver chain winked at him, and he pulled out the pendant. It was cool, even after hours against his skin, the emerald dull and milky.

  “You would have to pick a woman who wants nothing to do with soldiers. Like having only seven days wasn’t enough of a challenge.”

  “Talking to yourself is the first symptom of madness.” Victoria stood in the doorway, a smile tugging at her full lips. “Or so I’m told. I tend to ignore that, since I talk to myself on a regular basis.” She moved to Nick’s side, setting the bowl in her hand on the table, her gaze on the pendant in his palm. “That is beautiful. May I?”

  He held it up to her, and she brushed her fingers over the emerald. Sparks flew off the stone, and she gasped, snatching her hand away.

  “Sorry.” He dropped the pendant and caught her wrist. “Did it hurt you?”

  “No. I was startled, nothing more.” She eased out of his grip. “I came to check on you. Major Philips sent me.”

  “Sorry. I know you didn’t want to—”

  “This is my job, Captain. Eat, while I take a look at your head.”

  He took her advice, picking up the bowl of soup that sat on the plate. It looked more like vegetables than beef, but it smelled heavenly. Nick realized he hadn’t smelled food—or anything beyond the dry, cool air of the cavern—for a very long time.

  Victoria bent over, her fingers gentle as she washed his wound. The delicate scent of roses surrounded him, almost smothered by the perpetual smell of mud and wet. It took all his control not to bury his face in her throat and take her scent in, feel her soft, smooth skin against his lips.

  God, he wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted a woman—and not just to love with his body. He wanted her in his life, in his heart. He’d never given his heart to anyone—not even Rachel, the woman who had sent him into the hell of Adriana’s curse.

  He not only broke her heart with his rage and self-pity, he destroyed what could have been a lifelong relationship. He had come back from Afghanistan damaged, and the first thing he did was push away the one person who didn’t care what had happened to him. All Rachel had wanted was him.

  Now it was his turn, to fall for a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

  Adriana must be laughing in her grave.

  “Nick?” Victoria’s soft voice snapped him out of the past. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat, and focused on the lukewarm stew.

  “You had such—regret in your eyes.”

  He sighed, and set the bowl on the table. “I have a past, Victoria. One I’m not proud of.”

  “We all have a past, Nick. It is what makes us interesting.”

  Her observation surprised him, and he smiled. “I do like you, Victoria Belham, despite you wanting nothing to do with me.”

  She bit her lip, and focused her gaze on his forehead. A blush colored her cheeks. “I spoke in haste, and out of a desire not to be hurt again.” After a long silence, she finally met his eyes. “My husband, Richard, died six months after the war started. I’d known him most of my life, and it was like losing half of my heart.” She swallowed, blinking back the tears that filled her eyes. “I had already been a volunteer nurse, but when I received the news of his death, I became a real nurse, and came here. I had to do something, help somehow.” He cradled her cheek when her lower lip trembled, and she fought for control of her voice. “It has been like trying to stop a flood. Pointless.”

  “Hey.” He brushed his thumb over the tears sliding down her cheek. “What you’re doing here means something, believe me. My nurse refused to let me give up when my shoulder was torn apart, and I couldn’t even move my arm. You being here for these men reminds them of why they’re fighting, and what they’re fighting for. You give them hope, Victoria, and that’s no small thing.”

  She closed her eyes, more tears sliding down her face. This time, Nick did give in to his need, and pulled her into his arms. She let out a choked sob, and wrapped her arms around his waist, her body shaking with the force of her tears.

  Nick had never been comfortable with a crying woman. But Victoria’s pain was something he understood, and her need to release some of it was something he could do for her, by just holding her, giving her comfort. It was time for someone else to give her some comfort.

  Once her tears slowed down, she tried to pull away. He just held on.

  “Not yet, beautiful. Take some time for yourself. You earned it.”

  “I cannot—no one
can see me like this,” she whispered.

  “Come on.” He pulled her to her feet and led her out of the tent. It was at the edge of the camp, and gave them a little distance from the constant activity around the med huts. “Where can I take you for privacy?”

  “My hut,” she whispered. “It is next to the vegetable garden.”

  “Okay.” He wiped her face, tilted her chin up until she met his eyes. “Put your arm around me. It’ll look like you’re taking me back to my quarters. Will you be okay to get back to your hut?” She nodded, and he could tell by her hitched breaths that she was fighting for control. “Let’s go.”

  She stood, slipping her arm around his waist. Nick lowered his head, leaning into her so she focused on supporting him. They stepped out of the tent, and Philips nearly ran into them.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Are you—”

  “Feeling a little dizzy. Sister Belham was kind enough to offer me a lift home.” Nick smiled, trying to make it look like a strain. He didn’t have to do much acting; he was wiped out, and what little soup he’d managed didn’t help him with the process of getting his strength back. “I’m going to get some sleep, and we can continue, if you want.”

  “I do want, Captain. Have a good rest.”

  He stepped aside and let them pass. Nick knew he was watching, so he played up his claim of dizzy, and held on to Victoria as she led him along the too-narrow boardwalk. She tightened her grip, her head down. He could feel her trembling against him, and wanted to tell her she was entitled to fall apart, after what she’d probably been through here.

  Instead, he vowed to stay with her, and hold her for as long as she’d let him.

  BY THE TIME they reached her small hut, after a wide detour, Victoria had recovered somewhat. She was mortified that she had broken down in front of a virtual stranger. But Nick seemed to accept her temporary loss of control, and being held by him had made her feel safer than she had in a very long time. He was dangerous to her sense of stability.

  She led him inside, and helped him sit in the single chair. She shared this hut with Katherine, who was on duty until tonight. They would have it to themselves for a few hours. That thought thrilled and terrified her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, staring at her mud-caked boots. “I did not mean to fall apart like that. I am sorry you had to be the one to—”

  “Victoria.” His deep, gentle voice had her heart pounding, hard and fast. “Look at me, beautiful.” She was hardly that, but the way he said it made her feel warm. Too warm. When she met his eyes, that warmth spiked to heat. “Don’t ever be sorry for feeling. This hell is bad enough, so don’t lose who you are inside it.”

  “Nick—I want to—” She cut herself off, twisting her hands together.

  “Say it, sweetheart. Whatever you want, just say it, and I’ll do my best to get it for you.”

  You. She wanted to scream it. I want you.

  Before she lost her nerve, she moved forward and kissed him.

  He stilled against her lips, and a fresh, new mortification set in—that she had mistaken his flirting for something else. She started to pull away.

  “No,” he whispered, and wrapped his left arm around her waist, hauling her up against his chest. “God, no. Don’t you go anywhere.”

  He captured her lips, kissing her with such passion, it left her lightheaded. Richard had never made her feel like this, hot and dizzy, weak, but powerful at the same time. She opened her mouth under his assault, and gasped as his tongue slid across hers, sensual and urgent.

  His low moan drove her need higher. She sat on his thigh, dug her fingers into his back, and kissed him with all the need, all the desire she never thought she would feel again.

  Nick lifted her with one arm, and settled her in his lap. Her skirts hiked up her legs, and she was pressed against his hard arousal. He felt so good, and it had been so long. Richard had always accused her of enjoying lovemaking too much for a woman. That was a man’s prerogative, but a woman was supposed to accept him into her body, and then give him children.

  If she had known what a prude he was, she wasn’t certain she would have married him.

  Nick was the farthest from a prude.

  He rocked against her, slowly, torturing her with his body, his lips, his tongue. She wanted him to touch her, everywhere, his hands on her bare skin. She wanted him to make love to her until she screamed his name—

  “No—” She gasped the denial against his lips, and he freed her immediately.

  “I’m sorry.” He took deep breaths, his hand spread across her back. “I wanted you, Victoria. I want you more, now that I’ve had a taste.”

  “Nick.” She swallowed, still pressed into his arousal, so close all she had to do was lean forward, and she could lose herself again in his sensuous, consuming kiss. “You are a—”

  “Soldier.” He sighed, and slid his hand down to her hip. “I can’t apologize for that. It was a choice I made years ago, and one I’ve rarely regretted. Until now.” He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “I’m afraid I’m falling for you, Victoria Belham.”

  “Nick.” She wanted to say the same to him, because she was falling; she had been falling since they first met, and he smiled at her like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  Instead, she framed his face with her hands, and kissed him, needing to feel his lips against hers again. This had to be the last time.

  He leaned back, his green eyes studying her. “That tasted like goodbye.”

  “I am sorry. I told you before—”

  “That you wouldn’t take a chance on losing another soldier.” He closed his eyes, but not before she saw despair in them that struck her heart. “Maybe I can change your mind.”

  She wanted him to; may God forgive her, but she wanted him to try, with his smile, his humor, and his lips.

  “I don’t—”

  He stopped her with his lips, and pulled away before she could object, or worse, deepen the kiss. “Don’t say no. Let me try and charm you into giving up.”

  She shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. “All right. I won’t say no. That does not mean I will give in to your charm, Captain. I’ve had years of practice avoiding soldiers’ advances.”

  “None of them were me.”

  This time she did smile. “No, they were not.” She traced the line of his cheek, needing to touch him one more time, then reluctantly eased herself out of his lap. He let out a low moan, and she almost lowered herself again, sorry that she had disappointed him by leaving. “Now, since I deprived you of your meal with my unscheduled nervous breakdown, I will scrounge another for you. Stay here, lie down if you feel the need.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I won’t be damaging your reputation?”

  “I can weather the storm, if that should happen.” She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in again, kissing him. He had the most tempting lips. “Rest, my captain. I will return soon.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” She brushed his lips one more time, then backed away before he could trap her against his chest. “And I always keep my promise.”

  She walked out of the hut, closing the door before she leaned against it, letting the breeze cool her hot skin. “I always keep my promise,” she whispered.

  There was one she wanted to break, so badly it frightened her. She wanted to love a soldier again, with all of her heart and soul.

  She was afraid she may have already started to break it.

  Seven

  NICK’S SECOND DAY began with murder.

  Another victim was found just after sunrise, another leg amputee with a severed femoral, and a stab wound to the chest.

  Tom Philips came to inform him, and ask for his help.

  “Sister Belham told me you had predicted more murders. Something about us harboring an angel of death.”

  Nick pushed to his feet, still exhausted. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night, not after his time with Victoria. He had lef
t her soon after she’d returned with a bowl of rich broth, unable to stay without jumping her. She had left him hard, and aching in body and heart.

  “They’re mercy killings. I’ve seen them before. Your angel seems to have a liking for leg amputees. My guess—they lost someone with the same type of injury, or find a missing leg to be more of a burden than they think the victim can handle. Either way, they won’t stop killing. For them, it’s a way to control an uncontrollable situation, and give what they think is peace to a man who clearly deserves it, in their mind.”

  By the time he finished, Philips was studying him, arms crossed and one dark eyebrow raised. “You have quite a lot of knowledge.”

  “Like I said, I’ve seen them before. I had one show up at a base hospital.”

  Philips sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If you can offer any assistance, I would be grateful.”

  “I’m no investigator, but I’ll be happy to take a look.” It would also give him a chance to see Victoria. She was sure to be there, as the nurse in charge. Whether she’d want to see him was another matter. “Lead the way.”

  Nick grabbed the dead doctor’s heavy wool coat, shrugging into it before he followed Philips out into the icy rain. The cold weather played havoc with his shoulder, and every scar ached in a way it hadn’t for some time. The only benefit of being trapped in the cavern had been the temperate air.

  By the time they reached the med hut, Nick was cradling his right arm, his shoulder throbbing. He forgot it at first sight of Victoria.

  She was flushed from the cold, rain dampening her blonde hair. He realized then that she wasn’t wearing her veil, her hair a cap of blonde curls. She must have rushed out as soon as she received the news.

  Her clear blue eyes met his, pain in their depths. Nick knew she would blame herself for this, and she probably blamed herself for all of them. If he did nothing else before he was yanked back to limbo hell, he’d find their killer.