by Terri Meeker
“You’re very good at this, you know,” she said with a hic.
He gave a little laugh. If she’d dared a peek up, she knew his dimple would be showing. “I’m good at holding crying women? I don’t think that says much about my character.”
She only squeezed him around the middle in reply.
“It’s strange, actually. Whenever Evie or Mum wept, I always felt like a bumbling fool. Around you, it’s different. I just leap in.”
He leaned down and pulled her chin up so that he could look in her eyes.
“I’m red-eyed and horrible,” she said.
“Also, you’re bright red right here.” He kissed the tip of her nose tenderly. “You’re beautiful to me, Lily. Always. And I don’t know what I am or why you put up with me, but I’m awfully glad you’re here.”
He captured her mouth in a kiss. She gave a little gasp of surprise at first, but as he teased her lips with his tongue, she opened her mouth, tentatively exploring his lips with little licks and nibbles. Though death was all around them, the comfort he found in her arms felt too much to bear. He felt unworthy of such things.
He broke the kiss, and looked down at her. She smelled like lavender and soap and some indistinguishable herbal fragrance.
“You’ll be going home soon. Tomorrow most likely.” She made a valiant attempt at giving him a bright smile, but she failed so miserably that it pulled at something inside his chest.
“Lily, I…”
She interrupted him with another kiss. “Let’s not talk of tomorrow,” she murmured against his lips. “We’ve had too much loss. Too much sorrow. Let’s leave it behind—just for tonight.”
Her fingers slipped beneath his top and swept along his back. He shuddered with pleasure. She gave a little sigh at his response, and it completely undid him. His heart thundered to a gallop inside his chest. Thank merciful Christ that his headache remained at bay.
Her lips were swollen slightly from kisses—his kisses—and her lovely green eyes were wide and shining.
“Lily?” he began awkwardly, “May I—” He sat down on her bed and she followed, nestling on his lap as though it was a familiar move. He smiled at the wonder of it.
“Anything, Sam.” She placed her fingers beneath his chin, pulling his gaze to her. “You needn’t ask. I am yours. Tonight is ours. It may be all we ever get—and if so, I intend to wring every bit of happiness out of it.”
He inhaled deeply. “I should very much like to undo your plait. To see your hair again, if you wouldn’t mind.”
She laughed and it felt like a thorn being removed from his aching heart. Wordlessly, she reached around and pulled her braid to the front. He untied the ribbon which bound it, then carefully began unbraiding her auburn locks. When he was finished, he spread her hair out like a fan against her white nightgown. He leaned back and stared at her.
“I’m taking a photograph with my mind. This is going to have to do me for a good, long while.”
A serious expression swept across her face. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his, then leaned up, her breath warm in his ear. “Not tonight, Sam. We can’t think of tomorrows now. And yesterdays are forbidden as well.”
She gave tender, nibbling kisses to his ear then, and it was so erotic that he couldn’t help but wriggle. When he felt her fingers sliding up and slipping his buttons free, he had to force himself to keep breathing steadily. She’d been so timid in the past that this newer, more sensual woman was quite undoing him.
Her mouth was busily nibbling along his neck and ear, and she whispered, “I’m not a fast girl, but I need you, Sam. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Oh, darling. I know that. And I want you too—like you can’t imagine. I simply wouldn’t want you to do something you might regret.”
She stepped back and pulled his shirt off, then gave him her serious look. “I have a lot of regrets. The whole bloody war is a regret. But you, Sam? You’re the one good thing in all of this. And I could no sooner regret you than you could regret me.”
“Never.”
“And your head? You don’t have any aches or—anything?”
“I always know beforehand, Lily. You can trust me.”
“I know I can, dear. You’re the one thing I can trust.”
Through it all, she trusted him. How could it be? Despite knowing what he’d done and regardless of his broken words in the past—she was still Lily, his trusting Lily, her heart wide open to him.
She nuzzled against his bare chest. The scent of her, lavender and soap, overwhelmed his senses and her unbound hair tickled and teased a path across his skin. When she pulled away from him, he fought an urge to tighten his grip. Lily stood, then walked over to turn out the light.
As she settled in beside him, his eyes adjusted to dark. The dim light of the moon splashed against her white nightgown. She reached over and took his hand in hers. He could see a small smile playing about her lips.
He reached up and traced the buttons of her nightgown. Despite all he’d been told about intimacy, about sex, in this moment there was no shame at all. Only a quivering kind of anticipation. He felt rather like a child on Christmas morning.
She watched him, wide-eyed, as she placed her hands over his, nudging him toward the buttons of her nightgown. He unbuttoned them with shaking fingers. When he’d finished, she shifted on the bed and lifted the garment over her head. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the slightest bit of shyness slipping into her expression.
“You’re beautiful, darling,” he said. He was surprised by how hoarse he sounded. “So much more than I’d imagined—and I’ve imagined you quite a lot.”
To his dismay, her shy expression only deepened. But his brave girl spoke all the same. “Me too.” Then she laughed a little and all awkwardness evaporated completely—along with her reserve.
“And now, my dear Sam, I believe you’re a little overdressed.” She raised a brow and began to work on his drawer drawstrings.
Sam watched as Lily slept in his arms, her head upon his shoulder and her hair spread across his chest in a fan. There was little choice but to sleep in his arms on her very narrow bed. Sam couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t risk it. He had to keep her safe. Besides, his mind and body were far too awake with the wonder of Lily to allow him slumber. He was so fantastically in love with her, and even more astounding, she loved him too. Even in the middle of this cursed war, even if he were only a farmer with his head bashed in, she loved him.
He held her like that for an hour, not daring to move for fear he’d wake her and break the enchantment. When she stirred in her sleep, he held his breath, wanting to prolong the moment.
“Sam?” she murmured against his throat. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I knew I’d have to return to my bed soon. I just couldn’t let you go. Not quite yet.”
She wrapped her arm around his middle.
“You’re not sore, are you?” He asked. “I didn’t wish to hurt you.”
“I’m fine, Sam. And it was lovely. Being with you in that way was just what I wanted.”
“You should know, darling, how much I care for you. How much I love you.”
She nodded, her head still pillowed on his shoulder. “I know. As I love you.”
“And I’ve done this badly, or at least not in the order I’d intended. But you should know that I very much wish to marry you.”
She didn’t nod at this, nor did she speak.
“Lily, I know it’s not a customary sort of proposal, but…you will marry me, won’t you?”
He felt her warm breath on his neck as she sighed. After a few moments, she finally spoke. “We can talk of this later, Sam.”
“What do you mean, later?” He was torn between wanting to look at her, to gauge her expression and
dreading the moment he’d have to let her out of his arms.
“Tonight is just about tonight. Not tomorrow. Not forever.” Lily’s voice was calm and tightly controlled. “There’s a war on, as you know too well, and promises like that aren’t meant for times like these.”
“But you’re not saying no?” He hated the tone of desperation in his voice.
“Perhaps when the war is over, we might see things differently.” She pulled away from him.
“I won’t see things differently, darling. Not ever. Is it that you think your feelings for me will change?”
She sat up in bed, tucking the sheets around her breasts. “Not at all, Sam. It’s just that…after making love with you—to have you propose feels like a bit of obligation on your part.”
God, nothing could be further from the truth. But he could see why she might look at it that way. Damn him and his timing.
“Is that truly all that troubles you?”
She looked over at Rose’s empty bed and didn’t have to say a thing.
“I know a war is on,” Sam said, “but either of us could go. You could be hit by a shell. A seizure might end me. But, darling, all the more reason to marry. To grab this happiness while we can.”
Lily shook her head. “Even if I did say yes, what would your family think?”
He was nonplussed. “They would love you.”
“They wouldn’t think me fast?” She gave him a skeptical look.
“Goodness no! They’d be forever grateful to you for rescuing me from a life of solitude amongst my sheep. This may come as a shock to you, Lily, but I was hardly the dashing bachelor back in West Sussex.”
“And it’s like I told you before, wartime romances don’t always last. In the garden, you’d mentioned Lady Hamilton and Wellington, but you glossed over how they turned out.”
“But you forget, I was never a war hero, only a farmer in a captain’s uniform. And farmers are terribly faithful. We’re like sheepdogs that way.” He lay his head down on her shoulder and kissed her neck. “Marry me.”
“Even if it wasn’t for all the other issues, you know I can’t. I have a contract with the Army. I have a duty, Sam.” She looked at him, her eyes burning with serious intent. And he’d be damned if he could think of a response to her. She took her duty as seriously as he’d taken his, and he couldn’t be the one to insist she abandon it.
“We’ll talk of it later then. But when I leave you tomorrow, I’ll do everything within my power to make it the briefest of partings. Duty and honor and family will be given their due, but I fear I’m quite determined about the matter.”
He forced himself out of bed, ever conscious of the danger he put her in by being in her room. He quickly slipped into his hospital blues and turned to face her.
“Until I’m by your side again, I’ll write you,” he said.
She frowned in alarm. “You’d better not. Your seizures!”
He laughed. “I’ll dictate them to Evie then, until I’m given the all clear.”
A grin replaced her frown. “I’d like that.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead before stepping backwards toward the door. Tears filled her green eyes as she watched him.
“Don’t think for a moment that I’m giving up, Lily. Don’t fool yourself. Time and distance and the whole bloody German army aren’t enough to come between you and me. You’ll see. But I need to leave now. I need to keep you safe.” He reached up to turn off the light. “You need to get some sleep, love. God knows you’ll need it.” In the dark, he tripped over the canvas bag. “Oh, the wine. We’ve entirely forgotten about it. I don’t suppose I should take it back to Gordy?”
“Yes, he should have it. Maybe he’ll find another reason to toast, some day.” Her voice sounded like she was crying and he had to fight the urge to wrap her back in his arms.
He opened the door a crack and cautiously poked his head into the hall. It was empty. Desperate not to compromise Lily, he turned back for the briefest moment. The light from the hall spilled onto the bed where she sat, green eyes swimming with tears.
She tilted her chin up and forced a smile onto her lips. “Goodbye, Sam.”
“I love you,” he replied, and slipped away from her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sam returned to his bed, but he couldn’t sleep. Just after dawn, the VAD brigade brought a hearty breakfast of toast and eggs, the latter likely donated from all the villager’s chickens. The fact that they’d taken the trouble to provide such a lavish meal in spite of the train bombing didn’t sit well with Sam. He knew it should feel like they were preparing the men for a long journey, and not like fattening calves up for the slaughter—but he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending disaster that began to settle on his shoulders. The bombing, and the revelations that it had brought, had turned the world on its axis and brought about the death of New Bedlam. The hospital’s heartbeat was stuttering now. It was only a matter of time before it stopped beating all together.
Sam forced himself to eat a little breakfast, though he was too tightly wound to have much appetite. No one seemed to mind that he was free of restraints and it felt like a small luxury to feed himself. Gordy was far from being back to his old self, but seemed to be stepping out of the darkness. While he ate, he attempted to engage Sam in conversation about the weather and what he knew about the condition of hospital ships. Gordy expressed confidence that Sam would be safe as houses on the journey. The Germans may have renewed unrestricted submarine warfare, but all hospital ships traveled in convoys now. The only reference he made to the previous night’s business was to ask Sam if he was angry at him. Sam replied that he most certainly was not.
Even before the VADs collected the breakfast trays, Dr. Raye began his rounds with Lily at his side. The moment she stepped onto the ward, she looked for Sam and gave him a wide smile. He smiled in return and willed himself to be patient as she walked among the rows.
The doctor sped through the ward, only sparing a few words at each officer’s bedside. Lily scrambled behind, balancing an armload of files, release papers most likely. As the doctor moved between the beds, Lily sorted through papers, scribbling madly. By the time the pair reached Sam, he was sitting up, desperately hoping for a moment alone with her.
“Hectic schedule this morning.” The doctor nodded toward him. “Good news for you, Captain. You’ll be headed to Blighty.”
“How soon?” Sam asked.
Dr. Raye picked up Sam’s chart and scribbled a note. “Within the hour, I’d imagine. They’re prepping the convoys as we speak. Best wishes for a speedy recovery.”
Sam cast a glance to Lily. She had a tight smile in place, but trained her eyes on the sheaf of papers in her hands. She didn’t risk a glance up at him.
The doctor turned to face Gordy. “And Lieutenant, I’ve good news for you as well. I’ve just received word that you’ll be reassigned as a translator at General Headquarters in Montreuil. You’ll need to complete your recovery at Rouen first, naturally.”
“Thank you, sir.” A swarm of conflicting emotions flickered across Gordy’s face. Guilt was chief among them. “Will you be coming along to Rouen with us, sir?”
“I won’t. I’ve been reassigned as well. I’m heading to RAMC Headquarters in London.” Dr. Raye cleared his throat. “Don’t like being so far away from the action, truth be told. But it’s an opportunity to make some changes in how things are run. I would likely have much better luck if I started from the top.”
The doctor nodded toward both men. “Take care, soldiers.” He turned away and walked across the aisle to begin the next row. Lily followed behind, her chin tucked down to conceal her expression.
An unfamiliar VAD followed directly behind the doctor, pushing a luggage cart. When she reached Sam, she read his chart, then pulled his suitcase and duffel bag from the pile. After depositing them at the
foot of his bed, she moved on to the next patient without a word.
Gordy swung his leg around and stood up. “I reckon I’d better help you pack up.”
Sam opened his duffel to see his uniform folded on top. It seemed like an unfamiliar garment to him after all he’d been through. He pulled it out—first the jacket, then the trousers. As he unfolded his trousers a small, dark stone fell out of the pocket and rolled along the floor. His father’s old totem. It came to rest at Gordy’s feet.
“What’s this then?” Gordy picked it up and turned it over in his hand. The carved monkey’s face grinned emptily at Gordy.
“Ah, was a memento of the Boer War. A little something for luck.” Sam held out his hand. Gordy plopped the cold stone into Sam’s open palm.
“Won’t be needing that where you’re going,” Gordy said with a grin.
“I suppose not,” Sam said. “I should pass it on to my brother. Maybe he’ll be sent to Blighty as well. Would certainly put Evie’s mind to ease.”
Sam put the stone back into his trouser pocket before dressing in his uniform. By the time he’d buttoned up, Gordy had already finished packing away Sam’s letters and the few scattered items on his bedside table.
At the last minute, Sam plucked a dried sprig of dill from Lily’s now drooping bouquet. He tucked it into his pocket while Gordy fiddled with the suitcase latch. While Gordy was diverted, Sam took the opportunity to slip the bottle of wine back under Gordy’s bed, just out of sight.
“Feels strange wearing a uniform again after so much time in my hospital blues,” Sam said.
“You’ll be back in civvies before you know it. No more army for you.” Gordy held out a bit of paper and Sam took it. “It’s my new address in Montreuil. I know you won’t be able to write me any time soon, but your head should clear up some day. I’d like to know what’s become of you.”
“Thank you, Gordy.” Sam slipped the note into his front pocket. “It’s been a pleasure.” He extended his hand and Gordy shook it heartily. “Thank you for everything.”
