“Why Doctor Bennett. How did you know this was a romantic song?”
The crowd roared with laughter. Bennett leaped back from Cecelia as she smiled and continued tapping out a melody. Tugging the front of his tunic, Bennett’s red face faded to pink as he stepped back to her side. Poor man. He was smitten, and now the entire town and ragtag units of the British army knew it.
William crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath that did little to dislodge the knot in his stomach. He knew all too well the bumbling that came with falling for a girl.
Searching the crowd, he spotted the motley crew of ambulance drivers sitting on the far side of the piano. Gwyn caught his eye and looked away.
The knot in his stomach cinched tighter. Kissing her had blown apart his defenses, and there was no turning back, but Gwyn was going to make him fight every step of the way before she surrendered her heart. It was worth fighting for.
Light from the campfire flickered across her face in orange waves, dipping into the curve of her slender neck and the hollow at the base of her throat. With each small movement, red shimmered from the depths of the dark hair coiled loosely at the back of her head. Escaped tendrils brushed her cheek and neck. How silky those gentle curls would feel sliding between his fingers.
“Sometimes when I feel bad and things look blue
I wish a pal I had … say one like you.”
Cecelia’s and Bennett’s voices filled the air in perfect harmony. The crowd sniffed at the sugary words.
“Someone within my heart to build a throne.
Someone who’d never part, to call my own.”
A longing pulled at William’s gut, swelling the loneliness to aching clarity. Gwyn’s lips moved with the song, but those were not the lyrics he longed to hear from them. The memory of her soft sigh as she leaned further into his kiss purled in his blood with desire. Never had he wanted anything so much, until now. He could think of nothing else but deepening the kiss and holding her tighter.
Gwyn turned to Eugenie and laughed. If he’d arrived ten minutes earlier, he might have managed a seat next to her and been the one to make her smile.
“Join in, boys. I want to hear how well you can serenade the ladies.” Cecelia spoke over her piano keys. “Ladies, follow me. I want to hear everyone singing.”
“If you were the only girl in the world and I were the only boy.
Nothing else would matter in the world today.
We could go on loving in the same old way.”
Gwyn ribbed Eugenie. Frowning, Eugenie’s lips moved to the words. Surrounded by war, Gwyn still found happiness in a simple song. A song that said nothing in the world mattered with the right woman at his side.
The melody started as a hum. The right woman at his side. A woman who expected things from him, but for his own happiness, not hers. A woman who made him feel more alive than he ever had. The hum vibrated to words on his lips.
Gwyn’s gaze drifted over the crowd to his. Her mouth stopped moving but his didn’t as he watched her lips form a soft O. Shadowed flames danced across her face, mesmerizing him with their hypnotic sway over her full mouth, cheeks, and eyes now hooded by night.
“If you were the only girl in the world and I were the only boy.”
The corners of her mouth tilted up. No one existed beyond her. The flame in her eyes wrapped around his heart and tugged at him until there was not a space between them.
Clapping erupted. Gwyn’s eyes dropped to her lap, her cheeks spotting red.
“Thank you, thank you.” Cecelia rose from her seat and dropped into a perfect curtsey. “What beautiful voices you all have. If I had known, I would have made you serenade me sooner.”
The men laughed and clapped louder. “Encore! Encore!”
Cecelia glowed. Sweeping her skirt aside like a queen in a ball gown, she perched back on the edge of her bench. “Well, if you insist. But only if the good doctor will join me. Isn’t he splendid?”
Cecelia jingled a new tune, but William heard not a word of it as Gwyn’s eyes turned to meet his again. His heart pounded faster than a machine gun. He couldn’t wait any longer.
He motioned with his head. Her eyebrows pulled down. He motioned again. The eyebrows raised, and she nodded. Leaving his spot, he weaved through the crowd and made his way to the back. He couldn’t wait to see her, to rake his fingers through the silky hair that had tempted him all night, to pull her close and feel the heat from her gaze sink into him. To show her the longing flowing in his heart.
Major Longmire, a squatty man with iron-gray hair and small eyes, blocked his path. “Crawford. There you are. Think of any more details you wish to add to your report? Why double-time wasn’t made to get back in the fighting sooner? How you managed to lose three men while escaping?”
Anger clenched William’s hands, demanding a fist to Longmire’s fat nose. William gripped his hands behind his back until his knuckles popped. “My decisions were based on the resources and circumstances at hand. Sir.”
Longmire’s eyes gleamed like coal. “You are to report to Colonel Helms at once. He has a few more questions for you.”
“I’ve told him everything I know, sir. I left nothing out of my earlier report.”
“It seems he needs more.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll go straight to headquarters as soon as I—”
“As soon as now.”
From the corner of his eye, William saw Gwyn slipping through the crowd. She didn’t see him. “Yes, sir, but there’s something—”
“Something as important as reporting to your commanding officer?” Longmire stretched up on his toes, putting himself eye-level with William’s chin. “Get to it.”
William searched again, but she was gone. He’d have plenty of explaining to do later, maybe find a wildflower not razed by shells to soften her up a bit.
Longmire prodded him in the shoulder. If William found a flower now, he’d ram it down the man’s throat. If his night were ruined, then he’d make sure the frog man’s was spent spitting out petals.
CHAPTER 22
The wrench spun like a dial, blurring faster and faster until it flew off the side of the engine and cartwheeled in the dirt.
Eugenie squawked. “Watch it, will you? You almost hit me in the face that time.”
Gwyn swooped down and grabbed the wrench. “Sorry.”
“What’s with you today? Like a cat that slurped sour milk for breakfast, not to mention disappearing on me last night.”
Leaning in under Rosie’s bonnet, Gwyn tightened another loose bolt. “Just tired.”
“Tired of thinking about that captain?”
The wrench slipped between Gwyn’s fingers. She caught it before it disappeared into a tangle of hoses. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I saw you two making eyes at each other last night.” Eugenie pushed her greasy sleeve back up her arm before moving on to the next clamp.
“I’m sure he was watching Cecelia the whole time like everyone else.”
“He surely was not, though I’m sure she was hoping he was. Don’t know why she’s so moon-eyed over him when that handsome doctor hangs on her pinkie.”
“You find Major Bennett more of a catch than Captain Crawford?”
“It’s all preference, ain’t it? I like the ones who can do something besides shoot a gun. And if I got a cold, he could bring me beef tea.” Leaning her forearms on the fender, Eugenie raised a thick eyebrow. Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “The captain’s nice-looking too. You know that better than anyone after staring at him like a proper fish on a platter all night.”
Gwyn’s fingers balled around the wrench handle. “I was not.”
“Then you both leave at the same time, and now you’re sour today, dropping tools, and uninterested in the new clamps I borrowed from those Yankee chaps.”
Gwyn looked over her shoulder to where the new American ambulance recruits laughed and smoked by their motors. “Do they know you borrowed them?”
>
“Course. Made a trade with that skinny one. Name’s Walt, funny last name. Likes to draw cartoon rodents.”
“If you borrowed, why the trade for smokes?”
Eugenie’s mouth screwed into a frown. “These Yanks aren’t very trusting with their things. Seems they like equal payment.”
“Imagine that.”
Eugenie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Walt! How you like those English cigarettes?”
Walt took a long drag and blew it out. “Good, but not great like an American. How you like those Yank clamps?”
“Better if they were English.” Rolling her eyes, Eugenie turned back to Rosie’s innards. “Americans wouldn’t know quality if it were fish fins slapping them in the face. What do you think of ol’ Rosie now?”
“Almost as good as new.” Gwyn walked to the other side, patting Rosie on her front fender. “Let’s crank her and see where that rattle is coming from.”
But for one of the few times in Gwyn’s life, the rattle couldn’t hold her attention. She replayed every second of the night before. Why didn’t William meet her? Was there a weapons emergency, or had he simply changed his mind and run the opposite direction? Or—worst of all—had she been so desperate for him that she’d imagined the desire in his eyes?
The engine sputtered, spewing white smoke.
“What did those Germans do to my girl?” Gwyn frowned and poked under the radiator. “I’m starting her up again.”
Eugenie finished patching a tire and stuck her head around the side of the bonnet. “She need water with all that smoke?”
“I think it’s just a loose hose bolt, but let’s make sure.” Gwyn set to spinning the crank, but after a few turns, her arm began to ache. “Out of practice for a few weeks and I’m weaker than a two-legged cat.”
“Don’t let those cats fool you. They’ll still get you if you rile them.”
Rosie roared to life, belching white smoke. Finding the source, Gwyn hooked her wrench around the half-twisted bolt and tightened. It felt good to be in the grease again, to put her hands on things that made sense. A few quick turns here, and it was tightened, a few cranks there, and it started. If only she could take a hammer and bend life back to the way it had been.
“Why do I always find you under a smoking bonnet?” Gwyn jumped at William’s voice, whacking her head on the bonnet. He grabbed her elbow as she teetered sideways. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She leaned away from his touch. “You startled me.”
His hand fell back to his side. “I need to talk to you.”
“Oh? About what?”
He took a deep breath. “Last night. Today. What’s coming.”
“What’s coming?” She took in his buffed boots, the reshaped hat, and the pistol strapped to his side. The seriousness on his face told her everything. “They’re sending you back to your unit, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “They need every available man, and since I have no injuries, there’s no reason to stay.”
But there was every reason. She swallowed the fear bobbing in her throat. “When do you leave?”
“Soon.”
“And Captain Morrison?”
“He leaves too.”
“But his leg. Surely he needs to rest before they put him in a trench again.”
“The doctor said he can stand on it, so that’s good enough.”
Gwyn’s fingers curled around her wrench, not wanting to believe the words ringing in her ears. “That’s madness.”
“That’s desperation. We’re running out of men and supplies faster than we can restock them. The army has started drafting the rejected.”
“But you were a prisoner. They thought we were dead. Surely that ensures you a bit of time to recover.”
“They’ve got men slugging in the lines with heart murmurs, crooked backs, and clubbed feet, not to mention the old men and boys still young enough to be in school. You think they care about me?” Yanking off his cap, he shoved a hand through his hair and down his neck. “Walk with me.” She started, but he held her elbow. “Without this.” He pried the wrench from her fist. “I feel like you’re ready to club someone, and I’d rather it not be me.”
“Eugenie, can you check the other hoses? I’ll be back shortly, then we can take a look at that gasket,” Gwyn said.
“Sure, sure. I think I can handle a few clamps on my own.” All mischief disappeared from Eugenie’s face as she looked at William. “If I don’t see you before you leave, take care out there, and tell that Captain Morrison to keep that leg clean. I bandaged it nice and tight once. Don’t want to see my handiwork go to pot.”
William nodded. “Will do.”
Gwyn and William walked along the long stretch of ambulances. The morning haze had burned away to reveal a bright blue sky streaked with thin white clouds that hovered motionless above them.
Chills tingled the hairs on the back of Gwyn’s neck despite the early August heat. With her one pair of jodhpurs being scrubbed under Cecelia’s careful eye, she’d been left to a long navy skirt and green blouse kindly donated by a local woman. The loose material felt odd floating around her legs, tangling between them when she moved too quickly.
Beside her, William tugged on his collar. “A few days without having to wear this scratchy thing and I’ve forgotten how bothersome it is in summer.”
She much preferred his loose trousers and cotton shirt rolled up to his elbows. Just as he looked last night. Calm and relaxed, without the threat of marching off to battle. The chills sprang to her arms. “Why didn’t you meet me last night?”
“I was ambushed and hauled off to headquarters.” He stopped at the corner of a low-walled garden behind two abandoned houses. The smell of dead flowers and overgrown weeds mottled the air. “By the time they released me, it was well past midnight. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me scratching on your tent at that hour.”
“I was awake.”
“If I had known, I would have—you do know I wanted to see you?”
She plucked a dried leaf from a curling vine and twirled it between her fingers. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
He stroked a finger down her cheek, igniting a trail of heat along her skin. The clear depths of his eyes darkened. “About you? No.”
Low and rough, his voice raked over her with the intensity of a hundred glowing coals. She turned her face into his hand. “But with all these lovely nurses running around, I can’t imagine holding you to a greasy mechanic.”
“I imagine holding you. All the time.” His mouth lowered to hers, claiming her lips with an intensity that jolted her down to her toes. She circled her arms around his neck and pressed into him, slanting her lips over every curve of his in a desperate attempt to satisfy her spiraling hunger for him.
He thrust his fingers into her hair, loosening the pins until the coiled braid unraveled down her back. A soft moan escaped as his lips swept along her jaw and back to her mouth, reclaiming her kiss.
Shivering, Gwyn dropped her head to his chest, clutching his lapels to keep upright as the world spun like a top. Safety, warmth, and belonging enveloped her within his embrace. How perfectly she fit there.
“Horses.”
Gwyn stiffened. After a quaking kiss, horses were not the first thing he was supposed to think about. “Pardon?”
“You asked me if there was anything in the world I wanted to do. Horses. I want to raise them.”
Her muscles relaxed. He was still thinking of her, in an odd manner. “Like a horse farm? I’ve read about places in America and Iceland where the wild ones still roam free. Maybe I’ll add it to my list.”
“What list is this?”
She’d never told anyone about her list. Certainly, Papa knew of its existence as it had been Mum’s once, but Gwyn never told him how it inspired her to seek out adventures. It was a secret of sorts, one shared between mother and daughter, but now it was time to share it with someone else. Someone who carried her heart. “
When my mother was a girl, she wrote a list of all the places in the world she wished to one day visit. She never got to see them, but I will. One day, I’ll cross off every location on that list. For her and me.” She squeezed him tight. “I think it could use a few new places.”
“Would you like a travel companion?”
“I might need someone to help carry the luggage.”
He pinched her shoulder playfully. “After all that traveling, it would be nice to end the day somewhere quiet, with wide land to run the horses and hills for the sun to set behind. The conclusion to a perfect day with no one shooting at me.”
“Just animals to bite and kick you when you’re not looking.”
“Still wary of the beasts, are you?” He chuckled, the deep noise rumbling against her ear. “Titan was a perfect gentleman, as promised. I believe you may owe him an apology when we return home.”
Home. So far away with no horizon in sight. Only heartache.
“Please don’t go, William,” she whispered.
His uneven breathing ruffled her hair. “I have to. They shoot deserters.”
A harsh whimper strangled in her throat.
“Sorry. Bad humor.”
“It’s not humor because it’s true, but it’s something I never have to worry about for you. You’d stand guard over a pair of socks if they ordered it. Loyalty runs deep in those soldiering veins of yours.”
“Family habit.”
A whistle shrilled from the town center, ringing down the alley between the houses and cutting into Gwyn’s heart. “Where are they sending you?”
“Back to the Front, east of here.” The whistle sounded again. “It’s time.”
She nodded, the rough front of his jacket scratching her cheek, but she didn’t care. It was real. During the long, frightful nights ahead, she could remember the realness of him, the wool of his coat, the clean scent of linen clinging to him, and the deep breaths expanding his lungs. “Be safe,” she whispered.
Hooking a finger under her chin, he lifted her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Stay out of trouble.”
He marched down the alley towards the town’s central square, each step leaving her colder and colder.
Among the Poppies Page 22
