Saving the Rifleman

by Julie Rowe

  Maria met his gaze, but only managed to hold it for a second before her cheeks heated. He had the most wonderful eyes, light and expressive, and his attention was focused on her.

  Gentlemen didn’t often bother with lowborn women like her, women who had to find employment to support themselves and their families. Unless they wanted nothing more than what they considered a bit of fun. Her sister, too young and naive to fend him off, had been used for such bed sport by a supposed gentleman. The fiend took her virginity, leaving her bruised and broken. He had tried to do the same with Maria, but she’d managed to defend herself.

  Maria knew what to look for, the signs of that kind of man. Thus far, her soldier had none of them.

  “We’ve been getting British soldiers, wounded or not, out of Belgium for some time now.”

  He said nothing for a moment, then muttered in a tone filled with disapproval, “A dangerous occupation for a woman.”

  She was about to respond when the sound of footsteps floated up the back stairs. Enough warning to drag her soldier into the nearest room—the nurses’ sleeping chamber—and shove the door shut with one foot.

  Unbalanced, his weight pushed her backward and she fell against the wall, the soldier mashed to her chest.

  His injured leg gave out before his good one caught him. He hissed in pain, then opened his eyes and froze.

  Their faces were a scant few inches apart, his mouth level with hers. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her face.

  The voices were right outside the room now, Dr. Geoff and Rose from their conversation.

  Maria stared at the soldier and he stared back, then very carefully, she lifted one hand and laid two fingers against his lips, urging quiet. Should the German doctor discover him, the soldier would be in grave danger.

  He nodded slightly. She pulled her hand away and turned her head to watch the door, but the soldier’s body slid an inch and she jerked her hands to his shoulders. Pulling him close, holding him up.

  He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then opened his eyes and nodded at her. She touched his face to see if he felt feverish. He felt warm, not hot, so she pulled her hand away, but he reached up and caught it, cradled it for a moment, then pressed her palm to his face.

  She gasped. What was he doing? He hadn’t asked permission to touch her, though he’d done nothing more than touch her hand. Still, the old fear rose up to choke her.

  She swallowed it down. No. She wouldn’t succumb to it. Keep your head high, girl. You saved him. He won’t hurt you.

  She waited for him to do something—to attempt to kiss her, or maybe to release her and step back. Soldiers often appreciated their nurse more than they should. She was used to that, but this felt different. He was different.

  Was he as lonely as she was?

  She braced herself for his kiss and disappointment.

  He did nothing more than close his eyes and hold her hand to his face. He breathed deep, as his shoulders relaxed, and settled into a posture of contentment.

  They stood motionless for a long time.

  Though he was wounded and had to be in pain, he made no sound or indication he wanted to move. He seemed perfectly happy to stand there holding her hand against his face.

  As the seconds ticked past, she became more comfortable with the situation, with him.

  How very unusual. Most of the British officers she’d met treated her with a sort of generic esteem, but this officer went beyond that. He was treating her as if she…mattered. As if her touch brought him peace.

  The voices continued their conversation outside the door and Maria knew she couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound, but the awkward position she was in made it extremely difficult. One leg began to cramp and she shifted her weight off it. Her soldier wasn’t prepared for the move. He slid forward and hit the wall with a low but solid thunk.

  No.

  She grabbed him to make sure he stayed up.

  The voices in the hall fell silent then one said, “Did you hear that?”

  Maria’s hands shook. Had they given themselves away?

  Chapter Two

  Had he gone mad?

  John looked into Maria’s stunned gaze, ice dousing the haze he was in.

  He wanted to thrash himself.

  What was he doing? Touching a nurse, a woman helping him at the risk of her own life. His duty was to protect her, not endanger her with thoughtlessness.

  He was no better than his uncle, a gentleman who was no gentleman. The man had managed to gamble away every penny left to him, a sizeable sum, in less than a year. He’d proceeded to beg a place from John’s father, the Earl of Tankerville, until he was caught trying to rape one of the maids. The earl tossed his younger brother out, telling him to never come back. Then Father had explained, in great detail, to his three sons how a gentleman was to behave.

  Keep your word.

  Pay your debts.

  Never mistreat a woman, no matter her station.

  What had he done if not mistreated this brave angel who’d done everything to help him since the moment she discovered him in the closet?

  He’d put his hands on her, held her as if it were his right.

  Now she was trembling in his arms, no doubt in fear and disgust. An apology would never be enough, but he could offer little else. She deserved to be treated with respect and courtesy. Her courage alone had earned her that.

  John swallowed hard.

  She was pretty. Not in the fashionable sense like his mother and sisters, with their blond hair and slim figures, but in a way that appealed to John so much more. Maria’s hair was a rich brown and though pinned up under her cap, he could see it was likely quite long. Her eyes were a restful brown too, reminding him of the warmth of home. The quiet loveliness in her features soothed his soul.

  But her buxom form set fire to his blood. It had from the moment he’d yanked her against him in the closet. The feel of her generous hips and breasts had been an exquisite sort of torture.

  Disgust at the direction his thoughts had taken made his cheeks burn with shame. Her safety should be his only concern. He silently vowed to keep her safe.

  Even from himself.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you.” The soldier’s breath rushed from his chest in a great gust as he, in slow degrees, released her.

  He regretted holding her hand? Or was it something else?

  “You’re a nurse, working in difficult circumstances, but I…” He ran his hand through his short hair and winced. “I hadn’t felt softness in weeks, a lifetime it seems. I took advantage. I’m sorry.”

  He meant it, meeting her gaze without flinching, ready to accept whatever punishment she chose.

  Perhaps he really was different. She gave him a prim smile. “I’m not sorry.”

  He blinked.

  Capitalizing on his surprise, she took hold of his hand. “Come, we don’t have much time.”

  Maria glanced at the door, her heart pounding, expecting it to open, for the yelling and accusations to commence.

  But the door remained closed.

  She looked at her soldier. He too watched the door with narrow eyes.

  The voices out in the hall drifted away. Where they went Maria didn’t know and didn’t care, as long as the soldier was out of harm’s way. But huddling behind closed doors wasn’t going to keep him alive and free.

  “We…we need to get you out of that uniform and your wound looked after. This room isn’t safe.”

  “Wait, Maria…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to…I mean, you don’t have to do this. You’re putting your life in danger.”

  “My life has already been in danger for a long time.”

  He opened his mouth to say something more, but a loud, hard knock at the door startled them both.

  Clamping his lips closed, Maria’s soldier whipped his head around, looking for somewhere to hide.

  She pointed at the wardrobe. He limp
ed to the narrow entrance, slipped into the dark space, and she closed the door behind him.

  “Open up,” a male voice ordered in German.

  With trembling hands, Maria yanked at her apron. “I’m coming,” she called out in the same language. She dropped the bloody cloth into the basket where the nurses put their soiled clothing and grabbed her only clean one off a shelf behind her cot.

  She threw the top loop over her head as the door flew open and crashed against the wall.

  She froze.

  Standing in the doorway was a German military officer, one who’d visited before.

  Only days ago, this man had trapped her in the kitchen. Cornered her next to the stove as she was heating water to wash their few precious surgical instruments. He’d suggested if she accompanied him into an unoccupied room for a private interview, he’d make sure another visit wouldn’t be required for several weeks.

  He’d put his hand on her as he said the word private. Circling her neck with his thumb and fingers and squeezing enough to show what might happen if she said no.

  She’d screamed, jerked away and hit the pot of hot water, splashing it across his torso and legs.

  “Stupid slut,” he’d called her in German. But he and the rest of his men left within minutes.

  Now he was back.

  He stared at her, his face hard, his gaze no more alive than that of a statue.

  “What is your name?” he asked, his tone soft, but there was a threat in his words he couldn’t disguise.

  “Nurse Hunt, sir.”

  The German took two steps into the room. He looked right then left, then closed the door.

  Acid burned a hole through her stomach, telling her she was in far more danger than she first thought. There was no reason to close the door, unless he wanted to do or say something he wanted no witnesses for.

  Dear God.

  “I am Captain Fredrick Shulze.”

  She didn’t want to know his name, didn’t want to know him at all, but she collected herself and curtsied.

  He smiled, but it was an evil parody of the expression, making the hair on the back of her neck rise. “What were you doing in here?”

  “Getting a clean apron, sir. The matron is most concerned with cleanliness.” She finished tying the ends behind her with unsteady hands.

  He walked around her, looking her up and down.

  She shivered and clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

  He glanced in the soiled clothing bin, reached in and pulled out her discarded apron. He held it up, snorting at the bloodstains.

  Much of it her soldier’s blood.

  He dropped the apron and came to stand behind her.

  Her breathing stalled in her chest and she struggled to suck in enough air to keep conscious.

  “I’ve been given responsibility for this hospital. I’m not at all pleased to find British nurses in it.”

  He was trying to scare her. And it was working.

  Maria swallowed a mouthful of terror, stuffing it down her throat far enough to let her vocal cords work again. “We’re part of the Red Cross, sir. We treat the wounded no matter their nationality.”

  He sneered at her. “Do you play favourites? Do you have any special patients?”

  Oh God, he suspected something. “No, our patients aren’t here long enough to form attachments.”

  “I don’t believe you.” This was spoken only inches away from her left ear.

  She jumped, her breathing rapid and erratic, but kept silent.

  “I’m searching for a wounded British soldier. He was last seen very near here. Only a short time ago.”

  The German leaned in again, making her want to scuttle away, but she had to keep still and show no fear.

  “I shot him myself.”

  Maria gasped.

  The German grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her close. “Is he here? Are you aiding him?” He shook her. “Answer me.”

  “No!”

  His grip tightened, plunging daggers into every nerve of her body. She cried out and tried to twist away, but his grasp was strong and unyielding.

  “Tell me the truth.” His clenched teeth shredded his words, and he shook her again.

  “I am.” Her voice quivered. “For God’s sake, I’m here to treat the wounded and nothing else.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re too pretty, too…” He raised his hand as if to hit her. “…soft.”

  He held her there, a foul monster grinning at the pain he intended to inflict. Her stomach rolled, revulsion causing her to gag and cough.

  Dear Lord, would she survive? Would she want to?

  He didn’t strike her, but tore off her cap and most of the hairpins with it. Her hair tumbled down her back in a messy rope. He took hold of it with one hand while he ran a finger down her neck.

  “I’m going to enjoy questioning you.”

  “Please don’t…don’t…”

  “I owe you a punishment for the hot water.” His smile was cruel. “Or did you think I forgot?”

  Fear strangled her, but she managed to sputter, “It…it was an accident.”

  He grabbed the front collar of her dress and ripped.

  She fought, shoving him with her hands and kicking him, but he just pulled tighter on her hair. A cry left her throat, but in the following moment of silence a loud metallic click thrust the room into winter, freezing them both in place.

  “Let her go.”

  Her soldier, his pistol pointed at the German officer, stood in the open doorway of the closet.

  An evil grin slipped over the German’s face as he glanced at Maria. “You little liar.”

  “Release her,” the Brit ordered again.

  “You’re likely to shoot her rather than me. Look at you, wounded and shaking. Drop the gun and I may let her live.”

  Her soldier lifted his chin. “I’m a member of His Majesty’s British Expeditionary Force. A rifleman. I do not miss.”

  For a moment, Maria thought the German might reach for the sidearm belted at his waist, but then his grip on her suddenly relaxed and she found herself free.

  “Take his weapon.”

  She carefully removed the German’s sidearm, then rushed to stand at her soldier’s shoulder and handed him the pistol. “What—” It was difficult to keep her voice from breaking, but she refused to give the monster any satisfaction. “What shall we do with him?”

  “I should like to make him a patient here or resident of the cemetery outside. He deserves no less for threatening you.”

  Maria swallowed hard. Her soldier’s mouth was tight and flat, his jaw muscles jumping.

  But a gunshot would bring the officer’s men running. Their best course of action would be to get out quietly.

  “He’s a great inconvenience. But not worth the trouble or price of your bullets.”

  The German’s face reddened and he ground his teeth.

  A surprised smile flashed across her soldier’s face. “Indeed. This business is quite the bother.” He cleared his throat. “I have an idea. Do you have some rope and ether?”

  Hope chased away some of the lingering chill. Ether wouldn’t be a problem, this was a hospital, after all. But rope? She’d have to search for some. With the German looking on, she didn’t want to let on that there might be a problem. “Yes, of course.”

  “Good, get it. We’ll tie him up, put him in the closet and knock him out. It should be a good long while before anyone finds him.”

  The German snorted. “You think that’s going to save you? One shout from me—”

  “You may alert your men,” her soldier interrupted, “but you’ll never see us captured.” His hand tightened on his gun, his threat clear. He nodded at Maria.

  She quickly collected her cap and pinned it and her hair back into place, then hurried to the door. The German was scowling. Her soldier smiled but weaved a little on his feet. She hesitated, unwilling to leave him wounded and alone with the murderous villai
n.

  “I’ll be fine. Go.” His gaze was determined. Strong. Resolute.

  She went.

  * * *

  John pointed the pistol in his hand at the German officer with little difficulty. The difficulty lay in not succumbing to his desire to simply shoot the bastard and be done with him.

  The German’s assault on a noncombatant, a nurse, was a dishonourable act lacking in integrity and decency. Officers in the military, no matter their nationality, were held to a higher standard of behaviour. And yet, the German had wilfully hurt Maria, even seemed to take delight in causing her pain.

  What kind of man could throw out the guiding principles of honourable combat so easily?

  A man who was unpredictable. Dangerous.

  “You won’t make it out of this building alive. Neither will the woman.”

  John didn’t reply to the German’s thinly veiled attempt to provoke him.

  “Or perhaps, I won’t kill her right away.” His sneer turned into a sick satire of greed and lust.

  “You’re nothing more than an animal,” John told him with a dry chuckle. “A poor parody of an officer.”

  “Not so poor as to miss what’s been going on at this hospital. We knew the nurses here were helping men like you, but we didn’t have any proof. Until today. Now, I can arrest them, try them and execute them.”

  “Coward,” John spat at him. “You’re so afraid to face an enemy equal to you that you create one who isn’t. These women have done nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing? You’re here and that nurse helped you.”

  “Because she’s a nurse, not because she’s a traitor.”

  “Anyone aiding and abetting the enemy is a traitor.”

  “Nurses offering aid do not fall under that description.” John shook his head. “Don’t blame them for your inability to catch men like me.”

  The German’s face got so red John wondered if the man would let his anger get the best of him and attempt an attack. But he managed to get control of himself and remain still.

  Pity. John would’ve liked an excuse to shoot him, because if his statements were to be believed, Maria and any other British nurses in the hospital were in grave danger already.

  The room wavered for a moment, but he held himself and his pistol up by blinking several times to clear his vision. He couldn’t afford to fall unconscious and leave Maria vulnerable.