by Julie Rowe
“Dizzy?”
“A little.”
“You lost some blood. Fluids, soup and water will help.”
He tested his injured leg, shifting some of his weight to it, then nodded with a grateful smile.
“We must go. We’re moving to the isolation room. The hospital matron has told everyone you have yellow fever.”
She made for the bundle of clothes Rose brought, but he caught her elbow. “Wait.”
She paused.
He swallowed, glanced at his leg then met her eyes. “I want…no, I need to thank you. What you’ve done for me is…” He paused, looking for the words. “More than I could have dreamed of.”
She smiled, her happiness at having pleased him a surprise. “You’re welcome, but you’re not out of danger yet. We need to get you out of this room and out of the city.” She swung around, about to head to the door, but he held her in place.
Her soldier’s lips tightened. “That officer will be missed. It won’t be long until this entire place is searched.”
“They’ve searched many times and never found anyone before.”
“Even if you discredit him, they’ll search harder this time and they’ll keep searching until they find something.” His gaze unfocused and she could almost see him consider and reject one idea after another.
Maria frowned. “What do you intend to do?”
He released one of her arms and cupped her face. “I owe you a debt, and I’ll not allow any harm to come to you because of me.” His thumb traced her cheek, and it felt as if it burned. “I must leave. Now.”
Her heart pounded and breathing was suddenly difficult. “You need rest and fluids. If you leave now, you won’t make it a mile before the Germans catch you.
He shook his head. “I won’t risk you or the other nurses. If I’m discovered here, you’ll all be condemned.”
“I’m coming with you. I know where to go, the routes to take to get out of the country.”
His face turned to stone. “No. Absolutely not.”
“But—”
He took her by the shoulders and leaned down until he was only inches from her face. “It’s too dangerous. I’m a fugitive.”
He left the greatest threat unspoken, but she saw the truth in his eyes. If discovered they would both be shot.
Chapter Four
“That German officer won’t leave me alone no matter what story I spin.” A sudden flare of anger heated her blood. “I will do my duty, sir, and neither you nor any other man can order me otherwise. I will help you get out of the hospital and I will help you get to the Netherlands. Your leg won’t stand up to much more punishment.” Maria lifted her chin. “You need me.”
The expression on his face changed as she talked until it was a mixture of amusement and pride, and it filled her stomach with butterflies.
“When did you get promoted to field marshal?”
“I’m a British nurse. Duty compels me to tend the wounded and assist my countrymen out of hostile territory.”
One eyebrow arched. “How many other British soldiers have you treated?”
“Many.”
“How many of them have you escorted out of hostile territory?”
She glared. “None.”
“Curious.”
Breathing became only a minor concern when he stood so near. “Why is it curious?”
He moved even closer. “Why do I get special treatment?”
“You…I…” She shook her head, unable to finish, unable to calm her racing heart.
He put a hand under her chin and tilted her face up. “You have given me so much.” His words wafted over her face, light and sweet. “Kindness, caring.” His hands captured hers and brought them to his lips where he placed a chaste kiss on each of them. “You saved me. I can take no more.”
Maria sucked in a shocked lungful of air as he teased her with nothing more than words and the touch of his lips.
“Please, we must go.” Was that really her husky voice? “And you shouldn’t say such outlandish things.”
“Have I said anything that isn’t true?”
She snorted and tried to tug her hands away.
With firm gentleness he kept her hands prisoner. “Have I?”
“Pretty words.” He couldn’t know, but his compliments jabbed at old wounds whose pain she didn’t want to remember. “Ridiculous words.”
He merely smiled. “How so?”
“They just are.” She tried to maintain eye contact, hoping he would back down, but she looked away first.
“You’re quite remarkable.”
His words surprised her into looking at him again. “What?”
“Here we are in a hospital in hostile territory, and what do I find? A beautiful woman with courage and strength. What could be more remarkable than that?”
“Stop,” she said, tears filling her eyes. Fear, exhaustion and confusion were conspiring to turn her into a watering pot. “Please…stop.”
“I’ll say whatever it takes to convince you to stay here where you’re safe.”
She swallowed hard. Experience had taught her many gentlemen of rank would say anything to get what they wanted and to hell with the truth.
Was he one of those?
“Your words are no more than a…a convenient lie? A charming fabrication so I’ll do as you demand?”
“No, never.” He cupped her face. “You’ve risked everything to help me. The thought of you coming to harm as a result is unacceptable.”
Caution and need fought a battle in her soul. Could she believe him? Should she believe him?
“What will it take to convince you?”
“Your name. Give me your name.” A gentleman’s name was everything—his reputation, station and standing in society.
His answer was low and deep. “I’m John William Bennet, your servant from this day forward.”
She gasped, astonished he would offer his honour so blithely to a woman of no means whatsoever. Heat crawled across her face. “Nurse Culver has ordered me to help you across the border, Lieutenant Bennet. She believes I’m no longer safe here. You claim to be at my service, so…”
He sighed. “So, we must travel together?”
She nodded.
“I promise I will keep you safe.” He leaned forward and for a heart-pounding moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But he stepped back, releasing her.
The door opened and Rose entered the room. For one full second she simply looked at John.
“Dress quickly. We have a problem.”
He tensed, but Maria laid a hand on his arm and he relaxed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The German officer is causing quite the ruckus. Lieutenant, you need to be in the isolation room and, Maria, you need to be with him—but out of sight before the hospital is inspected again.” She addressed John again. “Do you speak French?”
“Oui.”
“Good. German?”
“No.”
“If you’re questioned, feign a fever and mumble in French. We’ll say you’re a Belgian farmer. Hopefully they won’t bother you at all.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Quickly now, you only have a few minutes.” Rose inclined her head at Maria, then turned and left.
John began removing the rest of his uniform, taking off his leather shoulder strap, belt and revolver holster and putting them on the floor. He struggled with the buttons on his jacket, finally tearing the cloth so he could shrug it off and remove his tie.
Maria took them from him, adding the garments to the pile, but froze when she discovered his shirt hanging open. She stared at the skin beneath the cloth and licked her suddenly dry lips. His lean musculature fascinated her, and she was almost overcome with the urge to touch him, to see if he was as warm and solid as he looked.
The room was silent except for the sound of her breathing, fast and shallow.
John wasn’t breathing at all.
He stared dow
n at her with a set jaw and burning eyes, making her step back, but his hands captured hers.
“Maria.” He only whispered her name, just the one word, but the sound of it made her blush.
She darted another look at him. His expression had softened. “I’m so used to removing…I mean, I’m used to assisting—”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, smiling at her. “But your ingenuous curiosity is more than a saint could resist.” He released her hands slowly, as if with great reluctance, and whispered, “Turn around.”
Trembling, she nodded and gave him her back.
The rustle of cloth teased her ears. She bit her lip and struggled to keep her eyes on the floor.
A soft thud and a groan had her spinning around.
He stood awkwardly on his injured leg, shirtless, fighting to stay on his feet.
“John?” She’d seen many men without a scrap of clothing on, but those were always soldiers closer to death than life. Never had she seen a man this healthy with so little on. “Dizzy?”
“I’m fine.” Powerful muscles rippled under his skin as he steadied himself. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. The hair on his chest arrowed down toward the edge of his home-knit breeches, which covered a surprisingly small amount of him. She imagined him removing the last of his clothing, but the dance of muscle suddenly ceased.
His expression held her immobile.
Need was stamped across his features, his gaze so intense she thought her clothes might catch fire. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
Maria was consumed with heat. So much heat she couldn’t seem to make her lungs work.
She wanted what she couldn’t have. Him. Wanted his arms around her, supporting her through the horror of the war.
But she was a simple nurse from an impoverished family, while he was an officer and a gentleman. No matter what he said or how he felt at this moment, he was who he was and so was she.
Breathing hurt and pain spread outward, turning every beat of her heart into an eternity of torture.
She could never have him.
Never.
Maria spun around, squeezing her eyes shut. John must think her brazen, wanton even, for staring at him so. But the urge to turn and look again at his handsome, hewn body set her hands to trembling. The thunder of her pulse drowned out all other sound, until it was all she knew.
Finally, after an age, she heard the rustle of cloth and whispered, “I thought you’d hurt yourself. I didn’t mean to…stare. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m glad.”
She sucked in a shocked breath, surprised to hear her own words repeated back to her. “Oh.”
He chuckled. “You are the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
“Me? I’m as bland as potato pie.” It was nothing less than the truth.
“My dear girl, bland is one word I will never use where you’re concerned.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have another bandage?”
“Yes, of course.” She pulled the last one out of her pocket. When she turned, John was finishing buttoning up a clean chestnut-coloured shirt. He also had his good leg in a clean pair of trousers.
“Let me check the bandage to make sure it’s secure.”
Maria rewrapped the wound and made sure to tie the bandage securely so it would stay in place should he have to run. “Is this too tight?” She glanced up at him from her position at his feet.
His eyes narrowed on her like a hawk sighting prey, and she found she couldn’t move.
“Did I hurt you?”
After a moment he shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. The bandage feels relatively…” His face flushed and his hands clenched around the material he held with white knuckles. “…comfortable.”
She scrambled to her feet and put her hands to his cheeks, searching for signs of an elevated temperature. “No fever.”
He covered her hands and his gaze burned her with its heat, with needs she was afraid to admit she understood. “No?” He didn’t smile, rather he looked both hungry and kind at the same time.
“I—” The rest of the sentence failed her. What could she tell him? That she wanted to pretend they were the only two people in the world, so she could ask him to hold her without fear of reproach.
“No. No fever.” She shook her head, her hands falling away, and he let her go.
Warmth rose from her core, spreading through her, making her needy for things she had no right to.
They had no time for this. No time for her to try to understand the rush of feelings through her body. To understand why his touch burned her or why she burned to be touched by him.
She fetched her travelling bag and cloak, since she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to come back, while John finished dressing.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
“What do I do with my uniform?”
“Leave it here. Rose will take care of it.”
They eased out of the room and into the deserted hallway. Maria made sure no one was visible before she motioned for John to join her.
They walked quickly, but quietly, to the end of the hall. The last room was their isolation room. It wasn’t much bigger than a closet itself, though it did have a small one of its own. There was one cot, a chair and small table with a lamp, and that was all.
She lit the lamp then closed the door.
John looked about the room, a frown creasing his forehead. He limped to the closet and opened the door. “There’s barely enough room for you to stand up in here.”
Maria looked inside over his shoulder. “Nonsense, there’s room enough for me to sit on the floor.”
He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head then glanced between her and the bed, his suggestion clear.
“No,” she said before he could say anything. “You need to be in the cot. That’s the story Rose is telling everyone. If I’m found in the cot we’re both dead.”
He recoiled as if her frank words slapped him. “It’s hardly the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“This is war. You’re wounded and I’m a nurse. You’ll sleep in the cot. Get what rest you can. And as soon as the Germans leave, so will we.”
“You’re very good at giving orders.”
“Nursing is not for the weak or fainthearted.”
“I suppose not.” He moved to the cot and pushed the blanket back. “What about you?”
“I’ll be in the closet.” He frowned and she added, “The hall floor is quite squeaky. We’ll hear when someone comes near.”
He finally settled under the covers, his head only a foot or so from the closet. “Could you leave the door open a crack so we can talk?”
“Certainly.” She sat down inside the closet, leaving the door open wide enough for them to see each other.
“Check my jacket.”
She patted it to make sure she’d found everything and discovered something stiff sewn into the lining. A small notebook. The pages inside were covered in handwritten notations. Much of it seemed to be about troop movements with locations and dates. Definitely something to keep out of suspicious hands. “Perhaps I should keep this in case you’re searched. I have a pocket in my dress.”
After a short hesitation, he nodded. “I think this is the oddest situation I’ve ever been in.”
* * *
“Situation?”
“I’m in bed pretending to be sick with a woman hiding in the closet.” The irony of it wasn’t lost on John. He’d known men to boast about hiding in a woman’s closet to avoid being seen by their husband, but none of them had ever mentioned the lady doing the hiding.
“I suppose this is a bit unusual,” Maria said, her tone grudging. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’ve gotten used to the oddness of my life here. A week ago I hid a British soldier in the apple barrel in the shed out back. He’d just arrived and we hadn’t had time to get him into civilian clothes.”
“How long was he in there for?”
�
��I’m not sure, an hour or two at least. About a month ago, we had two British officers take refuge with us. To get them out we dressed one as an old woman and the other as a hunchback.”
Ingenious. “Did they make it?”
“I don’t know.”
The uncertainty in her voice struck him like a blow.
He’d put her into this crazed state of affairs, damned if he was going to be the cause of her anxiety.
“How long have you been a nurse?”
He could almost see her mentally pulling herself out of the darkness. “Two years. I studied under Nurse Culver in England then came with her to Brussels to help establish this teaching hospital.”
“So this is a place where women are trained to be nurses?”
“It was. Before the war. Our founder and his wife had been raising money to move us out of these houses and build a proper hospital, but they’ve both been killed. If it weren’t for Rose, this hospital likely wouldn’t exist.”
Outside, booted feet walked the hallway, paused by their door, then carried on.
Maria waited until they were long gone before asking, “How long have you been a soldier?”
“Five years. It’s a good occupation for a third son.”
“Is it?” She stared at him, her gaze so direct and discerning he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she knew every thought in his head.
“Most definitely.”
“Forgive me, I’m not familiar with such things.”
“Naturally not. You’re a woman.”
“Indeed.” She sounded tired.
“In the eyes of a man like my father, there are only three acceptable choices for younger sons like myself. The military, the clergy or teaching at a university.”
“Did you get to choose?”
“No. My father decided early on that I wouldn’t do well in the clergy or at the university.” Living as a wastrel like his idiot uncle wasn’t an option either, as far as his father had been concerned. They argued about many things, including his life in the military, but that at least, John agreed with.
“Why the army?”
“I suppose because it posed the greatest challenge.”
“And the greatest danger,” she added in a disapproving tone.
“There’s that as well.”
