A War Within (Epic WWI Love Story)

by Katherine Hastings

  Isabelle responded with a snort. “Me? I used to do this sidesaddle. I’d worry more about myself if I were you.”

  His head reared back and his eyes widened.

  “Is everyone ready?” Raulf asked, and they both responded with a nod.

  “Try not to fall,” she said to Auguste with a wink and a smile just as the grooms released the horses.

  The mares took off like bolts of lightning and dirt flew out behind them while they tore down the track. Isabelle was impressed with the speed of the chestnut mare who kept pace at her side. Chantal usually had a good length on her competition before the first turn, but this one managed to keep up. Isabelle glanced over to see Auguste looking quite determined as he encouraged his mare on. They shot forward and in a split second they were a full head in front of Chantal and Isabelle. Glancing over his right shoulder, he smiled at her as he began to pull away.

  Isabelle glared and gritted her teeth. There was no need to kick her mare on, the determination surging through her flowed through Chantal as well. Her mare shifted into gear like a seasoned pro and came up alongside him again. With another rush of power, Chantal pushed on and in several strides, went half a length past Auguste and the chestnut mare. This time it was Isabelle looking back over her shoulder wearing a grin, and Auguste responded with a laugh.

  They approached the first fence, a huge brush jump with a trench on either side, galloping at full speed. The imposing fence stood four feet tall and over six feet wide. Only the most talented of steeplechasers could clear this fence with ease.

  Auguste caught up, and they shared a smile as they raced toward the imposing fence ahead. Chantal locked onto the fence and pulled the reins from her hands. When Isabelle looked over at Auguste, the grin was gone and fear formed in his eyes. The two horses raced on and she prepared for the power of the takeoff, just as she’d been trained to do. The two mares leapt into the air, Isabelle leaning forward, slipping the reins so Chantal could clear the fence and stretch the distance. They landed on the other side and Isabelle couldn’t help but smile as they started their gallop away. There was nothing more invigorating to her than the feeling of flying when she jumped her mare.

  When they recovered from the landing, she looked over to see the chestnut mare right at her side. Just as her determination to surge forward set in, she tossed a threatening glare to Auguste, only to find he wasn’t there. The chestnut mare was running beside her alone.

  Leaning over, she grabbed the reins of the mare while she pulled Chantal up, spinning around to see no sign of her fallen opponent. She cantered the two horses back toward the fence, but when she didn’t see him dusting himself off from the fall, fear churned in her gut. Though she’d told herself she hated him, the thought of him being hurt, or worse, sent chills snaking up her spine.

  While the fear rose within her she called out to him, and just as she was about to reach the fence she saw a hand emerge from the ditch on the landing side. Soon after, a black head of hair and a pair of blue eyes hidden beneath a mask of mud, appeared as well. Chantal skidded to a halt while Auguste pulled himself up out of the ditch. He rolled onto his back and lay on the ground below her.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, trying to stifle her smile.

  “Only my pride,” he responded, wiping the mud from his face.

  “I told you not to fall,” she chided, and with that she and the two mares cantered back toward the barn where the remaining men rolled with laughter at her triumphant return.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AUGUSTE HADN’T BEEN able to stop thinking about Isabelle since the day of their race. A long series of thunderstorms had kept her out of the barn all week and he found himself cursing the weather Gods for keeping her away. He walked out of his cabin to see that the relentless dark clouds had maintained their siege over the farm. Dropping his head, he pushed through the pouring rain and headed for the barn.

  As Auguste began his daily chores, a boom of thunder ricocheted through the barn. In a few months it would be a year since he’d been in a battle, but the sound of thunder still transported him back to the days of lying in a trench in the unyielding rain with Jean-Luc while exploding bombs dropped around them. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the guilt that overcame him whenever he thought back on those days... and to Jean-Luc.

  Knowing Jean-Luc and his soldiers still suffered the abysmal conditions of the war only hammered in the guilt about his current happy state. Too happy. After betraying his friends, he’d ended up in heaven on earth while they still trudged through hell. It wasn’t fair. A man like him didn’t deserve this life... a happy life. Contentment. He had betrayed his orders, and in turn his best friend believed him to be a traitor. Which he was. Just because he’d decided not to obey his orders didn’t mean that Jean-Luc wasn’t right in hating him for the lies he had lived all those years.

  Auguste wanted more than anything to find Jean-Luc and explain himself. Beg him for forgiveness. He would have willingly laid down his life for the man. That was if he was even still alive. That thought twisted his guts in knots, knowing he wasn’t there to protect his brother and watch over him like he’d done in every battle.

  As Auguste’s mind traveled back to his days in the military he couldn’t help but wonder what had become of Colonel Schumacher. Was he still alive? Did he still look for Auguste or assume him dead? Every time he thought of those dark, daunting eyes, the realization that his presence here put Isabelle and her family in danger resurfaced and he questioned his decision to remain. Not returning to the colonel after discovery was a betrayal he knew would not be forgiven. His only hope was that they assumed him dead if word traveled back that the French had discovered his true identity.

  “Good morning, Auguste.”

  Auguste spun around and lifted his pitchfork in defense. The flashbacks the recent thunderstorms continued to induce kept him on edge. Isabelle stepped backward with a fright and gasped, wide eyes dropping to the pitchfork pointed at her.

  “Isabelle. I’m... I’m so sorry. You startled me is all,” Auguste apologized, pointing the tines of the pitchfork to the ground. “These thunderstorms, they have me on edge. Please. Accept my apologies. I would never hurt you.”

  After a moment she blew out a breath of relief. “I thought for a moment there you were going to run me through!” She righted herself and walked into the stall. “How are your bruises healing?” A smirk lifted one corner of her lips.

  “I’ve had worse, but thanks for asking,” he said, returning the smirk while appreciating this new, confident version of the woman. Her emergence on the day of the race had startled him, but he’d enjoyed seeing the fire burning behind those emerald eyes. It was the same spirit that made him appreciate her mare so much. “What brings you out in the rain today?”

  “I had all intentions of coming out here to check on your wounds this week, but the rain has been non-stop. I decided to brave it today since I’m dying to see my Chantal. It’s been too long. I’m hoping you’ve been taking extra good care of her while I was locked in the house.”

  “I always take good care of her. She happens to be my favorite horse here, so I treat her as well as I treat my own Beau. I did think I heard her whisper to me that she was missing you, however.” He grinned down at her and for a moment he saw her confidence falter and a flush of pink rose to her cheeks. This version of her wasn’t immune to his charms.

  “You know, this is the first time we’ve ever really talked, and I realize I know absolutely nothing about you. What I do know is that you are quite good on a horse, despite your fall.” She smirked once again. “You are also quite adept at wielding a pitchfork as a weapon.” Raising an eyebrow, she gestured to the pitchfork he still held in his hand. “So, tell me, where did you learn to ride like that? You have a way with horses not often seen.”

  He’d been trained to lie on the spot and lie well. He could dodge any question with rhetoric and move it any direction he chose. Though he was a master at manipulating co
nversations and deceiving those around him, everything in his body begged him to tell her the truth. Too many years had been spent living a lie and all he wanted was to tell her everything. But the reality of his situation grabbed hold of his tongue and trapped the truth inside. What would he say if he told her the truth? ‘I was a highly trained double agent for the Germans who infiltrated the French Army, betrayed my best friend, killed your fiancé and am now here as I am supposed to be giving you a letter from him.’ No. It wasn’t possible. Auguste took a deep breath accepting he had no choice but to continue his life as a lie, as much as it pained him.

  “I spent some time working on a farm learning about riding and training horses in my late teens. I had a very good teacher who taught me everything he knew... which clearly didn’t include how to jump impossibly high and wide steeplechase fences.” Auguste smiled, realizing that he hadn’t actually lied. He’d just left out the part about the farm being on the German Army base where he was a soldier. “My question is how on earth did you become so proficient at it? I would be lying if I said that I underestimated the skill it takes to stay on a horse while they are leaping over such a large obstacle with such speed and power.”

  The compliment induced one of her stomach-twisting smiles. For the first time in his life he understood the effect his own had on the women who swooned beneath it. Having hers directed at him lit something inside him, filling him with warmth, like a fire burned beneath his skin.

  “I used to sneak on the horses when my father was away and jump the smaller training courses. He found out when he came home early one day. Of course, he forbade me from doing it because it was too dangerous, but after I threw an impressive temper tantrum, and knowing I’d do it anyway, he caved in. Our agreement, though, was that I needed to be properly trained so I could do it safely. He set me up in lessons with the head trainer and the rest is history. I only wish I was allowed to compete at the Grand Steeple-Chase de Paris. Maybe someday they will allow women jockeys. Or perhaps I should lop off all my hair and pretend to be a man,” Isabelle said as she stared out down the aisle into the pouring rain.

  “Well, I’m pretty good with scissors if you ever want to give it a go. Although cutting off that impressive mane of yours would be quite a shame. And, pardon my saying so, but I think there are other assets you have that could make your attempts at portraying a man a bit difficult.”

  When his gaze raked her body and settled on her ivory mounds peeking out from the scooped neck of her dress, her mouth dropped open. While she stammered for words, he lifted his eyes to meet hers and offered an unapologetic shrug.

  “Auguste!” Isabelle huffed, and her hands flew to her chest and covered her bosom.

  “It’s just an observation, Isabelle. I meant no offense. I’m just pointing out the obvious, that in your attempt to portray a man you may have a few things working against you.”

  After standing with her mouth agape for another moment, she burst into laughter. The contagious sound bounced around the empty barn and soon he joined her in it. The two stood in the stall laughing while she dropped her arms to her sides and stopped self-consciously covering her unmistakably large breasts. She shrugged before dropping her head into her hands and laughing some more.

  “Are we telling jokes? What’s so funny?” A voice came echoing down the barn aisle, disrupting their conjoined laughter.

  “Hello, Papa! We’re in here!” Isabelle said between laughs as Auguste righted himself and began chucking the manure into the wheel barrow.

  “Hello, darling! Hello, Auguste!” Henri said as he came to the door of the stall. “Is there a new good joke? I certainly hope one of you will tell me!”

  Isabelle shot Auguste a staying look, like a secret hidden between two children up to no good. “I’ll tell you later, father,” she said, pulling him in for a tight hug.

  “Very well,” he answered, a disappointing frown dimming his face before his eyes lit back up with the excitement Auguste had grown used to from the old man. Never in his long, lonely life had he met someone more full of joy than Henri. “Did Isabelle tell you about the masquerade ball? I haven’t seen one around here in fifteen years. It was quite the black-tie affair. I think a formal dance is just the thing to lift the spirits of everyone around here!”

  “I can’t wait!” Isabelle answered, and her eyes lit up to match her father’s. “I’ve only been to one, and it was when I was visiting Aunt Brigitte a few years back. I loved every moment of it, though! I do wish I’d had more time to get a new dress and mask, but the one I used last time should still suffice.”

  “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful, darling,” Henri answered, and Auguste couldn’t get the thought of her in a formal gown out of his head.

  “What about you, Auguste?” Henri turned his attention to him. “Will you be joining us tomorrow night? Everyone in town is invited, and that includes you.”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I have nothing to wear to such an event.”

  “If I were only a foot taller in height and a foot shorter around the waist, I would happily lend you something of mine!” Henri chuckled and grabbed his ample belly, giving it a good shake.

  Auguste laughed as well and thanked him for the offer. Admittedly, he was curious to see what went on at a ball. There’d never been an opportunity in his life to attend one, even though he’d been trained how to dance and behave just in case he ever ended up at one on a mission.

  “Well, if you change your mind perhaps we can wrangle something up,” Henri said, slipping his arm back around his daughter. “Come, dear. Let’s go say hello to Chantal and Le Vent.”

  Together they walked down the aisle, but she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at him as she walked away. There it was again... that unfamiliar flip-flop in his stomach.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE MORNING OF THE ball Isabelle fluttered around the house practicing her dance steps and checking the clock. The sound of the doorbell stopped her mid-spin, and she turned her twirling over to the door and opened it to see a messenger standing on the porch.

  “Good morning, mademoiselle.” The messenger at the door greeted her as she stepped out to see him holding a large package.

  “Good morning, monsieur.” She smiled back at him.

  “I have a delivery for Isabelle and Alexis Barouche,” he said, holding out the package for her to see.

  “Thank you. I’ll take that.” After taking the package, she thanked him, and he tipped his hat and headed back down the stairs. Noticing the package was from her aunt, she raced up the stairs two at a time to where Alexis was curled up reading her latest addiction.

  “Alexis! We have a package from Aunt Brigitte!”

  Alexis threw down her book and the two girls tore the brown wrapping from the package. As the wrapping fell on the floor, the girls reached inside and pulled out two beautifully wrapped white boxes. Each box had a girl’s name neatly printed on the top.

  “What do you think it is?” Isabelle wondered as she looked at the equally confused Alexis.

  “I’m not sure. But look! A letter!” Alexis pulled out the letter from the box and tore it open. She leaned back on the velvet sofa and read it aloud.

  My dearest nieces,

  I received Alexis’ note you will be attending a masquerade ball this weekend. As I know there hasn’t been a masquerade in town for many years, I am assuming you haven’t any of the newest fashions to wear. It is my solemn duty as your aunt to ensure that my legacy of being the most stunning woman at a party is carried on by my two beautiful nieces. I hope you will wear these and do me proud. Enjoy the party, my girls. Sending you all my love.

  With love,

  Aunt Brigitte

  The two girls looked at each other with excitement and then quickly opened their boxes. Isabelle gasped as she pulled back the fragile tissue paper. Inside was a black lace and jeweled cat’s eye mask with the most beautiful green peacock feathers protruding from the side. It was exotic a
nd beautiful, and she barely noticed the dress underneath she was so taken with it. Holding up the mask to her face, she turned to see her sister was doing the same, only Alexis’ mask was silver with blue sapphires.

  “Alexis, your mask is beautiful! The blue makes your eyes look incredible!” Isabelle exclaimed from behind her mask.

  “Your mask is absolutely stunning, Isabelle! You look like a sultry siren! And the green really brings out your eyes, too!”

  The girls giggled as they carefully set down their masks and pulled out the dresses that remained in the box. Isabelle fell silent as her black gown emerged from the box. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was a decadent blend of lace, sheer fabric, beads and what appeared to be a very plunging lace-scalloped sweetheart neckline. The girls looked at each other one more time and the squeals of pleasure probably reached their aunt’s house a full two days travel away.

  When it was finally time to get dressed, Isabelle pulled the gown out of the box and laid it on her bed. The details and time that must have gone into making it still mesmerized her. Alexis would be in soon, and Céline would help them dress, as the corsets in the back of their dresses were impossible to lace on their own.

  “Wow!” Alexis exclaimed from the door, causing her to jump. “Your makeup looks incredible!”

  “Is it too much?” Isabelle asked, now a bit self-conscious about her decision to use far more makeup that her usual routine. Dark red lips, deep rouge, a dusty eyeshadow and a touch of mascara were much more than the lip stain she wore daily. This was the look her aunt had been begging her to try and she’d decided tonight was the night she’d experiment.

  “No. It looks incredible. I’m so jealous! I wish I was brave enough to try that!” Alexis said as she stepped up behind her sister and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Now, let’s get these dresses on. We have to leave soon.”