Lovers in Enemy Territory

by Rebecca Winters

  "By what miracle are you here now?"

  "It's a long story, darling ... but I'll never stop thanking Miguel for making me come.” She stopped talking, eager to feel his mouth on hers once

  more, and they were caught up in a new intimacy that set their bodies on fire. He crushed her to him and the joy he felt at having her safely in his arms at last erased the months of loneliness and frustration.

  Catherine felt his heart beating wildly against her breast through the rough sweater. This was where she had longed to be. He was all she ever wanted. Words were unnecessary as they delighted in the wonder of being united at last.

  Miguel and Luis had long since gone inside the hut and closed the door. When Miguel stepped outside to help Catherine with the basket and saw the two lovers, he thought he'd lost his mind completely. Then he began putting the pieces of the puzzle together and realized that the injured Englishman was her beloved. There was no other explanation.

  Such a coincidence as the two of them meeting at this remote hut hardly seemed possible. The expressions of joy and desire on their faces was enough to make Miguel green with envy. He went back inside the hut, pulling the dazed old man along with him.

  There was much to explain to Luis who stood in awe over what was transpiring before his very eyes. In fact Miguel wasn't exactly certain how he was going to tell Luis everything, for he didn't understand it all himself. The only thing he knew was that he had an aching sadness caused by seeing Catherine in the arms of the flyer.

  The moon started its upward journey over the top of the mountain behind the hut, spreading its light on the landscape below, bathing the lovers in its pale glow.

  "You're not wearing your habit," he finally whispered in her ear.

  "No. Just this morning I received my dispensation from the Pope. The Mother General gave it to me in person instead of sending it on to Our Lord of the Lamb. All day I've been wondering why, now I know, my love. It’s as if I’ve been set free just so I could come to you now."

  "Catherine," he pressed her more tightly to him. "I can't believe my eyes or my ears.” He swung her up off the ground, kissing her with wild abandon. He could never get enough of her.

  When he put her down again, she felt his body trembling. It occurred to her that he'd been standing on his bad leg all this time without any support. If he were in pain, he'd never admit it. She raised her head. "Let's go inside, Jeffrey. It's chilly out here and you mustn't stand on your leg. I know you're uncomfortable. I can feel you tremble."

  He smiled down at her, loving her more intensely for her concern. "That's not why I'm trembling, darling." How he adored her! "We'll go back in, but not until I've kissed you once more."

  It was some time later that he reluctantly let her go. She knelt down and picked up his crutches. He put them under either arm while she gathered up the contents of the basket. Then with the blanket and basket firmly secured, they went into the hut, holding tightly to each other in spite of the crutches.

  Miguel looked up as they came inside. He'd never seen two such radiantly beautiful people.

  "Miguel," she addressed him in French, "I don't know how to explain it, but this man is the man I’m going to marry.”

  “You’re kidding,” he teased.

  She laughed. “I want you two to become the best of friends."

  "We're well on our way," Miguel responded. "Luis!" he called to the old man. "This is the sister from the priory who intends to marry the Englishman." Luis smiled broadly and put out his hand to shake hers.

  In her best Basque she thanked him profusely for taking care of Jeffrey, for allowing her to come and for giving them refuge. It pleased him that she knew some phrases in his native tongue and he told her that she and her man were welcome to stay as long as they liked.

  Miguel looked on and noticed that the flyer was in pain. In his excitement to greet Catherine, he’d forgotten his leg and was suffering the consequences. Under the circumstances Miguel understood.

  "You, Jeffrey," he spoke in English. "Get off that leg, now!" he pointed and shook his head as if he were chastising a naughty child.

  Catherine immediately agreed. "He's right, darling You must rest." Jeffrey nodded. She looked around the room so sparsely furnished and tidily kept. "But where do you sleep?"

  "Up in the loft. Luis has given up his only bed. And he's risking his life for me," he muttered.

  "I'm discovering that there are many godly people in the world, like Luis and Miguel.” Jeffrey eyed Catherine, realizing how blessed he really was.

  "Catherine—“ He motioned for her to come over to the ladder. She took his crutches while he propelled himself up the rungs. She handed them back to him and as she did so, he caught hold of her hand. "Come up here, darling."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jeffrey’s eyes were dark with desire. Catherine felt a sensation not unlike a current of electricity flow through her body as she drew closer. When she reached the loft he pulled her away from the edge and together they went over to the bed in the corner, opposite the window.

  It was nothing more than a straw mattress covered with several blankets. There were pieces of newspaper on the floor by the bed covered with his sketches.

  Her eyes smarted as she watched him sit down and rub his thigh above the break. "We shouldn't have stayed outside so long, Jeffrey." There was alarm in her voice.

  For answer he drew her down on his lap. One arm went around her shoulders, the other gently forced her head to lie on his arm. "It's a small price to pay," he whispered and began kissing her eyes and nose. Suddenly he was covering her mouth and throat. His touch sent delicious chills through her body till she felt drugged.

  Miguel poked his head into the loft and waited till he felt he could intrude, but no such moment seemed to present itself. He cleared his throat noisily. "Excuse, please."

  Catherine blushed because Miguel had come upon them so unexpectedly. She swayed visibly after getting to her feet. Jeffrey lay back against the pillow and grimaced as Miguel lifted the bad leg on top of the bed and began unwrapping it.

  She watched in rapt attention, anxious to see if his leg was mending properly. She raised soft eyes to Jeffrey. They gazed at each other and spoke silent words of love.

  Miguel examined everything carefully, then rebandaged the leg. He stood up and patted Jeffrey's shoulder. "Your leg is good," he said in perfect English. Then in French to Catherine, "It’s coming along well, but he must stay off it as much as possible. He can’t expect to travel for another six weeks or longer. You will both stay here till he’s better."

  "But we can’t do this to Luis, Miguel."

  "Luis wants you to stay. You will be safe here."

  "Thank you, Miguel. We will never forget your kindness. Please tell Luis again how grateful we are. One day we will repay both of you."

  He smiled. "I think I’m safe in assuming that it won’t be lonely for either one of you. It is the best plan. In a month or so, the pigs will have stopped actively looking for you."

  "Yes," she answered excitedly. "I will keep house and do the cooking. I want to be of as much help as possible." Miguel flashed her a broad smile.

  "Catherine?" Jeffrey called to her. She went quickly to his side and he took her hand. "What are you two talking about?" He felt an uncontrollable jealousy of her attentions to the handsome Basque who spoke only in French so Jeffrey couldn't understand.

  Miguel noticed the Commander's possessive manner and chuckled. He didn't blame him. The Englishman was hopelessly in love with her. That much was obvious. And no wonder.

  “My love, your leg is getting better, but Miguel says you’re not to leave here for at least another six weeks. After that you’ll be able to travel without the splint. He’s worked out a plan for our escape, but you must be totally recovered first."

  "Is Luis willing to let us stay here?"

  Catherine nodded.

  He bent his head in concentration. For a moment it took her back to the morning she’d fir
st laid eyes on him at the convent. He’d looked just like that. It seemed so long ago. Then his head flew back and his arm reached around her waist and drew her down to him.

  "Ask Miguel if there is a priest in the area who could marry us right away. If we’re going to be living under this roof for the next month or so, I’ll have to make you my wife. I couldn't stand it otherwise."

  She looked longingly at him. "I couldn't either," came her fervent reply.

  His hand reached for hers. "Catherine, you don't mind if we're not married in England? If you'd rather wait so Michael and Philip can be with us, I'll understand. And you have an aunt as well. I'm being impatient again. It's one of my worst faults. Since I've met you, I'm worse than ever."

  "Do you honestly think I care where we’re married? Do you think I want to wait?" she squeezed his hand. "You don't know me very well. Nothing matters except that we’re together permanently. I can't wait to belong to you.” She kissed his lips lightly. His arm tightened around her waist.

  She finally turned to Miguel, translating Jeffrey's request into French. Miguel eyed the Englishman enviously. Putting himself in the Commander's place, he understood the urgency of his request. He called down to Luis and they talked it over. In a moment he was making explanations to Catherine.

  Jeffrey was once again exasperated that he couldn’t understand their words, and something Miguel said caused Catherine to look away. He held her tighter. "Darling?"

  "Miguel says Luis is friends with the priest and will speak to him in the morning. His house is just down the mountainside. Luis says it will be too dangerous for us to be seen at the Church, so the Father will have to come here to perform the ceremony."

  Jeffrey beamed. "What else did he say?"

  Catherine's mouth broke into a half smile. "That Luis will tell the Holy Father it’s an emergency!"

  Jeffrey laughed quietly. "It is. Tell Miguel to tell Luis he’s a man after my own heart."

  Catherine translated and soon everyone was smiling, but Jeffrey was still concerned for her feelings. "Darling, I realize this isn't the way either of us visualized things. You at least deserve to be married in a house of God."

  "Hush.” She put her fingers to his lips. "God is everywhere, even in this humble loft. We're together now. Could anything else matter?"

  "No," he caressed her cheek with his hand, then extended his hand to Miguel. "Thank you, friend."

  "It is nothing.” Miguel grinned and turned to leave.

  "Miguel, thank you for everything,” she cried in French.

  "You must stop thanking us all the time, Sister." He stopped talking, realizing what he'd just said. It slipped out so easily. "You can sleep up here, or down by the fire. Whatever you choose. Luis has more blankets in the dresser below. There’s hot stew in the pot when you wish to eat."

  "Thank you.”

  She felt a tug at her side once more. "What did he say?"

  "He was discussing the sleeping arrangements. I’ll go down by the fire.”

  His inhaled sharply before taking her hand to kiss the palm. "No, Catherine. “You'll stay right here with me tonight and every night for the rest of our lives," the husky voice commanded in a tone which excited her. It was what she wanted, too. After finding him at last, she couldn't bear to be apart from him, even for one hour.

  "1’ll stay up here with Jeffrey from now on, Miguel."

  "Be happy then." His smile spoke volumes.

  "I've never been so happy. Good night.” Then she ran to his side and hugged him. "You're very special. So is Luis.” By force of habit she made the sign of the cross over him. "Bless you, Miguel."

  Jeffrey watched the graceful gesture. There was a part of her that would always be a nun. He knew that. Perhaps it was that part he loved best.

  Catherine watched Miguel go downstairs. The two men prepared for bed and doused the candles. The hut was still. Miguel was truly a saint, though he would scoff at the title. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him because of her.

  Jeffrey felt Catherine had withdrawn from him and it hurt. He wanted to share her every thought. He got up off the bed and hobbled over to the ladder, slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her up against him. "What is it?"

  She turned in his arms. "Miguel is a very dear friend, Jeffrey. I don't want anything to go wrong for him or Luis."

  Jeffrey pressed her head to his chest. "He's in love with you. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

  She lifted her head and cupped his face in her hands. "There’s so much to tell you, so much you must tell me."

  "Yes," he whispered, silencing her words with his lips. They went back to the bed. Catherine helped him to a sitting position. He rubbed his leg again. She stood helpless before him, wanting to ease his suffering.

  He raised up and caught her around the waist with his arms, pressing his head against her warm body. "I've had so many dreams about you," he began quietly. "Don't ever leave me, Catherine," his voice shook.

  "Jeffrey—“ She forced him to lie back, smoothing the damp locks from his forehead. The exertion of getting up again had caused the perspiration to break out on his brow. "I'll never leave you.” She rubbed her cheek against his, realizing how fragile this strong man was. It made her love him all the more. He clung to her with an intensity that spoke of his deep need.

  "I love you, Catherine. He kissed her long and hard, pulling her down so their bodies were crushed tightly.

  "When I think you had to jump out of a plane into-- into nothing--" she cried. "How many were with you, Jeffrey?

  “Dudley and Doherty. Only God knows what has happened to them. Luis and Miguel have searched, but they found no traces of them, poor devils."

  "Are you really all right?"

  "I've never been better now that you're here. I'll never know by what stroke of Providence we're together again like this, but right now that isn't important. You and Michael are all I've ever cared about." They gazed at each other, examining every line and feature. He shook his head. "I still can't believe you're real."

  His fingers traced lightly over her arched brow and down her slightly upturned nose. Those lovely lips he couldn’t get enough of. She kissed his fingers. Her touch was electric. He urgently wanted to feel those lips on his, as if he had never tasted their sweetness before.

  "I thought you were in Africa. Were you trying to reach me when your plane crashed?"

  "I wanted to, Catherine. It's a long story. I'm stationed in Africa."

  "Tell me everything," she begged. "Right from the beginning. Don't leave anything out."

  "When I called you at the convent, I’d just been in heavy briefing sessions at Coastal Command Headquarters outside London. We flew out the next morning to set up new bases in West Africa, but that was only part of the mission. The other part was to do surveillance over Spain. That's all I've been doing for the last few weeks. Three of us were out in the Hudson last week, taking a scan over the mountains and we ran into a bad electrical storm."

  "I remember. That was the night the Perignon child passed away. Go on, darling."

  "Our engines iced up, one caught fire. We had to bail out. I’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the priory, but there was too much rain.”

  She sat up. "You knew I was here?" she questioned incredulously.

  "Catherine.” He pulled her back down and kissed her. "You don't think I'd just say goodbye to you on the phone and then wonder for months where you were. No, I did a little homework so I could picture you in your new surroundings. You can't possibly imagine my horror when you told me you were going to travel over here, knowing what I knew about the state of affairs between Berlin and Madrid.

  “It was all I could do not to break regulations. I didn't want you to come over here. I've hardly slept since we talked on the phone."

  His concern for her was overwhelming. She nestled closer. "And I lay awake every night for the last few months trying to picture you someplace in Africa. Some nights I th
ought I'd die from the suspense of not knowing.”

  "I was sure I'd seen the last of you when I tumbled out that hatch!"

  “Oh Jeffrey.” She wrapped her arms around him.

  He put his hand under her chin and forced her face to his. "You still haven't told me how you happened to come to this hut with Miguel, and why he means so much to you. I could be jealous," his eyes narrowed.

  "No.” She put fingers to his lips. "I was assigned to work with him the day I arrived here. His assistant had passed away and he needed someone to replace her. Miguel isn’t a doctor yet, but he will be some day. He's had two years of medical training. He's the finest man I've ever known, next to you. He's dedicated and unselfish, fearless like you."

  He tousled her hair to cover his emotions.

  "We worked together every day, sometimes all night. You can't imagine what conditions are like here," her voice caught. "Sometime I will tell you. Anyway Miguel and I grew close to one another. I knew his every thought, almost, and he knew many of mine.

  “He belongs to an underground organization that helps people like you to escape. He's a political outcast in his own country, yet he stays on to help his people. His devotion is Christlike."

  Jeffrey listened, totally caught up in what she was saying.

  "Just this morning he was in town and discovered while he was trying to find milk for our starving babies, that two men from Gestapo headquarters in Madrid had been in town, asking questions about...me."

  His blood ran cold. He raised himself and stared down at her. "The Gestapo?"

  "Yes. It sounds incredible, but apparently they wanted to know if I’d been making contact with someone from the outside, or vice-versa. Miguel was convinced that my life was in danger, and persuaded me to come to this hut where I would be safe. He felt that my connection with you was the reason for their inquiries.

  “Miguel knew nothing about us till I broke down and told him everything this morning. I had to. The pictures he painted of what could happen if they came to the priory for an interrogation.” She shuddered. "Anyway, darling, do you think Miguel was right?"