Final Hours

by Cate Dean

  Kane spent three hours in the operating room of the local hospital.

  Elizabeth spent almost as long with a Dr. Thomas Butler, who didn’t say a word as he cleaned and bandaged her shoulder and her forearm. When he started to work on her right thigh, he finally spoke.

  “What kind of weapon caused this damage?”

  “I don’t—I’m not sure I can explain it.” Or that I should even tell you.

  “Military secret, then.”

  She let out a quiet sigh. “Something like that.”

  Clear, intense green eyes studied her for a moment. “I would call you on it, Miss Barritt, were I not a gentleman.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “I would prefer to think I have a more open mind than you credit me with, but if you believe you can’t discuss it, I will not mention it again.”

  “Oh, you are good.”

  He didn’t smile as he gently smeared something cool and absolutely soothing over the burn on her thigh, but amusement filled his eyes. “I like to think so.”

  This time she blushed. The man was flirting with her, and she didn’t quite know how to take it. Men didn’t flirt, not before Kane.

  She forgot all of it when he started to stitch her leg.

  “God—”

  “I am sorry, Miss Barritt, but it must be done. I can’t be leaving such a gaping hole to the open air. Please hold still for me, or I will have to call someone in to hold you down.”

  “Okay.” She gripped the edges of the bed, and got her first good look at her leg.

  Dr. Butler was right; Guy’s pistol did leave a gaping hole. Fortunately, it was fairly small, and only took a few stitches to close.

  “Good girl, nearly done now.” He bandaged her leg, then carefully pulled the edges of her ruined trouser leg together. “I’m afraid you will have to find more suitable clothing until that leg heals. Take a drink of water.” He helped her hold the glass. She felt like an invalid; with wounds on both arms, she couldn’t manage the glass herself. “Let’s settle you to the bed, now.” He eased her back, until her head sank into the feather pillow.

  “Can you tell me how my friend is doing?”

  “Still in surgery would be my guess. It will be all right,” he said, his hand warm on her wrist. “Dr. Norton is one of the best. I will have a nurse come round to let you know when you can see him.”

  “Thank you—and thank you for taking care of me.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Barritt. Get some rest, now.”

  He left her, and closed the door behind him. Elizabeth forced herself to relax. There was nothing else to do, not until she could see Kane again, talk to him. She had hidden the transport inside her boot when Gryffyth left her in the room. It was safe for now.

  The one Kane used to get to her had fallen apart around his wrist, so she left it in the grass, hoping the fierce wind would scatter the pieces. Once she was able to, she’d find a way to go back, to check for any that were left and gather them up herself.

  Her eyes closed without her permission. She started to turn on her right side, her normal position for sleeping—and let out a gasp when her shoulder met the mattress. With a sigh, she shifted to her back, and resigned herself to not getting much sleep. She drifted off before she finished the thought.

  ~ ~ ~

  The pain woke Kane, grinding into his shoulder. Nothing else existed save that.

  He took in slow, shallow breaths, and waited for it to ease enough for him to think. Endless minutes later, he felt the warm, soft hand that held his.

  Elizabeth.

  He gathered the strength to say her name—and memory slammed into him. She knew.

  Guy had told her Kane’s secret, the one thing he didn’t want her to know before he—before they—

  “Kane? I know you’re awake. Are you in pain?” Her low voice brushed over him. He did not want to see the change in her eyes, now that she knew the truth. Dread threatened to choke him as he realized this unexpected, powerful connection they had was about to fall victim to his title.

  “Kane—look at me, please.”

  It was the pain in her quiet plea that did it. He took in as deep a breath as he dared, and opened his eyes, braced for the cunning and avarice every woman had given him since his guardian left him the title.

  Elizabeth met his blurred gaze—and it was just Elizabeth, concern and exhaustion on her face as she studied him.

  “Beth—hell—”

  “Hush. Take your time.” Her grip on his hand tightened.

  “All right.” He flinched at his rasping whisper, then flinched again when the flinch hurt. It seemed that every muscle was directly connected to his shoulder, and hurt less or more according to proximity. “How long?”

  “It’s been nearly a week.”

  “What—” He started to sit; it took only a gentle push for Elizabeth to have him flat on his back again.

  “Guy is dead.”

  Kane looked up at her. She sounded—despondent. A tight smile covered it, but he knew she had to be suffering for what she had done. There were more than a few deaths on his own soul. He would make damn sure she didn’t allow this one to burden her more than it needed to—not over Guy. He had created his own fate, and she didn’t deserve to suffer such grief for that.

  He cleared his throat, tried out his voice. “How are you?”

  “A little banged up.” She closed her eyes, and tears slipped down her cheeks. With a choked sob she leaned in and pressed her face into his good shoulder. “Oh, Jackson—I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Hey.” He freed his hand and slipped his arm around her waist. God help him, she felt so good, so right. “I’m here, love.”

  “And you’re going to explain exactly how you got here, but not now.” She lifted her head. “So—you’re a count.”

  Every inch stiffened. Here it was, hidden under her concern. “Yes.”

  “Stop clenching your jaw. I don’t care.”

  He stared up at her. “But—”

  “I’m a Yank, your grace.” She winked at him. “We don’t have fancy titles, so it really doesn’t matter to me that you can walk into a room and have men bow to you, or that you have bucket loads of money. Unless—do you have a castle?”

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes. “I have a castle.”

  Her lips brushed his cheek, her breath warm as she whispered. “That is so incredibly cool.” Laughter burst out of him—immediately followed by a groan. “Oh, Kane—I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, love. Right now, breathing hurts.” He opened his eyes, studied her face. She was a miracle to him—a woman who saw him, and not the title, not the wealth, not the prestige that would be hers if she could snare him into marriage. Just him. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Come up here and kiss me.”

  Smiling, she eased herself to the bed, winced when her right leg moved. “I’m okay.” She stopped his protest before he could make it. “I have a few battle wounds of my own, but they’re healing. Now, where would you like that kiss, your grace?”

  He quite liked the sound of his title, when she said it in that low voice. As long as she didn’t curtsy and lick her lips, like he was dinner.

  “My lips seem to have survived intact.”

  A smile curved hers. “Let’s find out.” She teased him with a sweet, soft, brief kiss. “How was that?”

  “Painfully short.”

  “Hm. Maybe if I did this, it wouldn’t hurt.” The second kiss was slow, deeper, her tongue tracing the line of his mouth. She broke it off before he could take her in. “Better?”

  “I believe,” he took in another breath, focused on keeping his voice steady. “I may need a bit more—therapy.”

  “What the patient wants, the patient gets.”

  This time she dove in, her tongue sliding over his, slow and seductive, until he couldn’t think straight. He pulled her down, and her breasts pressed into his bare chest. His fingers spr
ead across her back; he needed her closer, needed to feel her, all of her. He raised his right arm to keep her here—and stilled when his arm didn’t move.

  Elizabeth broke off the kiss, searched his face. When she spoke, her voice was soft, and achingly gentle.

  “You have nerve damage, Kane. Dr. Norton doesn’t know how much, and he won’t until the swelling’s gone down. There are things we can do—massage, physical therapy. I won’t give up on you, and I won’t let you give up on yourself.”

  “Will I—” He swallowed, then faced the truth as he looked into her eyes. “Will the wound cripple me?”

  “Not if I can help it.” She sounded so fierce he couldn’t help but laugh. It strangled to a moan when the movement jarred his shoulder. “Kane—”

  “All right—I think. No,” he tightened his arm when she started to pull away. “Stay.”

  She obliged, stretching out on her left side. Kane understood why when he saw the bulge of a bandage on her right thigh, under the nightgown. Her head settled on his shoulder, and he started to move his right hand to run it through her silky hair. The angry flare in his shoulder reminded him that he couldn’t use his arm.

  Not now. Maybe not ever, despite Elizabeth’s militant optimism.

  As she fell asleep beside him, he made some decisions, each more painful than the last.

  ~ ~ ~

  Once Kane could be moved, Admiral Ramsay extended Elizabeth an invitation to stay at Dover Castle. As thanks, his note said, for risking her life to protect him.

  They settled in the small officer’s house on the castle grounds, near the keep. They also slept in separate bedrooms while Kane slowly regained his strength. It was his idea—and he had been methodically putting distance between them ever since.

  When she tried to talk to him, he walked away, or stared over her shoulder until she finished, then walked away. And if he called her Elizabeth in that infuriating tone one more time she swore she would punch him.

  To add to her misery, the transport that brought her here unlocked after Guy’s was destroyed in the fall. Kane could send her home at any time. She dreaded the possibility of it.

  After two weeks of enduring his behavior, it was easier to leave than have another one-sided argument. So she did, wandering the castle grounds with the cane Dr. Butler gave her. She became a regular fixture, and the word must have spread about her, because the soldiers treated her with something resembling awe. All of them except Gryffyth.

  Thankfully, he teased her, talked to her, and walked with her nearly every day, when he had time. She watched their side of the Dunkirk evacuation from the cliff top, the words and accounts she’d read in so many books coming to life before her eyes.

  Gryffyth joined her, the final day of the evacuation, as ships of all sizes limped in the harbour.

  “It has been a miracle,” he said, his voice quiet. “Hundreds of thousands of men. We only expected to save a few thousand, but—”

  “Luck was on your side.”

  He glanced down at her. “You knew, didn’t you? This was why you risked so much to save the Admiral. To save them.”

  “I can’t take the credit for—”

  “Elizabeth.” He laid his hand on her left shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Gryffyth—” He pulled her into a hug, careful of her injuries. “I couldn’t have done anything else.”

  “Someone else would have walked away.”

  “Not with so much at stake—”

  “I may be young, but I do know this: people can be horribly selfish. Especially when it is their own life on the line. You deserve every accolade, beautiful.”

  She closed her eyes, and held on, tears threatening. Again. These last few days, she had felt helpless as she watched Kane struggle with his new reality, as he rudely refused every attempt to assist him. She kept expecting him to finish it, to put her aside, like everyone in her life. He had the means to send her home now, and why should he be any different? He saw what she was—

  She turned away from that, from the thought of how it felt to pull the trigger, to kill without any remorse—

  “Elizabeth.” Gryffyth’s quiet voice yanked her back.

  “Sorry.” She smiled up at him, aware that she didn’t fool him for a second. “Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  He let her go, helped her down the steep path. Her leg still wasn’t up to taking it alone, even with the support of the cane. They parted at the entry to the tunnels, and Gryffyth promised to bring by a pot of soup from the mess once he was off duty.

  Elizabeth made her way back to the small cottage, the come and go wind tugging at her calf length dress. She let herself in, and turned to find Kane in the doorway of his room. The look on his face had her heart racing. The moment she dreaded, waited for, had finally come.

  “It is time we talked.” He sounded so stiff, so formal, like they were barely acquaintances.

  Well, he was about to get a wake-up call. Elizabeth had done some thinking of her own during the long hours alone, and made some decisions. Painful decisions.

  His right arm was cradled in a sling she had made from a silk scarf. It breathed better than the heavy thing the hospital gave him. She noticed he’d dressed himself, wearing one of the oversized shirts he could pull over his head.

  Once word got out about them, people had been so generous, with their offers of clothing, and other small necessities they could hardly afford for themselves. The outpouring of care left Elizabeth in tears more times than she could count.

  Kane brought her back to the present when he moved into the small living area and lowered himself to the arm chair. She set the cane in an umbrella stand next to the door, limped over to the sofa, and eased herself down. When she looked up, Kane had his gaze on her, pain in the grey eyes.

  “I am sending you home.”

  “No.”

  Shock widened his eyes. “Beth—I’ve thought long and hard about this. With my—current condition, I am better off staying in one place. I can be useful here, live a quiet life, and do my best not to—”

  “I call bullshit.” While he sputtered, she pushed off the sofa and limped over to him, so angry her hands shook when she braced them on the arms of the chair and got in his face. “You’re giving up, and using me as an excuse.”

  “I am not—”

  “You can give up, Jackson Kane, but don’t you dare step on that self-sacrificing pedestal and convince yourself that you’re doing it for me. I won’t stand for it—do you hear me? You deserve better—damn it—”

  She pushed off the chair and spun away from him as tears burned her eyes, threatened to spring free and turn her into a sobbing mess. The wall stopped her retreat, and she braced her hands against the cool plaster, fought to control the emotions that demanded release.

  “I’m sorry, love.” His warm breath brushed her ear, and the simple words unleashed tears she’d been holding in since she killed Guy. “Let it go, Beth. I am sorry I left you alone to deal with it. Just let it all go.”

  With a choked sob, she pressed her face into her hands and started to cry. She had no strength left to fight Kane as he turned her around and pulled her in. Both hands clutched his shirt, soaking it as she cried herself into exhaustion. When she finally ran out of tears, she leaned back, and fumbled in her sweater pocket for a handkerchief she had gotten in the habit of keeping there. Just in case. She blew her nose, used a clean corner to wipe her face.

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat, and with a sigh, eased away from him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To clean myself up. I probably look like a drowned rat, and I soaked your shirt. You need to change—”

  “I need you, Beth.”

  She froze. His hand cupped her chin, applied pressure until she met his eyes.

  “I figured it was the opposite, with the way you’ve been treating me.”

  He swallowed, let go of her. “I needed time to—”

  “What? Decide if
you wanted to get involved with a broken woman? A woman who could kill without even blinking—”

  “Stop.” He caught her wrist, furious. “You will not talk about yourself like that again, am I understood?”

  “I figured—” Shock had her stumbling over her words. “I thought you felt the same, and were going to let me down easy once you healed enough to leave.”

  He slid his hand up her arm, and kept going until he cradled her cheek. “We are too much alike, my sweet Beth. I wanted to do the leaving, before you quit me.”

  “Why would I—” He stepped back, touched the sling. “You thought I’d leave because you’re injured?”

  “There is every reason to believe I will be—crippled.” He spit out the last word. “I will not tie anyone to—”

  “Well, isn’t that extra self-sacrificing of you. Asking me would have been too easy?”

  “I—it was cowardly of me, but I did not want to hear your rejection outright.”

  She pushed off the wall and moved to him. He retreated; she paced him, until he trapped himself against the opposite wall. Right where she wanted him.

  “Do you remember what you said to me? The day I—when you were out on the cliff.”

  “I remember.”

  “I took those words as a commitment.”

  His eyes widened. “That was before—”

  “I love you, Kane.”

  He stared at the floor. Silence stretched between them, until Elizabeth wanted to scream to break it. She forced herself to wait, to let him speak first.

  “Beth—”

  “If you’re going to say thanks, but no thanks, save it. Your complete lack of a response tells me exactly what I need to know.” And, oh, it hurt, like a knife slowly twisting in her heart. But she was better off learning the truth now, rather than after she was in too deep.

  Who was she kidding? She had passed that point a long time ago.

  Her throat too tight to say anything else, she turned around and limped to her room. To pack, and figure out where she could go from here—

  “I’ve never spoken those words to a woman.” Kane’s low voice halted her. “I didn’t trust the words, or the women. Until now. Until you.”