Among the Poppies

by J'nell Ciesielski

  “Why don’t you take a load off next to Duncan, Roland?” William gave his attention to the Scotsman. “What’s your name, soldier?”

  “Lieutenant MacDonald of the Second Battalion Royal Scots Fusiliers.” He shrugged at the lack of stars on his shoulder. “I got a wee promotion when all my officers were killed the first day.”

  “And you’re the man in charge now.”

  “No, sir. That’s you.”

  “Oh. Oh, yes.” Tension wrapped around William’s neck. The cold, musty floor looked as inviting as a feathered quilt and pillows. Perhaps someday he could take that rest and let someone else hold the reins.

  “William, come and sit down.” Gwyn curled a hand around his arm. “Let me take a look at the scrape. It’s been hours since I bandaged it.”

  William shook his head despite the pull of her warm touch. “I’d like to meet the men first. Take stock of the wounds and—”

  “And wake them all when they haven’t had a proper night’s sleep? I’ll make introductions for you later.”

  He allowed her to lead him to an unoccupied spot along the wall and sank wearily to the floor. As Gwyn prodded his cheek, he plied MacDonald with questions about his capture and their captors.

  William forced his attention to remain on the report, but Gwyn’s soft fingers dashed every intelligible word from his head. As they trailed down his jaw, he longed to lean into their touch and let them whisk him away to a far off place filled with the sweet scent of roses from when he first met her.

  “Do you think the major will give us medical supplies?” Gwyn’s voice jolted him back to the rank cell. “I can hardly see that he would. We’re barely given enough food to keep the grumbling from our stomachs.”

  “I’ve eaten better during the Highland famines,” MacDonald said.

  William sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. The absence of her fingers left his skin cold. “He gave no formal reply, but I reminded him that if he wanted a prisoner exchange, then keeping us alive is in the best interest of his own captured.”

  “Bet he didna like hearing that.”

  William grimaced. “No, he didn’t.”

  A moaning broke the quiet murmuring as a man struggled to sit up. Gwyn started to rise, but MacDonald waved her down.

  “You’ve been awake the whole night. I’ll see what he needs.” He ambled away, leaving them alone.

  Though she remained seated, her gaze followed the hulky man. Bands of tension twisted to the back of William’s skull. “You follow his orders, but not mine.”

  “He looks more menacing than you.”

  “Perhaps I should grow a beard.”

  “You already are, though menacing isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

  “How would you?”

  A gleam sparked in her tired eyes. “Never you mind.”

  Something squeaked in the corner. William turned to find a scrawny brown mouse licking his tiny feet.

  “We call him Fredrick,” Gwyn said. “Wilhelm only comes out at night.”

  “You’ve named the vermin?”

  She shrugged. “It took two days of voting before we all agreed. Gave us something to think about instead of no food and the awful smell.”

  “How did you get here in the first place? The Germans could not have pushed in so far to reach you at the ambulance.” Dropping her gaze, she picked at the worn patches on her knees. Of course. “You didn’t stay at the ambulance,” he stated flatly.

  “Men needed me.” She lifted her face back up. “MacDonald said they—”

  “MacDonald? He’s responsible for you leaving your post and getting caught?” With more anger than he’d felt in months, William grabbed the wall to lever himself up.

  Gwyn yanked him right back down. “In case you’ve forgotten, Captain, I am not one of your soldiers. I never swore an oath to obey your or any other military orders.”

  “While in the field, you are under my protection and supervision. I told you to stay by the ambulance.”

  “Men needed me.”

  “I needed you to stay put.” He gripped his hands together to keep from reaching out and shaking sense into her. Did she not care for the worry she put him through? “They could have found you—not captured—by the ambulance.”

  “Well, I didn’t stay there.”

  “Clearly.”

  “They would have died, William.” Her jaw worked, tightening the muscles in her delicate neck. “They did die. The Germans … they found us.”

  The coughing, scratching, and whispering of the basement had stopped as the surrounding men leaned closer to William and Gwyn’s conversation. William shifted his back to them for a small bit of privacy.

  Gwyn blinked rapidly as tears crowded the corners of her eyes. The anger beating in William’s veins dulled to a throb. He’d tried so hard to shield her from the harshness exploding around them, but she didn’t like shields. She overthrew them at every turn.

  He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, relieving the burning tiredness. He knew what was best and yet she refused to—his hands fell woodenly to his lap. He sounded exactly like his father. “You should never have had to see something like that.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, turning her nose away from him. “Because I should never have left England in the first place, you mean to say.”

  Like an arrow to the bull’s-eye. “There is that.”

  “Our country is at war. All hands needed at the wheel to win this, and my abilities can be of great use here. I could stay no more than you.”

  William grimaced as his father’s parting words at the train depot came to him. “Show them what you were made for, son. Don’t blemish the Crawford name.”

  “I doubt that very much,” he said.

  “Back home, I’m forever being told what I should be, what I should do, and where I should go without the chance to change it. In my best interests for feminine comfort, it’s said.”

  “Comfort doesn’t sound so bad.”

  She snorted. “Try walking a day in my skirts.”

  He tugged the fabric encasing her leg. “Impossible these days.”

  She slapped his hand away. “Nothing is impossible, though you would look ridiculous.”

  “Tell that to the Highland regiments. They think they look quite ferocious, but don’t call them skirts. My mother’s uncle is from Inverness, and he took it rather personally when he was offered a pair of trousers to cover his bare knees.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder to where MacDonald hovered near a man with a makeshift sling. “I’d wager your bulldog bares a shiny shin from time to time.”

  “Don’t you dare say a bad thing about Mr. MacDonald. He’s been a true godsend keeping the men calm and comfortable.”

  “A godsend wouldn’t have led you into capture,” William muttered.

  A drumroll of cannon fire shook the overhead rafters. The lads were taking a beating. Or what was left of them.

  Gwyn picked up a pebble and rolled it between her fingers. “How long do you think we’ll be down here?”

  “Have somewhere else to be?”

  “I don’t like this new sour side of you. If you plan to keep it up, go find a new corner to sulk in.” She threw the rock, bouncing it off the opposite wall.

  “Apologies. Lack of sleep and food. To answer your question, I don’t know. And I don’t think Fritz knows either. General Haig is determined to take the woods at all costs, and the Germans are determined to hold it at all costs. And so, our stay. We’re more valuable alive.”

  “The Germans may not feel that way.” She raised a hand to stop his protest. “I may not have seen the sun for several days, but my eyes aren’t so bad that I can’t see the worry on every man’s face here. Including yours. How strangely it’s changed since the beginning.”

  “Changed? Granted it’s been a while since I’ve seen a mirror.”

  “All of your faces. Mine too, I suppose. In the beginning, everyone said we would
win and be home before Christmas. That was almost two years ago, and time has marched its heavy footsteps across each one of us.”

  “You should have been a writer with words like that.”

  She smiled, tired lines crinkling the corners of her eyes. “No. That requires sitting in one place for far too long.”

  “Not such a bad thing. Especially after this.”

  “Is that your plan?”

  “My plan is escaping this place. The rest will happen in due course.”

  “But surely there’s something you want to—”

  The door at the top of the stairs squealed open, shooting each of William’s nerves to the edge. Heavy boots stalked down the stairs. William threw his arm out, blocking Gwyn from the intruder.

  “It’s breakfast.” Touching his hand, Gwyn pointed to the dark corner where Fred or Harry, or whatever that mouse’s name was, scurried from his hole and sniffed the air.

  Two large plates slid to the floor. The heavy boots stomped back upstairs.

  William eyed the torn and half-eaten food bits on the tray. “This is all?”

  “We get whatever they don’t finish upstairs.” She picked at a crust of toast. “I guess they weren’t very hungry this morning.”

  Fury poured through William as he watched the men choose which crumbs to take. They couldn’t all survive on this. They needed to get out of there. The sooner, the better.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Whoever has that hammer better knock it off.” Gwyn threw her arm over her head, trying to block out the noise.

  “Ow!”

  Struggling into a half-sitting position, she realized she’d elbowed William’s knee. Her sleepiness vanished faster than an engine erupting in smoke. She’d been using him as a pillow.

  “Those aren’t hammers.” He rubbed his knee.

  Gwyn sat up. Pins and needles stung down the arm she’d been laying on. She tried stretching it but succeeded only in hitting William again. “Not hammers? Oh, the guns.”

  “Yes, guns. Do you mind stretching in the other direction? This entire side of my body is a bit sore.”

  She stopped mid-stretch. “You have more injuries you didn’t tell me about?”

  “I only got them last night.”

  “Last night? What were you doing last—oh.” Numbness paralyzed her arm, dragging it down like dead weight. Yet the shame from her nighttime behavior flared with vitality. She’d snuggled up to him like a common trollop. And had the best night’s sleep in close to a year. “You should have shaken me off.”

  “You’re rather persistent when tired. I had no choice.”

  She smacked her forearm for a prickle of feeling to return. “Please stop. I don’t need to hear any more about my ill-mannered sleeping habits.”

  Taking her arm, he massaged the sleepiness away. “Not even the dream where you ordered the entire battalion to dive off the coast of Africa in search of Atlantis?”

  Warmth tingled beneath her skin, but not from the awakening blood. His thumb circled her elbow. “And did they?”

  His brow scrunched. “I’m not sure. You found a rock digging in your side and flopped over.”

  “I never can find out the ending to a good dream.” She stifled a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “If I had to guess, near four in the morning.”

  Copper sparked in the several days’ growth of the blond beard along his jaw. The irrepressible desire to run a finger over the stubble lifted her hand of its own accord. He flinched, then leaned into her touch.

  His whiskers scratched the sensitive skin on her palm, the soft intake of breaths whispering between her fingers. Her heart pounded at what the small movement meant. The possibilities behind it. Possibilities she wasn’t ready to meet or settle into.

  Yet, William was far from settling. He was a man worth striving for.

  “You’d look fine with a beard.” She traced her fingers along his jaw. “A short one to lend a roguish air.”

  “I’ve never gone rogue a day in my life.”

  “I believe it.” She brushed the stubble under his lip. He shivered. “All the more reason to do it. Live a little before you’re an old man and these handsome blond whiskers have turned gray.”

  An easy smile stole over his face, erasing the deep worry lines. “Handsome, eh? Next, you’ll have me in a dinner jacket with a rose clamped between my teeth.”

  “I prefer daisies, and for once I’d like to see you out of uniform without the weight of duty on your shoulders. Something not buttoned to your chin or gleaming with buckles.”

  “Afraid you’ll be waiting a while for that pretty picture.” A deep V creased his forehead as he glanced down at his rumpled jacket. The top three buttons gaped open, revealing a stained white shirt beneath. “Barring current circumstances.”

  “I’m patient.”

  He grinned. “All evidence to the contrary.”

  Gwyn’s heart flopped over. Was it possible for him to be more devastatingly charming in a German prison than regally sitting atop a horse? “In this case, I’m willing to wait. Fair?”

  The laughter in his eyes faded to smoky blue. He pulled a curl from behind her ear and wrapped it around his finger. “More than fair.”

  His husky tone stopped the air in her throat.

  She panicked and moved her hand to the wound on his cheek. “This is looking better.”

  “I told you. Nothing more than a scratch.” The hazy blue in his eyes disappeared. “Those guns are getting louder.”

  Gwyn dropped her hand back to her lap. Why did her fingers suddenly feel cold and useless? “Maybe they’ve brought in reinforcements.”

  William cocked his ear to the window. “They’re not solely German, and the shots are in opposing directions.”

  “How can you possibly tell that?”

  “Practice.”

  Of course. His father probably had a back garden full of artillery. “Bleed my ears dry.” Roland moaned on the other side of William. He sat up, rubbing his hands over his head. “Can’t they call a truce for one night so a fellow can get a decent night’s sleep?”

  “We’ve brought in reinforcements,” William said.

  “The Scots? No, we’d hear those caterwauling pipes. The South Africans then. About time they put their noses in the fight.”

  Feet ran across the floor above them. Angry voices drifted down between the cracks.

  “Whoever they are, they certainly have our keepers on edge.” Gwyn shielded her eyes against the falling dust. “We might bust free of here before long.”

  William moved to stand below the window like a jungle cat sensing his surroundings. “Maybe. Maybe not. Something’s not right.”

  “Of course something’s not right.” Roland smacked the ground next to him, waking several other men. “We’re stuck down here in this festering hole while the world falls apart around our ears.”

  Spinning around, William leveled him with a narrow gaze. “I’d like a word with you in private, Captain.”

  “Private? Look around you, Will. There’s nowhere to go.”

  William’s shoulders tensed, his back ramrod straight. His mouth opened, but an explosion cut off any words. Screams ripped the outside air.

  Another blast. And another. As quick as raindrops splatting to the earth. Gwyn covered her ears against the terror.

  “Get down! Cover your heads!” William sprinted around the room, shoving men to the floor as splinters rained down from the beams overhead.

  The men huddled together, those more able covering the severely wounded. Any second now the final blow could strike. Well, Gwyn wasn’t ready to die like this.

  She sprinted up the stairs and pounded on the door. “Let us out! You can’t leave us here!”

  William grabbed her arm and tried to haul her back down the stairs. “Get away from there.”

  She twisted in his grip. “I’m not staying here like a rat in a cage.”

  “Step outside that door, and you’re guaranteed to ha
ve a mortar land right on you.”

  “Better that than crushed to death in a basement.”

  BOOM!

  Rocks and shards cracked off the walls. A ceiling beam broke with an earsplitting crack and slammed into the bottom step, knocking Gwyn backward. Strong arms grabbed her and clutched her to a solid wall. William tucked her head into his chest, covering her with his arms. His heart beat wildly against her cheek, drowning out her own panic. If there was a good way to die, this was it.

  The door banged open, and two Germans rushed down the stairs, flattening William and Gwyn against the wall.

  “Aufzustehen! An den füβen!”

  Gwyn dug her fingers into William’s jacket. “What are they saying?”

  “I think they want us out.”

  Hope flared. “They’re turning us loose?”

  The guards grabbed the men’s arms and shoved them to the stairs. The slower ones got rifles shoved in their backs. “Aufstehen die treppe!”

  William took her elbow. “Just do what they want.”

  The hope of freedom died as more armed guards awaited them on the other side of the door. “Auβerhalb!”

  They grabbed her arms, yanking her away from William and dragging her down a long hall. Broken glass crunched under her feet, and thick smoke clogged her throat. Through the busted windows, she saw soldiers running, their faces streaked with terror.

  “What’s going on? Are those men retreating?”

  Outside, the air choked with exploding gunpowder and screaming shells. Buildings crumbled, streets gaped with black holes, and trees had been blasted to stumps. All around them men ran as officers screeched their commands.

  Her captor shoved her face-first against the building, pulling a long string of rope from his pocket and knotting it around her hands.

  “No, don’t.” She tugged against the rope that cut into her skin. “Please, let me go. I’m of no use to you.”

  She twisted her head to see him. Cold steeliness darkened his gaze. Double-knotting her ties, he yanked the end to cinch it tight. Gwyn’s teeth cut into her tongue as she bit back a cry of pain.

  William, Roland, MacDonald, and four other prisoners were shoved against the wall next to her. Her captor made quick work of tying their hands to her leash.