Only Love Heals A Heart: Steamy Historical Romance
Page 3
“You found me,” Stan whispered, his eyes riveted to the expression on her face. He’d known her for more than a decade and this was the first time he realized that her soft red lips begged him to kiss them. He leaned away from her.
“What about… the others?” Agnieska’s voice trembled with worry.
Stan grinned and said, “Peter and his new wife, Anna, are alive and well in Berlin. Janusz is with them. “
“Thank God.”
“But I haven’t heard from Katrina and Richard.” A shadow fell over his mind. Not that he cared much about the man whom he called Fritz, but the thought of never seeing his baby sister again made him cringe.
Chapter 4
Agnieska stared into Stan’s bright blue eyes, heat seeping into her bones. She could feel the embarrassment flushing her face bright red. Here she was, lusting after the man who looked exactly like the boy she’d once fancied. Was this her warped way of honoring Jarek’s memory? To throw herself at his twin the first chance she got?
The two of them might look identical, but their temperaments were polar opposites. Where Jarek was sweet, fun-loving and down-to-earth, Stan had a volatile temper that could change in a flash.
She glanced down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. And then up again into Stan’s bright blue eyes. They’d used to sparkle with mischief, and occasionally they’d darken with fury. Not occasionally, frequently, she corrected herself. Back then every girl in Lodz, including herself, had been afraid of Stan’s fits of rage. He’d never actually hit a girl, but his tirades of fury were legendary. As were his brawls with other boys, sometimes two or three at the same time. Usually Jarek, or their older brother, Peter, would step in and prevent the worst.
But now his eyes held a brooding darkness and pain. So much pain. Disillusionment. Anger. She yearned to ask what really had happened to him. But she understood his reluctance to talk about the horrific experiences he’d endured, the same way she usually blocked out the memories of her days in the camps. She had a future to live for and she wouldn’t let the past ruin the rest of her life. Peace had arrived in Europe, and she intended to make the best of it.
“Thanks for not asking,” she said, gazing into the familiar face, feeling a burning sensation in her stomach when he smiled at her.
“You don’t need to tell me anything. We all have experienced things we’d rather not.”
“That is true.” There wasn’t much else to say. To keep herself from overthinking the situation, she added, “Let me wash the dishes.” And before he could protest, she jumped up with the plates in hand and rushed to the kitchen sink. She opened the faucet, but only a few drops fell into the basin.
“The water doesn’t work,” Stan commented as he entered the kitchen with a heavy bucket of water from the well. He stepped beside her and poured the water into the sink. He stood so near, she could smell his virile scent, combined with sweat from a hard day’s work. It made her lightheaded and her body started to tingle in the most inappropriate places. She couldn’t help but look at him while she whispered, “Thank you.”
He doesn’t look like Jarek. Not anymore. The Jarek she knew was a boy, but the Stan standing beside her was a man. A big man with broad shoulders and bulging biceps he’d undoubtedly gained by working hard in the fields day after day. The full blond beard and the dirt-smeared forehead only added to his rugged appearance and she involuntarily licked her lips before she tore her eyes away from him and focused on the dishes in the sink. But the image of his face with the cropped blond hair and the enticing blue eyes had been burnt into her mind.
“I’ll dry the dishes,” he said and took a plate from her fingers with his huge hands. The accidental touch made her skin tingle again and for a moment she gave in to the urge to look at him. Her gaze travelled all the way up his bronze arm with the well-defined muscles, to his broad shoulders and down his torso, hidden by a greyish shirt. Even with the shirt on she could see he was still much too thin for his height of more than six feet, probably courtesy of the starvation diet in the prisoner camp.
Just looking at him made her want to be held in his arms, pressed against his broad chest. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of these most inappropriate thoughts. Suddenly she wanted to tell him. Wanted to get it off her chest. It was a frightening idea to tell another soul about her horrific experiences, but she felt she needed to do this to be free again. For some reason she didn’t understand, she trusted Stan. Would trust him with all her pain and sorrow.
She scrubbed the soup pot like she wanted to make it shine and began talking, “Janusz and I were fine in Warsaw for a while with the fake Gentile papers you organized for us.” She scrubbed harder. “During the Warsaw Uprising your brother Peter found us.”
“I know,” Stan said.
“After the uprising, we were put into a transit camp and one day they came for me and put me on a train to Dresden to a slave labor camp.” Her voice almost broke as she remembered her frantic attempts to stay together with her nephew. “They wouldn’t let me stay with Janusz, because he was just a child. Children cannot work hard enough. You can’t imagine my anguish when I had to leave him behind.” A slight sob escaped her, as the guilt attacked again. The guilt of not having been able to protect Jan.
“He survived, that’s all that’s important now.” Stan turned slightly and his gaze bore hot holes into her skin. But it got worse when he put his palm on her shoulder and said, “You did everything you could.”
Electric zings rushed through her body, making it difficult to think, even to keep standing upright. All she wanted was to lean in to him, to feel the comfort of his hard chest. She swallowed hard before she continued, “Dresden was horrible. I was there during the bombing. The devastation. The fire. I still don’t have the slightest idea how I got out of the burning factory.” She shuddered, unable to continue.
“I’m so sorry,” Stan said, reaching for her hands. He untangled her fingers from the pot she was holding and clasped one of the hands, palm to palm, wrapping his long fingers around hers. Agnieska felt a surge of warmth rekindle in her stomach. She stared at him for a long moment, soaking up the feeling of safety and peace that his presence wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a winter’s night. Somehow he had the ability to make all her sorrows go away.
When he finally released her hand and put the dishes on the windowsill, her eyes followed his every movement. He limped, which she hadn’t noticed before. Her heart filled with empathy and she wondered whether the pain in his eyes had anything to do with the limp.
Chapter 5
Stan felt her eyes boring into his back and again he was embarrassed by the desolate state of the house. The kitchen still exhibited charred walls and a lack of cabinets, but he hadn’t worried about those finer details. Over the last few weeks, he and Tadzio hadn’t done much on the house but start removing the debris and assessing the overall damage. They had set aside the few salvageable things, but there was still no roof over the second story of the structure and therefore, no protection from the elements for those rooms.
At least they’d patched – with Old Jakub’s help – the openings in the walls and had fixed the front door as well. But apart from those repairs he hadn’t worried about the house. All he worried about now was getting the fields cleared and planted so that when winter came, as it was bound to do, they would have enough food to get them through until the weather warmed up once again.
He turned and his eyes locked with her beautiful sea green ones. The corners of his mouth tugged upward, but he pressed his lips into a thin line. Still, the urge to spend time with her was so overwhelming he didn’t have a chance in hell to fight it.
“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked. Despite being sure the answer would be no, he held his breath.
“Not yet,” Agnieska said, her eyes taking on a darker tone, as she continued in a lower voice, “I’ll probably go into town and…”
“No!” He shouted the word, afraid to loose her
comforting company. But seeing how she straightened her spine, he continued in a much softer tone. “Please. You don’t have to go. You can stay here on the farm.”
“I don’t know…” she said, her voice small and shaky.
“Please. Stay. There’s more than enough room.” He made a grand gesture around the open-plan kitchen. But seeing the room through new eyes, he had to admit, it wasn’t a very welcoming place. “Unless you mind the desolate conditions…”
“I don’t mind,” she hurriedly said, her eyes glued to his, making his groin pulsate. “But I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” Stan asked, feverishly trying to think of a way to convince her to stay with him.
“Because… because… I don’t want to impose. I don’t want to be a burden for you.”
“You won’t be a burden.” On the contrary, it’ll be a joy to have you around. When she didn’t answer he added, “Where else would you stay?”
“In some displaced persons camp, I guess…”
Her tiny frame looked so sad when she mentioned the camp that she tugged at his heartstrings in a way no woman had ever before. “There’s no way I’m allowing you to stay in a DP camp when you could stay here with…,” me, he wanted to say, “…family.”
“I… are you sure?” she asked, hope flaring in her eyes.
“I’m very sure. Please stay on the farm.”
Agnieska paused for a moment and then nodded. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. I’d love to offer you a place to stay.” And have you around. See your sweet smile. He watched her, the thoughts going through her head mirrored on her face and in her expressive eyes. It was clear she hated to seek out a camp. “Agnieska, stay here with me. Please.”
She looked up at him and then slowly nodded and the sweetest smile crossed her face. “Then, I accept. I have to admit the thought of going to another displaced persons camp is disheartening. They resemble the Ghetto so much and…”
Stan smiled at her. “That is all in the past now. You’ll never have to go back to such a place.”
“But, my staying here is only temporary. Until I find a place of my own.”
Stan’s smile faded a bit. The thought of her leaving made him cringe. How could he miss a person who’d only just arrived? His train of thought surprised him; he’d never particularly wanted to be in company before. Except… Jarek’s of course. From the day they were born until the day his twin had been murdered, they’d been always together.
Shaking his head, he said with a grin, “I’ll give you the tour. But don’t expect luxury.”
“Oh? And here I was thinking you’d offer me a palace with silk bedding and golden faucets.” Her teasing smile brightened the room more than even summer sunshine at noon could.
After a rough day in the field, his stump was killing him and he longed to take off the prosthesis and scratch the scarred skin. But that would have to wait. He’d not expose his flawed body in front of her. Ever. The thought splashed iced water on his libido. How on earth could he ever have allowed his lust for her to be unleashed? Even if, by some miracle, she might be open to his advances… no, it was ridiculous to think that he’d ever lie with a willing woman again. That boat had sailed without him.
“I’ve been spending most of my time getting the fields ready to plant. Haven’t had much time to do anything in the house,” he said with an apologetic tone when he led her around.
She stopped for a moment, cast him another of her groin pulsating smiles, cocked her head and said, “I love what you’ve done with the place. This is an elegant blend of post-war and apocalyptic modernism, no?”
Stan froze for a moment as her words sunk in before he broke out into full belly laughter. The tension of the past years broke free, making him laugh harder and harder. After a few moments of bewilderment she joined him and together they laughed off all the hardships they’d experienced throughout the war.
Breathless and panting, Stan held his stomach and glanced at Agnieska, not believing his own silly behavior. How could a mere hour in her presence give him the peace of mind he’d been seeking for so long?
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, watching her blush at his words. Her deep pink cheeks had an unexpected effect on him as he wondered if she’d look the same when she was flush with passion. The desire for her surged with a power that almost knocked him down – and made him want to attack her, toss her to the ground, and rip off her clothes.
Stunned at the powerful emotions, a shiver ran up his spine. Obviously he had experiences with women, but he’d never felt the urge to toss one to the ground and pound into her like a maniac the way he did now. He took a few deep breaths to regain his self-control and shove the inappropriate thoughts away.
She was family, for God’s sake. Related only by marriage, a stubborn voice in his head said. She needs my protection, not my assaulting her – Have you seen the way she looks at you? She’s smitten – She’s not. And even if she were, she’ll be appalled as soon as she learns about my leg – You’re plain stupid. – I’m not. It’s called being realistic.
Agnieska’s voice interrupted his soliloquy with himself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Stan said.
“Where do you sleep?” she asked.
“Me? Oh, yes?” He scratched his beard, having difficulties remembering what he needed to say. Why can’t she stop looking at me with her big green eyes? “Sleep? Oh… I sleep in the shed outside. Haven’t had the time to fix the upstairs bedrooms yet.”
“The shed?” Doubt crept into her face and he could just see what she was thinking. That he expected her to share the tiny shed with him. Although he’d love nothing more, he quickly shook his head.
“Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to share a room with me.” Laughter bubbled up from his gut as he watched relief transform her expression. During the tour through the house he’d been thinking where best to accommodate her. “Look. It’s not anything fancy, but it’ll be your private space.” He led her to the staircase and pointed at the space beneath, not much bigger than a large closet, but big enough for a tiny person like her to stretch out.
With bated breath he waited for her to refuse and tell him she’d prefer the DP camp after all, but she nodded. “That will do.”
“I’m sorry, it’s not a real room, but—“
“Believe me, I’ve slept in much worse places,” she interrupted him. “This is perfect.”
“As soon as I find someone to repair the roof, I’ll fix one of the upper rooms for you,” he said.
“Why don’t you repair the roof yourself?” she asked with an expectant look in her eyes.
Stan quickly averted his gaze, shame about his limitation creeping up inside him. Minutes passed without either one of them saying a word. He didn’t want her to know. Didn’t want her to pity him, to look at him the way people usually did when they found out about his missing limb. It was one of two looks: Disdain or Pity.
From her, he wanted neither one.
Her small hand pressed on his arm, and he glanced up to look at her thin porcelain fingers. So soft. So tender. So…
“You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too painful,” she said, her sweet voice giving him all the reassurance he needed.
Stanislaw Zdanek might be many things. A coward wasn’t one of them. He took a deep breath and decided she was going to find out sooner or later anyway, might as well rip the bandage off now.
“I can’t repair the roof because they amputated my leg.”
He watched her face as emotions flew across it. Shock. Sympathy. Compassion. Curiosity. Admiration. But nothing akin to horror or pity.
She looked at him, her eyes scanning his entire body and when she looked back up into his eyes, all he saw was acceptance and a warmth that hadn’t been there before. He’d been so sure any woman would be appalled by him, that he just couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened.
Chapter 6
“I barely noticed your limp,” she said.
She saw how he puffed out his big chest a bit more at her words and the crooked smile on his lips made her tingle again in all the inappropriate places. This should not be happening. It could not be happening. She wasn’t some floozy who threw herself at the first man who came along. In fact she’d never been with a man.
Her only experiences so far had been the hushed kisses she’d exchanged with Jarek a decade ago. Before the war. In a different life. When she was young and carefree. When she still had parents who didn’t approve of their sixteen-year-old daughter kissing a boy.
She wasn’t that girl anymore. But the sensations rushing across her body in his presence, made her dizzy, confused, and scared as hell.
“I’m sorry, but I’m more tired than I thought. Would you mind if I went to bed?”
“Off course not.” His expression turned cold and he seemed relieved to get rid of her. “I’ll leave a bowl with water to wash and a lantern in the kitchen.”
“Thank you.” Agnieska turned away to fetch the small bag with her belongings from the porch and returned to the kitchen, just when he entered with a thick blanket and a bed sheet in his hands, handing them to her. “I’m sorry, but that will have to do until I can organize a proper mattress for you.”
“Stan,” she said, looking at his tight jaw. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you. And anything is better than what I had at the labor camp.”