Only Love Heals A Heart: Steamy Historical Romance

by Gray, Jessica

  In the end he’d succumbed to her wishes, grumbling, but secretly relieved that he didn’t have to walk the long way up to the house and back. While he’d learned how to walk with his prosthetic on the uneven surface, his stump still got sore after a day’s hard work. Not having to make the extra journey definitely had improved the pain. But he’d rather be shot than admit it to her. She had too smart a mouth, even without him indulging her.

  Smart mouth. Beautiful, kissable mouth. Delicious mouth. Soft, red, enticing lips. He could actually feel how he pressed his lips over hers, capturing her moans of pleasure as he ravaged her mouth with his tongue.

  “Hello, Stan,” she said, interrupting his daydreams and he quickly frowned at her in an attempt to hide the indecency of his thoughts.

  “Thanks for coming out here. What did you bring?” he asked, his stomach growling. He’d given her full rein over their produce and the money she earned selling it at the market. And he’d been surprised at how well she managed the funds. From buying necessary household items, farming tools, groceries, fabric for clothing to little luxuries like soap and toothpaste, she thought of everything and never once complained that there wasn’t enough money for their needs.

  “Stew with meat and potatoes.”

  “Hmm. It smells heavenly,” he said, taking the thermos from her. “Would you sit with me, please?”

  She hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and joined him on a fallen trunk at the edge of the forest. “Where’s Tadzio?” she asked after a while.

  “Gone to get turnip seeds.”

  “That’s a wise decision. I wondered why you hadn’t planted them earlier.” Stan shot her a dark stare, which she completely ignored and continued, “You’ve made so much progress.”

  “But we need rain.”

  She squinted at the sun and then pointed over to the clouds in the East, “What about those? Won’t they bring us rain?”

  “I hope.” He emptied the thermos with the stew and handed it back to her. “Thanks for the food. It was delicious.”

  A happy smile spread across her face and her lips begged him to kiss them. Stan blinked. Once. Twice. Her lips were still there. Full. Red. Ripe. “I better get back to work.”

  “Me, too. I’ll visit with Tadzio’s mother. She has offered to let me use her sewing machine.”

  Stan’s hungry gaze followed as she disappeared toward the house. It was hard to admit, but his life had considerably improved starting the day she’d appeared on his porch. The prospect of looking into her sweet face over breakfast provided his biggest reason for hauling himself out of bed each morning.

  To smell the soap on her hair, the exhilarating rushes of desire he felt every time she brushed his hand. He might never be able to act on his attraction, but he could still try to be a better man – for her.

  Observing her swinging gait, it struck him how content she always seemed, despite the awful sufferings she’d experienced. She’d never told him details, but from his own experience at the prisoner camp and the stories running around in town, he had a pretty good idea.

  Nobody will ever hurt her again, he swore to himself.

  Chapter 8

  Agnieska walked back to the house in a happy mood. Bringing out lunch to Stan always brightened her spirits. She loved watching him as he worked, marveled at his muscled back and bronzed arms, his well-defined buttocks… a slight heat crept into her cheeks at those thoughts.

  She shouldn’t be lusting after the man who’d been kind enough to welcome her into his house. Especially not since he never showed any interest in her beyond being friendly. Not that she knew exactly how men showed their interest.

  Entering the vegetable garden she picked a few ripe tomatoes with shiny red skin, lifted the tomatoes to her nose and inhaled the herb-fruity aroma. She closed her eyes and could almost taste the juicy, sweet fruit. Her mouth watered and she thought how she would have killed for a single tomato while in the labor camp… she took another deep breath, pushing thoughts of the past behind her.

  In the house she dropped the produce into a bowl on the windowsill and then gathered her sewing materials to visit with Malgorzata, Tadzio’s mother. She took the shortcut across the fields instead of taking the road, not only because it saved time, but also because she secretly wished to see Stan again. The prospect of watching him move those impressive arms and shoulders was worth covering her shoes in stickers and soiling the hem of her skirt.

  “Hello?” she called into the open doorway.

  “Who’s there?” Malgorzata’s voice called back.

  “It’s Agnieska.”

  “Oh, Agnieska.” Tadzio’s mother came around the corner. “Come in. What brings you over here?”

  “You kindly offered to borrow your sewing machine, but if now isn’t a good time…”

  “Nonsense. Now’s as good a time as any other. I’ll show you.” Malgorzata walked ahead, explaining the machine to her and then disappeared into the kitchen. Happily humming a tune, she used the foot pedal to move the needle, making a much-needed good dress for selling produce at the market in town and a sturdy apron for the garden and housework.

  As always her thoughts circled around Stan. One moment he could be the sweetest fellow, and she even hoped he might find her attractive, but the next moment he reverted back to his grumpy and bitter self, making her feel like an unwelcome intruder.

  Her logic told her that his mood swings had nothing to do with her, but more with his perception of being a useless cripple without his leg. But blame won the war of emotions, pointing its finger straight at her. She was getting tired of his behavior and of walking on eggshells around him, lest she evoke his wrath.

  If only she knew how to help him with whatever struggles he was trying to deal with, but he wasn’t talking to her. She gave a deep sigh. Everything had been so much easier before the war.

  “What has you so worried?” Malgorzata said as she entered the room with two glasses of peppermint water.

  “Oh… nothing. The usual worries about food and money.” Agnieska wished she could talk to Tadzio’s mother woman to woman. But although they’d become friends in the past weeks, they weren’t close enough to divulge important personal matters.

  “Food and money is always lacking. Without the produce Stan gives my son we would all be starving.”

  “Tadzio is earning it; he works like a grown-up man. And Stan will be eternally thankful that you and Tadzio tended to the garden, otherwise there wouldn’t be produce to give away or sell at the market. And then he couldn’t buy new seeds…” Agnieska broke off. It would have been so much harder for everyone.

  “We all believed everything would miraculously get better after the war, didn’t we? And some things did, but there’s still a long way to go until we have the same comfortable life we had before Hitler wrecked our country,” Malgorzata said.

  “You’re right. And I shouldn’t complain, since Stan so graciously welcomed me into his house.”

  “Stanislaw should be glad to have you. I was worried about him alone on that farm, with that… leg. Poor lad.”

  Agnieska nodded, although she didn’t consider him a poor lad. Seeing the pitiful look in Malgorzata’s eyes she suddenly understood why he was so adamant about wanting to do everything himself. “He doesn’t need me.”

  “Everyone needs another person, especially men. You should have known my Andrej. He was helpless in household things without me.” Tadzio’s mother blinked a few times.

  “Have you heard about him?”

  Malgorzata shook her head and then said on a whisper, “What about your family?”

  “All gone.” Agnieska stopped her sewing and looked at the ceiling. “Every last one of them.”

  “I’m sorry. So many deaths. I’m glad the war is finally over.”

  “Me, too. But I’m worried about the communists, since they are Stalin’s puppets,” Agnieska said, taking the cloth from the sewing machine and turning it around.

  “Shush�
�� you wouldn’t want to hear them. There’s frightening talk in town.” Malgorzata looked over her shoulder as if she expected a communist to burst into her farmhouse any moment.

  And how is this better than the Nazis? Agnieska bit down on her lips to keep the words captive inside her mouth. “That’s why I prefer not to go into town, except for market days.”

  The older woman gave her a long glance before she said, “Unfortunately you’re right to be careful. A... woman like you should get married to a good Catholic man.”

  “Married? Me? And whom should I marry?” Agnieska laughed out loud, but deep in her heart she knew that being married to a Catholic would give her protection from the still roaming anti-Semitism. She wasn’t particularly religious and didn’t go to church apart from the big celebrations like Yom Kippur and Passover, but that didn’t matter to the haters.

  “Stan.”

  “Ouch!” Agnieska froze in shock and the needle pricked her finger.

  Malgorzata smiled. “You shouldn’t be so shocked. Stan always fancied you. I remember one summer many years ago, when he followed you everywhere like a puppy.

  Agnieska focused on putting the needle back in place and moved the foot pedal again. For a moment she wanted to correct the other woman by explaining that she was confusing Stan with Jarek, but then she decided it probably didn’t matter and she denied it flat-out. “Well, he certainly doesn’t fancy me now, because he’s never said a single word to indicate interest.”

  “Sometimes a woman has to encourage a man to take the first step,” Malgorzata said.

  Agnieska felt herself flush bright red at the thought of such indecent behavior. The memory of launching herself into his arms upon her arrival at the farm was still too fresh in her mind. What kind of harlot did such things?

  She’d been so relieved to find a friendly soul alive, and since he looked exactly like Jarek, she’d forgotten herself for a moment. She hadn’t been prepared for the physical impact the embrace had caused in her body. Since that moment, she constantly tingled in inappropriate places whenever she smelled his manly scent or accidentally touched his hand… or when she lay at night dreaming about his lips on hers. The heated burn on her cheeks intensified, and she turned her face away from Malgorzata, focusing on her needlework.

  “We’re just good friends. He’s made this very clear,” Agnieska finally said. Hasn’t he shown time and again that he can barely tolerate my presence with his hot and cold behavior?

  “He may have said he isn’t interested, but it’s not the truth.”

  “Well, I’m not interested.” Agnieska lied.

  “You might want to change your opinion. A woman needs the protection of a man and you could do a lot worse than Stan. He’s a good man, even though he is damaged from the war.”

  Agnieska didn’t answer and Malgorzata stood up saying, “Think about it.” Then she left the room, leaving Agnieska alone with her thoughts.

  Everyone is damaged from the war. Even people like Malgorzata and Tadzio who didn’t fight, get captured or spend time in one of the camps. I’m damaged, too.

  She had lived through horrible experiences in the Ghetto, had seen things she wanted to be able to unsee, had been forced to work from sun up to sun down with no hope of it ever ending, except through the escape death offered. Not enough food. No medical care and sickness that swept through the encampments like fire.

  Being treated as a subhuman.

  She shook her head to ward off those unpleasant memories. The past was gone. She had to look at the future. A better future.

  Some time later she finished sewing her dress and took her leave of Tadzio’s mother. “Thank you again for letting me use your sewing machine. May I do so again maybe next week?”

  “Please. It’s nice to have adult company.” Suddenly Malgorzata seemed exhausted and depressed. Her husband was still missing and the only company she had was Tadzio and his little sister.

  Agnieska put an arm around her shoulders. “I will. It’s hard on all of us.”

  Chapter 9

  The entire day a nagging feeling of guilt plagued Stan. In his quest to disguise the attraction he felt for Agnieska he often overreacted by not putting his best foot forward. Whenever he did this, the hurt in her eyes almost slashed him. Telling himself her dislike of him was for the best didn’t chase away the guilt. Groaning with despair he decided to do something nice for her.

  When she returned in the evening from her visit with Malgorzata, he waited for her in the kitchen. The soup she’d prepared in the morning already simmered on the stove. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed the new cupboards and countertop.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?” He couldn’t help but flash her a bright and happy grin.

  “Well. I know what it is, but where did it come from?” She still stood in the doorway, almost as if she were afraid to enter the room.

  “I bought them from one of the merchants passing through on a regular basis,” he answered. “You like them?”

  “I love them!” He knew she’d been hard pressed to find a space to store things as well as a working area when she cooked for them.

  “There’s more.” He was giddy like an adolescent, showing her what else he’d done.

  “More?” Agnieska’s green eyes lit up with joy, spreading warmth across his heart and stomach.

  “Yes, come.” He led her to the tiny space beneath the staircase that was now her bedroom – without a bed. “I got you a mattress as well, and a down blanket for the cold nights in winter.”

  “This is… wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “You deserve it.” He couldn’t resist stepping nearer, basking in the happiness that radiated from her.

  “Thank you. This is so sweet of you,” she said, and he lost track of time and space. Somehow she ended up in his arms, her soft curves pressed against his body. His hands on her back, he sensed the little shivers running up and down her spine. The electric energy jumped over to him and his entire body hardened in response to her nearness.

  Without further thought, he moved his hands up and down her back and she pressed even closer into him. Her sweet scent propelled his desire into unknown heights and he smothered little kisses onto her hair, feeling how her body softened for him.

  His desire for her overwhelmed Stan. He buried his face in her hair, and simply soaked up her presence until he felt her hands wandering on his back, which encouraged him to continue the movement of his own hands down to her slim waist. If he wanted, he could span her waist with his two hands.

  His erection pressed into her softness and he couldn’t help but groan. The sound seemed to send her off balance, because she took a step back and lowered her eyes as shame filled them.

  “Don’t run, please,” he said and tightened his arms, pulling her flush against him. She looked up at him with surprise that soon was overtaken by tenderness and… desire. “Oh, sweet woman, I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first saw you on the farm,” he murmured into her ear, caressing her back, her shoulders, and her waist.

  She held onto him like he was her lifeline and with every movement of his hands he sensed her heartbeat accelerating. Then he took her chin into one hand, and gazed into her eyes before he kissed her tentatively and tenderly. She parted her lips for him, but the very moment he ventured his tongue inside her warm and soft mouth, she frantically pushed away.

  Her sweet face flush with burning heat, he saw the confusion and embarrassment in her eyes and for a brief moment prepared for her fist to come crashing down against his cheek. Instead, she just took another step back.

  “Agnieska, I’m sorry…” he began, only to watch as she ducked her head and rushed out the front door into the night.

  Regret attacked him like a Wehrmacht soldier pouncing out of the darkness. He gave an exasperated growl and hit the back of his head against the wall, before he sank down to the floor. He was a beast. He’d basically attacked her, and if she
hadn’t stopped him, who knew how far he’d have gone. Agnieska wasn’t one of the harlots hanging out with the partisans, she was a decent woman and deserved better than this.

  Better than him.

  He scrambled to stand and left the house through the back door, heading straight toward the pump for the well, filling the wood tub with icy water. As he climbed into the tub, the cold numbed his limbs, but it didn’t take the edge off his arousal. Even shivering in the cold with his teeth clenched to prevent them from clattering, he couldn’t stop thinking about the heavenly feeling of holding her in his arms, her soft curves pressed up against him. The enticing little sounds coming from her mouth, making him harder than he’d ever been before.

  Her luscious red lips appeared in his mind. How they begged to be kissed, and the hot and sweet desire raging through his veins the moment his mouth had connected with hers. And the expression of shock when she’d felt his tongue in her mouth. It was as if… no, that couldn’t be. Had she never been kissed like that before? His heart rejoiced at the same time as shame spread into every last cell.

  Even in the ice-cold water, he could feel the shame burning up his skin. What kind of man was he, treating her like a random floozy you could just kiss and have a good time with?

  Much later, Stan was lying on his mattress in the shed, trying to figure out what to do. He would stay away from her – as far as he could. But the thought of her leaving the house made him cringe.

  The house – I’m such a stupid idiot!

  It was a miracle she was still living here, with the roof in a shambles. Weeks had passed and nothing had happened. Stan had lied to himself, that he was too busy to find and hire someone to do it for him, since he wasn’t able to climb up there and fix it himself. But his excuses just hid the real reason, that he couldn’t stomach the idea of hiring another man for the job. Apart from another lad’s pitying looks, he didn’t want Agnieska to realize the extent of his inadequacies. A real man should be able to fix his own roof. He shouldn’t need help for such a simple task.