by Julie Rowe
“But you threw it—me—away.”
“No. You offered something I couldn’t accept, but I didn’t throw it away.”
“You couldn’t accept?” Could he hear himself? She’d given him the only thing she truly owned in the world—her love—and he’d told her to keep it. To give it to someone else.
Why then did he look so stricken now?
“You’re not really married, are you?”
They turned to look at Bert. “But you are British,” he continued. “A couple of British spies, that’s who you are.”
“No.” She shook her head, wiping away tears from her face. “I really am just a nurse. A nurse who saw too much apparently.”
“You’re not just anything,” Michael told her, getting to his feet and helping her to hers. “Let’s get this fellow clean and bandaged up. As soon as that’s finished, I’m going to see about hiring a boat.”
“Fine. Good. We need to go, and I believe this conversation is finished.”
“No, it’s not.”
She met his gaze, his eyes about as warm as an iceberg. “What more is there to be said?”
“A great deal. But it must wait. Bert?”
“You don’t have to say it. I know. If I tell anyone about any of this you’ll kill me. Slowly.”
“Damn straight. Smart lad. Now stand up, man. Time to get you top and tailed.”
“Definitely British,” Bert muttered as he struggled to a standing position. “And a bloody officer no less.”
Ignoring Michael for the moment, Jude sponged off all the dirt and blood from Bert’s torso, neck and arms, then began bandaging his broken arm into place across his chest.
Bert breathed a sigh of relief as soon as it was done. “Feels better already.”
“I’ll step out while you gentlemen tackle the rest.”
“Right-o.”
She left the room and listened at the two men danced verbally around each other for a minute or two before heading outside for some fresh air. The evening was clear and only a few people were about on the street. No one in a uniform. Perhaps most of the soldiers they’d seen earlier had left on the train.
Yet she knew they weren’t out of danger. Taking on Bert’s safety as an additional responsibility was a terrible risk. The Germans were looking for him. The Germans were looking for her too. The only positive thing was that the Germans weren’t expecting the three of them to be together.
A chair sat outside the door unoccupied. She sat, released a large breath and let her muscles relax.
Dealing with Michael was emotionally and mentally exhausting. The man never stopped strategizing. He always had a plan, a goal. And nothing or no one could cause him to deviate from his course. Certainly not a woman. Or something as inconvenient as love.
Passion he seemed to deal with just fine. Much better than fine actually, but love... A word he didn’t seem to use very often, if at all.
Footsteps echoed from down the street and two German soldiers approached the tavern, scanning the street with the air of men on a mission. They barely glanced at her as they went inside.
They spoke to the barkeeper. There had been several men drinking when she’d come down earlier, but they’d all left since. The quiet room made it possible for her to overhear their conversation. She followed them in and walked slowly towards the stairs.
“We’re looking for a man in a British uniform.”
The barkeeper shook his head.
She began climbing to the second floor.
“No, no. Last night we were full of German officers who left on the train this afternoon. All I have upstairs now is a husband, wife and their drunk relative. Came in together.”
“If you see anyone else, send someone to us immediately. Our commanding officer is staying at the manor house.”
She reached the top of the stairs.
The soldiers left and the barkeeper spit on the floor as soon as they were gone. He glanced up and held her gaze before disappearing into the kitchen.
Fear punched through her system. Had he recognised the clothing Bert had worn as a British uniform? She rushed to their room, closing the door a little too hard and fast.
Michael took one look at her face and asked, “How long do we have?”
“I’m not sure. Soldiers questioned the barkeeper just now, but he said he hadn’t seen anyone in a British uniform.”
She took a breath and tried to calm herself. “After they were gone, he looked at me. Just stared for a moment then moved away.”
“We might have an hour or only a few minutes.” He looked at Bert, now lying on the bed, dressed and with some colour to his face. “Can you travel?”
“Yes, but if the moment comes that I can’t, I have no qualms about staying behind.”
Her reaction was instant. “No.”
“Yes.” He glared at her. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’m not endangering the both of you.”
She looked to Michael to lend her some support, but his face told her the same thing. “You’re both so...stubborn.”
The two men looked at each other.
“We’re not alone in that affliction, are we?” Michael said with wry smile. “Get mad at us later. Eat some of this brisket before we dash off into the night.” He gestured to the tray on the dresser.
She would have rather thrown it at him, but settled for eating fast and drinking some wine to settle her nerves.
“What’s your plan?” Bert asked Michael.
“Grab a boat to take us north towards the border.” He paced the room. “And I think we should appear as far from expected as possible. Jude, you need to look pregnant. And you—” he squinted at Bert, “—need to look like you’ve lost your arm and we’re keeping you drunk because of it.”
Jude nodded. That might work. She turned her back to the men and stuffed the leftover material from the chemise up her dress so she looked pregnant. At least from a distance. If anyone came close enough to touch her, she’d be caught.
Michael collected their few belongings and rearranged Bert’s clothing so his arm was bound to his chest under his shirt and coat. “Here.” He handed Bert the open bottle of wine. “Drink.”
She gathered the food Michael had purchased into a cloth bag and hung it over her shoulder. He put on his pack and rifle and took the lead as they left the room. He paused on the top stair to listen, but aside from a few people eating, no soldiers appeared to be in the room below.
They descended and left some coins on a table. Bert let out a belch as they walked out the front door.
Michael led them to the edge of town. Though it was only midday, Bert was clearly at the end of his strength. He stumbled or tripped every other step. Jude slung his arm over her shoulder, but he nearly took her to the ground with his next stumble. She managed to bang only one knee on the cobblestone.
Michael was suddenly there, taking Bert’s weight from her.
“Just leave me,” Bert mumbled in English.
“Sorry, old chap, but that’s out of the question. We should be coming up to the river soon. I’m looking for a boathouse and dock painted red.”
“I’ll see if I can find it.” She hurried ahead but discovered that much of the area had been reduced to rubble. She spotted one intact red building near a dock with a couple of boats moored. She hurried back to Michael.
“I think I found it, but most of buildings have been bombed. When did this happen?”
“When the Germans invaded, they bombed the hell out of Liege to get the Belgian military to surrender. If the Belgians hadn’t been so persistent about delaying their advance, the war would have been won by Germany within two weeks.”
“I hadn’t realised the destruction was so extensive.” She swallowed hard. “I wonder how many people died.”
“Hard to say.” Michael grunted and shifted Bert’s weight. “How far?”
“Two streets over.”
“Could you run ahead and let the man at the building know hi
s cousin Archie is coming for a visit?”
“Who is this Archie person?”
“Me.”
“Of course.” She should’ve known he’d have a code name or something equally silly. “Wait. How is it that you have a cousin here? We weren’t even originally coming here.”
“We have contacts in several towns with rail or river links to the Netherlands, just in case.”
“Oh.” She set out at a brisk pace. A sharp knock at the door brought a cautious response from a man with grey whiskers and only a few wisps of white hair on his head.
“What do you want?” he asked in French.
Jude cleared her throat. “I’m with your cousin Archie. He’ll be here for a visit in a few minutes.”
The man didn’t say anything, just stared at her for a moment then shut the door.
She blinked.
Now what? It didn’t look like this was the right place after all.
The door opened wide and a much younger, much larger man loomed in the doorway. “Archie?”
“He’s coming with a friend who’s been...hurt.”
“Does he need help?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to it.”
“Come with me.” An order, though he didn’t wait to see if she followed it. He charged down the lane, meeting Michael and Bert halfway.
By the time she reached the men, the boatman carried Bert in his arms and was striding back towards the building with legs that seemed longer with every step.
“Where does he get the energy?” she asked Michael as they followed along like forgotten baggage handlers.
“A good breakfast?” Again with the cavalier attitude.
“This is no time for foolishness.”
“On the contrary, this is the perfect time for it. I’d rather laugh than cry.”
“You, cry?” Impossible. The man was too confident, too certain in his beliefs.
“It’s happened once or twice.”
“All children cry up to a certain age.”
He gave her a sidelong glance that warned her she wouldn’t like what he was going to say next.
“The last time was when I got home after saying no to your proposal.”
She’d been right—she didn’t like what he had to say at all. “Excuse me?”
“It was the biggest mistake of my life. Never mind my commanding officer’s orders, I should have kissed your feet and said yes.”
“What do you mean commanding officer’s orders?”
“I lied when I said I didn’t want to marry you.”
“What?”
“Your father had taken me aside and ordered me to pretend friendship. At the time, his arguments were convincing. If I truly loved you, I’d let you find a man who’d be home with you, not gallivanting about on the Crown’s business. A man who’d keep you safe.”
“No. No, he wouldn’t do that to me. To us.” It was a betrayal—Michael’s lie and her father’s order both. It tore open the poorly healed wound that was her heart.
“He did. And I was stupid enough to go along with it.”
* * *
Jude was furious. Michael could tell by the tension in her shoulders and the tight way she held her mouth. He would have preferred to wipe that expression off her face with a kiss or three, but he wasn’t going to do it with their current audience.
Damn it all. What he told her wasn’t even the worst of it.
The big Belgian carrying Bert entered the boathouse and continued into a dark back room, where he set Bert down on a cot. A match flared and a candle sputtered to life. The Belgian stared at all of them with hard eyes. He seemed especially interested in Michael’s uniform.
“What happened to him?” he asked, nodding at Bert.
“He was injured and captured. He managed to escape but injured himself further when he jumped off a train,” Michael said. “We found him in a public toilet.”
“He has a broken arm and broken ribs,” Jude added.
She looked pale and her eyes glistened, and Michael realised she was likely emotionally exhausted.
Damn.
The Belgian glanced at her, a frown furrowing his forehead. He took a step towards her.
Michael blocked his way. “Easy, lad. She’s no threat to you.”
“I know her from somewhere.”
“I’m Belgian. It’s possible you’ve seen some of my relatives before. I’m told I resemble my mother’s side of the family.”
He stared at Jude for another long moment. “What do you want?”
“To leave Belgium the quickest way possible,” Michael answered. “Do you have a boat you could spare?”
He snorted. “The Germans take whatever they want, which is everything.”
“Damn.” Not having a way to transport Bert would slow things down considerably. “What about the boats tied up at the dock outside?”
“We absolutely must reach the Netherlands by tomorrow night at the latest,” Jude announced.
Michael wondered if she knew how imperious she sounded. Her great-uncle, the King of Belgium, couldn’t have issued a more regal order. He almost laughed at the Belgian’s expression at being ordered around by a slip of a woman he’d just met.
The man switched from German to French. “Why?”
“Because it’s necessary,” Jude replied in the same language.
“Who are you?”
“Judith Goddard.” She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“The Germans have searched this area twice in the last week. We think someone may have betrayed us.”
“In the interest of cooperation, I feel I should inform you that I speak French too,” Michael said.
“So do I,” Bert put in.
The Belgian scowled at all of them. “Tell me what’s so important that you have to cross the border quickly.”
Michael studied the big man. Though his muscled frame told Michael he worked hard daily, he spoke at least two languages fluently. “You’re no ordinary labourer.”
“My father was an educated man, but I was a blacksmith. Until the Germans arrived. When all the other blacksmiths were conscripted and put to work, I decided to take up another occupation before they could do the same to me.” He took a step towards Michael. “You look German.”
“Wearing the uniform is the easiest way to travel.”
The blacksmith looked him up and down. “I’m not just talking about your clothes. You hold yourself like a man who knows how to kill. Who’s done it before.”
“I’m a man in the service of my country same as you.”
“Your German is better than mine. Better than any Belgian’s.” His two large hands curled into fists.
Michael’s shoulder muscles tightened and he prepared to pull his revolver. “I gave you the password. I’m no threat to you and yours.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, stop posturing the both of you and help me with Bert,” Jude said. “He’s fallen unconscious.”
Michael turned to see what had happened, but movement at the edge of his vision had him twisting around...and pain exploded at the back of his head.
Chapter Ten
Michael slumped to the floor, the blacksmith standing over him.
Jude launched herself at the Belgian. “Stop! Get away from him.”
The blacksmith surprised her by stumbling back several steps.
“What have you done?” She crouched next to Michael and carefully ran her fingers over the back of his head, locating a bump, but no evidence of further injury.
“I didn’t hit him too hard.”
A groan issued from Michael’s throat. Relief robbed her arms of strength for a moment. She glanced at the blacksmith, now standing several feet away. Righteous anger renewed her strength.
“Why hit him at all? You could have killed him.”
“I was protecting you.”
That made no sense. She’d never met this man before in her life. “What,” she asked with scalpel sharp precision, “do you mean?”
The blacksmith pointed at Michael. “I don’t believe he’s on our side. His German is too good. They’ve been trying to find a way into our underground circle of people helping the British. He’s got to be a German spy.”
“No,” she ground out. “He’s a British spy.” She stabbed her index finger at her chest. “My spy.”
The blacksmith gaped at her for a moment. “Yours?”
“He was sent to Belgium to get me out of the country before the Germans caught me. He had to get into a German hospital. His uniform, accent and mannerisms had to be perfect.”
“But...he...” The blacksmith stopped stuttering and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. What...what can I do?”
“Help me turn him over.”
The blacksmith gently rolled Michael over. His eyes fluttered and another groan escaped.
“Damn it, this won’t do. I need him aware and able to travel. If we don’t get to the Netherlands as soon as possible...”
He didn’t say anything, just cocked his head, listening.
She rubbed her forehead. “The Germans have a new weapon. We need to warn Britain and her allies before thousands of men are horribly killed.”
“There’s no good way to die.”
“This is nothing anyone has seen before.”
“You’re trying to stop this from happening?”
“That would be impossible, but we need to give what warning we can. With some preparation...perhaps fewer men will die.”
“What do you need?”
“We need transportation to the border. The quicker the better.”
The blacksmith glanced at Michael and Bert. “They can’t travel now. I’ll take you.”
She shook her head. “I won’t leave them behind.”
The first man to answer the front door poked his head through the doorway. “Germans are headed this way. They’re searching for something.”
“Are they looking for you?”
“For Bert. We’ve no time to spare.” She wrung her hands together. “No time at all.”
“Get the smaller boat ready,” the blacksmith ordered. He turned to Jude. “I promise to keep your men as safe as I can, but you must go now before the Germans get here.”
She stared at Michael, still unconscious on the floor. “I can’t leave him.”