by Julie Rowe
“Are you certain of that?” She couldn’t quite keep the furious edge out of her voice. She loved her father, but what he had done had robbed her of the man she loved.
“I’m certain I misjudged the both of you. After that, well, that’s for the two of you to decide.”
“I love him, Father, but he doesn’t love me in the same way.”
“Of course he isn’t going to love you the same way you love him. He’s a man, darling. A gentleman and a career soldier. We’re an odd sort. We value ability and intelligence more than most other men.”
“Even in your women?”
“Especially in our women.”
“You didn’t marry mother for her family connections?”
“I married your mother because she beat me at chess and scared your uncle Milton spitless with nothing more than a look. I wanted to see if there was more to her than that one look.”
“And what did you discover?”
He smiled. “Did you know, I asked her to marry me the day after we met?”
Of course he wouldn’t answer her question directly. Inscrutable was her father’s middle name. “No.”
“She refused me, of course, but I felt it was fair to warn her that I was determined to make her my wife.”
For a minute or two she didn’t say anything. “I love him.”
Her father didn’t respond.
“Do you know how much pain you caused both of us?”
“You survived.”
“Survived?” She clung to her temper by her the very tips of her fingernails. “I left England to perform a duty I knew could end in my death. Michael did the same. Repeatedly.” She snorted. “Survived isn’t much.”
“I am deeply sorry.” He cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, you have my blessing.”
She laughed, but it held no humour. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt I’ll need it.”
“He may surprise you.”
“Father,” she said with a wan smile. “I will not marry a man for duty or guilt.”
“You believe those would be the only reasons he’d want you for his wife?”
“I believe we’ve both been through too much to know the difference.”
“I disagree. You and he are strong enough to find your way.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t give up hope.”
“I haven’t forgotten that you started this mess.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
* * *
The next two days were the longest of Jude’s life. The first one full of impatient waiting. The second day, the winds changed and the Germans used the gas.
She was treating the resulting casualties, several hundred men, in a church. They were lying on the floor, most on pallets, but a few on nothing at all. Those few were the lucky ones. The dead.
The unlucky ones were coughing up blood and a yellowish fluid into a variety of bowls, basins and bins. She and the other nurses who’d arrived to help spent most of their time emptying the basins and providing comfort. There was little else they could do.
“Nurse. Nurse, can you help me?”
She knew that voice. Her pulse and breathing sped up. “Michael?” She turned and there he was, healthy, whole, his arms loaded with a huge wrapped bundle. She attempted to remain calm and controlled when she really wanted to run to him and make sure he was all right. “What’s this?”
“Cotton pads. I have a barrel of bicarbonate solution at the entry.”
“Oh thank God.” She calmed her racing heart, grabbed his arm and pulled her with him towards the barrel.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“There was nothing you could have done. I was ignored by everyone but my father. If he hadn’t sent you to England to bring these supplies, we’d have nothing to treat these men with other than soap and water.” She looked over the room and lowered her voice. “And water kills.” She tried to yank the lid off the barrel, but it was stuck tight.
Michael put his bundle down, pulled a knife from his belt and pried off the lid.
Another nurse came over. “What’s this?”
“Bicarbonate solution. We can use it to neutralise the gas residue on the skin of our patients. It won’t help the lungs, but it’s something. Please circulate this news to the rest of the staff.”
The nurse nodded and hurried off.
Michael examined Jude from her feet to her cap. “You’re well?”
“Yes, fine. You seem to have recovered from your wounds.” She raised a hand towards his chest, but quickly lowered it before she did something silly like touch him. “Are you in any pain?”
“Nothing to speak of.” He glanced around the church. “So quiet.” He gaze seemed solemn. “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from the wounded.”
“While there is war, there will always be wounded.”
“I can’t imagine a better person to care for them than you.”
His approval gave her tired muscles a much needed boost of energy. “I’ve explained the gas and its effects to all the physicians and the nurses here now, however. So I’m no longer needed as I once was.”
“In that case, I have an option for you to consider.” This was voiced with a diffidence she’d rarely heard from him.
She wasn’t sure she liked it. “Option?”
“Lieutenant Bennet and his wife, Maria, have been manning their aid station in the Netherlands alone for several months. We’d like to have more people there. Another nurse and more men to assist in rescues and information gathering from across the border.”
“That’s a large task.”
“It’s an important task. Your experience would be a great asset.”
She could continue working, offering aid, caring for those who needed care. This was the opportunity she’d been craving—to do her duty and care for her people. But why was it being offered now? “What’s your role in this?”
“I’m one of the men reassigned to the aid station and its mission.”
“Were you going to tell me that?”
“Of course. But I wanted to let you decide if you want to be part of this task, as you put it, on its own merits. Without interference.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why do you want me to decide without your input?”
“Because it’s what you asked for in your letter.”
“Is it?”
“Isn’t it?” He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into an alcove. He leaned down to her ear and said in a low, intense tone, “I want to carry you bodily out of here. I want to pack you in all this cotton and take you home to England. But I won’t, because it’s not what you want. And I do trust you.”
She tilted her head and considered him carefully. “What do you want?”
“I want...a partner, a confidant, a mother for my children, a friend. Someone who will stand beside me. Someone who will tell me when I’m wrong and when I’m being an ass.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s an interesting and impressive list of attributes.”
“You own every single one of them.”
“I also have a great many faults. I’m blunt, assertive, opinionated and often display a mannish attitude.”
“I’ve discovered that I like blunt, assertive and opinionated.” He gave her a look that was all heat. “I can also assure you that I’ve never ever thought of you as anything other than beautiful.”
She breathed deep. “I am so angry with you. When I saw you at the hospital in Belgium, I couldn’t believe it. There you were, standing in front of me wearing the uniform of the enemy, speaking the enemy’s language and asking me to aid an enemy soldier. For a moment I actually considered yelling at you. Calling you a liar, any number of other horrible names.” She swallowed the bitter pill of truth. “That night, when you woke me. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that you were still just following orders.”
“I acted like an ogre that night. You should have hit me for what I said
and did.”
“I wanted to, but we were on the run and you were so furious with me for doing what my conscience demanded. I knew you weren’t being reasonable, so I waited.”
“About the train,” he said tentatively.
“If you apologise for the train, I will hit you.”
“But isn’t that what I deserve?”
“Some might think so, but I don’t. It was the most sublime moment of my life.” She sighed. “Perhaps this is another of my faults.”
He smiled. “I haven’t followed any orders regarding you in a long time.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Jude, do you, can you trust me? Love me?”
“I left that letter so you’d stop and think before coming after me. So you’d be sure of what you wanted. I never wanted your sympathy or pity. That night in the palace when you promised me pleasure, that felt like pity.”
“It wasn’t. I love you.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t good enough, Captain Lawrence. You made me a promise, sir, and I intend to collect.”
He cleared his throat and took a step back. “You tempt me beyond all reason.”
“Reason is overrated.”
“You’ve become a dangerous woman.” He swallowed hard. “I thought it wasn’t possible to love you more than I did yesterday, but I already do.”
She could no more stop herself from reaching for him than she could stop her heart from beating.
He took her hand and placed it over his chest. “Marry me. Not because duty or honour demands it, but because your heart commands it.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “Yes.”
Relief cascaded across his face and he took a step closer, leaning down to whisper in her eat. “I’ll arrange for a wedding post-haste. We’re due at the aid station in three weeks.”
“Three weeks?”
“Recovery time for my wound.”
“What about Bert?”
“He’s been transferred to our unit. And will meet us there in six weeks. The physicians say he needs that long to let his ribs and arm heal properly.
“Excellent. I was hoping he was making an unremarkable recovery.”
“Completely unremarkable.” He drew her into the darkest corner of the alcove. “Now, I wonder if I could start delivering on my promise of pleasure.”
“Now?” Where had all the air in the world gone?
“Now.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her. “We have two years to make up for.”
* * * * *
Learn how the journey began—
pick up the first installment of the War Girls series!
Saving the Rifleman
German-occupied Brussels, Belgium
Great War, 1914
British Red Cross nurse Maria Hunt lives in daily fear that the Germans will uncover her secret: she helps wounded British soldiers escape.
Lieutenant John Bennet is wounded and running out of options. Trapped behind enemy lines while collecting intelligence, he needs to get out of Belgium if he’s going to escape with the information and his life.
Maria is devoted to her patients and her cause, but something else compels her to risk her life for this soldier. While a man of Lieutenant Bennet’s station would barely speak to her in other circumstances, something in his kind eyes inspires a passion deep within her.
As his injuries worsen, can Maria find the courage to guide him through the war-torn countryside? And should they make it back to England, will their burgeoning desire survive the ravages of war?
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About the Author
Julie Rowe’s first career as a medical lab technologist in Canada took her to the Northwest Territories and northern Alberta, where she still resides. She loves to include medical details in her romance novels, but admits she’ll never be able to write about all her medical experiences because no one would believe them! A double Golden Heart Award finalist in 2006, Julie has three books out with Carina Press: Icebound, North of Heartbreak and Saving the Rifleman. Her writing has also appeared in several magazines such as Today’s Parent, Reader’s Digest (Canada) and Canadian Living. She currently facilitates communication workshops for her local city college. You can reach her at www.julieroweauthor.com or on Twitter @julieroweauthor.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9556-2
Copyright © 2013 by Julie Rowe
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