Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) (10 page)

The silence following that statement was deep and dark.

Bert’s voice sounded high in contrast. “You’re not?”

Chapter Twelve

Anger flowed through Michael’s blood, setting every nerve ending on fire. “An easily rectified problem.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him. “I’m not marrying you. Duty might be enough for
you
to marry someone, perhaps. Not for me.”

“What would be enough?”

“You don’t meet my list of qualifications.” She turned her back on both men.

“She’s got a list?” Bert asked.

“I’m not surprised.” Michael sighed. The woman was going to drive him mad. “She’s remarkably organised.”

“Do all women have a list?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Yes.” Jude said without turning around. “We do.”

“That’s frightening.”

“I’m beginning to realise how dangerous an angry woman really is,” Michael said.

“Keep talking as though I’m not here and you can both get out and walk.”

“I think she means it.”

“I know she does.” Michael couldn’t keep pride from colouring his voice. “She has a will of iron, the intelligence of Aristotle and the compassion of Hippocrates.”

“Do you think a little flattery will change my mind?”

“I know it won’t.” He contemplated her rigid posture and knew that to convince her, he’d have to tell her things that might make her hate him. If that knowledge saved her life, so be it.

“I asked your father’s permission to marry you two years ago. He refused and ordered me to lie about my feelings for you.”

“So you said.”

“I should have ignored his order, but he was my commanding officer, my mentor, and I am too well trained an officer to ignore an order of that...importance. I thought, at the time, that he was correct. I would not have made a good husband for you.”

“If I were a typical woman, perhaps you and he would have been right. But I’m not. You were both wrong.”

“Yes. I made a mistake. I realised what I’d done and confronted your father. We argued. He forbade me from contacting you and begging your forgiveness.” He swallowed hard. “My relationship with you wasn’t the only one I walked away from.” Physical pain was easy, this confession was...so much worse.

“What do you mean?”

He ignored the question. “I hadn’t communicated with your father for months until he sent me the message that you were in trouble. I could hardly believe it. The danger you were in...it staggered me. I told him I would get you out of Belgium and home to England—for a price.”

“What?” The question was spoken so softly some might mistake it for an innocent inquiry, but he heard the underlying steel in her voice and knew he was being judged. “What price?”

“To let me tell you the truth and not to interfere.” She turned to look at him and he nearly smiled at the incandescent rage on her face. “You look mad enough to kill. I have no idea if he agreed or not. I haven’t heard from him since I sent back his messenger dog. I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. You deserve the truth.”

“You’re fortunate I don’t have a rifle, because I’d probably shoot you,” she said with great dignity.

“We were...wrong.”

“And stupid.”

“Yes. I should have trusted you to make the right decision for yourself and your father should’ve known you’d never meekly allow him to plan your future.”

“So what is it you want from me? What price will you demand from
me
for taking me home?”

The pain in his chest became a vice, squeezing all the air out. He forced his muscles to work, to breathe through it. “Be happy.”

“And if continuing my work as a nurse Belgium makes me happy?”

“Whatever it takes.” He smiled even as shadows encroached on his vision from all sides. Not phantoms of the night, but those of the mind. He didn’t want to leave her alone to contend with whatever crossed their path, but his body wasn’t listening to his brain. “Follow her orders,” he whispered to Bert as the darkness took him. He couldn’t even see now, just hear the chugging of the boat’s engine and the response of a man who was as wounded as he.

“I will.”

* * *

Jude rushed to his side. “Is he breathing?”

“Yes, just unconscious,” Bert said

“I’m going check his bandage, see if it has bled through.” She peeled it carefully away at one edge.

“How does it look?”

“Good.” She expelled a relieved breath. “Good.”

“How far to the border?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”

The river was obviously used as a way to transport everything from people to pork. Hopefully, they would come upon Belgians and not any more German soldiers.

“Are you going to forgive him?”

Jude stared at Bert then at Michael. “I’m so angry and disappointed and sad, I don’t know what to think.”

“I haven’t known either of you very long, but I know not just anyone would have done what you two have done to help me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you you’re both a couple of bloody heroes.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“What would you have done if you had been him two years ago?” Bert saluted her, then closed his eyes and leaned his head against the side of the boat.

She did the same.

What would she have done in Michael’s place? Her father was a persuasive man, logical, rational and more solidly loyal to his family and country than anyone she’d ever met. Would she have disobeyed him?

She rubbed her temples. The situation wasn’t as black and white as she’d thought.

She allowed herself to rest until Bert called out to her. “Ma’am, I think you need to check him. He’s sweating and feels hot to me.”

Jude rose and put her hand on Michael’s forehead. “You’re right, he’s got a fever.”

“Infection?”

“Possibly. There are a fair number of other diseases that cause a fever. Diphtheria, influenza and others.”

“Some of my mates got sick from all the rats and ticks.”

“Yes, the trenches are horrible breeding grounds for disease.” Bert didn’t look healthy either, pale with pain-pinched lips. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Day fell into night and they still putted along. She went to sleep with the vibration of the motor settling into her bones.

Some hours later, the sun rose and woke her. She saw a party of men in the distance. As they got closer, she realised there was barbed wire strewn across the land along the river as far as the eye could see.

The border. Guarded by German soldiers.

But soldiers weren’t the only people at the border. A line of people in civilian clothes, mostly families with women, old men and small children, stood on the bank waiting to cross into the Netherlands. The soldiers spoke with them, looked them over and checked their belongings before allowing them to pass or turning them away.

Jude and the old man quietly waited for their turn.
Please
,
God
,
let my two men stay unconscious
.

“Why have they put wire across the river?” she asked in French.

“It’s electric, enough to kill a man,” the old man replied. “They say they’re going to string it all down the border to the ocean.”

A soldier threw the old man a rope and they were pulled to the shore. A plank was set down so the Germans could board the boat.

The first one looked around at the rotting wood and rust on all the metal. “Old,” he reported to another.

That soldier looked over Jude at the two men sleeping.

“What’s all this?”

“My husband and brother,” Jude answered. “My husband has a fever and my brother fell off a ladder and broke his arm. There’s no doctor, but my husband’s family is in the Netherlands. There might be a doctor there.”

“What kind of fever?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. It came on so quickly.”

“Do you have papers?”

“No. I’m just a farmwife. My husband usually takes care of those things.”

The soldier stared at the two men for a moment, then leaned over and put his hand on Michael’s forehead. He jerked it away and took a step back. “He’s hot. Is he contagious?”

“I don’t know. That’s another reason why I’m trying to take them across the border. The neighbours made us leave. They don’t want to get sick too.”

The first soldier waved the second soldier over. “These men are sick. Send them across the border.”

He considered this then said to Jude, “If you cross the border, you won’t be able to come back unless you’re all healthy and you have the correct papers. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand. If things go the way I think they might, I won’t have anyone to bring back.”

This seemed to make both soldiers nervous, because they left the boat and called for the gate to open. A portion of the barbed wire covering the river was pulled away. The last thing she heard behind her was both soldiers calling for water and soap.

She waited until they were some distance from the border before addressing Bert. “Are you alive?”

“Yes, though I wonder how much longer I have.”

“I think your life expectancy just went up.”

Bert put the back of his hand on Michael’s face. “Ma’am, he’s feels hotter to me than before.”

“Maastricht isn’t far away. Let’s hope we can find some help there and directions.”

“Directions to what?”

“A safe place.”

“You still don’t trust me, do you?”

She turned to glance at him. “You still haven’t shared your real name.”

A slow, open smile transformed his face into one that seemed, if not friendly, at least relaxed. “Bert is my name. My second name, actually. Bertrand. It’s what everyone calls me at home. My father is William Bertrand Hervey the second. I’m the third.”

Jude stared at him. “I’ve met your grandfather. He’s very...unconventional.”

He laughed and nodded his agreement. “Who are you?”

“I’m Judith Goddard. My father is a colonel in the British Expeditionary force.”

Bert touched his arm. “Thank you.”

An increase in the number of buildings told her they’d entered the town. People were out and about, and there was a large dock ahead. As their boat got closer, several men came out to meet them.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” One tossed the old man a rope and they were once again docked.

Words Jude was hoping to hear. “I’ve got two wounded men, one with a possible infection. Can you give me directions to the nearest doctor?”

“The closest one is on the other side of town. There’s a midwife just up the street, though.”

“That’ll do. Can you help me get them there?”

“I’ll get my horse and cart,” one said.

Michael and Bert were loaded into the cart and they were on their way in short order. The man led them to a house a few streets away from the dock.

A woman opened the door. “What’s this?”

“I have two injured British soldiers with me. One has a fever, the other broken bones.”

“I’m only a midwife.”

“I’m a nurse, I know what to do.”

The woman nodded and between the three of them, they got Michael and Bert into the house.

“My husband was shot in the chest last night. The bullet lodged in a rib and I was able to remove it, but he’s developed a fever.” She put her hand on Michael’s forehead. “He feels even hotter now.”

The kitchen looked like any other, but the adjacent room was small and clean with a narrow bed. She directed the men to lay Michael down there.

The midwife helped her remove Michael’s clothing down to his under clothes. “Will you need hot water?”

“Yes, thank you.” Jude smiled at her. “Also, several bandages and a bottle of brandy.”

“It’s always the good stuff that’s the first to go.”

The two women washed their hands then began removing bandages. Both leaned close to smell for gangrene in the wound.

“It smells clean,” the midwife said as she removed the last bandage.

Blood oozed from Michael’s wound, but not enough to obstruct their view of the tissue in and around the wound.

“The edges seem clean,” Jude said. “I don’t see any swelling or redness.”

“Agreed.” The midwife probed the wound with a retractor. “No excessive bleeding either.” She frowned. “Maybe the fever isn’t linked to the wound. Perhaps it’s due to an influenza or some other cause.”

“So we treat the symptoms. Fluids, cool water to keep his temperature down and willow bark tea?”

The midwife nodded. “I have a supply of willow bark here.” She smiled and grasped Jude’s hand. “He’ll pull through.”

“I lost him once. I can’t lose him a second time.”

“I understand.”

No, she didn’t. Jude wasn’t just talking about his life, she was talking about having the man in her life. He’d refused her marriage proposal because of duty. Did that mean he would have accepted if her father hadn’t ordered him to say no? He’d spoken about his feelings, but never used the word love.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of what?” the midwife asked.

“That he might choose to let...go.”

“If it’s his time, there’s nothing you or I or anyone can do.”

“I know, but it hurts so much.” The rest came out in a rushed whisper. “There are moments when I wish I’d never met him.”

* * *

Michael floated on an ocean of pain. The hot water surrounding him burned and boiled. Voices sailed past and he tried to follow them, find where they came from, but all was dark. The only constant was the heat and pain.

A woman called out to him and he tried to answer, but he couldn’t find her, see her or even hear what words she spoke. The sound of her voice drew him though, kept him from sleeping and letting the ocean take him to an eternal place where there was no pain.

She continued to call him, cajole him to wake up and drink water. Didn’t she know he was drowning in it?

Still, he couldn’t refuse that angel’s voice. He could feel her hands on him now. Soft, soft hands. So much care and love in those hands. Something stroked his lower lip. He opened his mouth and swallowed cool liquid.

A burn spread across his chest like a brand. He would have fought, but the angel asked him not to. Asked him to lie quiet and still. Asked him to stay and not leave her. He tried to answer, to swear he’d do whatever she asked, but his tongue was too heavy. It took all his strength just to swallow.