Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) (11 page)

His trust was rewarded when she stopped the burning, apologising for causing him pain, but assuring him that it was necessary to save his life.

“You must live,” she whispered in his ear, her voice and scent combining to form a siren’s song to his senses. “Don’t leave me.”

“I would follow you into hell, my angel.” His sounded harsh and rough to his ears. He opened his eyes and saw her hovering above him. Her beauty was that of a garden—rich, deep and full of life. “So beautiful.” He lifted a trembling hand and cupped her cheek. “So very beautiful.”

Tears fell from her eyes to roll down her face.

“Don’t cry. I won’t disappoint you. I
will
get well.”

“I believe you.” She turned and kissed his palm. Her lips were even softer than her hands. They made injured parts of him burn for something other than water.

“If I could have one wish come true, I’d wish for you to kiss my body, to put your lips on my skin and explore as much as you’d like. That would be heaven for me.”

“Heaven must wait,” she said, kissing his palm again. “I have other tasks for you.”

“Whatever you desire, my angel, I will do.”

More tears fell, enough to wet the skin of his hand. “Sleep now. Rest and gather your strength.”

He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

* * *

“Ma’am, you should sleep.”

Jude glanced over her shoulder at Bert, uncertain of how to answer. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Why? I thought you said his temperature is down, his wound is healing and he’s sleeping peacefully now.”

“He thinks I’m an angel.”

“He was delirious with fever.”

“He thinks my position too high and himself unworthy of me.”

“He’s a soldier, you’re a respectable lady. He’s probably right.”

“You’re not helping.”

“He seems like an honourable man who would only do the honourable thing. How is that wrong?”

“Really? You haven’t heard the whole story. I foolishly professed my love for him. He said he was unworthy of me, told me duty was his only mistress and wife.” She glanced down. Her hands were shaking. “That was two years ago. Then he shows up at my hospital telling me that I’m in danger and insisting I leave with him. I was in a position to learn things about German military plans. Secret plans. That’s gone now.”

“Were you in danger?”

“Of course. Always. But in this, I was given no choice in the matter. I had other options. Other hospitals I could have moved to. I could have continued helping in that capacity, but he wouldn’t allow it.” She looked at Bert and wondered if he understood. “He doesn’t trust me. He never has.”

“Do you trust him?”

Everything inside Jude came to a stop.

Did she?

She respected Michael’s intelligence, ingenuity and his unswerving devotion to his duty. She admired his quick thinking, creativity and willingness to do whatever it took to accomplish his goal. She loved his laugh and the expression in his eyes when she did or said something clever. She adored his kisses and touch.

Lying to herself would do her no good. She loved him more now that she had two years ago.

“Yes, but I also need to know that he trusts me.”

Bert tilted his head to one side. “What will you do?”

“What he ordered me to do—get my information to the British War Office, or better yet, my father. It will be a test for both of us.”

Bert blinked. “How so?”

“I’m doing the honourable thing and letting him go. I will not trap him into marriage. If he truly wants me—if he truly
loves
me—he’s going to have to make the decision to come after me.”

Chapter Thirteen

Michael woke to stiff muscles, a sore chest and a rampaging thirst. “Water.” It came out as barely a croak.

The room was a bit fuzzy, but he recognised a hand holding a cup near his face. With help he drank the whole thing down.

“Thank you, Jude.”

“It’s Bert, but you’re welcome just the same.”

He focused his eyes on the face above him. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn I heard her voice.”

“You did, earlier. You had quite the fever. She didn’t leave your side for almost a full day.”

He grunted. He wasn’t surprised. When she devoted herself to a task, she gave it her all. Knowing she chose to care for him with that devotion removed some of the weight that had sat on his soul for two years.

“Here’s more water. She said you lost a lot of blood and need to drink as much as possible.”

He sipped at the cup.

“It’s good to have you back with us, sir,” Bert said with an energy Michael wished he felt.

“A little worse for wear, but still whole. How long have I been here? Wherever here is.”

“Maastricht, in the Netherlands, sir. You’ve been here for two days.”

“Two days? Good God.” Michael damn near jumped out of bed. “Jude? Did she tell you about Germany’s new weapon? Someone has to make a report about it. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir. She gave me a detailed report, which was forwarded on with all urgency.”

He relaxed, allowed himself to lie down again. “Excellent.”

“She was exceptionally thorough.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Judith Goddard is a woman with many remarkable skills.”

“Indeed.”

“When can I speak to her?” He needed to see her, hear her, touch her. Her presence would do more to lessen the pain of his wounds than any medicine.

Bert shook his head. “She’s not here, sir. She left for France early this morning.”

“France? Why on Earth would she go there?”

“At her father’s invitation to advise our military about the poison gas attack. In case they have questions or to discuss any stop-gap measures to combat the gas.”

“Like what?”

“It’s going to depend on what they have on hand. That’s the problem. No one seems to have an answer. So she told them she’d come and see for herself.”

Michael wanted to growl and yell. He wanted to leave for France, find her and take her to England. Forcibly if he had to. He wanted to yell at her, tell her how stupid and risky it was to go anywhere near the fighting. Anywhere near where that gas might be released.

He wanted her in his arms, so he knew with certainty—
absolute certainty
—that she was safe.

“She left you a letter.” Bert handed it to him. “She didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t begin to describe it.” He tore open the letter and began to read. Only some of it sunk in.

Dear Michael
,

Your fever has broken and your wound is healing well
,
so I felt it acceptable to leave you in Bert’s capable hands.
I
imagine you don’t agree.
You’d rather drag me back to England and are horrified to discover I’m anywhere near the front lines in France.

Just know that I love you.
I
have never stopped loving you.
I
will love you until death takes me
,
but I will not force you into marriage.
Duty is not enough.
Please let me go.

All my love
,

Jude

At the end of the letter was a list of supplies she thought might help combat or treat the gas.

“She’s with her father,” Michael said, reading the letter again.

“Yes, sir,” Bert said. “What next?”

Jude was a woman worth fighting and dying for. He’d always known that. Now he knew she was worth living for as well. He’d been the biggest of fools. Not just once, but twice.

“Return to England.” He held the letter up. “We have a new mission.”

“We?”

Michael looked at his new protégé. “I did warn you that I was going to recruit you. Hop to it, lad, and get me some clean clothes.”

The grin on Bert’s face mirrored his own. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

Jude found herself hanging onto her temper by the barest thread. She had explained the problem over and over, yet the military men before her seemed content to argue and debate about the effects of the poison gas. They saw no need to spend money on protection from a weapon they believed would do no more than make the eyes water and a man cough.

She explained the difference between the gas the French used the previous year in an attempt to stop or slow down the advance of the German army and the gas the Germans intended to use in the next day or two.

All they were waiting for were favourable winds.

“Sirs, let me say again, this gas doesn’t just irritate the eyes and nose. If you breathe it in, it will
destroy
your lungs. If it gets into your eyes, it will
liquefy
them, turning them into useless jelly. Death can come immediately or after hours of horrible pain and agony.”

“Have you seen this yourself, or is this another rumour?” the most senior officer, a general, asked.

“I’ve seen the results myself. They tested it on British prisoners of war. I treated those who didn’t die immediately.”

“Such an action is unthinkable. I cannot believe the Germans would stoop so low.”

“They’ve indiscriminately killed civilians, on land and at sea. The Germans have shown us repeatedly that they’re willing to do anything to win,” her father said. “Why does this seem so unbelievable?”

“What measures can we possibly take with so little notice? We have thousands of troops on the front line. Will they use this gas on the entire front or at specific areas?”

“I don’t know,” Jude replied.

“Do you know what day they will use it?”

“Anytime now, General. I’m certain they’re simply waiting for the winds to be blowing in the right direction.”

He grunted. “Thank you for your report, Miss Goddard. We’ll take it under advisement.”

Dismissed, that’s what she was, along with every warning she’d given. She wanted to rail at the general’s stupidity and short-sightedness. She wanted to tell him he was making a huge mistake.

Instead, she gave a brief curtsy and left the room.

Her father caught up to her a few moments later. “Disappointing.”

“Damn near disgusting.”

“Now, now, there’s no need for that kind of language.”

“Yes, Father, there is.” She stopped to look at him, her anger enough to make her hands shake. “Thousands of men are going to be injured or die because those old men won’t take my warning seriously. Is it because I’m a woman?” She turned away, defeat causing her shoulders to droop. “I should have let you do all the talking. I should have stayed out of it.”

“It wouldn’t have made that much of a difference, if any. They’re certain they’re right.”

“That’s not going to make me feel any better when the casualties and dead start piling up.”

“Let’s be ready for that, then.”

“Ready? What do you mean? They ignored everything I had to say.”

“Generals see battle from a particular point of view. Quartermasters see it from another.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Our man has arrived in London and begun preparations. We’ll be receiving a large shipment of cotton pads and barrels of bicarbonate solution, thanks to your suggestion.”

“Without the orders of the men who just patted me on the head like I’m some idiot?”

“Our man’s got my orders. I may not be a general, but I’m not so low either.”

“Who’s this man of yours?”

“Lawrence, of course.”

“Michael? Does he...” She couldn’t finish the question. At least, not the one she wanted to ask most. “Has he recovered from his injuries?”

“Very near, thanks to you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Speaking of Michael, I’m very angry with you.”

He cleared his throat. “Michael asked after you.”

“Oh?” Changing the subject wasn’t going to get him out of explaining himself, but she did want to know what Michael said.

“Wanted to be sure you were uninjured as well. Seemed somewhat concerned you might have taken a bad fall at some point. Something about an incident on a train?”

The train? Nothing had happened on the train except the two of them making love.

Good God
.

He wanted to know if she was pregnant.

“I hope you reassured him that I was perfectly healthy.”

“I said you seemed fine.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You can be more specific with him when he gets here.”

The room suddenly ran out of air. “He’s coming here?”

“He’s bringing the supplies with him. I just hope we won’t need them before he arrives.”

They walked in silence for a minute before she gave voice to a question that had been plaguing her since discovering her father’s role in Michael’s rejection.

“Father, why did you order Michael to lie?”

“I thought it best at the time.” He sighed. “I was wrong and I was a bastard about it. I used his emotions to blackmail him into agreeing with me. I thought he was the wrong kind of man for you. It turns out I was the one who was wrong.”

“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.”