Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) (7 page)

“How are we to manage if he doesn’t trust us?”

“I think the better question is, should we trust him?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again without saying anything.

“Do you want to leave him here to fend for himself?”

“No.”

“Then we take him with us and pray he’ll follow my orders.” Michael looked at the soldier. “What do you say?”

“Depends on the orders.”

“We’re heading towards the border with the Netherlands with the intent to cross it and return to England.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jude asked. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to go to England?”

“
I
don’t want to go, but he won’t let me stay in Belgium.”

“And I’m under orders to make sure she gets to England. That’s all
I’m
willing to trust you with,” Michael said with a wink. “Now, what can we call you?”

“Bert.”

“Bert, are you willing to go along with us. No argument?”

“Fine.” Bert sounded about as enthusiastic as a raw recruit asked to lead a charge over the top.

“I must say, I’m overwhelmed with your spirit of camaraderie. It should be a pleasant journey. What do you think, dearest?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you bring the clothing?”

“Indeed.” Michael tossed it on the bed. “Wine?”

“Yes, let me cut a few bandages and soak them in some of that. Bert can drink a glass before I sew up his side.” She pulled the chemise out of the pile and nodded. “Perfect.”

“Don’t need a glass.” Bert the British soldier held out his hand. Couldn’t the man have come up with a better name than that?

Michael handed him the bottle. “Bottoms up.”

“How will we get to the border now?” she asked. “Bert can walk, but not far or fast.”

“The three of us will take a boat from here to Maastricht in the Netherlands.”

“And then?”

A knock at the door saved him from giving an answer he knew Jude wasn’t going to like.

Chapter Nine

Jude watched Michael answer the door, grab a tray loaded with dishes, then step back and close it with his foot.

“Our dinner has arrived.”

“It will have to keep for a few minutes. Help me finish binding Bert’s arm. After that he should finish washing and change into the clothing you brought.”

“I’ll do well enough on my own,” Bert said, an embarrassed blush colouring his face.

“You’ll do as ordered. I’ll not have you injuring yourself further because you tripped or some such nonsense.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“At least one of you is wise enough to follow my advice.” She grabbed the chemise and began ripping it into strips.

Michael chuckled. “When your advice makes sense, I have no problem following it.”

“I could have done so much more good where I was,” she continued, the cloth tearing under her fingers like paper. “Why couldn’t you have left me alone?”

“You’d have been dead within three days.”

His stark comment dropped like a bomb into the room, killing what little cheer she felt.

“You don’t know that. Not for certain.”

He stood, all evidence of mirth wiped from his features. “I’m certain.”

He didn’t understand. For the first time in her life, she’d felt truly needed. No one, least of all Michael, had ever needed her. “I was helping.” It came out as a whisper. “I was making a difference.”

“You’re making a difference now.” He nodded at Bert. “If not for you, he’d be in German hands as a prisoner or dead.” Michael knelt on one knee in front of her. “You gave me something to fight for.” He lifted her hand, turned it palm up and kissed the tender skin there. “Someone to fight for.”

“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 his 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.