Final Hours (10 page)

Kane let out a string of curses, and Elizabeth nearly
dropped her cup. She set it down and crawled over to Bridget, who had just
taken his coat off.

“Oh, my dear boy. You did take the brunt of it, didn’t you?”

Elizabeth peered around the older woman. Kane still wore his
uniform, but she could see how much damage the shrapnel from the explosion
caused. Gashes riddled the right side of his shirt, most of them bloody.

“Help me get this off him, Elizabeth.”

She obeyed, moved around him. He had his right arm braced on
his knees, his left hand clenching and unclenching. “Kane.” His head snapped
up.

“Get her out of here.” The anger in his voice smacked her.

“I’m here to—”

“I said, get her out of here, Bridget—I’ll not have her
see—”

“It’s okay.” She understood his anger, the reason he had his
back facing the wall. “I already—”

“Get her—”

“Jackson.” She figured using his first name would get his
attention. She figured right. He stared at her, those grey eyes dark with pain.
“I’ve seen the scars.” His eyes closed, and she cradled his face. The grief she
saw flash in their depths left an ache she didn’t want to explore. “There’s no
need to hide, from me, or anyone here. Look at me.”

Endless seconds later, he did, the grief still there. It
faded as he studied her. “You don’t care.”

“Why should I?”

“Beth.” He shocked the breath out of her when he kissed her,
in front of all these people. “You are one of a kind.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way.” She knew she sounded,
well, breathless. But he took her by surprise, and the feel of his lips had her
wanting more. Those warning bells went off again. She ignored them. Again.
“Let’s get this shirt off, see what the damage is.”

He let her and Bridget strip him to the waist. Bridget had a
few choice words for the person who gave him the scars, then focused on the
really nasty gashes on his shoulder and his upper arm. Elizabeth’s respect for
his pain tolerance went way up; she would have been curled on the nearest flat
surface, whimpering and useless. Instead, he carried a pre-teen boy into the
bowels of the station, tended him, comforted him. All without even a hint of
the pain he must have been in.

“Martha.” Bridget splashed some water in a shallow bowl as
she talked. “Please find a clean shirt for me. Large, if you can. Elizabeth,
dear,” she handed over a wad of clean bandage. “Clean his wounds for me while I
prepare some bandages. Now, where is the sticking plaster?”

Elizabeth saw Kane flinch, and figured sticking plaster was
as unpleasant as she’d read in books. Determined to keep him distracted, she
chattered, her fingers as gentle as possible when she wiped out the wounds.
They weren’t as bad as she first thought, but she knew they must hurt him.

“Did you know that Christopher Wren helped save Salisbury
Cathedral? After the spire was added on, the load was so great, it started to
tilt. Wren came to survey, saw the impending disaster, and helped them create
supports to distribute the weight of the spire, without adding buttresses to
the outside. Even with the supports, it still leans more than the Tower of
Pisa—”

“Beth.” Kane’s voice rumbled next to her ear. She froze,
took in a shaky breath, and looked up to find him studying her over his
shoulder, amusement in his grey eyes. She’d take that over the heart wrenching
grief any day, even if it were directed at her. “There’s no need for
distraction.”

“There will be soon, my dear boy.” Bridget shooed Elizabeth
over, set down a tray covered with squares of bandages, and an amber bottle
with a single word hand written on the label. Iodine. Oh, good lord. “Go take
his hands, Elizabeth. I do not want any interference once I begin.”

“She has iodine back there, doesn’t she.” It wasn’t a
question. Elizabeth took his hands, as ordered, and nodded. “Bloody hell.”

“Hush, now.” Bridget slapped his left arm. “There are
children about. Children who should be sleeping,” she said, loud enough for
those children to hurry and pretend before their parents checked on them.

Smiling, Elizabeth met his eyes. The look in them spiked her
blood pressure. He endured the iodine, sucked in his breath every time it
touched open skin, and never took his gaze off her. She wanted to kiss him so
badly, heat spiraled through her at the thought of his lips on hers again. On
her
again.

It was too complicated.
He
was too complicated. All
she wanted to do when this started was help him stop Guy and go home. Then he
kissed her, and her world tilted sideways.

What was she supposed to do with that? Go home, pretend she
never met him? Pretend she didn’t have these enormous feelings for him? God
help her, it was already too late.

“Beth.” His breath whispered over her cheek, his voice low,
warm, too alluring. She looked at him; sometime during her random thoughts her
gaze had wandered to the space behind him. If she’d been drooling, it would
have completed the picture of a lovesick idiot. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming after me.” He brushed her lips. The heat she thought
she stomped down burst into life. “For standing up to Guy.” The next brush
became a soft, all too brief kiss. “For keeping your calm while you did so.”
The next kiss had her leaning into him, her head spinning. He pulled back, and
she looked at him, wanting more, terrified by how much she wanted it. “Hell,”
he whispered, and captured her lips in a thorough, heart melting kiss.

She let go of his hands and reached forward, gasping against
his lips when she met bare chest. What was left of her brain had forgotten he
was half naked. Her hands took on a life of their own, fingers spreading over
warm skin, touching firm, sculpted muscle. His low moan encouraged her. She
slid her hands up to his wide, strong shoulders, found the new scar left by
Guy’s knife. His arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her in.

A sigh behind her brought Elizabeth to her senses.

She broke off the kiss, her breathing ragged, her heart
beating an uneven staccato in her chest. Kane let go of her, ran his hand
through his hair. He looked more frustrated than happy.

“I do enjoy watching love expressed so tenderly.” Martha’s
wistful voice had heat spreading over her face.

Bridget gave her back a quick, soothing rub. Like the
comfort, the support a mother would give her daughter. Tears stung Elizabeth’s
eyes.

“Some of your wounds will need more professional attention
than I can give, Kane, but they will do for now. Martha, give over the shirt.”
A blue shirt was shoved into her outstretched hand. “This may be a bit big, but
it will keep you warm, and keep dirt off those cuts.” She eased Kane’s right
arm into the sleeve, and slipped the shirt over his shoulders. “I believe you
can take care of the rest.”

She winked at Elizabeth, crawled over to a blanket spread on
the floor. There were two more beside her, empty. Every inch of Elizabeth
wanted to do nothing more than curl in a ball on that blanket, and let sleep
give her a few hours of oblivion.

Instead, she helped Kane with the heavy shirt, buttoned it
for him, and tried not to touch the warm skin under it. He ruined it when he
cradled her cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll take the transport from you, now. It will
not be comfortable when you sleep, sliding all over your arm like it does.”

So, he noticed. He seemed to notice everything. It should
have embarrassed her; she hated too much attention from other people. But his
attention left her feeling cherished. And wanting badly to kiss him again.

She shoved that want to one side, took the transport off and
helped him buckle it on his left wrist. “You need sleep more than I do.”

“I need to check on Robin.”

“Then I’ll go with you—”

“Go lie down. I will only be a few minutes.” He pulled her
to her feet and kissed her forehead before he moved to Bridget. “May I borrow
your first aid kit, madam?”

She handed it up to him. “Give that boy a kiss for me. And
don’t linger. Your lovely lady is not the only one who needs rest.”

“Yes, madam.” He winked at her and made his way through the
maze of bodies stretched out on the floor.

“He’s a flirt, your Kane. And a good man.”

“Yes, he is.” Elizabeth watched him crouch next to Robin,
reach out to brush Lindsay’s cheek. Even from here, Elizabeth could see that
color had returned to Robin’s face, and he was snug in a blanket, his head
pillowed in his sister’s lap. “I can’t stay with him,” she whispered.

He spent a few minutes with them before he returned to
Elizabeth, gave her a gentle kiss, then lowered himself to the closest blanket.
He fell asleep almost immediately.

“Elizabeth?” Bridget held out her hand. “Let him take his rest,
and come sit with me.”

She accepted the invitation, and eased herself to the
scratchy wool blanket. Her cup of soup still sat on the floor, but she had lost
her appetite, something that happened when she overextended herself. With a
sigh, she slipped out of her jacket. She wanted to be comfortable, unconfined
when she finally did sleep. Her fingers went to her braid, pulling the tie off before
she slowly loosened her hair.

“It’s lovely hair you have, Elizabeth. May I brush it for
you? I am assuming you don’t have a brush handy.”

“You have a brush?”

“I have a suitcase packed at all times. I refuse to spend
the night in this drafty hole with no creature comforts.”

“I—yes, that would be nice.”

She never let people get so close, so personal. But this
woman she had known less than hour felt more like a friend than the
acquaintances in the periphery of her life. And Kane—she shied away from any
thought of him. Her heart was still too raw, every emotion on high alert, even
with him out of reach.

Bridget sat behind her, gently smoothing her hair. “So
thick, but it is soft as spun silk. You never thought of cutting it?”

Elizabeth flinched. “No. I had it cut as a child, not by choice.
I guess I never got over that. I’ve been growing it out ever since.”

She closed her eyes as the brush ran down the length of her
hair. The bristles gently scraped her scalp at the start of every long stroke.
Her muscles gradually relaxed. The tension she didn’t know she held on to leached
away under the care of this gentle woman.

“Tell me your story, Elizabeth.” The quiet voice opened her
eyes. “I know you carry a burden. Let me ease some of it for you.”

“Why?” She pulled away, turned to face Bridget. “What will
you get out of it?”

“The pleasure of your company. A chance to get to know a
lovely young woman. Is there another reason?”

The genuine confusion convinced Elizabeth more than any
words. She did something she swore never to do; she told another person
everything about her parents’ death, and her life in the system.

Bridget prodded her whenever she faltered, held her hands,
let Elizabeth talk until she was hoarse. She didn’t realize she had been crying
until she reached up and felt the tears on her cheeks.

“My dear, brave girl.” Bridget wiped her cheeks, kissed her
forehead. It made Elizabeth want to cry again. “You have such courage, and a
big heart, in spite of how you were treated.”

“I’ve been pretty selfish when it comes to sharing
anything.”

“That takes time, and the right person.” She touched the
locket. “Is this the one you spoke of?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth let out a sigh. “It was all I had of my old
life. Sometimes I think wearing it creates a barrier. One I don’t want
anymore.”

“When the time is right, you will know whether to keep it or
give it away, with a free heart. Now,” she took Elizabeth’s hand. “Tell me how
you and Kane met.”

“I—there are things you won’t—”

“Believe? I know you and Kane are different. He may have
been wearing a BEF uniform, but with that hair, and especially the pierced ear,
I know he is not military.” She smiled when Elizabeth stared at her. “I have
known some bohemians in my day, and the earring does give him a dangerous look.
It always attracted me to them, that willingness to be different. I promise
you, dear girl, whatever you tell me will remain between us.”

So Elizabeth found herself telling the woman everything—except
the reason they came here. She knew they had intruded too much, messed with
past events. She just hoped that stopping Guy would set everything back on
course.

Bridget held her hands tight, sympathy in her soft brown
eyes. “That is quite the story, my dear.”

“I know you don’t believe me—”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Bridget tightened her grip on
Elizabeth’s hands. “I have seen atrocities that would make your hair stand on
end. The possibility of science advancing so far gives me hope that we won’t
destroy ourselves before we reach our potential.”

“I—wow.”

Bridget smiled. “I do enjoy surprising people. I tend to
have a reputation for being ordinary.”

“Whoever said that has never met you.”

“Oh, go on with you.” She let go, long enough to take out a
handkerchief tucked under the cuff of her sweater and dab at her eyes. “You
have been through so much already, and now you end up in the middle of a war
you have no part of. A war that will take far more before it’s done.”

“You speak from experience.”

Bridget sighed. “I lost my son to the first war to end war.”
Elizabeth tightened her grip, unable to say anything. “He died in a muddy trench
in France, far away from home, from the family he fought so hard to protect. I
still miss him, every day.”

“I am so sorry, Bridget.”

“Thank you, my dear girl.” She let out a sigh, her eyes sad.
“War destroys, in ways we never imagined, but it also tears away pretenses,
strips people down to their basic goodness. I see it every day, the way
strangers care for each other, as your Kane took on that sweet boy.”