His confidence in her was more enticing than any honeyed words anyone else could give.
He was dangerous, so dangerous. Yet he was a danger she longed to embrace.
* * *
Dawn turned the horizon pink and Maria was falling asleep on her feet, stumbling and hanging on to his arm, before John began looking for a place to stop and hide for the day.
They’d avoided several German patrols, but those seemed to be mostly looking for young men or any gathering of more than two people. A single woman helping a limping man wasn’t drawing attention.
That wouldn’t last. The officer from the hospital wasn’t going to give up the hunt for them easily. They’d not only escaped him, they’d humiliated him. John had no doubt the man wouldn’t rest until they were caught.
They were at the very edge of the city now. The road here was in poor repair, pockmarked with holes and littered with cast-off and broken household items.
Maria stumbled and he tried to catch her, but he stepped in a hole and they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Pain shot through his injured thigh, robbing him of breath, but he still managed to hang on to Maria and keep himself under her. He had no wish to squash her.
It took a moment before he could take in enough air to speak. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I think.” But her quivering voice said otherwise.
“Maria?” He got his hands around her rib cage and lifted her up so he could see her face. Had he injured her when they went down?
She gasped when he held her above him and sat up, setting her on her knees next to him on the ground.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
She swallowed and nodded. Her cheeks were red and she shook under his hands, but she didn’t seem hurt. “I’m sorry, I’m just very tired.”
“We should look for somewhere to sleep.”
“Where? The houses all look occupied.”
“A barn loft should do for us.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Come on, let’s see what we can find.”
They came across a farm that seemed quiet and he led her into a barn half hidden in a clump of trees. A couple of old horses were the only occupants. He pulled her up into the loft where they found several woollen blankets in a heap on the hay-strewn boards.
“We didn’t get very far.” Maria shook the blankets out and laid them on the floor.
“We’re outside the city. That’s something.” John leaned one arm up against the wall, taking some of his weight off his injured leg.
She wasn’t looking at him at all. Just fussing with the blankets. Then she stopped. “It’s going to take more than two or three days to get to the Netherlands, isn’t it?”
Chapter Seven
“If we’re lucky we can get there in three.”
Maria sighed, tired beyond belief. “I stopped believing in luck some time ago.” She flicked bits of straw off the blanket and straightened out the corners. Tried not to think about sleeping next to him all day long. Tried not to wonder if either of them would survive the journey.
Tears tracked their way down her face. She kept picturing all the horrible things that could happen to them. Her lungs didn’t seem to be working right—her breathing shallowed and sped up.
“Maria.” John’s voice was low. He stretched out his hand. “Come here.”
Holding her breath, she stared at him, tilting her head to meet his gaze. He really was quite tall. And handsome. He made her feel safe and wanted, as silly as that was. She daren’t get too close, yet close to him was where she wanted to be.
He was kind, courteous and seemed to genuinely respect her. He made her laugh in spite of the horrible situation they were in. When his hand held hers, her feet barely touched the ground.
She knew better than to allow herself to feel this way, but there it was. Her choices were clear.
Her skills as a nurse and her reputation were all she had. Could she deal with the consequences if she followed her heart?
Could she live with herself if she didn’t?
John’s smile disappeared and he dropped his hand. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No.” No matter how frightened of her feelings she was, she couldn’t,
wouldn’t
lie to him. “I’m afraid of
me
.” She glanced at the pallet she’d made and flushed. “This is…I’ve never…”
His hand captured her chin and gently brought her face around. His warm gaze flicked over her as if she were someone beautiful and desirable. “I know.”
“But, I—”
“Shh, it’s all right. You have nothing to fear.” He cupped her face with both hands and pressed his forehead against hers. “I would never hurt you.”
“No need. I’m hurting myself.”
“What? How?” His words were demands, not questions. “Maria?”
She sighed. “Because I want…something I shouldn’t.”
“Want what?”
“I…” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t bear it if his expression turned to one of disdain or disgust.
“What do you want?”
She pulled away from him. “Something a woman of my station shouldn’t.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. “You want…me?” He growled the last word.
She didn’t answer.
He took her by the shoulders, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Maria, look at me please.”
“Must I?”
“Yes.”
She slowly allowed her gaze to move up to his face, but she could find no trace of disgust or any other negative emotion.
“I’m honoured.”
“You don’t think I’m a…”
“A what? We’re human beings in a desperate situation. I can only thank God you feel the same way I do.”
“You…” Her voice was lost to incredulity.
“May I kiss you?”
Her jaw fell open. She wanted it more than anything, but would he stop at a kiss?
“Just a kiss.” He cleared his throat and a tide of red swept up his face. “Well, maybe, two kisses.”
No man could blush at such an idea and be depraved enough to assume more liberties than granted.
“Yes. To kisses.” She wanted to be absolutely clear. “I…kisses.”
“Kisses.” His gaze turned molten, one of his hands cupped her face and he slowly lowered his head. His lips touched hers, gently, so gently. He retreated then came back again. This time the connection lasted a little longer and her breath hitched. His mouth was so warm. He took a step closer, his other hand sliding around her back. This time his lips pressed to hers more firmly, moving in a way that had her hands clutching at his shoulders.
His tongue touched her bottom lip and she gasped. Though his lips didn’t leave hers, the pressure lessened then renewed, his tongue stroking her bottom lip. She moaned and opened her mouth to do the same to him.
The moment her tongue touched his, lightening flashed down her spine and she jerked away, panting as if she’d run a long footrace.
So was he.
She closed her eyes for a moment and rested her forehead against his chin. “I wish I was one of those worldly women who know what to do with a handsome gentleman and not a plain nurse who knows nothing of—” she swallowed hard to remove the stone suddenly choking her, “—love.”
“I’m glad you’re not one of those. They’re pale shadows in comparison with you. But, you…you’re everything good and wonderful from home. Your eyes shine, your cheeks are rosy and your lips… Your lips taste like manna from heaven.”
“Oh.” Maria breathed the word, her heart in her throat.
He pulled her to him, wrapped his long, strong arms around her and buried his head at her neck. “I know you’re a virtuous woman. And I swear I won’t abuse your trust. You’re safe with me.” His arms tugged her even closer. “We can keep each other warm through the night, but that’s all. I give you my word.”
She saw the desire in him, the need, but something else also—kindness and concern, not the hard edge of deceit. Wonder made her ask, “I thought the age of chivalry dead?”
“A few of us still live and if we have our way we’ll flourish again.” He smiled and bowed to her as if they were in a ballroom rather than an old dusty barn.
A woman could live a lifetime on that smile alone. “What would you do with a victory?”
“Live in peace with my wife and children.” His kissed her nose. A small touch, but it was so tender she thought she might cry. What she wouldn’t give to be his wife.
“We need to sleep while we can.” He led her to the pallet.
Awkward as a bride on her wedding night, she eased down, muscles tensed, but he gathered her close and whispered, “Good night,” into her ear.
His breathing gradually lengthened and she allowed herself to relax. To think.
Part of her wanted him. Wanted the life he hinted at, wanted it with a desire so hot it burned her arteries and veins, scorching every bit of her body. The other part held back, unwilling to trust the word of any man. She’d seen what men could do—promise the earth, but deliver nothing but salt from shed tears.
A war raged inside her and she didn’t know which side would win.
* * *
Evening fell and with it the temperature. Maria woke at dusk, shivering with cold and dread in equal measure.
“Are you all right?” John’s voice was tight and low. They were lying on the blankets, their arms around each other, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
“A bad dream,” she murmured and tried to pull away.
He kept her close. “Tell me.”
She sighed, wanting to forget but knowing she wouldn’t. “I was running,” she struggled to keep her voice steady. “A monster behind me, but I couldn’t see him, only feel him. There was nowhere to hide.”
John’s arms pressed her closer. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips. She took the comfort he offered and found far more. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she held on to him. She wanted to feel him, smell him, taste him. Know him more completely than she knew herself.
He pulled away and met her gaze. “Better?”
“Yes.” And she was. He had given his word and kept it. He’d kissed her, but had done nothing more. A laugh bubbled out of her. “I think I had better write you up for the medical journals.”
“Oh?”
“No one has ever cured a bad dream before.”
Chuckling, he kissed her again. “Clever girl.” He levered himself up to his feet with a grimace.
He hadn’t been limping this bad yesterday. “Your leg, is it worse?”
“No, I’m just a bit stiff.” But his smile wasn’t as merry as it had been. “And we have a long way to go.”
His clenched teeth told her he was going to go on no matter how much pain he had to endure.
“Let me check your wounds.”
“Maria…”
“You don’t want it to fester or leave a blood trail do you?”
He paused, then shook his head and sat back down.
She rolled up his pant leg. The bandage hadn’t loosened, but it was saturated with blood.
“I need to change this or we’ll be leaving crumbs like Hansel and Gretel.”
He snorted. “Can’t have any old witches after us.”
“No.” She removed the old bandage. Blood oozed from both sides, and the wounds themselves were larger. She swallowed down the bitter taste of worry and shock. “You’ve torn open both sides of the bullet wound. Probably when you kicked that door open last night. These need to be closed again or you’ll bleed all night.”
“Infection?”
“Not yet that I can see, but the longer they remain open the larger the chance infection will set in.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Just like that he put his body, his life in her hands.
Maria released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “If you could lay down?” She indicated the bed they’d slept in. “It won’t take long.”
He reclined on the pallet and pulled his trousers off his injured leg.
To keep her eyes from wandering she concentrated on gathering the necessary tools. Her travel bag yielded a small knife, needle and a bottle of iodine. Thread and bandages were close at hand, but would require some destruction obtain. She stood and lifted her dress enough to reveal her petticoat.
His eyes widened as she attacked the hem with her knife. In a few moments she had a length of thread as long as her forearm. Her ankles appeared as she tore a strip from the bottom of her petticoat, then another few inches of leg as she turned her undergarment into bandages.
A quick glance at John, gazing openly at her bare skin, caused her face to heat.
In contrast, the bottle of iodine was cold in her hand. She poured the dark liquid over his wounds, her knife, and the needle and thread. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?”
His tone was full-bodied with concern and she looked at him. “Yes, why?”
“You haven’t looked me in the eye since the beginning of this procedure. Are you frightened? You’ve sewn up a man’s leg before.”
She exhaled. “Yes, many times, it’s just…”
“What is it?” He reached out a hand and cupped her shoulder.
“I’m…embarrassed.” Once again, her face grew hot.
“Because of your petticoat?”
Lips pressed tightly together, she nodded.
“Your resourcefulness is nothing to be ashamed of.” He shook his head and lay back with a thump. “The only person who should be ashamed is me, for staring at your legs.” He fixed his gaze on the roof of the barn above them. “They’re damned pretty.”
For a moment she could think of nothing to say, then leaned forward with the needle in hand. “I find yours rather handsome as well.”
He snorted, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Biting her lip to hide her own grin, she began sewing.
It only took a few minutes to close his wounds. She wadded two bandages into compresses and pressed them on both sides, wrapping another bandage around it all. “That should hold.”
Maria cleaned her needle and knife and put them away.
John pushed himself up and tested his leg. “Feels good.” He walked around a bit, ending up in front of her, pale-faced, but smiling. “Much better. Thank you.”
He held out his hand and helped her stand. “We’ll get farther today, I think, perhaps to within a day of the border.”
“Then what?”
“Then we go home.”
And their separate ways. Maria didn’t want to think about that, not when her feelings for him ran much deeper than she should allow.
Silly girl, he’s much too fine for you.
But telling herself didn’t make it any easier to avoid the truth—or the pain that would follow on their parting. She would probably never see him again.
They ate a bit of bread and set out across country, avoiding roads, farms and people, following the trail marked on the map. It was difficult going in many places and John’s face became etched with pain.
Maria held her tongue, knowing a lecture from her would do nothing to help. When he stumbled hard and nearly fell for the second time, she said nothing, but took his arm and pulled it across her shoulders to support him. She insisted they stop halfway through the night to drink some water and rest, but he didn’t allow them to rest for long. They had too far to go.
About an hour before dawn, with an almost full moon casting long shadows on the ground, they found themselves hiding in a cluster of trees near the edge of a rough trail leading to the Netherlands, waiting for a German patrol to pass.
Not a proper road, something the local farmers likely used to move from field to field. From the depth of the ruts, it had been around for a long time. It was also the safe route marked on the map Rose had given them.
So why were the Germans watching it?
At the moment, the soldiers were resting. Some of them sitting, others standing, but none talking.
A man lit a cigarette and the acrid scent of cheap tobacco prickled and stung the inside of her nose. One or two puffs later an officer knocked it from his hand, stomped on it and administered a sharp slap to his face.
Through it all none of them spoke a word.
“How will we get past them?” she whispered.
“We’ll have to wait.” John’s lips brushed her ear sending a heated shiver through her. His hand held hers, stroking it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
She was hot, too hot for the chill in the air, and instead of worrying about the Germans, thoughts of kissing him filled her head. His kiss was sweet and spicy at the same time.
The soldiers moved, spreading out, some following the wagon ruts, others into the fields and a few toward their cluster of sheltering trees.
John pressed Maria on to her belly in the long grass, covering her with his own body. The brush was thick, but not enough to hide them if the Germans made a thorough search.
Then she gasped in horror.
The Germans weren’t just looking for the enemy, they were probing. Thrusting their bayonets into the grass.
Two headed directly toward Maria and John, their footsteps crunching in the dense undergrowth. Terror grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. About ten steps away, one soldier drove his bayonet deep into a mound of earth. She jerked as if he’d stabbed her and not the ground.