Angel of the Somme: The Great War, Book 1 (21 page)

Gordy turned, rapped twice on the door, then limped rapidly down the hall. Sam couldn’t move. He just stood there as still and mindless as a scarecrow.

Lily opened the door.

She wore only a nightgown, her hair done up in a braid. The moment she saw Sam standing there, her face fell. It was not exactly the expression that might inspire confidence.

“I didn’t think…” Lily stammered. “That is…is everything all right?”

“Oh no, Lily.”

“It’s not all right?” She stepped out to the hall, her expression grave. She looked down the hall to see Gordy’s retreating form.

“I mean, yes, rather. Everything is fine.” Sam rubbed his face with one hand. His beard stubble prickled against his palm. “I’m rather making a muck-up of this. It was Gordy, you see…”

“Perhaps we should have this conversation in my room?” She gave a nervous glance down the hall. “Wouldn’t want to wake anyone.”

He snatched the canvas sack and followed her through the door. She closed it behind them and lit the gas lamp on her wall. Her room was small, but very cozy. A pair of bright yellow curtains, which appeared to have been fashioned from bed linens, brightened the barred windows. One of the two beds was stripped bare and stared at him like an accusation.

Rose’s bed.

“Gordy?” She said at last, breaking the silence. He turned to face her. Dear god, sweet Lily. He’d never seen her out of her starched white apron. Her nightgown clung to the curve of her hip in a way that made his legs feel increasingly unsteady and he had a hard time maintaining focus.

“Is something wrong with Gordy?” she asked.

“Not precisely. He thought that you and I should talk.”

“He thought we should talk?” Lily asked. Now that they were in her room he could see her expression more clearly—she looked so weary, her eyes full of sorrow.

“
I
think we should talk.” He tried to find the right words to say to her, but damned if he could think of them. “That is, if you’d like to talk.” His tongue tripped over his teeth even when he was at his best.

“Sam? Would you like to sit down?” Her pretty green eyes grew cloudy with concern.

“Ah, yes. Thank you.” He perched on the edge of her bed. She settled in beside him, and a wave of relief splashed over him. Her warmth, her solid presence anchored him. He gripped Gordy’s canvas bag tightly, worrying the edge with his fingertips.

“What do you have there?” she asked, glancing at the bag.

“Ah, Gordy left it. I don’t know what’s in it, but I have my suspicions.”

She slid her small hand in his, and he very nearly sighed with relief.

“God, Lily. I’m so sorry. I was so unkind earlier today. I don’t quite know what to do and I…”

She leaned over and brushed her lips against his in a tender kiss. Her soft lips utterly undid him. He let Gordy’s canvas bag drop to the floor with a plunk.

“I’ve missed you, Sam. So much,” she whispered against his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her. “Me too, Lily. God help me.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lily wasn’t going to cry. She certainly didn’t want to cry. But it was such a balm, feeling his arms around her, his warmth, his steady heartbeat thumping comfortingly against her cheek, after the long day had whipped her about like a rag in the wind.

He stroked her hair, tentatively at first, with careful hands patting down the length of her braid. She nuzzled up under his chin and felt him shudder.

“Are you crying?” He tilted his head, his breath warm in her ear. “Darling, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I was a bloody fool. I just didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.” He pulled away from her, looking down, eyes full of regret. “If I had an ounce of decency, I’d stay away from you.”

“Don’t say that. You must know how much I’ve longed to be with you, to really talk to you.”

“I don’t know why, now that you know what I’ve done.”

She reached out to clasp his hand in hers. She didn’t know if it was for his reassurance or her own.

She stole a glance at him. Though he still looked like her Sam, he seemed different as well. There was a brokenness to him. Like a cracked mirror, with the frame still holding the shattered pieces together.

He caught her looking at him and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean a thing I said earlier, about staying away. I was simply trying to do the right thing and I…” He released her grip and ran a hand through his hair. “Trying to do the right thing keeps getting me into some pretty horrible situations.”

She took his hand and held it gently. “With the seizures, Sam, you can hardly blame yourself. You didn’t know what you were doing. How could you have known?”

“Does it matter if I knew? Really? I killed them. Now I see it. It’s why that Irish lieutenant treated me so oddly—he knew something was wrong with me. A few of the lads even knew what I was. How could I have not questioned it?”

“What was your alternative?”

“What do you mean?” He looked at her quizzically.

“Well, the way you tell it, you had a seizure and ended up next to someone who was dying.”

“Yes.”

“At any point were you given a choice? Were there any other options to these trips? Did you have a say in your grim destinations?”

Sam watched her carefully. After a moment, he shook his head.

“And from what you’ve told me about the injuries, certainly from Rose’s case, they were all mortally wounded. Why do you heap all this blame on yourself?”

“Because I was bloody well killing people, Lily! Even if I didn’t know what I was doing, I was arrogant enough not to question it. I simply wielded my power without thought, as though I was some sort of hero, or a god.”

“I know exactly what you’re feeling because I’m guilty of the same thing.”

He looked at her, at last. “You don’t. You can’t.”

“No, I really do. If you’re going to hate yourself for this, you should hate me even more. What I did was worse.”

“What are you talking about?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Every time they send me down to the trains, I make life and death decisions.”

Sam shook his head, dismissing it. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? When I’m on triage, I make those exact choices. I decide that one soldier has a better chance of surviving and I put another man in the back of the line. I’m playing god every day.”

Sam gripped her hand tightly. “You’re wrong.”

“At least when you intervened, you didn’t know what you were doing, Sam. I knew all along.”

“Doing triage is part of your job. You save lives. All I did was kill people. What I did to Rose…”

“I’ve given a lot of thought about Rose, actually.” Lily squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I’ve thought about all of it a great deal and something occurred to me.” She turned to look at Sam. He stared at a fixed spot on the floor as if bracing himself for an incoming shell.

“When you talked about Rose, you said that she thanked you.”

Sam nodded.

“Did any of the others thank you? Seem eager to touch you?”

Sam tilted his head, sorting through his memories. “Some of them, yes. And Rose…she said something else.” He lifted his gaze to her. “She said, ‘I know what you are.’”

“And yet, she still reached for you.”

“That doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.”

“You have to consider, Sam, that you don’t even know what you were. Maybe you weren’t an Angel of Death. Maybe you were sent as something else. Maybe these people were dying anyway, and you were a hand to hold when they most needed comfort.”

He released her grip and rubbed his hand across his stubbled chin.

“We have no way of knowing because I’m never going to do it again.” His voice shook with intensity. “Even if you’re right and I’m providing some kind of comfort. I won’t take another life, Lily. I can’t.”

She inhaled deeply. No matter what she said, she knew he’d carry the responsibility with him, shoulder the guilt. It was just who Sam was.

“But I can’t help but wonder what happens next. If you have another seizure and refuse to—do that thing you must do in order to end it…”

“Take a life?” Sam asked, his tone bitter. “Become a killer again?”

She looked into his mournful eyes. “How will your seizure end if you refuse to cooperate?”

He squeezed her hand. “I have every motivation in the world to never induce another one. I shouldn’t think it would happen.”

She pulled back. She nearly asked for his word of honor on the subject, but remembering the last time he’d given his word to not induce another seizure, only to break it a few hours later, she held her tongue.

He wrapped an arm about her waist. “You understand that I was only forcing myself to seize out of a sense of duty in the first place. Laid up in the hospital, these trips seemed the only way to help my comrades. And when I thought I could save someone from New Bedlam—I had to try.”

“I know, Sam. I truly understand. Had it been me, I’d have tried as well. I suppose I can’t help but worry for you should you have another one,” Lily said cautiously.

“They seem to be only caused by light, and even then, they’re becoming more and more difficult to trigger. I nearly failed on my last attempt.”

A tear trailed down her cheek. He lifted his thumb to her cheek and wiped it away tenderly.

At that simple gesture, she flew apart—like a flock of birds breaking apart midair. All the sorrow and death of the last few days burst down in a terrific storm. As her tears began to fall, he gathered her in his arms. He held her tightly, rubbing a hand across her back in a
there-there
motion. He said nothing. He didn’t have to. It was part of their easy comfort that had been there from the beginning, inexplicably even when he’d still been sleeping.

When her squall passed, he didn’t release his grip and she couldn’t pull away. She stayed there surrounded by his warmth, the
thud-thud
of his heart beating steadily. His fingertips rubbed little soothing circles on her back.

“You’re very good at this, you know,” she said with a hic.

He gave a little laugh. If she’d dared a peek up, she knew his dimple would be showing. “I’m good at holding crying women? I don’t think that says much about my character.”

She only squeezed him around the middle in reply.

“It’s strange, actually. Whenever Evie or Mum wept, I always felt like a bumbling fool. Around you, it’s different. I just leap in.”

He leaned down and pulled her chin up so that he could look in her eyes.

“I’m red-eyed and horrible,” she said.

“Also, you’re bright red right
here
.” He kissed the tip of her nose tenderly. “You’re beautiful to me, Lily. Always. And I don’t know what I am or why you put up with me, but I’m awfully glad you’re here.”

He captured her mouth in a kiss. She gave a little gasp of surprise at first, but as he teased her lips with his tongue, she opened her mouth, tentatively exploring his lips with little licks and nibbles. Though death was all around them, the comfort he found in her arms felt too much to bear. He felt unworthy of such things.

He broke the kiss, and looked down at her. She smelled like lavender and soap and some indistinguishable herbal fragrance.

“You’ll be going home soon. Tomorrow most likely.” She made a valiant attempt at giving him a bright smile, but she failed so miserably that it pulled at something inside his chest.

“Lily, I…”

She interrupted him with another kiss. “Let’s not talk of tomorrow,” she murmured against his lips. “We’ve had too much loss. Too much sorrow. Let’s leave it behind—just for tonight.”

Her fingers slipped beneath his top and swept along his back. He shuddered with pleasure. She gave a little sigh at his response, and it completely undid him. His heart thundered to a gallop inside his chest. Thank merciful Christ that his headache remained at bay.

Her lips were swollen slightly from kisses—his kisses—and her lovely green eyes were wide and shining.

“Lily?” he began awkwardly, “May I—” He sat down on her bed and she followed, nestling on his lap as though it was a familiar move. He smiled at the wonder of it.

“Anything, Sam.” She placed her fingers beneath his chin, pulling his gaze to her. “You needn’t ask. I am yours. Tonight is ours. It may be all we ever get—and if so, I intend to wring every bit of happiness out of it.”

He inhaled deeply. “I should very much like to undo your plait. To see your hair again, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She laughed and it felt like a thorn being removed from his aching heart. Wordlessly, she reached around and pulled her braid to the front. He untied the ribbon which bound it, then carefully began unbraiding her auburn locks. When he was finished, he spread her hair out like a fan against her white nightgown. He leaned back and stared at her.

“I’m taking a photograph with my mind. This is going to have to do me for a good, long while.”

A serious expression swept across her face. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his, then leaned up, her breath warm in his ear. “Not tonight, Sam. We can’t think of tomorrows now. And yesterdays are forbidden as well.”

She gave tender, nibbling kisses to his ear then, and it was so erotic that he couldn’t help but wriggle. When he felt her fingers sliding up and slipping his buttons free, he had to force himself to keep breathing steadily. She’d been so timid in the past that this newer, more sensual woman was quite undoing him.

Her mouth was busily nibbling along his neck and ear, and she whispered, “I’m not a fast girl, but I need you, Sam. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Oh, darling. I know that. And I want you too—like you can’t imagine. I simply wouldn’t want you to do something you might regret.”

She stepped back and pulled his shirt off, then gave him her serious look. “I have a lot of regrets. The whole bloody war is a regret. But you, Sam? You’re the one good thing in all of this. And I could no sooner regret you than you could regret me.”

“Never.”

“And your head? You don’t have any aches or—anything?”

“I always know beforehand, Lily. You can trust me.”

“I know I can, dear. You’re the one thing I can trust.”

Through it all, she trusted him. How could it be? Despite knowing what he’d done and regardless of his broken words in the past—she was still Lily, his trusting Lily, her heart wide open to him.

She nuzzled against his bare chest. The scent of her, lavender and soap, overwhelmed his senses and her unbound hair tickled and teased a path across his skin. When she pulled away from him, he fought an urge to tighten his grip. Lily stood, then walked over to turn out the light.

As she settled in beside him, his eyes adjusted to dark. The dim light of the moon splashed against her white nightgown. She reached over and took his hand in hers. He could see a small smile playing about her lips.

He reached up and traced the buttons of her nightgown. Despite all he’d been told about intimacy, about sex, in this moment there was no shame at all. Only a quivering kind of anticipation. He felt rather like a child on Christmas morning.

She watched him, wide-eyed, as she placed her hands over his, nudging him toward the buttons of her nightgown. He unbuttoned them with shaking fingers. When he’d finished, she shifted on the bed and lifted the garment over her head. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the slightest bit of shyness slipping into her expression.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he said. He was surprised by how hoarse he sounded. “So much more than I’d imagined—and I’ve imagined you quite a lot.”

To his dismay, her shy expression only deepened. But his brave girl spoke all the same. “Me too.” Then she laughed a little and all awkwardness evaporated completely—along with her reserve.

“And now, my dear Sam, I believe you’re a little overdressed.” She raised a brow and began to work on his drawer drawstrings.

Sam watched as Lily slept in his arms, her head upon his shoulder and her hair spread across his chest in a fan. There was little choice but to sleep in his arms on her very narrow bed. Sam couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t risk it. He had to keep her safe. Besides, his mind and body were far too awake with the wonder of Lily to allow him slumber. He was so fantastically in love with her, and even more astounding, she loved him too. Even in the middle of this cursed war, even if he were only a farmer with his head bashed in, she loved him.

He held her like that for an hour, not daring to move for fear he’d wake her and break the enchantment. When she stirred in her sleep, he held his breath, wanting to prolong the moment.

“Sam?” she murmured against his throat. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I knew I’d have to return to my bed soon. I just couldn’t let you go. Not quite yet.”

She wrapped her arm around his middle.

“You’re not sore, are you?” He asked. “I didn’t wish to hurt you.”

“I’m fine, Sam. And it was lovely. Being with you in that way was just what I wanted.”

“You should know, darling, how much I care for you. How much I love you.”

She nodded, her head still pillowed on his shoulder. “I know. As I love you.”