Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
L izzie stirred when another distant clap of thunder woke her from a violent nightmare. It took her a minute to remember where she was and for her frantic heartbeat to slow. The rough surface of the hay tickled her legs and her dress stuck to her warm body. Ugh—her hand tugged at the material, wishing she could be free of it.
The events of the previous day came crashing into her mind. Relief flooded through her as she realised it was just a nightmare, and she was safe.
The fact that Jack had killed the soldier because of her was something she would have to live with forever. It was the loss of a life, but he explained that if the soldier had survived, they would be in far greater danger now. Her attacker knew what they both looked like, and the Gestapo would hunt them down.
Someone would no doubt identify Lizzie from her repeated trips into the city in recent days, and they would put two and two together, and it would lead them straight to Jeanne .
Operating in occupied territory was a savage business, and you had to separate your emotions from what needed to be done if you were to survive.
‘In war, it is them or us,’ Jack said.
Lizzie understood it was the only wise course of action, but she’d never thought about killing someone before. She was partly responsible for the death and it hung over her.
‘Seagrove, are you awake?’ Jack’s voice was low, but she heard him clearly as he approached.
His use of the codename he gave her felt like a term of endearment, and she loved it.
‘Just about. I had the most awful nightmare about what happened yesterday and then thankfully the thunder woke me.’
Lizzie pushed herself up to sitting and leant against the barn wall, still reeling from the vivid dream.
Jack sat on the edge of the bale next to her and passed her some water. ‘Here, drink this. It’s a hot night. I wish I could offer you something else, but we have little at our disposal,’ he said, looking around the tatty barn. ‘We’re fortunate to have a roof over our heads in this storm. It seems to be whipping into a frenzy. I wouldn’t fancy sleeping under the stars tonight, that’s for sure.’
‘Have you slept under the stars much?’ Lizzie asked, fascinated.
‘Oh yes, many a time. I try to take cover when the weather’s bad, though.’ He shrugged his large shoulders, and a self-deprecating smile curved his lips and made her heart dance.
‘You didn’t say how you came to know the farmer who owns this barn,’ Lizzie said, now even more curious to learn all she could about Jack’s life before the war. He was an enigma, and she sensed she knew very little about the real him.
‘I worked at this farm for a while, as a labourer. ’
Lizzie’s mouth dropped open slightly as she stared at him. That was something she hadn’t expected. ‘You, a farm labourer?’
Jack was clearly well educated, so the last thing she thought he would have been was a labourer. If she had to guess, she would take him for an Oxford man, like her father and brother.
‘Yes, me…’ He chuckled. The timbre of his voice was rich. ‘Is that so shocking? One can earn a good living working the soil.’
‘It doesn’t seem like your kind of job,’ Lizzie said, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen messily into her eyes. ‘I thought you were in Military Intelligence.’
‘I was. In the years running up to this nightmare we find ourselves in, I came in and out of France regularly to gather intelligence. My department said war was inevitable no matter how much Chamberlain tried to appease Hitler. It was my job to have my ear to the ground in Northern France.’
‘Is that when you met Hannah?’ Lizzie held her breath.
‘Yes,’ he said, and rubbed his hand over his stubble. ‘I recruited her in the early days before we had a proper Resistance network.’
The stubble only made him more attractive, and Lizzie yearned to run her fingers over his rough skin.
He fell quiet, and she waited to see if he would tell her more about Hannah, half longing to know the truth, and half not wanting to hear about them being involved.
Something she couldn’t put into words properly had shifted in her since she met Jack. It was as though she knew he was meant for her, and she for him.
Fanciful, perhaps, and she berated herself countless times when she puzzled over the strength of her feelings for him, which had appeared out of thin air .
First, she disliked him for his arrogant attitude towards her, but when they were thrown together, she started having decidedly unprofessional feelings for him. Deep feelings that she had never imagined she could have. Falling in love—if that’s what this was—did strange things to you, and there seemed to be no logic to account for it.
Jack had not given her any reason to think there was anything special between them, but there was something intangible about their connection. Was it a romantic fantasy? Had she fallen under his spell and was merely kidding herself?
The only thing she knew for certain was the magnetic pull was constant and undeniable.
Lizzie had pondered the situation during the long nights in Jeanne’s cottage after curfew when they retired to bed early. She wondered if it was their professional relationship or the age gap that was making him keep her at arm’s length.
But she consoled herself with thoughts of her favourite novel, Jane Eyre . Jane worked for Mr Rochester, and she was younger than Lizzie when they met. Mr Rochester was even older than Jack.
True love conquered all and wasn’t about age, she decided. Twelve years was but an echo in time if he had feelings for her.
Then she remembered Hannah, and her heart sank. Most likely, she was the real reason he would never let himself get close to her. If he was pining for the Resistance agent, she must resign herself to a life of unrequited love. There was nothing else for it.
Lizzie shook her head, irritated with herself. It must just be a crush, and she would get over it.
Wouldn’t she?
The rain crashed on the roof, and the noise increased as another clap of thunder boomed high in the sky, closer now. The air was stifling, and the electrical current of the storm had her nerve endings on fire.
She stole a look at Jack. If she had to be holed up with someone in a barn in occupied France during a fierce storm, she would choose him over and over.
Lizzie chided herself for letting her imagination run away with her. They were in terrible danger, and she must be alert for what was to come. There was no time for romantic interludes, even if he didn’t keep her firmly at a distance.
Jack interrupted her thoughts. ‘The storm is overhead now. We’re safe enough whilst this is going on. Not even a Gestapo lunatic is going to be out searching for a missing soldier in this. Budge up a bit, Seagrove,’ he said, surprising her. ‘That is, if you don’t mind. There’s only one bed in this barn and you’re in it.’
Lizzie giggled and shifted over as he moved closer to her. ‘Of course, I don’t mind,’ she said, heat creeping up her neck and over her face. The thought of sharing a bed with Jack—even a makeshift one of hay—excited her more than she cared to admit.
Treat him like a brother . He’s just a man like any other.
Despite her sensible thoughts, every inch of her body was on fire when his shoulder nudged hers, and he joined her with his back to the same wall. Her pulse was as wild as the storm, and she wondered if he could tell how he affected her when he was near. He was an experienced older man and must have been with many women. Lizzie worried he must think her na?ve and childlike.
‘Tell me about yourself, Seagrove,’ he said, surprising her again as he drew a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
‘What do you want to know? I think you know everything about me already, to be honest. You and your people interrogated me before you approved me to work with SOE.’
He laughed at this and blew smoke rings above his head like the day he interviewed her. Lizzie caught tantalising glimpses of his hard chest beneath his vest.
‘What was it like growing up on an island?’ he asked, pulling the blanket over them both with one hand.
Lizzie told him about Seagrove and the view of the bay from her favourite window seat. ‘The sea is a gorgeous turquoise colour and on a clear summer’s day you can see the coast of France. Jersey is the most beautiful place in the world.’
‘It is a far cry from London. You must miss it very much.’
‘I do,’ Lizzie said, the passion in her tone tinged with sadness. ‘My grandparents refused to leave when my father insisted we join him in London.’
‘They’re living on the island under Nazi occupation?’ said Jack, stubbing out his cigarette carefully on the ground. ‘I hadn’t realised you still had family members there.’
‘Yes. That’s one of the reason’s I said yes to Mr Drake’s request to meet with you, to be honest. Lots of our friends and family stayed on the island. I’m not sure we would have left if it wasn’t for my father working at the War Office.’
‘It’s shocking to think the Nazis are on British soil,’ said Jack, shaking his head.
‘I know. We kept hoping they wouldn’t really come, but when the army packed up and left, it was only a matter of time until Hitler’s mob turned up to fill the void. It was an easy win for them. It’s such a strategic point between France and England.’
‘I can’t imagine what the government was thinking, leaving the islands defenceless like that. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from your grandparents since the invasion,’ he said.
‘Sadly not, the postal service and phone lines aren’t in operation.’ Lizzie paused.
‘Now it’s my turn. Can I ask you a question?’ she asked, turning her face to his so their noses almost touched in the proximity of the hay bed.
‘Of course. I’m an open book,’ said Jack.
‘Now that you are definitely not…’ Lizzie saw he was laughing at himself, and it made her love him more.
‘Who is Raven?’
Jack looked startled. ‘Where did you hear that name?’
‘Jeanne mentioned it. She said something strange about Raven coming to get me and I would be safe now. She spoke as if she knows you as Raven.’
Jack shrugged and Lizzie noticed he had a dimple in one of his cheeks when he smiled. ‘Guilty as charged. You rumbled me.’
‘But what does Raven mean? Why Raven?’
‘It’s my codename from before the war. We all use one. Like I chose Seagrove for you.’
‘I see,’ Lizzie said. ‘Raven.’ She rolled the name around her tongue. ‘It suits you. Your black glossy hair. You really are like a raven,’ she said, smiling into his eyes, her heart skidding erratically. ‘I remember reading something about ravens being magical creatures and seen as sacred messengers in ancient cultures.’
Lizzie screwed up her forehead as she tried to recall more of what she read. ‘Something mystical about their connecting the realms of the seen and unseen. That sounds like a perfect description of your line of work.’
‘I don’t know about that. What I do is altogether much less magical, as you saw yesterday.’
Their faces were so close that if he moved his head an inch, their foreheads would touch, and his lips could brush hers. She shivered. His closeness unnerved and excited her simultaneously, and she wished she could stop thinking about what it would be like if he kissed her. Lizzie moved her head slightly to one side .
His fingers touched her chin and turned her gently back to face him. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘Nothing, I’m fine.’
‘No, no, you’re not. I may not have known you long, Lizzie Beaumont, but I can see you are thinking furiously about something. Remember, I am a mystical raven who sees the unseen! Tell me what is troubling you, please. You’ve seen me kill a man to keep you safe—albeit a monster and I’d do it again if I had to. You don’t have to be scared when you’re with me.’
Lizzie’s senses were in flames and a boldness she had never known with a man overtook her. She raised her hand to touch his face and ran her fingers over his stubble, just as she had fantasised. And then his lips brushed hers and it wasn’t just a dream.
The storm was happening both outside and within her as his mouth claimed hers. He kissed her with a glorious passion, his mouth melting her as she surrendered to him.
The air in the barn was hot and still and as their passion grew, the heat intensified. They lost themselves in each other, touching and kissing and moaning in delight. Lizzie wanted the kiss never to end, and she leaned against him, her hands running greedily over his bare shoulders. An intuitive passion guided her fingers, and she lifted the vest and bent her head to kiss his chest.
Jack groaned loudly, and he caught her face and crushed her mouth with his again as he gathered her in his arms, and she felt his heart hammer against hers. The effect she was having on him when he pulled her onto his lap was obvious, and his desire inflamed her further.
Lizzie thanked God it would be Jack who took her maidenhood and not that demon soldier who wanted only to dominate and violate her. She responded to the intensity of Jack’s kiss, and they ran their hands over each other’s bodies, losing control and moaning ever louder.
Jack stopped kissing her as suddenly as he started and put a finger to his lips. ‘Sshhh,’ he mouthed, not making a sound.
Disappointment overwhelmed Lizzie as he moved her deftly off his lap, back onto the bale, and she watched him stand and reach for his gun.
Then she heard a noise outside and her heart rattled like a drum. It wasn’t the storm and sounded more like movement in the yard.
Had the Germans tracked them down? Lizzie’s heart felt like it was in her mouth. She sat unmoving, careful not to make a noise or even to breathe. Then there was a flash of lightning as the door creaked open and she heard footsteps enter the barn.
‘I know there’s someone there,’ said a low French voice with a threatening edge. ‘Come out or I’ll come and get you.’
Jack stood silent and unmoving, his gun at the ready, and Lizzie heard the footsteps edge closer.
Her knife was in the lining of her raincoat, and she cursed inwardly that she couldn’t reach it without giving away their location. In her training, they had told her to keep it with her while she slept, but she’d foolishly disregarded that rule with Jack watching over her.
Lizzie wouldn’t make that mistake again.