Soldier On by Erica Nyden

Author:Erica Nyden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creative Raven Press

Captain Dinham had already phoned by the time the bedraggled pair returned. James, highly agitated, hurried William to the receiving room, where Annie stood by the waiting telephone. James had been stoking the fire in the sitting room when the gunfire had drawn him to the window. He couldn’t spot the plane, yet the scrim-covered panes had rattled as though they’d shatter. He’d grabbed Annie, and together they’d run to the wine cellar.

James’s shaky voice rose as he asked after their well-being. Were they hurt? Would the villain return? Mrs. Pollard, patting his shoulder with her cleaner hand, led James and Annie away so William could deal with the captain.

With no time to appreciate his fuzzy yet regained vision, William listened to the captain’s update. The south coast of Cornwall was in an uproar. Falmouth had been machine-gunned yet again, and numerous witnesses had seen a single plane separate from the group and head northeast, skirting the southern coast. The plane had taken shots at Portloe and Gorran Haven before reaching Mevagissey.

William thanked Dinham for the call and rang off. He and Polly had survived. What-ifs were unnecessary.

His heart pounded, but not out of fear. Ignoring the waves of blurriness and the translucent, asymmetrical shapes swimming everywhere he looked, he let exhilaration at seeing the well-known objects of his family home crowd out his unease. Like a familial embrace, the wing-backed chairs and stout hearth calmed him. He lifted his hands, still callused and etched with deep, telling lines. Through caked mud and smears of red, he recognized his boyhood scars. The last time he’d seen them, they’d been covered in blood.

After finding Jasper near the shed, spooked but safe, William retired to his bedroom, thinking only of Olivia’s arrival home. This would be her celebration, too. The prospect of seeing her—every inch of her—for the first time was so thrilling that he turned down luncheon.

Outside his bedroom window, the rain fell in sheets. Impatience shifted him up and down on his toes. When the hell would she get here?

“William! Mrs. Pollard?”

Finally.

Urgent footfalls came up the stairs. Her cool arms embraced him from behind; her face dampened his linen shirt. “Darling, are you all right?”

Unable to wait any longer, he turned and folded her in his arms. “I’m fine. We’re all fine, even Jasper.”

She pressed her face into his neck. “Oh, thank God.”

She tried lifting her wet head, but he held it still, smothering it in kisses. Her disorderly halo of glorious golden strands did rather match that of spent grass. But it glinted, too, like a wheat field in autumn.

He laughed.

“What?” she asked, trying futilely to raise her head.

“I was right about your hair. It is golden. In fact, I’d say you’re more of a blonde than a brunette.”

She forced her head up. Her deep-set brown eyes searched his—and for the first time, he searched back. A surge of desire tethered him to her as he appraised the widening almonds and sharpening circles of black and brown at their center.

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