Whisper on the Wind by Maureen Lang

Author:Maureen Lang
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Religious & spiritual fiction, War & Military, Christian - Romance, Fiction, Romance, Christian life & practice, Christian, Belgium - History - German occupation, Christian fiction, Historical fiction, Belgium, 1914-1918, Historical, World War, History, American Light Romantic Fiction, Christian - Historical, Fiction - Religious, Historical & Mythological Fiction, 1914-1918 - Belgium, General, German occupation, American Historical Fiction, Religious
ISBN: 9781414324364
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2010-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

21

Some things are best kept at a distance. A German, for example.

La Libre Belgique

* * *

“I will get your things,” Isa said as they emerged from the parlor a short while after dinner ended.

The tension had gradually lifted, or perhaps she’d only gotten used to it by the time Clara had served coffee—real coffee—and custard pie sweetened with sugar. She rounded the far side of the staircase for the closet in which she’d earlier placed their paraphernalia.

It was dark except for the moonlight shining through the window in the door behind her. Without lighting a lamp, she found the coats and the Hauptmann’s helmet and gloves along with Herr Lutz’s felt hat resting on the shelf.

“I will help you with those.”

Startled, Isa turned to see Hauptmann von Eckhart. Instead of reaching for the items in the tight quarters of an alcove meant for a single servant, he stepped close.

“It’s no trouble.” She was determined to make the statement true. She held the heavy headpiece between them, only one thing on her mind now: returning to the parlor, which from here was both out of sight and sound.

But the Hauptmann gently pushed aside the helmet so that they stood with nothing in between. So close his breath skimmed her neck.

“I know how to obtain the painting taken from your dining room.”

She gave a timid laugh, but it sounded strange, like someone else’s. “It really doesn’t matter, Hauptmann. I never cared for it.”

His hand touched her shoulder, one finger slipping beyond the edge of her gown to graze the skin at the base of her neck. “It must be worth something, since the artist is dead and won’t be adding to anyone’s collection now.”

She took a small step to the side, clinging to the cold metal helmet he’d refused to accept. “I do not care.”

She took another step just as he grabbed her hand, and the helmet rolled from her arms, landing with a dull thunk on the hard wooden floor.

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispered, closing the gap between them again. “I could be of great help to you. See that you are always fed, always warm, always safe. I am offering you my protection.”

“How very kind of you, but really, we’re fine under the protection of the Hague Convention. We may not often enjoy the kind of meal we had this evening, but we’re not starving. The CRB is seeing to that.”

“Then, as a token of our friendship, I hope that I may call on you?”

“Friendship, Hauptmann? Conversation at the dinner table proved how different we are. Friends usually have something in common.”

“Perhaps you can convert me to your beliefs.” Now he had her by both arms, holding her in a grip from which she couldn’t pull away. Not without a fight.

She glanced beyond his shoulder, wondering what would happen if she screamed. “I shall pray for that very thing. Unceasingly. Now if you’ll let go—”

But he did not. Instead, he lowered his face, and as his mouth neared hers, his grip loosened while his lips came down on hers.

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