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The trees were ripped apart. The ground erupted in a succession of explosions that hurled earth as high as the tree tops. Or as high as they had once reached, before the guns brought them down. Harold was thrown to a ground that seemed to heave up to meet him. The impact slammed the earth from his body and set bright white lights dancing before his eyes.
When he could see and breathe again he looked into the peaceful dell. At the fallen woman, who lay lifeless and unmoving on the ground. Stained with dirt and blood.
“Alice!” Harold cried out, trying to rise from the chaise.
Alice pushed him back easily, putting a hand to his forehead. It felt cool and soothing. Harold blinked up at her, not understanding what he was seeing.
“I am still dreaming. You will vanish at any moment,” he said blearily.
“You are not and I will not,” Alice replied.
She put her hands to his upper arms, caressing but also holding him down. Harold closed his eyes against a stabbing pain in his head. Then gasped at a sensation in his side that felt as though he were actually being stabbed. He groaned and forced his eyes open. The pain made him nauseous, but he wanted to see her.
“Don’t try to stay awake. The physician has given you a sleeping draught to help your body to heal. Please, Harold. Don’t fight it.”
“She will be here, safe and sound, when you wake, Colonel Clauder.”
Harold was certain that he was dreaming now. That voice he recognized. The voice of an officer who had served under him during the war. A man who could not be here now.
“Captain Gladwell, that is not a report. Have you sighted the French?” Harold mumbled.
A blurred shape over Alice’s shoulders seemed to be the source of the voice, but when Harold tried to focus, it brought such pain that he had to shut his eyes tight against it.
“He is delirious,” Alice said worriedly.
“No wonder. He took quite a few blows to the head before I could dispatch those rogues,” Gladwell replied.
“Alice,” Harold said. “Are you really here? I hear ghosts from my past. Is Eloise to return next? Or Edward. Dear Lieutenant Hathway.”
“I am here. You were assaulted on the road to Lindley and brought to Rosebank, the house you rented. Henry came to Lindley with the leader of the gang that attacked you, to deliver him into Simon’s custody. I will show you how real this is.”
Harold opened his eyes to see Alice bend her head to his and kiss his lips. The sensation of her warm, soft lips on his was a strong wind, blowing away the confusion. For a moment, he had clarity. He closed his eyes, raising his hands to her face and savoring the feel of her lips against his.
Somewhere in the background, far away, came the sound of a door being quietly closed. Harold opened his eyes and looked at Alice for a long moment.
“You came back to me,” he whispered.
Alice smiled and nodded. Harold’s head began to swim. His vision darkened and his eyes closed as sleep rolled over him.
The sand was white. The water, a mirror for the blue sky. Cliffs topped with tufted, lush grass, enclosed the cove. There was no known path from the cliffs to the beach. It could only be reached by boat.
“It’s beautiful,” Alice breathed, sitting in the prow of the rowing boat, leaning toward the shore, letting her hand trail in the azure water.
“Isn’t it? And completely deserted. I saw it from the troop ship when I arrived in Spain,” Harold replied.
He wore a shirt and breeches but was barefoot. The shirt was unlaced and his hair was long and wild. Alice wore a simple, white shift and was also barefoot. The contours of her body showed through the material, which revealed shapes even as it hid the details.
“Race you,” Alice said.
She stood and then dove into the water, to reappear moments later stroking strongly for the beach. Harold laughed, tossed aside the oars, and followed her, entering the water with barely a splash. He kicked down and sped through the water, beneath the surface. Looking up, he could see Alice above him.
He kicked upward and came up underneath her, wrapping his arms around her waist and turning over in the water as he broke the surface. Alice shrieked in delighted surprise as she was caught. She twisted in his grip so that she faced him. The water lifted her shift, making it billow about her legs.
Alice lifted those shapely, smooth-skinned, and pale legs, wrapping them around Harold’s waist. His own powerful kicks kept them both afloat, bobbing with the gentle swell of the sea. Alice kissed him. The heat of the sun was as nothing to her fiery kiss. The feel of her lips against his, her salt mixed with the saltwater, aroused him.
Harold’s hands tightened against the fabric she wore, the cloth that kept their bodies apart. He ripped it apart, then lifted Alice above him. The shift fell away from her alabaster body, which seemed too delicate to be exposed to the sun and air. He looked upon her as though he held a rare and precious golden idol in his hands.
Then he was falling back into the water and she was falling back into his embrace. The cool of the sea was driven back by the heat of her body against his. Suddenly, he too was naked. They were twisting and drifting in the water as his hardness pressed against her softness. Pressed against and into.
