Page 41 of Summer of Fire
‘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 naïve and childlike.
