A Rose in No-Man's Land Read online

  Those Germans storming their way through Belgium, crushing everything in their path, had to be stopped. The Kaiser being related to the English Royal family made such infamous treachery even more unforgivable.

  Within a couple of days of war being declared by England, Australia pledged to supply the mother country with an army, and volunteers poured into recruiting depots all over the land.

  How dashing the young men looked in their khaki uniforms, shiny brown boots with ankle-to-knee cloth puttees, and slouch hats worn at a rakish angle. Millie’s fiancé Dick, a Light Horseman, cut an even grander spectacle, with ostrich plumes in his slouch hat, and shiny leggings over his khaki breeches.

  Amy punched her pillow a couple of times, willing herself to go to sleep. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  ****

  Reveille, 0600 hours. The mournful sound of the bugle had Amy tumbling out of bed in the chilly darkness. “Millie, wake up,” she called to rouse the softly snoring girl.

  As she sponged her shivering body she wondered when they would be allowed to bathe fully. Her hair hung in a tangled mass about her shoulders, so she briskly ran a brush through it before screwing it up into a roll.

  Millie rose groggily from her bed and groaned loudly.

  “Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Amy urged.

  “You go ahead.”

  “No, I’ll wait. I’ll make the beds.” She wanted to scream at Millie to hurry.

  Amy dashed around, rejuvenated after a night’s rest. A glance out the window showed a weak sun trying valiantly to part the clouds. The early morning call of a magpie mingled with the sounds of an awakening camp. This sprawling canvas city stretched endlessly. Young soldiers laughed and called out to each other from one end of it to the other.

  After roll call, the nurses presented themselves to the officers’ mess for breakfast. Ella seemed in high spirits, her sparkling green eyes enhancing her beauty.

  “Have an enjoyable evening with Captain Tremayne?” Jane, an eyebrow cocked in her sharp face, asked Ella.

  Ella laughed, a low seductive gurgle coming from deep within her throat, but her face gave nothing away.

  Amy ate the thick, lumpy porridge hungrily, then accepted a plate of chops, bacon, and eggs.

  “My goodness, you have a most unladylike appetite, Amy.”

  “Do I, Jane?” She watched the other nurse nibble at a piece of toast.

  “Good morning, Mark,” Ella greeted Captain Tremayne huskily.

  “Good morning, Ella, ladies, Sister Amy.”

  Amy’s lips snapped together. Singling her out like that, as if she weren’t one of the “ladies,” made her feel about twelve years old. “Good morning, sir.”

  His dark eyebrows quirked in surprise at the formality of her greeting. With a shrug, he turned his attention to Ella, who put her tongue out in a slow, sensual movement to lift some toast crumbs off her lower lip. Amy’s stomach curdled with disgust at such a blatantly seductive ploy.

  Although freshly shaved, a faint shadow darkened Mark’s jaw line, and his short hair, still damp, somehow managed to curl. Ruggedly handsome, and the arrogant devil knew it, too.

  Amy forced herself to concentrate on eating. She must rid herself of any foolish notions. She had no time for anything but a casual interest in men, even a handsome one like Mark Tremayne. Was there a slightly melancholy droop to his well-shaped lips? Maybe. No, definitely. She saw a fleeting look of indescribable pain in his startling blue eyes, as if he suffered the agony of the damned.

  Intent on keeping her glance from straying to him again, she didn’t watch what went into her mouth, and something caught at the back of her throat. A choking cough rose in her throat, and she spluttered and gasped.

  Millie slapped her on the back. When this didn’t dislodge the object, Amy staggered outside. Another couple of forceful slaps dislodged a lump of gristle from her mouth, followed by breakfast.

  “Thanks, Millie.” Amy glanced up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

  Embarrassed heat flooded her face. Captain Tremayne, not Millie, had come to her aid. From the corner of her eye, she saw him waving Millie back into the mess hall, and then, without a word, he wiped her mouth on a neatly folded handkerchief. His face was so close she could see his navy irises dilated with concern and, like a mesmerized rabbit, she couldn’t turn away.

  Using the flat of his thumb, he lifted a teardrop from her cheek. He scrutinized it momentarily before raising it to his lips. What a shockingly intimate thing to do. It made her stomach turn cartwheels—nothing to do with her previous nausea, either.

  “Feeling better now?” Like a soft caress, his voice washed over her.

  “Yes, thank you, Captain.” She had never felt so humiliated. “If you give me your handkerchief, I’ll launder it for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He stepped back a pace. His lips thinned, and anger chased away his compassion. “You don’t fit in here. You look about eighteen and should be home with your parents.”

  “I happen to be a qualified nurse.”

  “Then act like one.”

  Turning on his heel, he stalked back inside. Churlish pig. She bunched her hands into fists and walked toward her own quarters, angry at him for his boorish behavior, and at herself for being upset by it.

  An overladen cart rumbled past, and as she glanced at the thin, miserable horse straining between the shafts, her blood ran cold. The driver flailed the beast with a long cane. Several times in quick succession the punishing rod fell on the laboring animal’s back as he struggled to pull the cart through the mud.

  She dashed over to the man. “You stop that this instant, or I’ll have you arrested.”

  “Clear off, lady.” The driver raised the cane again, and she grabbed at his arm.

  “You callous beast!”

  His virulent abuse shocked her almost as much as the swipe of his beefy paw, which sent her sprawling. She scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him again.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Captain Tremayne’s fingers biting into the flesh of one arm stopped Amy’s maddened onslaught.

  “This crazy woman attacked me.”

  “He wouldn’t stop flogging his horse.”

  “Put your shoulders to the wheel, men,” the captain ordered several soldiers who had gathered. “Get the cart back on the gravel.”

  “Plucky thing you did, Sister,” one of the soldiers growled. “I would have flattened him if I’d got here first.”

  “Unload your wagon and get out of here.” Captain Tremayne reached across, grabbed the cane from the man and snapped it in half across his knee. “Overload your wagon like that again, and you’re out of business. Permanently.” He flung the pieces to the ground.

  Amy quaked at the savagery in his voice.

  “I’ll leave you in charge, Corporal.”

  Captain Tremayne strode over to where she waited. “What on earth possessed you?”

  “I can’t stand cruelty to animals.” Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

  With a muffled oath he peered into her face. “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t cry again.”

  “I’m not.” She scrubbed at her eyes with her fingertips.

  His long lashes fanning out over his eyes hid his innermost thoughts, but she watched in fascination as a pulse convulsed at the side of his jaw.

  “Here, into my office.” A firm hand in the middle of her back propelled her forward. When they arrived at his office, he dropped his hand, and she crossed the threshold a couple of steps ahead of him.

  “Would you like me to send my orderly out for some tea?”

  “No, thank you, sir. I’m glad you broke his whip.”

  “He’s lucky I didn’t smash him across the head with it first.”

  “You cared too?” Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I don’t like seeing animals mistreated.” He ran a fingertip along her cheek before stepping away.

  The male scent o
f him, the heat of his body, his featherlight caress almost had her reaching up to touch his face. Curling her fingers into her palms to keep them from straying, she fought to get her emotions under control. She didn’t want him to know how his touch affected her. How it burned through the layers of skin and seared her soul.

  “If you’ve recovered, Sister Amy, I’ll escort you back to your quarters.” His tone sounded all army captain now, unemotional, brusque, as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

  “No, thank you, I can go alone.” The quicker she escaped his disturbing presence the better. She couldn’t understand what was happening. Didn’t want to understand.

  “As you wish. Sister?”

  “Yes?” She turned toward him once more, focusing on a wall map just beyond his shoulder so he wouldn’t see the turmoil that would surely be etched on her face.

  “If I had the power, I’d transfer you out of here.”

  The harshness of his voice scraped at her nerves. Forcing a level tone, she managed. “Why? What have I ever done to you?”

  “You are a threat to me.” He dropped the words with slow precision into the charged air between them.

  She adjusted her hat, pulled her shoulders back, and made for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned slightly and gave a brief nod. “Captain.” And fled.

  Leaning against the outside wall, she took in several deep breaths, trying to recover from the emotional mauling she had just received at the hands of Mark Tremayne.

  A threat? To her knowledge, she had never been a threat to anyone. She didn’t even know this man, yet in their brief encounters, he had become a threat to her. A threat to her previously stable emotions, to her well-ordered life. She almost wished he did have the power to transfer her.

  Chapter 2

  For the next few days Mark Tremayne ignored Amy’s existence, flirting in the most outrageous manner with Ella. Several times when he wasn’t with the redhead he stared at Amy with a brooding, troubled expression. Fortunately, they were busy at the camp hospital getting their equipment set up, so she didn’t have time to ponder on his strange behavior.

  Guy, still away on the recruiting drive, left a message saying he would meet her near the main gate on Friday afternoon. They would be traveling home with one of his army friends who had a car and was driving up to spend the weekend with them.

  Drill and more drill. Each day she watched with pride as raw recruits were molded into a mighty army. The newspapers kept predicting the war would be over by Christmas, so the recruits were worried the fighting would be finished before they even left Australia. Like everyone else, she hoped they would be sent to France. She couldn’t wait to visit Paris and purchase some famous lace and perfumes.

  Amy gave a little skip of delight when she saw the motorcar, having never driven in one before. The only one she’d ever seen prior to living in Melbourne belonged to Sir Wilfred Mathews, a retired judge and wealthy farmer whose son had gone to school with her.

  A thin ray of sunshine struggling from behind the clouds did little to warm her in the wind blowing in arctic gusts between the buildings as she went to meet Guy.

  “Smithy.” Engulfed in a bear hug, she was swung off her feet.

  “Guy.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I nearly gave up waiting for you. Where’s your friend?” Her voice faded away as she spotted Captain Tremayne.

  “Is she your cousin?” Incredulity raised the captain’s voice several octaves.

  “Yes, mate. You said she could travel home with us.”

  “I assumed Smithy was a man.” He gave a tight-lipped smile.

  “I can always get the train.” She flung her head back. “If my presence is so offensive.”

  Guy released her. “I take it you two know each other?” He grinned. “Mark, you should have seen your face.”

  “Let’s get started.” Captain Tremayne strode off.

  Guy picked up her case and they followed the captain to a shiny Ford.

  “I’ll sit in the back,” she volunteered.

  “As you wish.” Not a muscle moved in Captain Tremayne’s face. He could have been a statue carved from stone. He held the car door open for her because Guy couldn’t drag his attention away from the vehicle.

  “You’re a lucky dog, mate. Wish I owned a car. Still, a man can’t afford both a wife and a car.”

  “I’d prefer a car anytime.”

  “Ah, but you’re a confirmed bachelor. Smithy couldn’t have me, so she’s resigned to being an old maid.”

  “You idiot.” Reaching over to the front seat, she flicked Guy’s cap off. “You go on with such rot. How does Sophie put up with it?”

  “She loves me.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “Ouch, Smithy, you know how to deflate a man’s ego.” He burst out laughing. “Is Smithy the empty-headed little nurse you’ve been complaining about, Mark?”

  Silence. Amy wondered why the comment hurt so much.

  “She is! No wonder you didn’t want her along. Should have heard him, Smithy. He thinks you’re…”

  “I know what he thinks of me,” she interrupted coldly, “and the feeling is mutual.”

  Once they got out on the open road, she opened the window to breathe in fresh country air permeated with the scent of wildflowers. Giant eucalypts soared skyward. Distant mountains brooded in a purple haze. Blue and crimson parrots squabbled and fought in every tree, and the early wattle bloomed golden in the gullies.

  “Do you smell it, Guy?”

  “Mm.”

  ****

  Mark watched as Amy removed her hat, her hair tumbling free of its restraint to splay out across her shoulders. Guy started singing bush ballads, and she joined in. Her voice rose sweetly above the deeper male tones, and Mark clenched his hands on the steering wheel, wanting to block out the sight and sound of this beautiful young woman.

  He had tried to avoid her since that day in his office after he had broken the tinker’s whip. So little and frail! He had felt like drowning in her tear-drenched gray eyes. A feeble ray of sunlight shafting through the window had turned her hair to silver. Except for the nurse’s uniform, she could have been an angel in a religious painting. He couldn’t get the picture out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

  He had deliberately flirted with Ella, convincing himself it didn’t matter when Amy’s eyes darkened with hurt bewilderment. It was only lust. Why didn’t he simply seduce her and get her out of his system, as he had done with others, countless times before? What flaw in his nature made him hesitate to use her so, when he never had such qualms with other women?

  Maybe he respected her fighting spirit, sticking up for the underdog. She reminded him of Edwina. His brave, resourceful cousin had made his miserable childhood bearable, but inadvertently she had also consigned him to a living hell.

  “We’ll be there soon, Captain Tremayne.” Amy tapping him on the shoulder brought him out of his bitter review. “I love coming home.”

  “I can’t understand why you ever left the farm in the first place, Smithy,” Guy said.

  “I wanted to go nursing.”

  “I blame father for filling your head with all those stories.” He turned to Mark. “Used to sit her on his knee and go on about when he and Smithy’s father were in Bloemfontein.”

  “Fountain of flowers, Uncle Frederick called it, and the nurses from the New South Wales Medical Corps saved his life there.”

  “That dirty, filthy hole,” Mark ground out. “Men lay on the ground in sick tents with just a blanket covering them.”

  “How do you know?” Guy asked.

  “I passed through there with Lord Roberts. I was a young subaltern at the time. The place smelt of death and filth. I’ll never forget it.”

  “You can’t blame the nurses.” Amy jumped to the defense of her profession.

  “I don’t. God knows how they put up with it when they first arrived. They did their best, saved hundreds of lives. The army hierarchy messed
things up.”

  “That’s what Uncle Frederick said. Angels of mercy, he called the nurses. We can do so much more for our patients now.”

  “Smithy sees herself in the role of Florence Nightingale.” Guy gave a soft chuckle.

  “Will Uncle Frederick be home?” she asked.

  “No, he’s in Queensland buying cattle, Sophie said in her last letter. You know what father’s like—he never writes.”

  “You would have liked Guy’s father, Captain Tremayne.”

  “Away from camp, call me Mark.”

  Amy caught her breath in surprise. Thank goodness he was starting to unbend a little.

  “Do you have any other family, Guy?”

  “No, except for Smithy, who has lived with us for years. Her mother died when she was young, and her father got killed in the Transvaal.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents, Amy.”

  “Thanks, it’s all right. Do you have any family, Mark?”

  He hesitated so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “My parents are dead.” His voice sounded flat and emotionless. “I didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “It’s sad being an only child and an orphan.”

  “Is it?” He gave a nonchalant shrug.

  “Turn here, mate,” Guy instructed, and they left the main road to traverse a rutted track. Three miles farther on, Mark stopped the car at a huge iron gate set in a high brick wall, and Amy jumped out to open the gate. She stood on the lowest rung and swung it shut after the car passed through. Home. The grass seemed somehow greener than before.

  A flock of parrots flew noisily overhead, their bright plumage giving a colorful lift to the murky sky. Cattle and sheep grazed on well-tended pastures. Majestic conifers and cypress pines guarded either side of the long winding drive, and at the end of it stood a single-storey house built from red brick. It had a slate roof and a verandah all around. She had always admired it. Mellow, serene, yet welcoming.

  Sophie ran toward the car even before it pulled up in the front yard, and Guy clambered out and dashed forward with a whoop. Amy watched the young couple embrace under a trellis covered with pink and white climbing roses. Her gaze tangled with Mark’s, and she watched in surprise as his eyes narrowed. Did such an impromptu display of affection embarrass him?