Camouflaged Hearts Anthology Read online

  Why so formal? I wondered, but I didn't say that out loud. It felt like he was pulling away.

  I'm not certain when we fell asleep. Despite our disheartening discussion, we made love another time before settling into the hay to sleep in each others arms, exhausted and empty.

  In the morning, when I peeked in the windows of the cottage before entering, Rose was nowhere to be found. I climbed the rickety stairs of the quiet cottage, thinking to change my clothes, find a sunhat and take the dog for a walk. Rose's beagle, Hermione, followed me up the stairs, somehow sensing my intentions. Her light pants accompanied me into my adopted room where my attention was immediately drawn to the bed.

  Sitting alone on the thick quilt was a rumpled envelope, neatly rimmed in black. My breath caught in my throat, just as the old cliché describes, and it literally took a moment for my involuntary functions to kick in. My fingers shaking, I picked up the envelope. I don't know why I was shaking, because the content of the envelope was quite obvious. But, for some reason, I couldn't open it in that room. Will wasn't a part of Pond Hollow. Instead, I walked out to the river, where I'd spent the evening before. There was something healing about the river. Even without Ethan's presence, it felt right to sit there on the moss and read of Will's passing.

  ...battle with the Luftwafte over the north sea ... has now been confirmed deceased. His aircraft, a heavy Whitley bomber, was found by a patrolling U-boat, still containing the bodies of Lieutenant William Rosthorn and his wingman ... not able to eject...

  It went on for several paragraphs, but only a few sentences struck me. A strange trickle of relief began at the top of my head and ran down through my body. It was confirmed. William was dead. So, now what did that mean? Truly, it changed nothing, only that I knew I no longer was expected to wait for him. But it wasn't the relief I expected. For the first time, I recognised the ache in my chest as being the place Will had once occupied. Since he'd left, I'd been telling myself I didn't love him, that I shouldn't have to deprive myself of male company just because he left on a mission, but reading that letter cleared up all my confusions. I had loved him in a way, but I loved Ethan, too and quite possibly, with more intensity, more passion. After such a short time, I knew I wouldn't be able to recover from Ethan's death, should it occur. I had to do something to keep him from flying.

  I thought the answer might come to me if I went to see Ethan. However, seeing him left me just as confused as before. I'd intended to talk with him, urge him to leave the RAF, to run, go AWOL. I knew deep inside, it wasn't a possibility, but I felt I had to try. Anyway, I was distracted.

  Chapter Five

  I walked into the barn with Hermione on my heels. The scent of clean leather was pervasive. I think I'll always associate leather with Ethan, just because of that moment. Ethan was scrubbing down the tack for the horses, no doubt intending to take his own out for a ride. I stopped in the doorway to watch him. The smooth planes of his back glistened with sweat. The ridges of his farm-grown muscles flexed as he stretched his arm out over the saddle with a damp cloth in his hand. He raked his free hand through his hair, bringing on the throb between my legs that seemed now to always accompany his presence.

  I watched him move effortlessly to sling the saddle up over the side of the stall where he left it to dry. I jumped when he spoke.

  "I've been called to London,” he said without looking in my direction. I didn't think I'd made any noise but he obviously knew I was there.

  At his words, I gripped the doorframe to support myself. Not another one, I thought. I'm too late. The war would kill them all, given the chance.

  "You won't come with me?” He snuck a peek over his bare shoulder. If he was hoping to catch my reaction, I'm sure I disappointed him. I'd been expecting this and stilled my expression.

  "No,” I said simply. Inside, I screamed, Yes! Yes, Ethan, take me with you!

  He nodded in acceptance. “Do you love me, Em?"

  "No,” I lied. The truth was that I didn't know right then what I should say. Some days I wouldn't have known love if it walked up and introduced itself, but now? I just knew I wanted him in my life, forever. I changed the subject. “The letter came today. Will is dead. Shot down over the North Sea."

  He turned to look at me. “I thought as much."

  Anger flashed through me as fast as a burning forest. How dare he remain so impassive? “You did not! You couldn't possibly have known. Whatever guilt you're feeling, you just can't pass if off like that."

  I have no idea why I was so mad, but all the anger I'd been feeling about Will leaving me suddenly burst out all over Ethan. It wasn't fair to him, but he understood.

  As soon as my face flushed with anger he moved toward me. By the end of my little tirade, I was in his arms. He held me tight as if I might hurt him or myself if he let me go. My hot tears dried on his warm chest. I didn't want to move. If I could have chosen one spot to stay for the rest of my life, it would have been in the arms of this pilot. I clung to him and he let me. His solid body became my rock, my anchor and my buoy.

  When I'd calmed, Ethan gently pulled me into the straw where we'd made our bed the night before. His strong hand pushed the mussed hair from my face at the same moment as he leaned in to kiss me.

  He'd never kissed me like that before. It was tender, claiming and loving all at once.

  "You love me, don't you?” I whispered, without opening my eyes.

  He hesitated. “I do, Em. I want you to come with me to London. I'll be back. I'm not your William."

  "He was never mine.” I opened my eyes and touched Ethan's rough cheek. He was warm and familiar and his essence sparked through me. God, how was I going to survive this? “I think I must have known that all along. It wasn't my job to wait for him. He was never for me. His death didn't crush me, whereas yours..."

  He silenced me with his mouth. As he did, he hiked up my skirt and discarded my panties.

  The thought that I aroused him to this extent slicked my inner thighs with moist heat.

  When rid of his clothing, I couldn't help but gasp as Ethan's thick shaft rose up eagerly toward my waiting hands. Beneath, his testicles hung heavy and swollen. I reached out to grasp him and when I did, he sucked in his breath at my light touch.

  Rearing over me, he forced me to lie back. I gasped as he pressed his arousal against my folds. He held my gaze as he pressed into me, seeming to be gauging my reaction.

  In the same moment, Ethan groaned, and he stretched me. The healing pressure was intense and I cried out beneath him. He smothered my mouth with his, taking in my cries of pleasure, distracting me as he pushed deeper. The sensation of fullness as he pressed to the hilt, enveloped me with warmth and I ached to take him deeper.

  He began to move then. I savoured the intense friction and the weight of his body on mine. I closed my eyes. It felt as if every nerve ending in my body was alive. If he touched my cheek, my breast, my hip, my entire body reacted.

  I clung to his shoulders as he wrapped his hand beneath my bottom. The new angle was thrilling. I gasped and tensed with passion. Stars danced in front of my closed eyes and when my body arched up in release, those stars burst and convulsions rippled through me from the inside out.

  Within moments, I felt Ethan swell inside me. He groaned and drove into me, holding his position as I stroked the ridges of muscles on his back. I could feel the quick pulses and the rushing warmth as he emptied into me. As his breathing calmed, Ethan withdrew and settled beside me on his back. He drew me against him as I pulled a woollen blanket over the top of our sated bodies.

  Taking my hand in his, he grazed my knuckles with his soft mouth, eliciting a shudder from me.

  "I won't leave you, Em. I'll always come back for you,” he moaned.

  He held me tight, as if to assure me that it wasn't just the act he wanted. It was the closeness he needed. And I wanted him there.

  * * * *

  I packed in the morning and caught the train from Pond Hollow to London with E
than. We stayed the night in a small, dingy hotel, near the train station, making the most of our last hours together. It wasn't much, but it was everything.

  I knew then that waiting for Ethan wouldn't be the hardship it seemed to be with William. I was honoured to wait for him. His short, handwritten letters that came in the mail while he was away thrilled me. When I worried about his death, it wasn't me and my loneliness I was concerned about, it was Ethan. And yes, if something had happened to him, I would have been ruined, devastated, by what I'd lost.

  By the grace of God, Ethan was returned to me time and time again until the end of the war. Now, when his face lights up as he holds his cooing son in the evenings, I know he'll be with me always. I have loved him from the day we first met.

  About the Author

  Jennah Sharpe is an author, mother and traveller who can be easily seduced by mint chocolate. Her imagination often keeps her up at night but it certainly makes for an entertaining life. She lives in Canada with her soul mate and two young children.

  Email: [email protected]

  Jennah loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at www.totalebound.com.

  Also by Jennah Sharpe

  Her Handyman

  DOUBLE TIME

  SL Majors

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Dedication

  For Bev ... This one really is all yours!

  Chapter One

  "Absolutely not.” Captain Trent Williams's fingers formed a death-grip around the pint of beer on the table in front of him. Jaynie, his younger sister's best friend, could beg and cajole all night long. But he wasn't budging. “I am not fucking a woman I've never met. No matter how long I've been in the desert.” Or how horny he was. He had morals and scruples to go along with his hard dick.

  "It's only for two days,” Jaynie shouted above the noise.

  Clayton, his mate since university, hid his laugh by taking a deep swig from the amber liquid in his mug. What the hell was a best friend for, anyway, if not to laugh his ass off when his mate was faced with female disaster?

  It was no accident that she'd invited him and Clayton to a public place that served up loud, throbbing music, cocktail waitresses in short, short skirts, and lots and lots of beer. Get him liquored up, that would be Jaynie's plan, and then move in for the kill.

  She batted her baby blues hopefully. “Please, Trent? It's for a good cause. Promise."

  "It's always for a good cause. Last time it was posing for a calendar with a puppy."

  "And we raised a mint for the dog shelter."

  Unfortunately for her and this week's charity, he was wiser than he'd been last time he was home. And he'd made sure not to drink more than a pint.

  "Sorry, love. You'll have to find some other bloke."

  "Blokes."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Blokes.” She repeated. “The lady in question specifically requested you...” Jaynie had the good grace to flush with embarrassment before glancing at the table. “And Clayton."

  Trent looked at his comrade.

  "Wait. Both of us?” Clayton asked.

  "She doesn't just want me? She wants...?” Trent trailed off, snapping his mouth shut. Jaynie was a harebrained mastermind, but this? She might as well have dropped an IED in the middle of the room.

  "Yes. And she's willing to pay for it. Uh, for you. Willing to pay for both of you. Handsomely, I might add.” She smiled sunnily, her embarrassment apparently forgotten. “Did I mention it's for a good cause?"

  "Jesus, Jaynie,” Clayton said. Beer sloshed over the rim of his glass. “Trent's right. You're out of your mind."

  "Not so funny now, is it, mate?"

  "What kind of woman pays for sex with a stranger?” Clayton asked.

  "Not a stranger,” she corrected. “Two of them. Actually, you both have quite the reputation in town, so it's not as if you're an unknown. Actually, I wish I'd thought of it myself. I'd have bought you in a heartbeat."

  Clayton choked on a drink of beer. Trent smacked him on the back.

  "It was the calendar,” Jaynie said, going on as if neither had spoken. “Mr. July.” She nodded to Trent. “Hot enough to sizzle for summer. And Mr. December.” She grinned at Clayton. “Cool as ice. In fact...” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a cheque book. She uncapped a ballpoint pen, then started to scrawl her signature on the bottom line.

  Trent's blood heated to a slow boil. “We are not sleeping with you, Jaynie."

  "Then...?"

  "Or the mystery woman,” he added.

  She pouted. “Ten thousand pounds."

  "Ten thousand...” Clayton trailed off.

  "And it's all or nothing. She gets both of you, or she wants neither. Think about it.” She dropped her pen and curled her hand around Trent's wrist. “No one will ever know."

  "Not like the damn calendar,” Clayton grumbled.

  "Ten thousand quid to benefit John MacDougal's family."

  "Fuck.” John MacDougal's family. He'd served in the Middle East with John. Fine man. Fine soldier. With three-year-old twins. Fuck. Trent took a long drink from his beer. “That's low, Jaynie, even for you."

  "I didn't make the offer,” she said, softly. The teasing was gone. Nothing but the weight of a fallen comrade shrouded the table. Even the music seemed to recede.

  They all knew John and Susan. Jaynie had gone to school with the couple. He and Clayton knew John from the Army. Trent remembered that the man had carried a picture of the twin girls and his wife in his pocket, tucked inside a small Bible. Fuck.

  "What does she want us to do?"

  At Clayton's question, Trent raised a brow.

  "She's willing to send a car for you on Friday, around tea time. You'll be returned on Sunday, most likely in the afternoon, if that suits you. You could probably negotiate a longer stay if needed.” She smiled sweetly, innocently. She was neither, Trent knew.

  "That wasn't my question,” Clayton said.

  "Oh, the usual, I suppose.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever it is that two men do when they get a sexy woman in bed."

  "Sexy?” Clayton asked.

  Trent shouldn't have clapped Clayton on the back. He should have boxed the man's ears. The idea was preposterous. Outrageous.

  "Sexy,” Jaynie repeated.

  "So why is she paying for a fuck?” Trent asked.

  "You're being crude, Captain."

  "Answer Clayton's question, Jaynie."

  "I didn't ask. I took the money and ran."

  Very carefully, he enunciated each word. “You took the money?"

  "Oh. Uhm. Well..."

  He let her dangle from the noose of her own words.

  "I knew you wouldn't say no, not when you knew it was for Susan and the wee babies.” This time, she appealed to Clayton. Smart woman. “You like don't have to touch each other. Just her. I think."

  "What the hell?” Trent demanded.

  She ignored him and continued to look at Clayton. “You could even take turns. One of you in her bedroom at a time. Wear a condom if you want."

  "Jaynie,” Trent warned.

  "Ten thousand quid,” she said again. “Not for you, for the MacDougals."

  "Susan needs it,” Clayton reminded Trent. “And we always said we'd do what we needed to in order to help out."

  He looked from Clayton to Jaynie, and then back again. They had both lost their collective minds. The calendar was beginning to look as if it had been one of her better ideas.

  "She's John's widow, Clayton.” Jaynie stroked the back of Clayton's hand and ignored Trent. “No commitments or obligations. You'll be making the generous donor happy as well as helping Susan and the children."

  Trent brought his fist down on the table. All three beer mugs jumped. “Forget it."

  "I'm in,” Clayton said.

  Trent blinked. “You're what?"

  "It's for a good cause, mate. Queen and country and al
l that."

  Jaynie leaned over and kissed Clayton's cheek, leaving a little streak of pink lipstick on his freshly shaven cheek. The man preened like a freaking peacock.

  They were talking about fucking a woman they'd never met.

  Grinning like an idiot, Clayton said, “Any port in a storm, hey, Trent?"

  They were soldiers, for chrissake, not sailors. “We are not doing this."

  "I am,” Clayton said softly. “Ten thousand quid. Hell, I've fucked for a lot less noble causes than this one."

  Jaynie turned to look at Trent. “You can't say no."

  "The hell I can't."

  "But you won't,” said Clayton, suddenly serious, suddenly assertive.

  Trent scowled. When in the name of all things holy had his buddy decided this was a good idea, and for him, too?

  "We've talked about sharing a woman before."

  Which was probably too much information in front of Jaynie, but she just kept on smiling. Well, why wouldn't she. She was close to getting what she wanted. Ten thousand quid to help a soldier's wife.

  Put that way, it didn't seem so unpalatable.

  "Do the right thing, Trent.” Clayton raised a pint of beer in mock salute. “Now, Jaynie, tell me something about our mystery lady, besides the fact she's dripping money?"

  "She wants you both in uniform. Well, at least to start with, I imagine."

  "Do we know who she is?"

  "She's a bit younger than you are. Micah Collins."

  Clayton shook his head, but Trent said, “I've heard of her."

  "Then you know you'd happily pay to sleep with her.” Jaynie reached over and patted his cheek.

  Trent had only two questions, what in the hell was happening here? and why the hell wasn't he stopping it?

  * * * *

  Micah Collins dragged her fingers through her hair, dislodging a pin. The metal pinged as it hit the ceramic tiled kitchen floor.

  She was completely out of her mind.

  What had she been thinking when she'd written that cheque? Oh yes, that she could do a good thing by making a significant donation to the military fundraiser. She was supporting Crown and country.