Hell, no! He took a firmer hold of her waist, clasped her right hand in his left one and, on the beat, stepped forward.
With his tin leg.
He didn’t fall, didn’t topple in a heap, but it wasn’t exactly graceful as they bobbed and stepped. She was surprisingly strong for her slender build. When he wobbled, she steadied him. When he lurched, she added balance and held him strong. Forget fancy twirls and reverse turns. This was simple, straightforward, tread-on-your-partner’s-toes waltzing. He managed to miss her shins most of the time but her toes had to be black-and-blue.
Not that her toes were really foremost in his mind. She was warm and so obviously woman, as he held her close, but not too close. Better not.
They didn’t talk. He couldn’t concentrate on his wayward limb—to say nothing of wayward other parts—and hold intelligent conversation at the same time. She was so intent on keeping him upright, and doing a damn good job of it too, she had a little crease between her eyes.
He’d been right from the start. This was nuts. But sheer heaven to feel her warm body in his arms. He wanted more of her. Much more. That was utterly insane.
The music stopped.
He threw sanity to the four winds. “If I had two good legs,” he said, “I’d ask you to step outside with me.”
“You have two good legs,” she replied. “Just part of one isn’t the same leg you were born with.”
“It’s not that simple!”
He’d snapped, but damn…how many people had heard?
“Nothing’s simple,” she replied.
He was about to snap again, but his father put his hand on his arm. “Excuse me, Miss LaPrioux, but the vicar has a few words to say. I need Gryffyth.”
Thank heaven for that. Mary gladly stepped away and made a beeline for the ladies’. What had possessed her? She’d never asked a man to dance in her life. She’d said some of the most tactless, blunt and rude things possible and, dear heaven help her, she missed him already. Something deep and visceral drew her to Gryffyth Pendragon. Seemed her brain switched off and her hormones took over.
He’d as good as asked her to step outside and she’d have gone with him if his father hadn’t arrived. Good thing he did, too. Or she’d have made an even bigger spectacle of herself.
And wouldn’t have cared one iota.
Time to get her brains and sanity back.
Pushing open the door to the ladies’, Mary bumped into a woman busy applying makeup in the mottled mirror. “Sorry!” She stepped aside and headed for the toilet.
“Hello,” the woman said. Seemed rude to step in and latch the door, so Mary hesitated. “You’re the new teacher, aren’t you?” Mary agreed she was. “Such a brave and kindly action that was. Taking pity on that poor young man.” For a few seconds, Mary stared at her, confused. “So good of you to act out of the kindness of your heart like that. I hope other young gels follow your example.”
“I certainly don’t,” Mary replied, stepping into the cubicle, almost slamming the door, and latching it with a trembling hand. The woman thought dancing with Gryffyth Pendragon had been an act of pity! Stupid old bison! Who in their right mind? Oh, dear heavens! A shudder went down to her toes. Did everyone think that? Did he?
Why had she done it, anyway? Never, ever in her life had she approached a man so brazenly. Was it because she saw him as crippled? No! A million times, no! But why? Excessive hormones? Wildness? Stupidity? The entire village had to be talking about it! She couldn’t go back out there, knowing she was the subject of wild gossip. She was being ridiculous thinking anyone really noticed. Only that woman had.
Mary’s heart thudded and she was close to shaking.
What had possessed her?
And why, oh why?
Refusing to even think about it anymore, Mary emerged, thankful that now the only other occupants of the ladies’ were a pair of workers from the plant, and nipped out the door. She found her coat on one of the hooks and slipped out the back entrance.
Once out in the cold, she stood looking across the churchyard in the night. Behind her were the sounds of music as the piano started up the “Dashing White Sergeant.” She could either go back, or go home.
Without thinking twice, she set off down the lane toward the cottage she shared with Gloria.
Sir James Gregory meant well, Gryffyth conceded, but why all this fuss? Was coming out of that fiasco alive, apart from a missing leg, such an accomplishment? A lot of good men, his good men, were dead or prisoners of war. Seemed a travesty to be standing here in the limelight while others shuddered under fire, or rotted in prison camps. But mindful of his father’s words, Gryffyth thanked everyone for the wonderful party, expressed his joy at being home again and as soon as he decently could, made his way back to his table and looked around for Mary.
Who was nowhere to be seen.
For one crazed instant of rabid jealousy he imagined she’d gone off with Tom Longhurst, but no, there he was, old Tom chatting up a redheaded woman.
Mary had disappeared. He half imagined he’d dreamt her, but noticed the stubbed-out cigarette with her lipstick on the end. She’d been here, alright.
Peter Watson, Alice Doyle’s new husband, and a nice enough chap it seemed, came up with a fresh jug of beer. “Thought you could use this,” he said, putting the jug down.
“Thanks. Have a seat.” Didn’t look as if Mary was coming back.
“Just a tick. We’ll be off home soon. Alice was out on a call last night and she’s half dead on her feet.”
“Didn’t stop her dancing, did it?”
“You’re a good one to talk. You and Mary pretty much took over the floor.”
They had, hadn’t they? He couldn’t help the smile at the thought and the frown that she’d scarpered so thoroughly. Thinking better of her impulse, no doubt. Damn. “Been here long, has she? I don’t remember her.” Sounded nicely casual. He hoped.
Peter grinned. “Didn’t get around to talking much, did you?”
No, she scarpered too fast.
“She’s a schoolteacher. Evacuated from Guernsey with a bunch of school children. She’s billeted with Gloria Prewitt, the nurse. You remember her?”
Gryffyth nodded. “Yeah.”
“Fancy her, do you? Mary, I mean. Gloria’s already taken.”
No point in admitting he did. She’d shown clearly how she felt. He gave Peter a grin. “Gloria’s taken. You grabbed Alice. All my old girlfriends gone for a burton.” He took a swig of beer. “The place has changed.”
“That’s the war. It’s changed everything.”
Was that what Dad had been on about?
Chapter Five
A partisan camp in southeast Germany
Angela looked up as Bela Mestan walked into the cave hideout. “Your sister is useless. She does nothing but eat our food.”
Bela looked Angela in the eye and glared. She hadn’t escaped the Nazis, rescued her sister