An Illicit moment, Outcast Artist in Bretagne - WWII heartbreak and forbidden love, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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It's WWII, and August, the German Commandant, is falling for the Englishwoman Norah. Threats are on all sides. He wants to destroy Hitler, but will Norah destroy his heart? How could they possibly make this work? His attentions will compromise her.

Read an excerpt:

“I realize that.” But August still yearned to know; it had been so long since someone cared—if she cared. “Tell me what is in your heart.”

Norah turned and met his gaze. “I’m not one to mince words. I’m rather blunt, as you’ve pointed out.”

“Then let’s be honest, please.” His throat felt raw. He should let it go, allow her to dismiss him.

She sighed and blinked quickly. “I have feelings I shouldn’t have.”

“Ja. As do I.” Two lonely people, or something more? Silence followed, punctuated by rain and the whistle of wind around the building. Her eyes looked huge, and startled, even in the shadows. A woodland creature; but was he a savior or a predator?

Finally, he said, desperate to say something, “May I see what you’ve done so far on the portrait?”

She smiled, looking relieved by the change in subject. “No, not yet. I want it to be completed first.”

He moved toward her, playfully. “Just a peek won’t hurt.”

She spread her arms as if protecting her masterpiece. “Mais non. I’ll tell you when.”

August took a long step toward her. Fräulein Cooper came forward at the same time. They bumped into one another, her breasts right below his chest. He clasped her upper arms. She stared up at him, lips parted, inviting, yet wary. Past helping himself, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. A tightening started low in his body.

She quivered beneath his hands, but didn’t move away, her breath warm on him.

Thunder boomed and rattled the windows. The rain pounded like drumbeats on the roof. The gunshot sounds from his nightmares faded.

“This is wrong, especially for you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I know. Terribly improper. We shouldn’t.” She remained in place, her form delicate under his fingers, and kissed him back with a tiny moan.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.