A tender moment between illicit lovers, Outcast Artist in Bretagne, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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I hope you enjoy this intimate moment between my characters, after last month's turmoil when August caught Norah with forging material. This scene takes place prior to that. An unlikely romance during WWII.

August kissed Norah’s naked shoulder, her skin warm after their lovemaking. Her lithe body felt natural against his in their mutual musky scent. Crickets chirped through the open window where a slight breeze filtered around blackout curtains, into the dark room of the gardener’s cottage. The moonlight outlined them both. “I love you, mon amour.”

“I love you…so much. And this is nicer on a mattress,” she murmured, her back to him as they snuggled under the sheets on the iron bed.

“You seemed a little agitated earlier; is something wrong?”

She turned and touched his face. “I’m fine now. Can I ask where you got that huge scar on your right side?”

“I was shot seven years ago, trying to warn friends.” He really didn’t want to go into the details, the pain, at this moment. But he was naked, like she was, to be explored in all his flaws. He shoved away those ugly memories, brushed his lips over hers, then traced his fingers down her silky, soft back. “I’ll tell you more later. In the morning, we’ll plan our picnic, and you can meet my stallion, Maler. He might like his picture drawn, then painted.”

“Another handsome portrait. I’d be happy to.” She reached up and ruffled his hair. “Even in the shadows, I like your hair mussed up.”

He smiled. “No military strictness?” Wouldn’t it be ‘freeing’ to not have to wear that uniform each day, which wrapped him in the menace of the Wehrmacht?

She nestled her head on his chest. “My cousin’s husband might ask me to leave their home.”

“Why? What has happened?” His mind immediately went to the rumor of a forger, an inquiry he’d yet to begin.

“He thinks…I’ve been there too long already.” She sounded evasive. Or he read too much into it.

“Is it as straightforward as that?” Here was the source of her anxiety. A shame to have to discuss these things after they’d shared such sweet passion tonight. He did need to find out what she knew. “Is it because you are with me?”

She sighed and ran her fingers down his abdomen. “That’s part of it. I was wondering, though you might object, if I could move in here.”

August closed his eyes, enjoying her touch, but now these other problems pushed in. “You’d be alone, though I could come most nights; unless I leave for inspections. Let me think about it.” He could throttle the damn butcher. He wanted to recapture that languid, satisfied feeling he’d just had. 

“You could provide me with a pistol, for protection,” she whispered.

He grasped her wandering hand. “That is dangerous, too.” Non-Germans weren’t allowed weapons, for obvious reasons. “I would worry about you out here.” But where else could she go? Anywhere close by, without her family, she’d be open to worse scrutiny and hazard.

She kissed his chest, her mouth warm on his skin. “I know how to fire a gun.”

“I’m not surprised.” He pulled her against him and kissed her firmly on the lips. “We should sleep, then talk about this soon. I’ll think of a solution.” Another, more personal question niggled at him. He hated to continue to dishonor her when he felt this intensely about her. He let the question slip out. “Norah, would you marry me? Though as a German officer I might be a threat to you and your people for a short time more."

She breathed in slowly. A few minutes of quiet. “As difficult…yes, I would. We’ll go to Switzerland, you said. You can retire next year?”

“That is my intention.” As soon as he could take his son with them—after graduation—away from the Nazis, and count on his daughters being protected by their husbands.

He kissed the top of her head as he hugged her, holding on to his dream, making it real. He needed her love, though other troubles such as the direction of the war, and the business with the U-boat, kept him from any true peace. But negotiating life was always a challenge. She couldn’t be involved in the clandestine activities in the village—he must believe that. Yet Schmidt was certain to cause problems.

August closed his eyes, trying to drag himself into oblivion. He knew his family wouldn’t be thrilled when he married an Englishwoman. One thirteen years younger, and his mistress. But his love blurred all these battles.

He rested his cheek on her lush, fragrant hair as she snuggled against him. Her name was whispered in the allegations. The picnic—he swallowed a groan; he must question her then.

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

Norah is caught forging, will August forgive? Outcast Artist in Bretagne by Diane Scott Lewis

 

To purchase, please click HERE

My turbulent couple caught up in WWII hide secrets from one another. He's a German officer who hates Hitler. She's an Englishwoman forging passes to help Jewish families escape France. Enjoy an excerpt when Norah is finally caught.

Norah stood tiptoe on a chair and pulled the documents from the attic, the narrow place she’d dusted the best she could. Giselle was coming over for coffee, and to look at what she had. The mayor’s wife had friends who could distribute paperwork and collect information. She had to trust her. Norah felt a burden lifting from her shoulders at no more sneaking around, no more deception.

Last night, as August slept beside her, she decided this was the best option.

She balanced and went to step down from the chair. A paper floated to the floor. The door unlocked and opened. She sucked in her breath.

August stood in the doorway. “What are you doing up there?” He was supposed to be gone, inspecting the airfield.

The chair seemed to shake with her jolt of emotions. She stepped off, the documents smashed to her chest. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “I’m cleaning up some old paperwork. I thought you’d be at Audierne.”

“The inspection was delayed.” He walked forward and picked up the paper from the floor. It was a sketch of her recreation of the Reichsadler, the Nazi eagle over a swastika, required on travel permits. He held it up. “What is this? Norah, mein Gott. You are forging, aren’t you?”

Her breath came in rasps. “Please. Think of the Jewish children.”

“You lied to me. I thought I could trust you.” The hurt in his face jabbed at her, nearly spinning her to the floor.

“August, I…” She had no viable excuse. “I didn’t exactly lie. I never admitted the truth.”

He took the documents from her shivering hands. “Do you know what would happen if Captain Schmidt discovered this? From you, my fiancée. You would face arrest, even torture. Colonel Burmester would be contacted to implicate me. I could be sent from here to Russia, or elsewhere. How would I find you or protect you? I thought you understood.”

“I’m sorry. I thought only of the children, not what could happen to you.” It made such sense when he spoke it. Her head swirled, knees weak.

He slapped the papers on the table, eyes wide and sharp. “What else have you been doing behind my back?”

“Nothing, I swear.” She leaned on the chair for support; icy fear shot through her veins. “I’ll be careful from now on.”

“You must stop at once.” His glare sliced through her, but pain shadowed it. “Do you hear me?”

She knew she was defeated, and she had planned to give up her work. She couldn’t put him in jeopardy. Her body sagged. She struggled to breathe. “I won’t do it anymore. I was quitting anyway.”

He raked a hand through his dark-gold hair, eyes flashing. “How can I believe you? Who else is involved?”

“I can’t reveal that.” Please don’t insist on it!

“If you’re found out, there’s no telling what will happen.” He gripped her shoulders, his fingers on her flesh painful. “Again, how can I trust you? I want so much to. I thought we had something special.”

“We do. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t doing this when we first grew close.” Her eyes dampened with tears. “That sounds worse, but I was convinced my actions would help people.”

“You deceived me.” He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones, his expression miserable. Then he stepped away, shaking his head. “After I warned you, you continued.” He swept his hand toward the table, forehead creased. “Burn those documents and whatever else is up in the attic. Our lives are at stake.”

She nodded, straining to balance herself. “I will. I swear I won’t do it anymore. I want you safe from retribution. I was reckless.”

He stood tall, the commandant once more, as he reached for the doorknob. His flushed cheeks betrayed his upset. “Norah, I understand why you did it. But you should have told me before this. I cautioned you.” The disappointment on his face was obvious, the hurt in his eyes condemning her.

“I’ll destroy them, I promise.” She hated to do it, yet yearned to embrace him, to hold him close. Her pride, her confusion, kept her from begging that he stay. She must not collapse into a grasping female. “Forgive me.”

“I must return to my office. I’ve much to think about. The risks you took. You were dishonest, so heedless.” Words stern over an anxious voice, August was out the door, shutting it after him. A swift, stormy wind had blown over her, scattering her life like dried leaves.

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t admit to the truth.” Heart like a rock weighing down her chest, she bent to the hearth, blinking back tears. A sob erupted. She must bring him back to her, make him understand. They still loved one another, didn’t they? But to destroy all her hard work. She felt frozen in place, her world crumbling. It’s not fair! I was doing the right thing. She reached into a basket for the kindling August had split for her, as her soul felt cleaved in two.

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