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. 

Now I interview my hero, who starts out an anti-hero, the German commandant from Outcast Artist in Bretagne, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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I previously interviewed my heroine, Norah, to dig deeper into her character. Today it's my hero (who you'll think at first is an anti-hero) It's fun to talk to them out of the written context of the story. I hope you enjoy it.

Today I interview Major August von Gottlieb, the commandant of Southern Brittany.

Major, I understand that though you're in the German army, you don't care for Hitler's policies?

A tall, handsome man, with blond hair and blue eyes, the Major sits and adjusts his greenish-gray tunic with the Iron Cross. "I came to realize that Hitler is a madman. His policies are getting good people murdered. When I was assigned here, in this bucolic village, I found I wanted a different life. But it isn't so simple to leave the German army. I would be shot as a traitor, unless I plan carefully."

Have you set any of these plans into motion?

"First, unlike so many officers, I refused to starve the population by sending away the food supplies. I make certain the villagers keep their fair share."

Do any of your fellow officers resent this?

"Ja, they do, and are sure to make snide remarks to me. But I am in charge." He rubs his cleft chin, his gaze penetrating. "I was nearly killed in an incident having to do with Hitler a few years back. It's made me more determined."

I see the pain cross his features. Have your superiors complained?

"I was visited by one colonel, but I eased his mind. We need strong workers here to build the special port."

And what will this special port be used for?

His eyebrows rise. "I cannot divulge that yet. It is something I plan to, let's say, take care of so no further damage is done to England or France from this area."

A noble plan. I hear you have a young lady that you're interested in.

"I do. We are both in love." His eyes soften and he smiles tenderly. "She is English, so that is another strike against me. I hope we can manage a future together. I feel such passion for her. But there are many obstacles." He stares off for a moment. "She has had a rough time of it, and I want to soothe her and be a decent man for her."

The villagers have vilified Norah because of her relationship with you.

"I regret that. If I'm not destroyed by the peril to come, my wish is to escape with her to Switzerland and get married. I want to honor her. There are so many secrets and scheming around us." He fists his hand, his gaze troubled. "But I cannot tell anymore than that." Gottlieb stands and puts on his high-capped hat. "I have work to do. I must bid you good day, frau."

Well, thank you for speaking with me. I wish you both success. Hmmm, an officer working from within to sabotage Hitler. I'm intrigued how he will do it, and what needs to be 'taken care of.' Norah had mentioned a weapon in her interview.

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

Thank you and farewell

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/claydon-sheila-romance/

On 11 November 1918 the First World War effectively ended when a peace treaty was signed by Germany and the Commonwealth of Nations. An armistice, which is a truce made by opposing sides, was signed at 11 am on what has become known as the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. The following year, after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, when what is now known as the Great War was formally ended, a peace parade was held. For a number of years after that, what came to be known as Armistice Day, was celebrated. It was not about victory. It was about peace. It was about remembering all those people who had died in the line of duty. To help us do this there has always been 2 minutes of silence at 11 am on 11 November.

It is now 100 years since the Great War ended. Tragically, WW2 followed in little over 20 years. There have been many other wars across the world since then as well, so now, what eventually came to be called Remembrance Day, is the day when nations remember all those other soldiers, sailors and airmen who have died more recently, as well as those who fought a century ago. Whether this will continue, only time will tell, but this year in the UK it was special.

Danny Boyle, the Academy Award winning film director, challenged the people in the UK to go to the beaches to remember those soldiers who boarded the troop ships that would take them into battle. 30 beaches around the UK were chosen and Formby Beach, which is right outside my front door, was one of them.

This might not look like many people walking towards the beach but they kept on coming and, if you look closely, you can see  crowds beginning to congregate on top of the sand dunes as well. They were making the journey to commemorate the lives of those millions of young men of all nations who never had a chance to grow old, and they were doing this on a day that started out overcast, cold and very wet. As the minutes ticked towards eleven o'clock, however, the clouds began to part, and by the time a lone bugler began to play the The Last Post, the haunting tune that would lead the crowd into 2 minutes of silence, the sun came out.

When the silence ended there was just one more thing the crowd had to do, and that was to watch as the incoming tide washed away the huge portrait that had been sculpted into the sand, an image of a WWI soldier. It was a final farewell and thank you to those who had suffered so much for the price of our freedom. 

My family, like so many others, suffered during both world wars. Uncles died and others sustained injuries that affected them for the rest of their lives, so I grew up knowing their stories, and also knowing about the deprivations many suffered after both wars. Unemployment, food shortages, a lack of decent housing, rationing...it all went on for a very long time. Yet, without those wars and the tremendous sacrifices, would I have been the recipient of free health care for the whole of my life, or received a free first class education, benefited from female emancipation, been able to pick and chose a career...even write books that are published by Books We Love...the list is endless. 

So as we watched the waves wash away all that was left we said thank you, and farewell.

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