“MI5 cannae imprison you.” Lachlan’s voice rose. “They cannae. You sank a U-boat, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’ll be all right. I will.” She sent him a feeble smile.
Devastation contorted his face. “We willnae see each other again.”
Never again, and a sob ballooned in her throat.
She trapped it, faced forward, and nodded.
Lachlan rubbed her lower back in circles. Silent.
46
North Ness Royal Navy Hospital; Hoy, Orkney Islands
Monday, May 4, 1942
Arthur took a chair beside Lachlan’s bed on the officers’ ward at the Royal Navy Hospital at Scapa Flow. “How are you, old chap?”
“It’s good to see you.” His first visitor, and a smile overcame the grogginess from pain medications. Beneath layers of white bandages, his right knee throbbed. “The doctor thinks he saved my leg, but my knee may never be the same. I may not walk properly.”
“Fine way for that German chap to thank you for trying to save his life.” Arthur huffed, and he leaned closer. “They say he was a spy trying to land near Scapa. You’ll be decorated for this.”
“So they say.” But saving Cilla’s life was his only desired reward. When the motorboat had arrived at Brough, Yardley had ordered the boat’s crew to shuttle Lachlan to the Royal Navy Hospital for care—and he’d promised to look after Cilla.
Lachlan would never see her again, and he fought back a wave of pain.
Arthur leaned his elbows on his knees. “Have they told you what will happen? Will you be invalided home?”
“Or given a desk job. They havnae told me yet.” After Blake demoted him, any duties would be little more than clerking. Compared to what Cilla had done, such dreary work seemed a small sacrifice.
Then he frowned at Arthur. Why hadn’t he mentioned the blockship? Why was he even speaking to him?
Rather, his friend raised his lopsided grin. “A desk job at Scapa, I hope. My wedding is in two weeks—and your parents are hosting us, remember?”
“Aye.” Lachlan patted his right thigh. “I may still be in the hospital though.”
Arthur pressed one finger to his lips and glanced around. “I’ll break you out.”
As if Lachlan weren’t already in enough trouble, but he chuckled.
Lt.-Cdr. Bennett Blake entered the ward.
Speaking of trouble ... Lachlan struggled to sit up, and Arthur stood to attention. “Good morning, sir,” they said together.
“Stand easy, Mackenzie.” Blake motioned for Lachlan to lie back down.
“I’ll visit again later.” Arthur tucked his cap under his arm, said his goodbyes, and took his leave.
Lachlan’s gaze floated in a sea of morphine, and he forced himself to focus on his commanding officer, standing tall and trim beside his bed. “Sir, I apologize for blowing up the blockship. I take full responsibility, and I accept the consequences.”
Blake sat in the chair Arthur had vacated. “I do admit, when I heard the explosions, I was rather shocked and perturbed.”
English understatement at its finest. Lachlan could only imagine the ranting that had taken place that night. “Aye, sir.”
Blake rotated his cap in his lap. “No one knew what hadhappened. I did remember your request to test those mines, but you were nowhere to be found.”
“No, sir.” He blinked hard. He was supposed to say something about failing to inform or obtain permission. What were the words?
