Awe-Struck: Cradle the Light, Historical WWII ebook

Across the river, billowing smoke curled upwards while blinding white lights flashed across the horizon. They watched the bombs drop, bright spots of orange and red flares. The air crackled around them. Richard released his hold and moved to her side.

He leaned his back against the railing to look her over. "I'm glad I saw you when I did. Rather take my chances on the street than be stuck in a closed-in space with strangers."

Claire noticed a shudder ripple across his chest. She wondered about his scar and what haunted him. Small signs of discontent revealed--his hands fidgeted if not holding a cigarette, his eyes shone less than bright, and his smile was bestowed from the heavens, it was so rare.

Richard broke through her reverie. "You were far away just now. What were you thinking?"

"Wondering how you got your scar."

"It was long ago, far, far away."

The sardonic edge to his voice irritated Claire, but she chose to ignore it. "May I touch it?"

There, a slight change in his face, a tense clench of his jaw. So, he didn't like to be touched, but Claire lifted her hand and ran her finger across the puckered skin. She imagined kissing it, the roughness pleasing on her lips. "Does it hurt?"

"It's numb."

She kept her hand on his cheek. "When I study your face, I see immense sadness."

"You make me sound morbid."

"I'm an artist. I study faces." She laughed at his sour mouth and removed her hand. He stepped back and bumped into the railing. She smiled to ease his discomfort. "I don't mean it as an insult. I find your face fascinating. Would you pose for me? I'd love to sketch you."

Richard opened his mouth, and closed it. She had rendered him speechless, and she found this amusing.

"I called my friend's father, the one who works for the MOI," he said. "He'll see you tomorrow if you're interested."

"Yes, yes, how wonderful. That's swell of you to help me out. How can I thank you?"

"Let me take you out."

"Ah, that's a bit of a problem."

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Oh, no, but I'd rather stay unfettered."

Now he laughed a deep resonance from his chest. "Unfettered is an unusual word to use."

"My art comes first, and everything else takes a back seat. This doesn't go over too well with the boys I've dated."

"I'm not a boy. I can handle it."

This was certainly the case, and Claire wondered if she could handle Richard. His maleness exuded from every pore, his posture controlled, and his eyes ever alert.

"Let's make it during the day. How about Thursday?" he suggested.

Unfazed by the absurdity of being asked out in the middle of a raid, she agreed. "Where are you going to take me?"

"It's a surprise. I'll pick you up around eleven."

They continued to watch the fireworks from the bridge. Richard combed back the golden tips of his hair with a quick flick of his hand, his eyes a kaleidoscope of greens and blues, depending on the catch of the light. A dangerous man to allow into her life, she wanted no messiness to complicate things, determined to keep a strict control on her emotions. Marriage and motherhood drained a girl's creativity, and rendered her life useless. Claire vowed to remain single, and avoid the same pitfalls that befell her mother. Yet, Leslie counted on her to befriend Richard.

Richard rested his hand on her shoulder. Anyone seeing them from the bridge would think they were lovers. She'd go on one date. She could find out what she must by remaining friends.