A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection

Six Historical Romance Novellas

Annette Lyon

G.G. Vandagriff

Michele Paige Holmes

Sarah M. Eden

Heather B. Moore

Nancy Campbell Allen

Copyright © 2013 by Mirror Press, LLC

Ebook edition

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Interior Design by Heather Justesen

Edited by Annette Lyon

Published by Mirror Press, LLC

http://timelessromanceanthologies.blogspot.com

More Timeless Romance Anthologies

War of Hearts
, by Annette Lyon

Other Works by Annette Lyon

About Annette Lyon

The Earl of Oaksey Takes a Wife
, by G.G. Vandagriff

Other Works by G.G. Vandagriff

About G.G. Vandagriff

Gift of Love
, by Michele Paige Holmes

Other Works by Michele Paige Holmes

About Michele Paige Holmes

A Lesson in Love
, by Sarah M. Eden

Other Works by Sarah M. Eden

About Sarah M. Eden

An Ocean Away
, by Heather B. Moore

Other Works by Heather B. Moore

About Heather B. Moore

What Happens in Venice
, by Nancy Campbell Allen

Other Works by Nancy Campbell Allen

About Nancy Campbell Allen

by Annette Lyon

Chapter One

December 10, 1939— Finland

Anna didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until the freezing, bumpy train screeched to a halt and jolted her awake. She opened her eyes and tried to regain her bearings. The sky outside was pitch black; she couldn’t see anything through the windows, not even stars. She stared at the windows— blacked out to avoid detection by Soviet aircraft. A shudder went down her spine.

That’s right. I’m in a war zone.
Her mind came fully awake. This wasn’t California. She’d traveled across the entire U.S., took a ship to Sweden, and finally, this train on her way to a non-combat encampment north of Lake Ladoga.

Dill, her boss at
The Star
had planned to send Keith, another, more senior reporter to cover Stalin’s invasion of neighboring Finland, but his appendix ruptured, so he’d be in the hospital for the foreseeable future. While Anna would never wish bad fortune on a colleague, if Keith
had
to get sick, she was quite happy to take his place at the last minute. She’d convinced Dill she was the right reporter to cover the so-called Winter War in Keith’s absence.

“I’ve worked harder than any of the other writers on staff,” she’d told him. A staff of almost all men— just one other woman. “I deserve the assignment.”

He’d agreed, so she’d gone home to pack, relieved to be traveling. She hadn’t told Dill her biggest reason for wanting the job, because it had nothing to do with being a journalist. Simply put, Anna needed some distance from Pete, from the torrent of emotions that seeing him every day in the news room meant.

Now she had her distance. She was far from home in the dark and cold, and most definitely alone in this frozen wasteland. She’d done some research on the war so far and knew the basics, including the geography of cities she’d only just heard of. She’d build on that knowledge after she arrived in camp.

Stalin wanted to take over ports and other areas of land he viewed as strategically good for Russia as a whole and for Leningrad in particular, almost certainly taking over the country entirely in the process so it would fall to Communist rule. When he’d first invaded, he’s planned for the exercise to be over almost as quickly as it began. A few days, ten days at most. About two weeks into the fighting, the Finns had proven to be far greater adversaries than Stalin ever expected from his miniature neighbor, and all the political experts now said that the war was just getting started.

Anna stood and buttoned her new coat as she waited to exit. She bought it in New York City en route for this assignment— no finding one like this in southern California. When the car door opened and a whoosh of frigid air swirled inside, Mother’s voice came to Anna’s mind. “You’re leaving one kind of difficulty only to ask to enter another, far more horrible kind.”

“I’ll be safe,” Anna had told her. “They aren’t sending me to a conflict area."

What Mother hadn’t known was that Anna wouldn’t mind physical suffering; it would be much easier to endure than the emotional turmoil she faced every day. No, whatever this war held for her, Anna would much rather be near the Tolvajärvi battlefront in the deepest winter than walking through Santa Monica, seeing the palm tree beneath which Pete had first kissed her.

As Anna waited in the short line to get off the train, her mother’s words repeated in her mind.

Perhaps I am a little crazy, but I had to get away.

Arctic weather, soldiers with powerful stories to tell, a foreign landscape: it would all help distract her from the bitter breakup she’d gone through the night before Thanksgiving. The humiliation of that evening still stung.

The humiliation part was your own fault,
she chided herself.

In her defense, she’d thought Pete was going to propose that night three weeks ago— a lifetime ago. When he’d arrived at her parents’ home to pick her up for their usual Friday date, his surprised expression said that he hadn’t remembered her parents offering to have him over for dinner, not until he saw them standing in the dining room beside an elaborately set table.

He’d leaned in and whispered, “Anna, there’s something important we need to discuss. Can we go somewhere private?”

“Of course, darling,” Anna had said, her heart speeding up at the prospect of wearing Pete’s ring. “Come meet my parents first.” Like a silly schoolgirl, she’d blushed with anticipation as she’d led him to the dining room and introduced Pete to her mother and father. Looking back, Anna remembered Pete looking a bit pale.

Turned out that Pete
was
nervous— just not for the reason Anna assumed.

Throughout dinner, he’d remained uncharacteristically quiet, even when Anna hinted that he broach the topic on his mind. “So what’s the important thing you wanted to discuss?” she asked as she buttered a roll. She sent her mother a smile; they both just knew it would happen tonight.

Pete swallowed a bite of meatloaf, his eyes moving nervously from Anna, to her father, to her mother. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Could we speak alone?”

Anna set down the roll and patted his arm playfully. “Come now, Pete,” she said, in hopes of easing his jitters. “If you have something important to say, you can say it in front of my family.”

They’ll be your family soon too.

He pushed away from the table, placed his cloth napkin beside his plate, and stood. “I, uh…”

Anna licked her lips and clasped her hands, ready to say yes.

“I-I need to go.” Pete headed for the front door.

“What?” Anna said, her voice going up an octave as she flew to her feet.

Pete’s step paused, and he turned around, but he avoided her eyes— and Father’s, and Mother’s— seeming unable to find a place to look until he settled on the rug. “I came to say good-bye, Anna. I’m not ready to be tied down.” His eyes met hers briefly. “I’m sorry.” His cheeks had spots of pink in them. Their gaze held, and she sensed pain and regret in his before he looked away, muttered “Excuse me,” to her parents, and strode away. The front door shut hard behind him as if he couldn’t wait to escape.

Now Anna stood in a train car with support staff for a battlefront a world away from that dining room. How could she have been so foolish as to think he cared about her— was about to propose to her?

You came here to forget. Stop thinking of him.

She hefted her suitcase and clutched her purse, making sure that her notepad and pencil were easily accessible; one never knew when one would find a golden nugget worthy of reporting. Along with the other passengers, she shuffled closer to the exit and peered outside but found almost total darkness, save for a few lamps and the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow.

What time was it again? She checked her wristwatch, tilting it toward the light inside the car. Ten o’clock at night. Of course it was dark. She’d heard of Finnish winters, how the days had only a few hours of sunlight. She looked forward to seeing that for herself tomorrow.

A plane buzzed in the sky overhead. For a moment, everyone in her car stopped moving and held their breath— a secretary, two nurses, a few soldiers, and others, all frozen as one. Only when the plane passed without a strike did they breathe a sigh of relief and keep moving toward the door.

The moment Anna reached outside air, the shock of the frigid air made her gasp involuntarily. One step outside the train car was miles colder than inside it. She descended the remaining steps and reached the platform, where she quickly lifted her coat collar to protect her face. Her nose was already starting to tingle with pain. She set down her suitcase and searched her pockets for the thick gloves she’d bought, also in New York, and put them on.

Heavens to Betsy. She’d known she was coming to a cold place, but she hadn’t expected to be chilled to the marrow after only seconds. And men lived and fought in this weather?

The things we do for freedom and our families.

That’s exactly what the Finnish soldiers were doing, against all odds. That’s what she was here to do: show American readers of
The Star
what was really going on in this small nation.

I’ll have to actually be able to see something first.
She hated the dark already. This assignment would be a bigger challenge for a California girl than she’d assumed. On her way, she’d braced herself for cold, for pine trees instead of palm trees, for snow. For things to be different. But this was beyond
different
. Back home, even in December, winter, such as it was, mostly meant it wasn’t hot out— not that your lungs felt as if they were freezing your body from the inside out.

“Miss Miller?” a deep voice called from behind her, one with a thick accent, making the I’s sound like long E’s, and rolling the R at the end of her name:
Mees Meellerrrr
.

She turned to see two men striding toward her, one much larger than the other. The taller looked to be in his mid-forties. The other was shorter and much younger, twenty at most. He wore civilian clothes— leather boots, a warm coat and hat, but nothing official-looking, yet he was clearly a soldier. He carried a rifle and walked like he’d recently come out of military training.

With a start, Anna realized he probably
had
just come from training.

The two men stopped before her, as the elder shook her hand. “Welcome to Finland,” the older one said in accented but clear English. “I hope we can make your stay comfortable.” He spoke like a concierge at a hotel.

“Thank you.” This was Anna’s first chance to really see the young man up close, and she couldn’t help notice his obviously worn coat and boots. Word was that the Finnish army was low on almost everything, but especially on ammunition, guns, and artillery. They had virtually no tanks to speak of, and their men had never been trained for what to do when confronted with them, which had been a disaster the first day of the war. They had a limited number of men, and even an even more limited number of uniforms. So the rumor about uniforms was true.