“I have a feeling I walked us straight into the worst of it,” Jack said. He must have seen her horrified stare because he looked down, one of his hands slowly reaching up to touch his stomach. His palm fluttered first, as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch himself or not, and she reached for him, pressing it there for him.

“Jack . . .” she started.

When he looked up, he gave her the smallest smile, their eyes meeting. “You should have left me behind. I’m only going to slow you down.”

“If I didn’t have you, I would still be hiding under that ambulance, if I’d even left the chateau at all,” she told him, as the rain began to fall even harder, starting to soak through their blanket. Her uniform was drenched and she suddenly had the most terrible feeling that she’d be recognized wherever she went because of it. There was no possible way she was going to be able to pretend she was a French woman if they were found. Was there?

Jack’s face had lost its smile, his eyes full of sorrow now, and she wished there was something she could do to bring his spark back. It was why she’d been so drawn to him in the first place, because there was something about him that always pulled her from the darkness of her thoughts. Without it, the doubts would seep in and paralyze her with fear.

“Come on, let’s figure out how to stop this bleeding,” she said, trying to sound bright and wishing she had hot water, bandages and food on hand, and knowing it could be days before they might have any of those things. “Hold the blanket high for both of us for a moment.”

Rain soaked through her back as she tended to him, but she ignored it, even as it trickled right through to her undergarments. She should have been checking his wound regularly through the night, but instead they’d kept pushing on and Jack’s condition had deteriorated rapidly.

Despite how cold she was, Cate broke out in a sweat as she examined him, her face suddenly burning hot as the seriousness of his wounds became apparent all over again.

“It’s not good, is it?” he whispered, lowering the blanket, his arms shaking from exertion.

Cate glanced up at him, not saying a word because she couldn’t lie to him.

“We either need to sacrifice a piece of clothing or rip off some of the blanket,” she said, trying to wear her nurse’s hat and forget about any emotional attachment she had to him. Focus on the wound, just focus on the wound. “I need to do something quickly before you lose any more blood.” She was also deeply worried about hypothermia, given how fragile he was.

“Take my shirt,” he said.