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anything around him, just swirls of grey and brown. He could only push towards where he knew the opposite bank lay. The deception of his accident had suddenly become all too real.
    He was moving strongly, the only thought in his mind his goal. Suddenly a strong current jolted him like a blow to the midsection. It caught him and tossed him around, pushing him even as he fought against it. He felt himself being swept inexorably downstream, twisted and turned.
    He struggled fiercely against the water, writhing in its powerful grip. Everything was turning grey and hazy as he couldn’t surface for a breath.
    Catalina’s face was suddenly clear in his mind, her smile, her dark eyes. He had to fight this, to get back to her.
    Something suddenly brushed past his hand, and he reached out to grab on to it. It was the root of a tree on the bank, sticking out into the river. He held on to its rough, delicate-seeming strength even as the water worked to claim him. He pulled himself up and sucked in a deep breath of precious air.
    But the respite was not to last. Something hard and heavy, borne on the current, slammed into his body. He fell back down into the deep water and his head landed on something sharp. As if from a distance, he heard a sickening crack. There was a piercing pain—and everything went dark as the river closed over him.
    * * *
    ‘Catalina! Quick, over here. I need your help.’
    Catalina spun around from the bandage she was tying off on a wounded arm to see one of the other nurses and the English doctor labouring over another patient. She gave her own soldier one more smile and hurried to help them.
    The hospital tent had been chaos all day. The push to Toulouse was beginning in earnest, with different regiments pouring through and leaving their wounded to be seen to. Most of them moved on after, in a hurry to join with the main forces, but the people who were left had to tend to the sick and arrange for their transportation onwards as the French were in quick pursuit. The rain that had been pouring down steadily only added to the clamour, miring everyone in mud and damp. Gunfire was constantly heard in the distance.
    Catalina had hardly slept or eaten since Jamie left. She had no time to think of such things as she ran from task to task, always hearing those explosions in the distance, rivalling the thunder. The world had shrunk to only that noise, and emergency after emergency.
    But she couldn’t cease worrying about Jamie. Was he well? Was he safe? What dangerous task was he embroiled in? Reports of flooding at the Bidasoa made her even more concerned. She had received no message from him yet.
    All she could do was keep working, keep helping everyone she could.
    ‘Soon,’ she whispered as she rinsed her hands in a basin. Jamie would be back soon.
    As she dried her hands, she glimpsed the sapphire ring glinting on her finger. It was always with her, reminding her of hopes and dreams that felt so very fragile now.
    She pushed away her worries and went to help with the new patient. Once he was seen to, there was another and then another. The day had grown very late by the time she was able to duck out of the hot, stuffy tent for a breath of fresh air.
    The rain had ceased for the moment, though the sound of gunfire seemed even closer. Catalina found a quiet spot by a tree just outside camp where she could be alone just for an instant. She tilted her head back to stare at the dark grey sky and let the cool breeze wash over her.
    She thought about what Jamie had said about his home, about the beauty and peace of it. She feared she would get lost in its grandeur, but she did long for something pretty, something quiet. Someplace where she could walk with Jamie, hand in hand, the two of them in the fresh English spring.
    ‘Mrs Moreno, what a surprise,’ someone said suddenly, shattering her reverie. ‘I so seldom see you alone.’
    Catalina whirled around to see Hugh Webster smiling at her. The man seemed friendly,