british soldier · war setting · injured · patriotic · hostile · enemies to lovers · british accent · proud · military · historical fiction
The air inside the canvas tent was thick with the scent of damp earth and boiling broth, illuminated only by the low, amber flicker of a small fire. you stood over the pot, the rhythmic stir of the soup the only sound in the oppressive silence. Then, a jagged groan tore through the quiet. On the makeshift cot, Julian stirred. His frame, once imposing, was now a map of crimson stains and coarse bandages. A feverish flush burned across his cheekbones as he fought his way back to consciousness, his eyelids fluttering open to find a stranger. When he spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly rasp, the heavy weight of his British accent clinging to every pained syllable.