There were so many things between them. There were so many obstacles. But for now, for this moment, they fell away as if they didn’t exist.
The dangers, the pain and the confusion slipped away. Joss held Amy in his arms and once again the thought flooded his mind. This was his woman. Here was his home.
She smelled like the sea. His lips were on her hair and the sea spray was a fine mist, damp against his mouth. Her figure was a lovely curving softness against his chest. The fabric of her ancient sweater was as lovely as silk to him. He gloried in the softness against his hands as he felt the pliant contours of her body, and he felt his body surge in recognition of a longing he hardly recognised.
He’d wanted women before, he thought, wondering, but not like this.
She was his.
She had to be his. His need was so strong it was almost primeval, a surge of something as old as man itself. Here was his mate. Half of his whole. He held her tighter, savouring the moment, waiting for her face to turn up to him as he knew it must, for her lips to find his…
Waiting to claim her.
This was impossible. She was a captive in this place. She couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t stay.
But how could he leave her? All this time he’d been fighting against a commitment he didn’t understand. He’d thought his father a fool for allowing himself to love, but love wasn’t something you chose.
Love was here.
Love was now.
She was pulling back-just a little-just enough to see his face in the moonlight. What she saw seemed to satisfy her.
‘Joss,’ she said, and it was enough.
His mouth lowered to hers and he claimed her.
His woman.
And Amy…
This was an impossibility. This man… He had no place in her life. She was trapped here and tomorrow he’d be gone.
But tonight…
Tonight she held him close. She was twenty-eight years old, she’d been engaged to someone else for the last two years, it was six years before she could leave this place…
All of those things were as nothing on this night.
For tonight there was only Joss.
‘I love you,’ she whispered against his chest, so low that Joss could hardly hear against the sound of wind and waves. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want him to hear. It wasn’t a declaration to him. It was a declaration to herself.
Tomorrow the loss and the loneliness would begin. Tonight there was Joss.
She lifted her face to his and she linked her hands behind his head and pulled him down to her.
‘Joss,’ she whispered, and after that she couldn’t whisper a thing. For a very long time.
Afterwards, Joss could never remember how they made it to the house. Making love on the beach wasn’t an option. Maybe in midsummer-but not when the sand was still soaked from two weeks of storms and the wind was still chill. No. He wanted this woman in the comfort of a bed.
Liar. If the bed wasn’t on offer…
He wanted this woman any way he could have her. And he wanted her for ever.
She wasn’t arguing. In that final moment as she placed her lips against his they both knew that they were surrendering themselves to each other. Completely. If this night was all they had, then so be it. Better one night than never. If this night was to last a lifetime then they’d take this night with joy.
They weren’t protected. Joss had nothing and when he remembered he groaned, but Amy wasn’t fussed at all.
‘If you’re happy to take the risk then so am I,’ she murmured as they reached the bedroom door and paused. There was a brief moment of sanity to reassure Bertram-and lock him in the kitchen-and take stock of what they knew lay ahead. ‘If I end up pregnant from this night I’d think it nothing but wonderful.’ She smiled up at him. ‘And you?’
He thought about that.
Amy carrying his child?
So much for his fear of commitment. The thought filled him with unadulterated joy.
‘You’re sure, my love?’
‘I’m sure. I’d make a very good single mum.’
He had his own ideas about that. Single mum? Humph!
But now wasn’t the time to declare his hand. Not until he was sure. If she thought she was headed for single parenthood, well and good. For now.
With a whoop of sheer loving triumph he swept her up into his arms so he was carrying her down the hall. He was laughing into her gorgeous dancing eyes and she was laughing back at him, loving him, wanting him…
‘Then so be it,’ he told her. ‘So be it, my love. Let’s see if we can make a baby. The way I feel tonight, we might even make quads!’
They were falling onto his bed, their clothes were disappearing. The moonlight was slanting across their bodies, as if in blessing…
Man and woman, becoming one.
Dawn came too soon. Or maybe it wasn’t dawn. Something was ringing.
Joss stirred. Amy was cradled in his arms, her lovely hair was splayed out over his chest and she was cradled against him in love and in peace.
Who said married couples needed double beds? he thought sleepily. Single worked just fine.
‘Um…it’s the telephone.’ Amy lifted her head. ‘Why did we end up in your room when the phone’s in my room?’
‘The world’s in the rest of the house. Here there’s just us.’
Which was fine-but the telephone was ringing.
‘Maybe it’s urgent,’ Joss said.
‘I think we should forget the medical imperatives. Charles the First can give it a shot.’
Charles the First? Oh, right. The ancient doctor with dementia. ‘Maybe.’ But the ringing kept on. ‘Maybe someone’s dead.’
‘There’s not a lot we can do if they’re dead,’ she said practically. ‘Call the undertaker-not us.’
‘Amy…’
She sighed. ‘Hey, I’m the conscientious one, not you.’ She rubbed her face against his bare chest, and her hair felt like silk against his skin. The sensation was unbearably erotic. ‘OK, oh, noble doctor. Go and answer the phone. I’ll keep the bed warm.’
‘Promise?’
She smiled down into his eyes, love and laughter fighting for supremacy. Love won. ‘I promise.’ But she was kissing him so deeply that he couldn’t resist.
The phone stopped. Two minutes later it started again and Joss swore.
‘It’s nine o’clock on a Monday morning,’ Amy told him, still laughing. ‘The world has a right to intrude.’
‘It’s not nine o’clock.’
‘That’s what your watch says.’
‘You’re lying on my watch.’
‘That’s not all I’m lying on. Go and answer the phone.’
‘Did I tell you I love you?’
She beamed. ‘Yes. But tell me again if you like.’
‘I love you.’
