A Perfect Hero (5 page)

She slid under his arm and sat in the cockpit, her feet propped on the other seat, and mopped up the sunshine. After a few minutes she started to overheat,
and went below to put on her shorts and T-shirt. There was a cooling breeze off the sea, but it was going to be a gloriously hot June day nevertheless.

Michael’s eyes ran appreciatively over her legs as she climbed over the hatch, and he gave a gusty sigh.

‘How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you look like that?’

‘Well, ditto!’

Their eyes met.

‘Oh, dear God, Clare—I want you,’ he whispered.

She swallowed. ‘Can we talk about this later? You’re going to run us aground on the sand-spit if you don’t concentrate!’

He swore softly under his breath, and then gave a rueful chuckle. ‘It’s a deal. Just sit down and don’t fidget about, or I won’t stand a chance of thinking straight!’

It was a wonderful day. They tacked up the river towards Woodbridge, ate their picnic in sight of the Tide Mill, and dropped back down with the tide, rounding the point off Felixstowe at four o’clock. By five they were back in the marina, mooring
Henrietta
and packing up their things.

By the time they left, Clare’s nerves were at screaming pitch. Every touch of his hand, every brush of his body against hers as they manoeuvred round each other in the little cabin had left her senses reeling.

They drove back to the cottage in a potent silence, and when they arrived back, he stilled her hand as he moved to unload the car.

‘Leave that lot. I want to make love to you. I’ve been watching you bending around in those tiny little shorts for hours, and I really don’t think I can stand much more of it.’

Her heart was pounding as she followed him into the cottage and up the stairs. In his bedroom he turned to her, his hands cupping her shoulders lightly. His eyes searched her face, his expression serious. ‘Is this what you want, Clare?’

She nodded, beyond speech.

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded again. ‘I’m terrified—I’ve never done it before, and I don’t really know what to expect, and I’ll probably be a dreadful disappointment to you, but yes—I’m sure.’

‘Oh, my love …’

He was so gentle, so careful with her, his hands tender, his voice coaxing her softly. And it was easy—much easier than she had imagined, and so—beautiful wasn’t the word, it was too earthy, too positive for that, but as she reached the crest, something deep inside her shattered and she felt freer than she had ever felt before.

Dear God, I love him! she thought, and clung to him as his body quivered under her hands and he cried her name.

‘I
THOUGHT
we were going to give this relationship time to flourish,’ Clare said sleepily, much later.

Beneath her ear Michael’s chest rumbled gently with suppressed laughter. ‘Yes, well, it flourished quicker than I dared to hope.’

He levered himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, his face gravely tender. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I’ve never felt so good in my life.’

‘I’m glad. Neither have I.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she laughed self-consciously. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing——’

‘Yes, you did. You were making love. It doesn’t require technical competence, darling.’ He kissed her gently, his voice roughened with emotion. ‘You were wonderful—warm, generous, funny—I love you, Clare.’

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Michael, I love you too.’

She clung to him, her heart overflowing with happiness. She didn’t understand how it could have happened so soon, but it had, and it seemed so right loving him, as if she had been waiting all this time for him to come along and fill her life with sunshine and laughter.

He kissed her lingeringly, his hands tracing lazy patterns on her skin, and she tentatively laid her palms against his chest.

That feels good,’ he murmured.

‘Can I touch you?’ she asked hesitantly.

He flopped on to his back and spread his arms wide with a wicked grin. ‘Do whatever you want—I’m yours!’

His laugh turned to a groan as she ran her fingertips experimentally down the centre of his chest. His eyes closed, he lay rigid while she explored the changing textures and planes of hair and skin, tracing the smooth line of muscle and sinew, revelling in the feel of satin over steel. Fascinated by the contrast between vulnerability and strength, she dallied over the jut of his hipbones and the slight hollow of his pelvis above the taut, hard muscles of his thighs. His legs were strong and straight, well-muscled and smoothly tanned beneath the dense scatter of blond curls.

She knelt by his feet, her fingers tracing each toe in turn, smoothing the strong arch as her eyes trailed slowly up his body, absorbing his beauty like a drug.

‘You’re perfect,’ she said huskily, ‘so perfect. A perfect hero!’

He laughed self-consciously and reached down to pull her over him.

‘I’ve got scarry knees,’ he confessed.

‘So? All little boys have scarry knees. They probably aren’t any worse than mine.’

‘Shut up and kiss me,’ he commanded softly, and she bent her head and laid her lips against his.

‘I love you,’ she murmured, and with a ragged groan he rolled her beneath him and took her with him to heaven.

They climbed off the high old-fashioned bedstead at midnight, raided the fridge and took the feast up to bed with them, pausing in the middle to make love
again. They fell asleep as the early fingers of dawn crawled over the horizon, and woke again at eight, ready to take on the world.

‘Do you know how to windsurf?’ he asked her.

Clare, feeling like the cat that got the canary, shook her head contentedly without bothering to open her eyes. ‘Sounds energetic.’

‘It is—would you like me to teach you?’

She forced an eye open. ‘Now?’

‘Maybe in a little while,’ he laughed.

It was another hour before the world penetrated their little cocoon, and then Michael chivvied her through the bathroom and into her clothes.

‘You’re hassling me,’ she complained gently.

‘You need hassling to stop you getting side-tracked—it’s only self-defence, I’m exhausted!’

She giggled wickedly.

‘Oh, no—come on, out!’

He shooed her into the Volvo, loaded up the roof-rack with the board, and they set off for the reservoir.

‘It’s harder than it looks!’ she said ruefully later on, after yet another ignominious dunking.

‘It’s a bit windy for learning. Do you want to try again?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll just sit here and watch you—it’s better for my ego!’

He was good—very good, she acknowledged, studying him and the other windsurfers as they tacked back and forth across the water. She smiled with great self-satisfaction.

She was still smiling when he rejoined her.

‘OK?’

‘Very impressive. Can I join your fan-club?’

He dropped on the grass beside her and blotted his
wet hair with a towel. ‘It’s very exclusive—only one member so far.’

‘Will she mind if I join?’ Clare asked, shocked at the little twist of jealousy.

‘He—O’Malley. No one else has been invited. No, I don’t suppose he’ll mind, although he might get a bit miffed if I keep throwing him off the bed all night.’

She laughed. ‘I refuse point blank to share you with a cat,’ she told him.

‘Possessive, eh?’

She faltered, her confidence a little rocked for a moment. ‘Do you mind?’

He lifted his hand and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. ‘No, love, I don’t mind. I feel the same way about you. I want you all to myself forever.’

She met his eyes, startled. ‘Forever?’

He nodded, slowly. ‘I think so. It certainly feels like that to me.’

She reached up her hand and wrapped it round his wrist, turning her face into his palm and kissing it. ‘To me, too. The thought of my life without you in it now is unbearable. I feel as if I’ve know you for years, not less than a week.’

‘You have known me for years—I’m your other half. We just haven’t met until now.’ He lifted her face and she thought she would drown in the love she saw there in his eyes. ‘Marry me, Clare. Stay with me forever.’

‘Oh, yes … oh, Michael, yes!’

She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, revelling in the hard strength of his body and the steady thud of his heart against her ribs.

Then he let her go, pulling her to her feet and gathering up all their things. ‘Come on, we’ll go and
see my grandfather and tell him the news. He’s been nagging me for years to settle down.’

The old man was obviously delighted at his grandson’s unexpected visit, and welcomed him with open arms. The sight of Michael hugging him with such affection brought a lump to her throat.

Michael eased away from the old man and beckoned to Clare.

Pop, I’ve brought someone special to meet you. Her name’s Clare. Clare, this is Pop.’

The old man turned sightless eyes towards her, and Clare realised with a sudden shock that he was blind. He held out his hands, and she took them firmly, standing still while he stared blindly at her, finally nodding.

‘What colour’s your hair?’

‘Blonde.’

‘Your eyes?’

‘Grey——’

‘They’re the colour of the early morning mist on still water,’ Michael corrected.

‘My grandson always was an old romantic. May I touch your face?’

She smiled. ‘Of course.’

His gnarled old hands explored her features gently, and then he grunted with satisfaction. ‘Good strong chin. You’ll need that to deal with this young scamp. Do you love him?’

‘Yes, I do, very much.’

He turned away abruptly. ‘Been out on
Henrietta
recently, boy?’

‘Yes, we went out yesterday.’

‘You took Clare?’

Michael winked at her. ‘Yes, I did. She’s got the makings of a good sailor.’

‘Humph. Must be love—none of his other women has been allowed near her.’

He shuffled across to his chair and sat down with a sigh. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea, then, Michael—go and put the kettle on.’

‘Aye, aye, Cap’n!’ Michael snapped to attention, winked at Clare again and left the room.

‘So, how did you meet my grandson?’

‘He’s working at the same hospital as me. We met on Monday.’ Less than a week, she realised in surprise.

‘Not long, then. Still, if it’s right you know straight away, I reckon. Knew the moment I clapped eyes on Lottie that she was the girl for me. Don’t suppose Michael’s any different. Has he asked you to marry him yet?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ Michael told him, coming back into the room, ‘and she very sensibly said yes.’

His grandfather snorted. ‘That remains to be seen. So, my girl, do you intend to make him a good wife? Can you cook? Keep the house clean, do his washing, that sort of thing? A man needs to be looked after, you know, and you’ll have to make sure you keep your looks—it’s no damn good if he doesn’t want to come home to his own bed, you know! Don’t want the lad straying because you let yourself go.’

She blushed. ‘Of course I can cook and clean—probably just as well as Michael,’ she said spiritedly, ‘and I have no plans to let myself go. As for Michael, if he “strays”, it will be because there’s something wrong in our marriage, and it will be up to both of us to put it right.’

The old man cackled and slapped his leg. ‘Well said, young lady, well said. You’ll do. Michael, show her the kitchen. I want to talk to you while she makes the tea.’

She fled gratefully.

‘Sorry about that,’ Michael said ruefully. ‘I tried to catch your eye to warn you he was winding you up, but you were so busy glaring at him you didn’t see me.’

She laughed weakly. ‘I thought he was serious. Michael, what sort of a marriage
do
you have in mind?’ she asked him, suddenly unsure of him. She seemed to know so little about him.

‘A partnership,’ he said gently, pulling her into his arms. ‘Sharing the duties and responsibilities of the home, talking through our problems, standing by each other. Does that answer your question?’

‘How important is faithfulness to you?’

He went quite still. ‘It’s fundamental, Clare. I’ll never be unfaithful to you, as long as we’re together.’

She hugged him. ‘Thank you. That’s just what I needed to hear. Right, go and talk to him and tell him not to wind me up, and I’ll play mother and make the tea.’ She gave him a little push towards the door, and turned towards the kettle, humming softly to herself.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. They had tea in the garden, and she admired the roses and the honeysuckle, and Pop told her about Lottie, Michael’s grandmother, and the children they had raised in the house.

‘It’s too big for me now, but I don’t want to move. I’ll stay here now till the end, then they can do what they like with it when I’m gone. I shan’t care then.’

He fell silent, staring at some inner vision, and then he straightened. ‘Time for my nap. You two young
things run along and enjoy yourselves—and remember what I said, Michael.’

‘I will, Pop. How would you like to go for a sail next weekend?’

‘See how I go. Give me a ring, boy—anyone would think the damn phone had been cut off the way you don’t keep in touch!’

He apologised, helped the old man into the house and then they left.

‘Is he really all right on his own?’ Clare asked worriedly.

Michael sighed. ‘No, but he won’t move. He’s a stubborn old fool, but I love him.’

‘I can see that. Are you close to your father?’

‘Not really. Not like that. It was always Pop I turned to for advice, and of course, being retired, he had time for me when my father didn’t. I used to spend all my holidays here with them, and when Grannie died, I felt he needed me even more. It was difficult during my training and espcially in my house year, but despite what he says, I’m never out of touch for more than a couple of days. Sometimes I think he forgets I’ve rung him.’

They went back to the cottage, cooked a simple meal and talked until after midnight. Then Clare yawned. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Not enough sleep last night.’

‘I’d better take you home. Not that I want to, I’ll miss having you beside me, but I suppose we ought to act a little conventionally, especially as you live in the hospital. Before you go, I want to give you this.’

He fished in his pocket and came up with a little square leather box. He lifted the lid, and inside, nestled on faded blue velvet, was an old ring, a row of
aquamarines and seed pearls in a very simple setting. Clare reached out a finger and touched it hesitantly.

Oh, Michael, it’s …’ She trailed off, lost for words.

‘If you don’t like it,’ he said quickly, ‘I’ll happily buy you one—anything you like, diamonds—whatever——’

‘No! Oh, no, it’s lovely—is it very old? Where did you get it?’

‘It was Grannie’s. Pop thought I should give it to you. He said you’d appreciate it.’

‘Lottie’s?’ Clare felt tears start to her eyes. ‘Michael—are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Why, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, I’m absolutely certain. I have no doubts at all. I’m just having trouble believing it. I have to keep pinching myself.’

‘Idiot! Believe it—it’s true.’

He lifted her left hand and slipped the ring on to her finger. ‘Perfect. He said it would fit. You won’t be able to wear it for work, of course, but you can always put it on a chain around your neck.’

‘Or through my nose,’ she teased.

He met her eyes, his own serious. ‘It’s not a shackle, Clare. It’s an invitation to share my life, with all its ups and downs. It may be a bumpy ride, but I can promise you it’ll never be boring.’

‘I accept,’ she said, with a hiccuping little laugh, and flung her arms round him.

It was much later before he eventually took her back to the hospital, and as she slipped into bed she had to touch the ring to remind herself that it wasn’t all a wonderful, fleeting dream.

She was almost late on duty in the morning. Mary O’Brien arrived as she did, and Clare was certain the keen-eyed woman would miss nothing of the meteoric changes that must be echoed in her eyes. As it was she gave her a cursory glance, a friendly smile and said, ‘Good weekend? You’ve caught the sun.’

Clare blushed. ‘Lovely, thank you. How was yours?’

‘Oh, busy. Had my daughter for the weekend with the baby. Honestly, Clare, I’d forgotten how much running around you have to do. Goodness knows how I coped with four!’

They laughed, and went into the office, where the night sister was getting ready to give the report.

‘Morning, all,’ Sister O’Brien said cheerfully. ‘OK, Sister Price, what’s been going on?’

One of the elderly ladies with a hip replacement had had a pulmonary embolus and was on Heparin, another was showing signs of pressure sores because she had been bed-ridden for so long. She was to be got up and kept up as much as she could tolerate it, and the physiotherapist was working on getting her mobile as quickly as possible.