The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(99)

‘Oh!’ She stopped abruptly. ‘You’re up and about! Nobody said!’

He was standing by the window, in his uniform trousers and pressed shirt. She registered how well he looked – his thick hair shining, his broad shoulders back, as if he’d never had a serious chest injury. He’d drawn himself up to his impressive full height, which she’d almost forgotten for all the time he was bedridden.

‘I told them not to tell you,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘It would have been too dreadful if you’d got your hopes up and then I had a relapse. But I’ve been able to stand and get around for a couple of days now.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ Then her eyes clouded. ‘But you mustn’t overdo it. Shouldn’t you sit down again now that you’ve proved your point? I don’t want to be the one to cause you to relapse – your uncle would never forgive me for a start.’ She came across to him and stood beside the window, through which they could see the last of the autumn leaves falling and being blown in haphazard patterns around the hospital grounds.

‘Oh, I think my uncle would forgive you quite a lot, as it happens,’ he said lightly, making no move away. ‘Seriously, Fawcett, you mustn’t fret. I’m quite capable of knowing if I need to sit down or not. That’s what happens when you’re promoted to captain. They acknowledge you have full control of your bodily functions.’

‘Well, yes, of course, sir.’ Laura didn’t know where to look. She knew he was teasing, but he was so close to her and somehow it was different to when she’d sat close to him when he’d been ill. She could feel the heat from his body.

‘Fawcett,’ he said, looking down at her, ‘I realise this is very informal but I have a distinct memory of you calling me Peter. We even talked about my name, if I recall rightly.’

‘We did, sir.’ She couldn’t tell which way this conversation was heading.

‘I also realise that when we are in public I am of superior rank to you and it is fitting that you call me “sir” or “captain”. However, when we are alone, I do think you should drop the formality and call me Peter. Would you do that?’

She gazed up at him, conscious that she was only up to his shoulder. ‘As a way of aiding your recovery, you mean?’

‘Most definitely.’ He seemed to step even closer to her. ‘And maybe I should address you by your first name. Seems as though I’m always giving you orders if I call you Fawcett all the time.’

‘It’s Laura, sir. I mean Peter.’ She could feel her legs trembling now; she couldn’t help it.

‘Well, yes, I knew that, Fawcett. Laura.’ He gazed at her and suddenly that sense of close connection that had blazed between them at the police station after the fire was back, and she tipped her head back as he bent his mouth to hers and kissed her – not gently, not carefully like an invalid might, but a full-blooded kiss of barely restrained passion, such as she had never received in her life, and she found herself responding fully, brazenly, despite the nearness of the window. For a few moments she could think of nothing else. Then slowly she pulled away, catching her breath, unsure of what to say.

‘Laura,’ he breathed against the top of her hair, his breath hot and catching a little. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for a very, very long time. Almost since I saw you, in fact. Definitely since the first time you answered me back when I asked you to reverse into a tight spot.’

‘I never did!’ she objected. ‘I was always a paragon of propriety and obedience.’ Her eyes danced as she gazed up at his.

‘Maybe. But I had to have you with me whenever possible,’ he confessed. ‘Surely you guessed why? That I’d asked for you to be transferred from driving lorries to permanent chauffeur duties? Surely you saw I couldn’t bear to be without the sight of you for a day?’

‘No, I thought you hated me. You were always so silent or else so rude,’ she told him honestly. ‘You used to stare at the back of my head, I could see you in the rear-view mirror.’

He laughed at being caught out. ‘I did. Not out of hatred though. Out of … admiration.’

She shook her head, unable to believe how wrongly she’d read him. ‘I complained about you all the time. All those evenings when you stopped me going to the cinema with my friends.’

‘I bet you did. I was impossible, I admit.’ He gazed softly at her. ‘I wasn’t sure if you had a chap or not, to be honest. You’ve never said. Or if you’d lost somebody, like your friend did.’

With a sinking feeling Laura turned away. She didn’t want to break the magic of the moment, but his words had brought back to her the ache she always carried.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said at once. ‘Did I say the wrong thing? Is there someone? Laura, you have to tell me. I’m showing you my heart here. There’s nobody in my life, I’ve never met anyone like you. But if you have someone else, then tell me now. Don’t let me believe you feel the same and then break my heart.’

She gasped at the meaning of his words – that he was declaring himself in the most open way and laying himself open to hurt. How brave he was to make himself vulnerable like this. That took courage, a different sort of courage to the one needed to race into a burning building to save a child.

‘Sort of,’ she said, looking away. ‘No, not like that, but … you know when we found the baby and it was safe, and its blanket was alight? We wrapped it in my scarf.’