"And again?" The words were whipped away by the wind as Martin called out to Louisa.

There was a brief pause before he heard the starter motor struggle to turn. He watched the engine, the tubes, the cords, the pipes, looking for anything amiss but saw nothing. Cars were not his specialty.

He let the hood of his silver Lexus fall heavily back into place and stared at Louisa through the windshield. Her lovely features were tight in worry as she met his eyes. Being stranded on Bodmin Moor was never a good thing. At least dinner had been successful, driving all the way to Truro had been a wise choice. After the disaster at Bert's opening night it paid to be away from prying eyes and gossiping lips. Louisa was happy, he thought- maybe. He had never been very good at gauging things like that. They had yet to argue about anything though, so that was a good sign. Maybe.

Shaking his head, he climbed back into the car. "I think it's the fuel pump but can't be certain. Any signal?"

Louisa held out her phone towards the window. "No, this whole area is a black spot."

They sat in silence, staring at the orange hues of the sunset. The solitude of the moor was almost comforting to Martin. He liked the quiet, the absence of people. Well, with the exception of one. The one sitting beside him. Martin kept his eyes forward not trusting himself to gaze at the beautiful woman in the passenger seat, the woman of his dreams. She looked stunning tonight in a form fitting dress; beautiful, graceful, perfect. His eyes pulled to his left of their own accord. Just a glance-The sound of a door opening broke the silence and he watched as Louisa climbed out of the car.

"Better get walking then." She gave him a smile that made his heart bounce through his veins. "There should be a few farms around here. Maybe a pub."

"Louisa?" She stopped, bending down to gaze at him in the car. He swallowed. "Perhaps it would be best if we just stayed here?" The words clashed with his logical mind. Of course they should start walking. But he longed to be alone with her just a little longer, away from the ridiculous world of Port Wenn.

"What, all night?"

That sounded perfect. "No. People are bound to drive by sooner or later."

"Well you can wait here while I go and find help. It'll be a team effort." She closed the door.

Martin scrambled out from behind the wheel, his suit coat flapping in the stiff, cool breeze. He locked the doors, the headlights blinking in response, before trotting to catch up to Louisa. Separating was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll just- I'll come with you then."

They walked side by side, Martin consciously shortening his stride to match that of Louisa's. She had brushed his hand twice at dinner, her fingers soft and small as they grazed his knuckles. His thoughts routinely went to their unfortunate ride in the taxi cab, embarrassment automatically burning at the nape of his neck every time he remembered his words, his stupid words. But the memory of kissing her, the elation of feeling her pull him to her, far outweighed any other miserable memory.

He slid his eyes to rest on her profile, trying to be discreet. The soft, evening light bounced off of her elf like features and the wind swept her hair back in gentle wisps. She looked powerful, her eyes scanning the horizon, alert, alive. The heat of desire rolled through him, making his heart thump against his sternum. He tried to quell the feeling, tried to shove it away. It was ridiculous to be feeling like this when his attention was needed elsewhere, such as focusing on finding shelter and help before nightfall. But it was useless. More than anything in the world, more than he wanted to be a surgeon again, to be out of Cornwall, to find help even, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, just hold her hand even. His eyes fell further down, over her neck and collar bones, into forbidden territory.

Louisa's eyes sharply turned to look at him, the lids ever so slightly narrowing. Martin jerked his chin away, turning his head to look at the sea, away from her. Caught.

"You're unusually quiet tonight."

"No I'm not." Panic tightened in his chest. He thought he had done very well conversation wise. He knew women liked someone who genuinely listened to them so that's what he did. He listened to every detail, every word, and tucked it away in his memory for safe keeping.

Louisa smiled at him and he relaxed. She wasn't cross. "Well, you're always pretty quiet I suppose."

Martin felt uncomfortable. He hated talking, especially about himself, so he did exactly what he knew he was proficient at and stayed silent.

"But, I mean, that's fine. In fact, I- I quite like that about you."

Martin's even stride stuttered, her soft words so foreign to him. "You do?"

Louisa looked away, a shoulder shrugging. "Yes."

Pride swelled through his chest and shoulders and he glanced down at Louisa's hand by her side. All he had to do was reach out and take it. He swung his hand closer to hers- But what if she got angry? Or brushed him off? Maybe she didn't enjoy holding hands? Or maybe she didn't like his hands? His meaty, shovel-like hands.

He flexed his fingers self consciously, tightening the muscles throughout his arm. It wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth the rejection he knew would come. He knew he was a coward, always had been, always would be. Little Marty the big eared, bed wetting, clumsy coward. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew that people didn't change. He was no exception.

They walked in silence, the endless hills turning into more endless hills. A few stray sheep grazed in the distance, clumped together, preparing for nightfall and nighthawks swooped through the air, snatching bugs from the sky. The temperature was dropping quickly though, the air thickening with moisture. They needed to find a house or pub quickly before the rain came. His brain automatically began compiling multiple scenarios if the temperature dropped too low. The probability of hypothermia increased exponentially- Something warm and soft brushed his palm and he looked down, startled, to see Louisa's narrow fingers intertwining with his. She squeezed his hand and he automatically returned the pressure, curling his fingers up around her knuckles.

A thrilling warmth flooded his body and soul as they walked hand in hand down the road, the sky now a dusky blue. Her hand felt so delicate and soft, her forearm brushing against his. Automatically, they stepped closer to each other until he could feel the warmth of her skin. He tried to calm his trembling nerves, she would notice, but his heart thrummed through his veins even faster when her thumb, ever so slightly, stroked over his finger. It was a tiny gesture, of common affection, but it triggered something deep within him. Maybe he wasn't alone anymore.