Shore leave

After Robert had left him he sank back into the tub to await Marguerite. Having gently teased Robert (though with no harm done, he was sure, and no grudge borne) he was now wide awake, and in mischievous mood.

He thought back again to the mission just completed: five more – including a babe-in-arms – brought safely out; but (and here he indulged in some rare self-congratulation), what was almost equally satisfying had been the spectacularly successful decoy manoeuvre at the Porte Saint-Antoine, where Tony – whose attempts to pass himself off as a Dutchman, by way of excuse for his execrable French, were not always wholly convincing – had, bless him, taken advantage of the opportunities offered by the situation and had exploited them to the full. Percy chuckled quietly now as he recalled Tony's extravagant gestures, and how he himself had almost broken cover, nearly laughing out loud; and how he had looked across at Andrew, who had rolled his eyes heavenward and then, looking back at his chief and seeing his amusement, had had to feign a paroxysm of coughing to conceal the fact that otherwise he would have been laughing hysterically...

Despite – or maybe because of ― such moments of light relief amid the tension, they had, again, achieved what they had set out to do, and during the crossing homeward Andrew had been the first to suggest that the chief had more than earned some respite: he had been away for almost three months with only the briefest of spells at home, once last month; and that had not fulfilled his expectations, he owned to himself, in that Marguerite had not been feeling quite well and had sequestered herself from him as she usually did on such occasions. At the time he had been unable to decide which was more disappointing: that they could not lie together, or that there was no sign yet of a child. This time, however, he reflected with some delight, there would be ample opportunity to try to bring that about...

He was going to be at home for some while, partly by necessity because of the repairs to the boat; but he had not yet found an appropriate moment to tell her, and he wanted to make the most of being able to give her news that he knew would bring her joy; perhaps later that evening, for they would be undisturbed then...

He heard her light footfall outside and then her gentle tap at the door; having once woken him with a real fright from a heavy sleep, she never crept in now without warning; and hearing his bidding her come in, she entered and pushed the door to behind her.

"You wanted me, Percy?"

He could not resist it: "I always want you, Margot", he said with a wicked grin, "but that's another story... "

"Percy, you are incorrigible!" she said, and she knelt down beside the tub, leaning her elbows on its edge and cupping her chin in her hands. "Did you want me to scrub your back?"

"If you please, m'dear; it is invigorating when you do it, just the right side of brutal! And it makes me feel clean, which is much to be desired after the filthy clothes and lousy beds we needs must endure ..."

"But Percy, if you didn't go ― " she started to say, before biting her lip as if to stop the words on the brink. As she began furiously to soap the washcloth he thought she might not be far from tears; this, he thought, would be as good a moment as any, and he cleared his throat. "There's something I must tell you, dearest", he said.

She paused as if frozen; her eyes darkened and she spoke almost fearfully: "What must you tell me, Percy? Not bad news, I hope; or that you are leaving again straight away?"

"No, sweetheart, not that. Quite the opposite, in fact: I shall be here for some weeks, I am afraid to say, lounging around and being tiresome!" He spoke more lightly than he had intended but her fear had disconcerted him. "The Daydream needs some repairs: re-rigging and new sails and so on", he continued, trying now to be matter-of-fact; "and it will take a little while; it's much too difficult without her so we shall be taking some shore leave, as they call it, until she's ready to go to sea again, and – well, the upshot is, I shall be at home until the end of July at least..."

He paused, watching her face and the varying emotions crossing it. Finally she spoke:

"Until the end of July?"

"Yes, Margot, " he replied quietly, "and I would like to spend as much time alone with you as we can manage, so I trust we shall not have too many engagements..." Then, hoping to cause her to smile, he said, "Is that too long, sweetheart? Shall you be eager to be rid of me long before then?"

"Oh Percy," she said, her eyes shining now with tears of happiness, "I shall say it again: you are incorrigible!"

"It's my watchword, dearest", he said; "and now perhaps you would be so good as to wash my back, please!"

She managed somehow to do as he asked, although he kept trying to take her hands and pull her to him to kiss her, and otherwise making mischief; and then she left him to don fresh shirt and breeches whilst she went to seek out Mrs Phillips for some supper for them both.

They ate by the light of a few candles and the glowing fire; and afterwards she sat with him in the fireside chair and he told her of some of the adventures they had had – keeping back, as he had learned to do, many of the more hair-raising episodes; and when the candles burnt out he carried her to the bed and they made gentle love in the firelight.

Some time later he woke and realised immediately that she was not in the bed beside him; she was standing at the window, naked, he saw straight away, in the shaft of moonlight which streamed into the room between the half-open curtains. She had her back to him and he looked at the sweeping curves from her slender waist to her hips, and the dark shadow of her hair cascading down her back almost to the cleft of her behind. From where he lay he could see, against the light, the jutting tip of one breast, and he felt desire stir in him. To appreciate the picture fully he raised his head on one arm, and she heard the movement and turned her head to speak to him: "Come and look, Percy; the moonlight on the garden is beautiful!"

"I must say, m'dear, I am enjoying the view already!"

"Oh, Percy!" was all she said, with a giggle; and she turned full to face him.

He could see, now, the moonlight making a halo of the curls around her face, the crescent shadows under her breasts, and the darker shadow above the parting of her thighs, and his desire arose the more: he wanted her again.

"Come and look", she said again, and she turned back to the window.

He rose from the bed, but ― not knowing if she would want him again so soon ― he donned his gown, the better to conceal his arousal; and crossed the room to stand behind her. It was indeed a beautiful night, still and warm, with the roses and peonies all silvered by the moon; the fragrance of honeysuckle drifted in at the open window, but the scent of her skin and hair was more intoxicating, and the nearness of her naked body almost too much to bear. He slipped his hands around her, cupping her breasts; and she did something he loved: she put her arms up behind her to pull his head down to hers, pressing her head into his shoulder and arching her back; she could feel his hardness against her behind and she pressed her hips back against his, and he knew now that yes, she did want him again.

"Will this be the rhythm of our days together, sweetheart?" he whispered, "I do so hope it will – there is so much time to make up!"

"I hope so too, Percy" she replied.

He carried her back to the bed again and laid her down and a few moments later their bodies were entwined and he was within her, to the joy of both; and this was indeed the rhythm of their days together.

The End.