This has taken a while to write because I've been concentrating on "Faith, Hope and Love". There are other one-shots planned but, for now, I hope this will suffice. Roland and Grace finally confront their feelings for each other as they leave Field Hospital 25A. Please review if you can spare a moment. Lavender and Hay, I hope you enjoy it. XX
2.
"Have you got everything, Grace? We shan't be coming back."
His jocular tone belied the sadness he felt at leaving Field Hospital 25A. He was sad only because he had met her here and now it was over and he had not had the courage to tell her how he felt. He had insisted on driving her with him to the port so that they could travel on the ferry transport together. At least then, he could steal a few more hours, talk to her and drive her to her destination. He had recognised right from the start that he was hopelessly in love with Grace Carter, but he could never tell her. A woman like Grace would not cast her bonnet over the fence to be the mistress of a Lieutenant Colonel, or any man for that matter. She deserved more, a full commitment; marriage, a home and perhaps children. How could he give her those when he was married, or more truly chained, to another woman already?
"I've got everything, Sir," she replied. "There wasn't much to start with."
"Same here. Well, hop in and we'll be on our way. The transport won't wait for us and I expect you're keen to get home."
He extended his hand to take hers as she looked at him and answered, "Not really, Colonel."
"Grace, of course you are and, after all we have been through, I think that you, of all people, should call me by my given name."
"No I'm not and, very well, Roland."
She smoothed her skirt over her knees and looked straight ahead at the road, which would take her away from all she had known and loved for the past five years. The engine fired and he started to move away from the place which he had viewed as home and looked briefly across at the woman who had shared it with him and become his emotional sanctuary from the worst of the war. Her gaze was unwavering and fixed on some point ahead of her so she did not see the pain which flitted across his face.
"Why aren't you keen to get home, Grace?"
"No reason you'd be able to understand, Roland."
"Try me; I'm a good listener."
"After five years of sitting with you in the evening, I know that better than most," she smiled. "It's hard to explain, that's all."
"Come on, Grace. You can do better than that. This is me, your friend."
"I know; that's the point. You're my friend."
"What do you mean?"
"You're my friend and I….," Grace's voice caught in her throat and she could not continue. Tears threatened to over-spill and she furiously blinked them back.
He pulled the car over and killed the engine.
"Grace, what's wrong?"
The tears came then, pouring down her cheeks.
Pure instinct took over and he held her to him, cradling her as if she was the most fragile porcelain, and gently kissing the top of her hair. She felt his lips on her head and wordlessly raised her face to look into his eyes. He looked down at her slightly parted lips and, hesitating only for a split second, bent his head to claim them, his mouth moving over hers, his tongue easing gently, oh so gently, into her mouth, as she opened like a flower in the warmth of the sun. They broke apart breathlessly for a few seconds and then he pulled her to him and seized her mouth once more; pouring every ounce of feeling he had into his kiss. She moaned against him and pressed into his arms, as if she wanted to burrow into him and stay there forever. Seconds became minutes as his hands roamed her body through her uniform, familiarising himself with the feel of curves he had wanted to touch each day, but had never done so until now. The path from her jaw to her collar bone, the swell of her breast, the catch of her waist as it flared into her hip, the gentle sweep at the top of her thighs, all these were now his to wander at will. Grace relished the firmness of his body beneath her hands. The slight scrape of his chin against her skin, the hardness of his chest beneath the rough wool of his jacket, the strength of his hands as they held hers and the heat from the now clearly visible sign of his need for her. He groaned as she touched him through his trousers and stilled the movement of her hand.
"Grace, my love, my sweetheart, we have to stop. The transport will not wait for us."
"Am I your love?"
"Of course you are. I have loved you for years and now all I want is to make that a reality, but our first time will not be on the side of a French road, no matter how much I yearn for your touch and to know the joy we can give each other."
"So, there is an "us" at the end of this road?"
"Did you ever doubt it?"
"I suppose I did. You never said, but I hoped that you felt something for me."
"Oh Grace, if only you knew the sleepless nights I've had for love of you and I was dreading today, for every part of me wanted to tell you, but I thought the sacrifices it would entail for you would be too great."
"What sacrifices?"
"Your professional and personal standing to name only two."
"And you seriously think they are more important to me than your love? Oh Roland, what shall I do with you?"
He smiled at her and held her hand to his lips.
"I can name at least one thing. Come we must move if we're to get that transport."
He fired the engine once more and eased the car back onto the road. Having re-joined the route to the port, he reached for her hand across the seat and raised it to his mouth before letting it rest atop his on the steering wheel, but not for long. Grace felt it too conspicuous to be holding her commanding officer's hand in such a visible place albeit that his command of her was now more emotional than practical. Nevertheless, she did not want to break the contact between them. He sensed her dilemma and took her hand, placing it on top of his thigh. The heat from his body smouldered against her skin through the coarse wool, so aware was she of him. Her fingers gently traced spirals across the tough army issue material as her mind struggled to come to terms with the sudden shift in their relationship. Five years of friendship consumed by five minutes of passionate conflagration. It was all too much to process and, for him, her unconscious movement against his thigh was altogether too much to withstand.
"Grace, darling, you don't know what you are doing to me. Stop before I run us off the road."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
"I'm sorry, too, but I am thinking…. of all the wrong things."
She smiled at him.
"I don't believe you capable of thinking the wrong things, Roland."
"For you I would, and I do. You have no idea how often I've wanted you to stay with me, to hold me, to love me."
"Why didn't you tell me? I'd have done anything for you; I still would."
"Would you, truly?"
"Yes, anything." Her eyes shone as she confirmed her love for him in two simple words.
"Let me take you home and, when we get there, make love with me."
Grace's heart pounded and she felt her physical response to his words. "Yes."
"We have to embark, but don't leave my side. There's so much to say."
He held her hand tightly as she descended the car and he removed their bags from the back of the vehicle.
"Come, we can find somewhere to sit away from the hoi polloi."
A few minutes later they were seated, out of the wind, in the shelter created by the bridge on the port side. It was a tiny space, set back far enough to keep warm, big enough only for two people and it was theirs for the next few hours. He had collected two blankets to keep them warm, which he stored behind them until they were needed. Their bodies touched from shoulder to ankle as they turned to each other, faces so close that they almost could not focus. Pulling back slightly, they looked in wonderment at the joy of a love shared, reflected in each other's eyes. She could feel his breath on her mouth.
"Grace, I'm on fire for you," he whispered. His hand took hers, hidden from view by her coat.
She shyly looked down and replied, "This is worse than anything I could imagine. You see I want you more than ever and now I have to wait until we are home."
He stroked her hand running his fingers inside her cuff to touch the skin at her wrist, massaging the pulse point with his thumb. It was the most powerfully erotic sensation, coupled with a gaze, the promise of which was positively incendiary. In the privacy of their hiding place he ran his thumb across her lips, which parted and caressed, drawing his thumb momentarily inwards so that her tongue could curl around him, gradually easing away once more to finish with a kiss. He was completely undone.
"I have never felt such longing for another person, my Grace. You are everything to me." His hand touched her cheek.
"Roland, please, I can't bear this. You command me body and soul, yet I can find no rest or respite from the desire which overwhelms me. Your wife…"
"My wife is one in name only and we barely speak. I have no home and no wife beyond the one I see here before me."
"Roland, is it truly so?"
"It is, my love. You must have realised over the time we've spent together that I never spoke of her."
"I did, but it was not my place to draw conclusions. I will own that I did hope, though. Was that so wrong of me, when I felt such love for you?"
"No, sweetheart, it wasn't wrong. When we set sail, people will retreat indoors and we can cover ourselves with the blankets. No one will notice us and I can hold you. No one will query a supporting arm around your waist out here, if indeed they venture out."
She tightened her grip on his hand in response.
"Roland, I love you so deeply. I could not bear to lose you now."
"You won't. Can you imagine how I have felt every day, wanting you and not knowing if you felt anything for me beyond friendship? I was terrified of offending or compromising you; I was a coward. It took you to breakdown before I was man enough to admit my feelings."
"You're no coward. You're a man of honour. That's why you said nothing. I was weak and simply could no longer fight what I felt."
"Then thank God for weakness for I would have lost you otherwise."
"I doubt that, for I believe a love as strong as ours would have surfaced at some future point, don't you?"
"True, but more wasted time would have been the result. Rest against me, we're pulling off at last."
As the transport eased away from the shore, Grace thought of the time they had spent in France. It would always be the place which had brought them together and would occupy a special point in her heart for that.
Roland looked down at her, nestling in the shelter of his arms and he knew that this was the culmination of his search for contentment. The wind had increased in force and he had removed his cap and Grace her hat. He noticed that the deck was now devoid of people and felt safe to raise her face to his, softly kissing her mouth, which promised so much. He wrapped the blankets across them so that their bodies were hidden from view and eased her against him, stroking her arms and waist. Grace pressed herself closely to him, as she felt the heat of her physical response course through her. The throbbing at her centre was impossible to ignore. She wanted him to touch her and he knew this from the darkening of her eyes and the movement of her hands reaching for his, beneath the blankets.
"Grace? May I?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered, her voice shaking with desire. His hand pressed her legs open through her skirt, and cupped the place at the top of her thighs, which was crying out for his attention. Slowly he touched her, so that the deliberate friction would enable her to find some release. She looked at him, silently begging him to bring her to completion. He stroked up and down, easing his fingers deeper against the cloth barrier and further into her, until he felt her shudder against his hand and cling to him. He wanted to take her right there and then and seek relief from the pressure building in his groin, but it was impossible. He groaned in frustration.
"Roland, darling, are you alright?"
"As alright as I can be without joining you on the same path you've just travelled. I want you so much. Feel."
He took her hand and pressed it against his arousal. She ran her fingers along his length, trapped by trousers and undershorts, but stopped as his sharp intake of breath told her he could not withstand her attention.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to make it worse for you. I simply want to give you the same as you gave me."
"That will have to wait, my love, but will be all the sweeter when it eventually happens. As long as you are happy, that is all I care about."
"I am happier than I think I have ever been. I'm just terrified that this will be snatched from me."
"Not if I can help it! I couldn't bear to lose you either. You were made for me, Grace. I wish I had met you years ago, but I'll settle for whatever time I have left with you."
She smiled at him and, raising her hand, cupped his face in her palm.
"You make me complete. Take me home and we can be together."
He pulled her tightly into him and pressed his lips urgently against her hair, tucking back a stray tendril behind her ear.
"Your wish is my command."
Many exhausting hours later, Roland pulled up in front of a whitewashed, double fronted Georgian house. They had finally arrived at Grace's home. Helping her down from the car, he retrieved the bags from the rear seats, whilst she opened the front door. He brought in the bags and dumped them unceremoniously on the hall floor, standing just inside the front door.
"Don't stand there; come in, Roland. I'm so glad you're here." Grace took his hand and led him in, shutting the door behind them. "Tea?"
"That would be good, but have you got any?"
"The kitchen was re-stocked with basics by the maid so there should be some. Come on, you can help."
He followed her to the kitchen at the rear of the house and found it to be warm and welcoming. Grace checked in one of the cupboards and found there was plenty of tea in the caddy and there was a jug of fresh milk in the pantry.
"Here, take these and put them on the table. I'll do the rest. You can sit and watch."
"I'm not used to taking orders from my subordinates."
"I'm not your subordinate any longer. In this house, I'm the mistress."
"And in my heart you're the mistress, too."
She looked at him.
"Perhaps that is all I'll ever be, but I'll take it willingly."
"Oh Grace, you're everything and more."
His gaze was intense as he said this and she blushed, hiding her awkwardness by busying herself with the kettle and range and preparing their tea, which they took in the sitting room. The curtains were drawn and the fire was leaping in the grate as Grace took his cup and saucer from him and put them on the table before them. Roland reached for her and she slid easily into his embrace, returning his kiss as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be together on her sofa whereas, less than twenty four hours earlier, such a thing would have been a mere fantasy.
"And now, my darling, I'm going to do what I've wanted to for so long."
Something flickered across his eyes; it was desire. She eased herself across his lap and sat astride him on the sofa, her hands reaching down to unbutton his trousers. He groaned, like he had before, as her hand touched and encircled him. She could feel his flesh respond and she smiled at him as she moved her hand so softly up and down his length. His hands moved to caress her. He unfastened her top and corset so that her breasts spilt into his hands, her skin as soft as he had imagined and responsive beyond his wildest dreams. He bent to capture her nipple in his mouth, grazing and laving it, the line between pain and pleasure so delicately balanced, and she pressed into him, wanting the closeness so badly. He pulled her skirts up to reach the waistband of her undergarments, which he ripped apart as he could not wait. Again, she smiled at this outward sign of his need for her and stroked his face, telling him,
"Do nothing else, my love. I want to make love to you."
So saying, she positioned herself over him and slowly eased onto him, taking him inside her inch by inch, loving the feel of the pressure and his heat deep within her. He wanted to move, but she would not let him. Instead, she raised herself until he was almost out of her, and then took him again with a single downwards stroke, over and over again, her head flung back and her breasts offered to him; an offer he seized with open mouth and hands. With each movement of her body, the tension built within her and she could not hold back from telling him how he was making her feel. He kissed her over and over again, driven to a frenzy, watching her drive towards the point of no return, whispering in her ear the things he wanted to do with her, which served only to heighten her excitement. He told her what he wanted; her. Then, suddenly, he moved and pushed her onto the sofa under him, still intimately joined, his arms holding her against him, pressing her hips against him with his hands.
"My turn now." His words were hoarse with longing.
She reached up to kiss him, desperate for him to make her his in every way possible. He thrust into her over and over again, his body unable to hold back for another moment, causing her to lose control. She screamed his name out loud as she tried to pull him even deeper into her, her only reality his body moving inside her as she fell over the rim of the world. He poured himself into this precious vessel beneath him, treasuring every cry, every pulse of her body on his, every grip of her hands on him, and every word of love she uttered.
"Grace, I'll never leave you, I'm home at last." And she knew it to be true.