Glad you enjoyed the first bit. Hope it will continue to please. I make no pretense that this is any way shape or form like a Spooks episode. Just a little interlude.
Disclaimer: Don't own them or anything from them. Writing purely for pleasure.
Any response that he would have made was cut off by the shock of her cheek pressed to his and the brush of her breath against his ear as she whispered to him, "Harry, please, if you value me at all, your name is James. We've been together for a few years. You're in the diplomatic service and you're returning from a trip to the continent. Please. I promise you that I'll explain later, and I'll do whatever you ask if you'll just do this one thing for me."
His head reeled for a moment with this information and the desperation in her voice. Then his instincts took over. Was she in trouble? This performance was for someone. Was someone holding her hostage? A terrorist? Someone with a personal vendetta against her? If that was the case, surely they wouldn't have let her leave the house. Unless of course they had a weapon trained on her at this moment. He swung her in his arms as though he was overjoyed to see her and strategically set her down so that his body was between the house and her. Perhaps any bullet would be slowed enough by his bulk to minimize harm to her. While his mind ran through these scenarios and various plans of escape, he went along with the information that she'd given him.
"Mmmm. Business finished early and I wanted to surprise you with the rest of the weekend in bed," he said, leaning forward to brush his lips over her forehead and then down her cheek before he whispered in her ear, "Quickly now. How many are here and where? Any weapons?"
She stuttered, and he could feel her tensing, "No, no, no, it's nothing like that. There's no physical risk just my…"
She was cut off by a woman's voice calling from the doorway, "Ruth, dear, are you going to stay out there all day? Bring him inside. I'm dying to meet him."
His analyst was situated so that only he could see the way that her face fell and then the determined resignation that came over her features. Her eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he assured her with a quick nod that he would go along, for now at least.
"Mother, this is James," she said, releasing her hold on his shoulders and turning him gently to face the doorway, her hand trailing down his arm to grasp his.
"James, this is my mother. Since you were gone, she popped up for a quick visit today."
The woman who was standing on the front step and watching him with wary eyes said quickly, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you James, and you're just in time to share our tea. I've heard so much about Ruth's man-friend."
Ruth's grip tightened on his and somehow he felt this might be one of the most difficult assignments of his life even if it did give him the tiniest of thrills to be described as his analyst's man-friend.
Harry stepped forward, keeping his grip on Ruth's hand and holding out his other hand to her mother, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Bickley. I've heard so much about you." Which was a complete and utter lie, but he had read the bare bones of Ruth's personal file so he thought he could manage.
Ruth's mother shook his hand warmly, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes which were watching him with almost a hostile glint.
He sighed when she turned around and reached up to loosen his tie and top button. Business was over, but he doubted that there would be much pleasure in this afternoon.
When they entered the house, he noticed that there was an empty hook by the door right beside Ruth's coat as though it was purposely left free. His hook then. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it there before turning back again to Ruth and her mother.
They all entered the lounge. Ruth sat down in the lone chair and her mother on the sofa. That left him with a difficult choice. Next to the interrogator? Or perhaps he should insist Ruth stand so that she could sit in his lap. No. Being flippant, even just mentally, wasn't going to help in this situation. Instead, he settled for sitting on the arm of the chair and draping his arm behind Ruth, hand on her shoulder and tracing her collarbone with his thumb. If he was going to play the man-friend, then he would do it right. After only the barest hesitation, her hand came to rest on his knee with her arm lying along his thigh, and he found that he enjoyed the warmth there.
The discussion began with pleasantries and questions about his trip, to Amsterdam apparently. At least Ruth had sent him somewhere moderately interesting and that he could discuss with ease. He was able to deflect most of the questions about his work politely by invoking state secrets and a thank you very much for not pressing.
As good British citizens they of course had to discuss the weather, and they were all in agreement that while it had been a wet spring there was hope for a brighter summer and anyway they could all remember a spring a few years back when they were sure they'd seen Noah building a new ark.
With surprising speed, the conversation turned to a family event that was coming up; some cousin or other was having a birthday or graduation or something. He probably could have followed the conversation a little better if Ruth's hand had not drifted to the inside of his knee and her index finger was not drawing tiny patterns on his thigh. As it was, he was having some difficulty remembering exactly why he had thought it would be a bad idea to scoop her into his lap. Ruth was being evasive about attending the family event, but her mother was being doggedly persistent. Ruth was smiling in that way she had of lifting the corners of her mouth while her eyes said that she was anything but happy, and her shoulder was growing progressively tense under his palm.
Ruth was saying in a strained voice, "I can't make any promises Mother. James may have to be out of town that week. I've explained this before, and I don't know that I feel comfortable…"
"I think we could manage, dear. I'm sure I could find some way to be here," his words were out almost before he thought. Almost but not quite. Spooks don't live for very long if they speak without thinking.
Ruth turned to look at him in surprise and just a hint of anger. The glares her mother had been sending his way melted and her smile warmed.
"There. You see Ruth," she said with a triumphant glance at her daughter whose hand had tightened painfully on his knee, "Sometimes you just need to ask."
"Yes, I do see," she replied in a tight voice, "Would anyone like tea? Or something else? Did they feed you on the plane James?"
She stood while he was still stuttering out his answer that he hadn't been fed, and he would very much like something else. Her mother shot him a sympathetic glance.
"Perhaps you should follow her," she nodded at Ruth's retreating back.
"I'm afraid that I should," he said, "I seem to have stuck my foot in it."
Her mother leaned toward him conspiratorially, "Between you and I, she's never been very fond of this particular cousin. I suspect she was only using you as an excuse."
"Ahh. Thank you," he leaned toward her and winked. She blushed almost as prettily as Ruth before he excused himself to go to the kitchen. Good. He had made a connection with her. It would be much easier to continue this ruse.
Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.