After the back door closes behind Joe, the house is silent. Stirling nibbles at her toast and biscuits. Her stomach is feeling much better.

Setting the tray aside, she slowly puts her legs over the side of the bed. After a few minutes, she decides to risk standing up. Her stomach remains stable.

Thank god! she thinks, walking into the bathroom and removing her dressing gown. She has a shower and a hair wash, taking extra time brushing her teeth in an attempt to remove the bitter bile taste in her throat.

It takes her a little longer than usual to pick out clothes. None of her fitted blouses will button up across the chest and her tailored trousers are becoming tight in the waist.

Crikey! she thinks, pulling on a pair of stretchy black leggings. I'm going to need a whole new wardrobe.

On top, she decides to wear an oversized red sweater. She's less than impressed as she checks the ensemble in the wardrobe mirror.

I'm only about three months pregnant and I already look bloated, she thinks, trying to smooth the sweater flat over her small belly.

"You look brilliant," says Joe, startling Stirling. He stands in the bedroom doorway wearing civilian clothes, watching her assess her reflection.

"I look – bigger," she says with a sigh. "None of my bespoke clothes fit me properly anymore."

Joe walks over and stands beside her, sliding his hand up under her sweater and cupping her belly, skin on skin.

"You look beautiful; so very, very beautiful."

He kisses her tenderly and playfully pulls a tendril of her hair.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Almost," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of high boots. She brushes back her hair and ties it in a ponytail.

"All set," she says with a smile.

"Perfect."

As they walk out the front door, Joe snags her heavy leather winter jacket from its peg.

"You're going to need this," he says, helping her put it on. "We need to take the Triumph."

Stirling gives him a look but says nothing.

The bike sits parked on the terrace just outside the door, Joe's leather jacket lying across the seat. He slips it on, pulls on his helmet and goggles and leather gloves. Stirling does the same before climbing on behind him.

With a kick and a roar, the bike starts and they are soon cruising out of Portwenn on their way to only Joe knows where.

The late November wind has a bite to it and Stirling lays her right cheek against Joe's back, trying to protect her face from the cold. She wraps her arms tighter around his waist. The old leather smell from her father's jacket is comforting and she closes her eyes, relaxing into Joe's back.

She still feels twinges of guilt. She really should be back at the surgery seeing patients rather than motoring around northern Cornwall with Joe. And who is covering his job?

Stirling knows she is being ridiculous. She can't work all the time.

Just relax, she thinks, and settles in to enjoy the ride.

They have been travelling back roads since leaving Portwenn but soon they're cruising down even narrower secondary roads. They cross the A39, appearing to be going to Bodmin Moor. With the sun shining down, they ride through the little town of St. Tudy. Stirling remembers visiting a patient here once. And then they are back into farm country, speckled with sections of woodland. They cross the River Camel and enter another small village, Blisland. They are almost through the town when Joe slows and turns onto a side street. They stop beside an old Norman church and cemetery.

"So this is the famous Blisland," says Stirling, unbuckling her helmet and climbing off the back of the bike. They are only about 30 minutes out of Portwenn, not a long ride by her standards. "I've never been here."

"It pretty much feels like the middle of nowhere," says Joe, pulling up his goggles and taking off his helmet. "But we're only about five miles from Bodmin."

Stirling circles around, checking out the scenery.

"Nice church," she says. "This is the one?"

Joe nods.

"The Church of St. Protus and St. Hyacinth," she reads from a sign by the front gate. She follows a paved path through a black wrought iron gate into the churchyard and cemetery.

"I spent a lot of time around here when I was a child," he explains, following behind her.

Stirling turns and looks at him questioningly.

"You did?"

"My Gramps and Gran lived here, in the village. Sam and I would spend school hols with them. We used to play in this churchyard after dark. Sam would pretend he was a haunt come to kill me. I would have the screaming abdabs every night for weeks."

"That's horrible!" says Stirling, walking back to stand by him. "Bloody bugger!"

Joe laughs.

"It was all meant in fun. We had some great times here. I guess that's why I wanted this place to be where we get married."

She smiles, kissing him.

Arms around one another, they walk slowly along the path around the church.

"I also wanted to let you know I've booked a place for the reception," Joe says. "There's a holiday farm not far out of Blisland that has a barn available for parties. They will decorate it for the reception and the local pub is catering and supplying the drinks."

"Sounds perfect," she says.

They continue walking around the churchyard, ending up back at the Triumph.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Stirling says. "It's been so busy, I haven't had time to see it. The building, the grounds, they're beautiful."

Joe smiles and kisses her.

"We have a few other things we need to discuss and do," he says. "We need to decide where we want to have our honeymoon. And we have to visit a jeweller."

Stirling gasps.

"Your not suggesting we finally get – the engagement ring?"

He gives her a puzzled look.

"No, we need to pick out wedding rings," he says.

Her face falls in disappointment, making Joe laugh.

"I'm having you on. Of course we're going to get the engagement ring. And the wedding rings."

Stirling laughs, feeling relieved.

"But first – are you hungry?" he asks.

"Famished!"

They stop to eat at a small roadside pub just outside Bodmin along the Truro Road.

"So what do you have in mind for our honeymoon?" Stirling asks, digging into her shepherd's pie like a starving dog.

Joe watches her for a moment, smiling.

"Hungry?"

She scowls at him.

"I spent the early morning retching, managing to keep down only a few digestives and some toast. This is the most substantive meal I've had so far today. Please don't tease me."

"I'm not. I just think maybe you should slow down a little before you lose this meal as well."

He has a point, she thinks, and starts to chew slower.

"For our first night, I've booked us into a guest house not far out of Bodmin, in Lanivet," he explains. "We're going to ride right by it today on our way to Truro. It's called St. Benet's Abbey."

Stirling gives Joe a mischievous look.

"I'm not sure how I feel about spending my wedding night in an abbey," she says, giggling. "It sounds kind of naughty. We might have to be on our best behaviour."

"Not bloody well likely."

They laugh.

"For the rest of the honeymoon, we'll need to decide where to go," says Joe. "January in Cornwall isn't exactly swimming trunks weather."

"But I like the fact that it isn't," says Stirling, playing with her pie. "There's something romantic about being snug in a big, warm bed while the wind howls outside. Or going for a walk along the beach or in the woods and then snuggling in front of the fire. Or soaking together in a big bathtub. I don't need sun and fun. I just need you."

"Cornwall it is," says Joe with a smile. "Where?"

"Penzance," says Stirling firmly. "We can pretend that you're a pirate and I'm a damsel, the captain's daughter from a passing schooner. You have kidnapped me to ravage and make your own."

"This is sounding like quite the honeymoon," says Joe with a gleam in his eye.

Stirling laughs.

"You'll have to bring your handcuffs," she whispers.

Joe looks up and glances around the room.

"I wonder if they rent rooms in this pub," he says. "I think we might need one soon."

Stirling coughs on a mouthful of pie and takes a quick gulp of water.

"I think we better leave before things get out of hand," she says, using a serviette to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. "Where to next?"

"Truro," says Joe, leaving money on the table to cover the bill. "We need to see a jeweller about some rings."

About 40 minutes later, they ride into the downtown centre of the city and park along Lemon Street.

"I like the look of this one," says Stirling, referring to the jewellery store across the street. "It says it's family run."

They walk hand-in-hand through the door and are immediately greeted by a plump middle-aged woman with twinkling eyes.

"You two are in the market for an engagement ring," she says with assurance. "And, of course, wedding rings. I can always pick out the couples that are in love. They glow. And you two are blinding me."

Stirling smiles, blushing.

They spend more than two hours in the jewellers but if feels like mere minutes. They are escorted to a sitting room area and the rings are brought to them to examine and try on. The wedding rings are easy to choose as they both want something simple and traditional. But the engagement ring proves far more difficult.

"You can't afford a ring like this," says Stirling, a huge diamond sparkling on her finger.

"I want you to have the best," Joe says, examining an even more ostentatious ring.

"I'm already getting the best," she says, kissing him on the cheek as she removes the huge rock and picks up a ring with a diamond one-quarter the size. "This one's pretty."

"It looks like the kind of ring some small town police sergeant would buy his missus."

"You are a small town police sergeant," says Stirling with a sigh of exasperation.

"Exactly! You deserve something better than that."

"This is silly. I just want you! I don't need some gigantic, fancy, glittery rock."

They keep the sales lady busy, bringing out tray after tray of different styles of rings. Stirling begins to despair they'll ever find something they both can agree on.

"I have another tray of rings to show you," the sales lady explains. "These are antiques, trade-ins if you will. Some people inherit a ring and don't want it so they cash it in. I'll get it for you."

She takes away the current sparkling tray of diamonds and returns with a motley collection of rings incorporating diamonds or other gems. Some are ridiculously large, some are miniscule while others are just plain tacky. But Stirling sees one she likes – a gold band with a ruby in the centre and three diamonds on each side. She slips it on her finger. Perfect fit.

"That's nice," says Joe.

"Nice? It's perfect," says Stirling, admiring the sparking gems from a distance.

"Your fiancee has impeccable taste," the sales lady says to Joe with a smile. "That's one of our treasures."

Stirling's heart sinks.

It's going to be out of our price range, she thinks.

Her heart sinks even lower when she sees the appraisal value. The ruby alone is out of their league.

"Oh well," she sighs, removing the ring and returning it to the display tray.

"I'll make you a deal," the sales lady says to Joe. "I like you. You have a kind face. And I can tell you're crazy in love with your girl and she's crazy in love with you. You can have it for half-price."

Stirling is gobsmacked.

Joe looks at the lady suspiciously.

"This hasn't been pinched, has it?" he asks, holding up the ring. "You're not trying to sell me stolen property, are you?"

"Joe!" Stirling says, mortified. She turns to the sales lady. "I apologize. He's a police sergeant and sometimes he takes his job a bit too seriously."

"You don't have to apologize for me," he says angrily, turning to Stirling. "It's a fair question."

The sales lady looks a bit peeved but she tries to remain pleasant.

"This particular ring came from a local estate," she explains. "It has only had one owner before coming to us, thankfully a rather well-organized owner who just happens to have kept the original bill of sale. So this piece of jewellery comes with a provenance."

"That's perfect," says a mollified Joe, wondering what a provenance is. "We'll take it."

He doesn't have to look at Stirling to know this is the right choice. He saw the look in her eyes when she put that ring back. This is the one.

It's mid-afternoon when they finally leave the jewellery store, Joe carrying the engagement ring in a box in his pocket. It's been arranged that the wedding rings will be sized and delivered to the station in a few weeks time.

"Where to now?" asks Stirling, holding Joe's hand.

He looks at her with a gleam in his eye and glances at his watch.

"Well, it's been about 10 or 12 hours since I last had my way with you," he says. "I'm thinking a hotel and room service."

Stirling laughs.

"Is that all you think about?" she asks with mock severity, giving him a playful push.

He laughs, wrapping her in his arms and giving her a kiss.

"We can do anything you want: fancy restaurant, dancing, a movie, whatever."

Stirling makes a face like she's thinking really, really hard.

"I think some scrummy room service and a marathon of shagging sounds like just the thing."

Joe kisses her again with passion.

"Spoken like the woman who possesses my heart," he whispers.

They climb on the Triumph and about 15 minutes later pull up to the main entrance of The Alverton. The valet takes one look at the bike and starts to grin like a schoolboy.

"Nice bike!" he enthuses.

Stirling looks uncertain.

"Maybe I should park it," she says to Joe, pausing as she unbuckles her helmet.

"I'll park it," he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You wait in the reception area. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The valet looks gutted.

Stirling pulls off her helmet and walks through the main entrance to the hotel. She smiles as she remembers the last time the two of them had been here. She decides the hotel room will be her treat and walks up to the reception desk. A few minutes later, she has a pair of key cards and directions to their suite.

She turns to find Joe come through the doors, glancing around for her. She walks up to him, fanning the key cards by her face like she's feeling hot.

"Paradise awaits, lover boy," she says in a seductive voice.

Joe laughs.

"You've already checked us in?"

"Into a suite. I couldn't wait any longer. I need to get you naked and wet in the tub," she whispers in his ear, squeezing his bottom daringly in the crowded reception area.

"Let's go," he says, grabbing her hand and yanking her along behind him.

"The main lift is on the right. We're going to five, room 503."

Their car is empty except for them. As the door closes, Joe seizes Stirling and pulls her to him, kissing her hard. He pushes her against the back wall of the lift as she wraps her arms around his waist, grabbing his bum and squeezing. He unsnaps her jacket and his right hand moves under her sweater, cupping her left breast.

"Oooohhhh," she gasps, her head banging against the wall.

He pauses, looking at her with concern.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"I told you last night," she pants. "They're very, very sensitive due to my current condition. Ohhh!" she adds as his hand just lightly brushes against her nipple, which he can feel erect through her bra.

"This is going to be fun," he whispers, kissing her neck.

The lift doors open with a ding behind them. Joe looks over his shoulder to check the floor number.

"This is five," he says, removing Stirling's hands from his bottom and escorting her past a small group of people who are waiting for the lift. She can feel their eyes on her back as she and Joe walk rapidly down the hall in search of 503. They don't have far to go, which is a good thing because she can feel the passion building in her. It's like her breasts have a direct line to the pleasure centre in her brain.

Joe is trying to get one of the key cards to work but is having trouble. She feels her frustration building. She takes the card from him and rubs it against her sweater, then inserts it in the door.

"Green light means go," she says, rubbing her hand against the front of his trousers.

They both rush through the door. Joe shuts and locks it, turning to find Stirling has already dropped her helmet, removed her jacket and pulled off her boots and socks. She pulls her sweater over her head and throws it to the side. She stands there, breathing hard, the tops of her breasts spilling out over her black bra.

"Crikey," whispers Joe, as he quickly removes his jacket and shoes, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

They are larger, he thinks, unable to move his gaze from them. Why haven't I notice this until now?

Stirling's breasts hadn't exactly been small before but now …

Wow!

She's shimmied out of her black tights and stands there in a black matching underwear set, looking incredibly sexy.

Joe's soon down to his boxers, yanking off his socks and throwing them over his shoulder.

He walks slowly toward her, touching her shoulders gently and pushing her bra straps off each side. Gravity does the rest. He reaches behind her and undoes the strap, the bra falling to the floor.

"That must feel better," he whispers, kissing along her neck and shoulder.

She nods her head, groaning softly as her nipples brush against his chest.

"How are we going to handle this?" he asks her, backing away slightly. "Is it going to hurt you if I touch them?"

"No," she whispers, shaking her head vehemently. "Touching them just makes me incredibly aroused."

"Just?" he says with raised eyebrows.

He moves forward again and kisses her, hard and long, nipping her tongue and lips. She meets him nip for nip, moaning her passion as his hands come up to touch her breasts ever so gently.

"What do you want to do first?" he asks her. "A bath? Or fool around?"

"Y-yes," she stutters, nodding her head enthusiastically.

He pulls her into the enormous washroom, sitting her on the side of the tub as he starts the water and plugs the drain. He looks through the bottles and lotions until he finds the bath soap and adds a healthy dollop to the water. Once the water temperature is right, he helps her step out of her panties and into the warm soapy water. He follows close behind, lying behind her, turning her toward him, bringing her into his embrace, kissing her, touching her, rubbing her, feeling her.

"Oh god," she moans, her familiar refrain.

Joe smiles and shuts the water off with a push from his toe. He closes his eyes and sighs as Stirling's legs straddle his torso.


A few hours later, they lie together on a soft rug before the suite's gas fireplace, watching the flames. Joe lies behind Stirling, his left arm draped over her side, his hand on her belly. Their heads are both propped up on pillows, a thin sheet covering them from the waist down.

Various plates and dishes, holding the remains of dinner, lie scattered around them.

Joe brushes Stirling's hair off her shoulder and kisses her neck.

"Happy?" he asks.

"Very. You?"

"Definitely."

He reaches behind him and his fingers land on his trousers, which he had thrown to the side when they first entered the room. He digs in the pockets and finds the ring box.

"I think it's time you received your reward," he says with a smile. "You've earned it."

He reaches over her body and places the ring box before her on the rug.

"I've earned it, have I?" she asks with a laugh, turning to face him. "Is that what I've been doing for the past few hours, earning my engagement ring?"

She slaps his bare bum playfully.

Joe sits up and opens the box, carefully removing the ruby and diamond ring. He takes Stirling's left hand and gently puts the ring on her finger. He kisses her hand and watches the gems sparkle in the firelight.

"Perfect," he says.

Stirling rolls onto her back, holding her hand up in the flickering light to admire the ring.

"It is perfect, isn't it?"

"Just like you," says Joe, kissing her. He bends down further and kisses her belly. "And you."

The pair snuggle together, enjoying the warmth and one another.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" he asks.

Stirling sighs.

"I have to buy a few work clothes," she says. "To accommodate my growing breasts and stomach. I'm not looking forward to it."

She looks down at her belly.

"People are going to start noticing. And then the bomb is going to drop. The Chief will not be pleased."

"Don't worry about the Doc," says Joe, hugging her close.

"I'll have to find a doctor to cover for me after the baby comes," she says. "Probably for a few months."

"A few months?" says Joe, outraged. "You're going to leave our baby and go back to work after only a few months? Who'll take care of the baby?"

"We'll sort it all out when we need to," she says, patting his hip.

Joe sits up.

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable about this."

"Joe, I have to go back to work. The Chief needs the help, the village needs a GP. And babies are expensive."

"Are you suggesting I can't take care of my family?" he asks, somewhat hurt.

"Of course not. But with me working, it will make things easier financially. I love my job, Joe. You know that. I can't just stop being a doctor to become a stay-at-home mum. It's just not me. And I know you realize that."

"I do but it doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"A marriage is a partnership, Joe," Stirling says. "I'm not going to give up my career because of some antiquated gender stereotype. Please don't go all macho police sergeant on me now."

He laughs and kisses her gently.

"I'm sorry. For a minute there, I went caveman."

"It will all work out," Stirling says confidently. "You'll see."


The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast in bed with minimal nausea, Joe and Stirling go in search of a maternity wear store. The sales lady tries her best but Stirling hates every minute of the experience. One good outcome is she finally finds some bras that fit her comfortably and can be used to accommodate breastfeeding after the baby arrives. It's an expensive outing and Stirling cringes as she hands over her credit card.

And so the baby expenses begin.

Somehow, they manage to pack the purchases on the Triumph.

"It's not exactly built for shopping sprees," she says, laughing.

"It's not built for pregnant women either."

Stirling stops laughing.

"What are you suggesting?"

"We're going to have to look into getting you a new vehicle for when you get further along. You can't ride a Triumph around when your six or seven months pregnant."

"Why not?"

"Stirling, you're not serious, are you? It's a motorcycle. Pregnant women don't typically ride motorcycles around northern Cornwall."

"I've been driving this motorcycle since I was 12 years old," she says, an edge creeping into her voice. "I know it inside, outside, backwards, forwards, top and bottom. I have never fell off it, dropped it, crashed it or been crashed into. And I see no reason why I cannot continue to drive it, even if I am nine months pregnant, fully dilated and about to start pushing!"

Joe knows when to back off and this is one of those moments.

"How about we take your doctor's advice on this one. Who is your doctor?"

"I haven't been to one yet. I guess I'll ask the Chief when I tell him the news."

Suddenly, Joe feels better. If there's someone who will see reason, it's the Doc.

"Let's go home," says Joe, putting on his helmet. Stirling buckles hers on and climbs behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Once again, she burrows her nose deep into her father's old leather coat and lays her cheek against Joe's back.

It's a long, cold drive back to Portwenn and Stirling is relieved when Joe finally parks the Triumph in front of the surgery. Her joints are stiff and her bladder full as she climbs off, digging madly for her keys so she can get to the washroom.

"I need the loo," she calls after unlocking the front door, scampering toward the waiting room toilet.

Joe smiles as he brings in the shopping bags, leaving them by the bottom of the staircase.

"I'm heading home," he says, standing outside the washroom door. "There's a few things I need to see to. I'll be back later tonight. Around 6:30?"

The toilet flushes followed by the tap in the washbasin. The door opens and Stirling pops out, giving Joe a quick kiss.

"I'll see you then. Thank you for the lovely weekend."

"Anything for the little pregnant missus," he says with a smile.

"Joe," she says laughing, grabbing his face between her hands and looking him in the eyes. "I love you but don't ever call me that again."