Chapter 48

Martin closed the door behind him and made his way to the en-suite, where he switched on the light to begin his evening ablutions. He leaned over the sink and stared into the mirror. The damage to his cheek and eye was as bad as he had feared. It was unlikely that the bruising would fade before rounds tomorrow evening. Just as bad, they had arranged to meet Aunt Ruth for brunch tomorrow morning. After their row this evening, he would undoubtedly be putting Louisa on a train back to Cornwall in the morning; he would have to explain it all to Aunt Ruth eventually. One didn't cancel an engagement with Aunt Ruth without an acceptable explanation.

"Bugger it all" he thought as he began to compose in his mind the complications likely to arise from the evening's row. He chased all thoughts from his mind as he began to brush his teeth and wash his face. As he walked to the wardrobe to hang up his clothes, he thought he heard the door to the guest room close. Louisa ... what was he going to do? He had been happy ... really happy perhaps for the first time in his life, or at least hopeful. Was it possible that she had participated in those deviant activities when she was married to that hideous scoundrel? Or was it as she had said, that she and he had done more things in the bedroom than she had done before. It was true that he had introduced a few different positions in their lovemaking, nothing particularly unusual; after all, he didn't want her to think that their sex life would devolve into a tedious routine. But she seemed more than willing to go along with his suggestions, although as he thought back on it she had expressed surprise once or twice when he had maneuvered her in a way she hadn't expected.

He felt drained, emotionally spent by the events of this evening ... and confused. They really needed to talk about what happened and his reaction. God ... talking about emotions. Even recognising his emotions for what they were was difficult; how could he talk about them with her. He wasn't even sure why he had reacted the way he had. Well ... yes he did know; he remembered how Edith always wanted to engage in "sexual experimentation" when they were together, activities that frequently made him uncomfortable. It wasn't until later, after she had left him, preferring her career over marriage to him, that he discovered that many of those "experiments" were considered outside the norm, even though he knew the "party line" stated that nothing was aberrant as long as all parties involved were adults and consenting. Even so, he could still hear Edith's wheedling, "Come on Ellingham, don't be shy; it'll be exciting." He always gave in eventually, but it often made him feel unclean. He didn't want to think of Louisa as being the same kind of woman as Edith.

He really should go to her and let her know that he wasn't himself this evening and let her know he wanted to try to work things out in the morning. But she had already retired. Best to let her sleep; they both needed their rest. He switched the light off and settled into a restless sleep.

After Martin had curtly bid her "good night", Louisa stood staring at his closed door uncertain whether to follow him or leave him be. He had said he was tired, and truth be told he looked exhausted, as was she. Perhaps it would be best if they both took some time to think over what had happened, or at least get some rest so they could speak to each other civilly. She busied herself clearing up the tea cups and Martin's ice pack, and made sure there was plenty of ice if he needed it later tonight or in the morning. She picked up her shoes which were still lying near the door and placed them in her wardrobe; those three inch heels were uncomfortable and she always tossed them off as soon as she got home, but she couldn't admit that to Martin. He had warned her of their unsuitability at the start of the evening and she didn't want to admit to his face that he might be right. She thought she might pack her bag to prepare to return to Portwenn in the morning, but decided to prepare for bed instead and she headed into the guest room and closed the door, quickly cleaned the makeup from her face, brushed her teeth and crawled under the previously unused bedding hoping to get some rest.

As the night wore on, she found herself unable to sleep even though she was spent from the turn the evening had taken. Over and over her mind examined every aspect of what had happened, Martin's accusations and his hateful words. Michael had warned her he would turn on her. The gossips in the ladies' room that evening had described his temper and how vile he could be to staff at hospital, and now she had experienced it herself. But it wasn't his nasty words or the tone of his voice that really had upset her. It was the fact that he believed Dennis and hadn't even considered her denial. How could he believe someone he had just met and not her? That was where the hurt lay.

He knew she had been married before; she knew he had been engaged. This was the twenty-first century; no one who made it out of their teens was expected to be pure as the driven snow. She really didn't think that was it. It had to be a combination of Dennis' occupation and his accusation that they had engaged in some kind of deviant sexual practice. Or was there more to it? She had no idea, but she wasn't going to let him end it without more explanation.

End it ... was this the end of her relationship with Martin? She really had grown to love him, to love his quiet steadiness, what she thought was his reliability. She had found herself daydreaming about married life with him, having children, spending time in London with long holidays in Cornwall, the children playing on the farm and exploring the beaches and rock pools. But now it all looked hopeless.

If only they could have slept in the same bed, perhaps they could have found solace in each other's presence. But he forcefully closed the door, a clear signal for her to stay out. Crying into her pillow, feeling bereft, she finally slipped into a fitful sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she awoke and could hear him crying out "Noooo ...nooooo". Then a moaning sound and again "noooo, noooo, not again." She lay there wondering if she should check on him or if he would resent her interference. When after a few more minutes, she heard him moaning again, she got up and went to his door. Opening it slightly, she peeked in and whispered, "Martin, are you alright? Can I help?"

He was holding his pillow over his face, rocking back and forth. When he heard her voice, he looked up, and murmured hopefully, "Louisa?"

"Yes. I heard you cry out and was worried."

Again he said, "Louisa? Is that you?"

She walked over to the bed, leaned over and stroked his arm, "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"I woke up and you weren't here, and I thought ... I thought..." he sounded confused.

"I didn't think you wanted me in here when you shut the door behind you. I was in the guest room." She explained gently, and then curious, she asked. "What did you think?"

He was not fully awake when she entered the room, but was now completely conscious and alert and remembered how the evening ended. The image of Louisa and Dennis that had followed him from the lounge earlier reappeared in his mind and with it the details of their conversation. If only he could erase that image, if only they could go back to what they had had before that horrible vindictive little man had invaded their happiness. If only he hadn't lost his temper. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "I don't know. I wasn't really awake."

"But you're okay now? Should I go back to bed?"

"No. I mean yes. But not there ... stay here." When he awoke and she wasn't there, he had thought that the past seven months had been another dream, that she wasn't real. He didn't want that shock again; he wanted her close to reassure himself that she was real and not a dream. He realised as soon as he saw her leaning over him that his reaction to the accusations her ex had made was excessive and unkind at best.

She hesitated, not because she didn't want to be with him, but because she didn't want him to think that he could shut her out and that she would just be waiting for him to call her back. He needed to know how much it hurt her. She pulled a few steps away from the bed. "I don't know if I can right now. You said some very nasty and hurtful things to me tonight. You shut me out and I thought you didn't want me anymore. I was, am still, very hurt, and to be honest I'm not sure if I can ever be with you if you are going to treat me that way."

"Oh God" he thought, "I suppose it was inevitable I would ruin it." He hung his head "Please Louisa. I just want you close."

"You said you couldn't stay with me knowing I had been with him."

"Yes ... I mean no. Can you just come to bed and we can sort this in the morning?" He reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the bed. She resisted slightly but then he wrapped his arms around her waist and she placed her hands on his shoulders as he lay down rolling her on top of him. She pushed up with her arms to look in his face, but he buried his head in her neck and hugged her, gently caressing her back working his way down to her bum. He raised his head and searched out her mouth with his lips, kissing her tenderly. She could feel him becoming aroused, and smiling to herself, she pushed against him again and said, "Martin, I'll stay, but I'm not having sex with you until we resolve what happened between us tonight. I can't just ignore your harsh words and accusations without some kind of apology and assurance that you will never speak to me that way again."

He moved his hands from her bottom to lightly hold her face, then kissed her again, gently. "Right."

She rolled off of him, lying on her back next to but not touching him. She reached out for his hand, whispering, "in the morning"

He rolled onto his side and placed his other hand over hers and murmured back, "Yes".