Chapter 51

This is the first of three Demparry chapters - although knowing how I drag things out, it could finish up as more.

Hope you enjoy!


Really, really not a good idea, said Harry to herself as she checked her appearance in the wardrobe mirror.

It had never even crossed her mind until she began packing to come to Dirran that she didn't actually possess a one piece swimsuit. She rarely used a swimming pool in this country and when holidaying abroad, a bikini was the norm, hence the lack of 'Dempsey appropriate' swimwear now.

This wasn't her skimpiest bikini by a long chalk – it covered her modesty quite well, unlike the triangle cup string bikinis she wore in hotter climes but this blue and white number, although less revealing, had extremely high cut briefs and underwiring to the cups that accentuated her cleavage wonderfully. It was just that she didn't want him to notice how wonderfully – did she?

There was no sense in putting temptation in his way when it quite obviously wasn't going to lead anywhere. There wasn't going to be any kind of a romantic relationship between them as Dempsey's gentle let down on the beach had revealed and flaunting her body at him seemed either very cruel or very desperate.

Folded neatly at the bottom of her suitcase was a slightly faded blue muslin sarong she had purchased off a market stall whilst on holiday in Morocco several years ago when she had been just nineteen. It had seen better days but was serviceable and she was loathe to part with it. Now, as she wrapped it around herself and tucked it in like a bath towel, she was glad she had hung onto it.

"You ready to hit the beach?" Dempsey called from downstairs.

He had taken his swim trunks out of his case and changed in the bathroom so was now raring to go.

"Just coming."

Harry took a final, critical appraisal of herself in the mirror before going down to join him.


Dempsey had his towel slung over his left shoulder and two plastic bottles in his left hand.

"There's another couple of towels in the bedroom by the way," she said slowly, distracted by the condition of his face. "Thought they were another bona fide item to pop onto the expense account."

"I like your thinkin'," he replied, pushing aside the jangly beaded curtain to the kitchen. "I'm gonna try for a week long visit to a health spa when we get back. You think Spikings'll wear it?"

"He ought to. Have you taken any painkillers? I've got some in my bag."

"I'm fine."

Actually, he wasn't fine. He was getting by on adrenaline at the moment but once he was calmed down and relaxed, he had an idea he could be in for some aggravation.

"You're hardly that," Harry scolded. "In fact, you're very far from it."

"Looks worse than it is."

Harry sighed as she watched him awkwardly unlock the back door and stand back to let her pass.

"Why can't you just admit you're in pain? I won't think any the less of you for it, you know."

"Would that even be possible?"

"You see?" cried Harry. "Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself."

They were walking down the veranda steps now, side by side.

"D'you tell all the guys you know what they should and shouldn't be feelin'?" Dempsey asked sarcastically.

"To be honest, Dempsey, I don't think I actually know anybody else who's quite as stubborn as you."

"Ditto!"

They were walking single file down the garden path, Dempsey in front and Harry could see the shape his right shoulder was in. The bruising was substantial and she imagined he must be hurting a lot.

They passed through the little picket gate and continued on down the rough, sandy bank, Dempsey veering across to the rocks where there was proper sand rather than the pebbles of the main beach area.

He flung his towel over a side of the rock he had stopped at and turned to Harry.

"Okay, gimme a couple aspirin or somethin' tonight – if it'll make you feel better."

They were the first words either of them had spoken since they had left the garden.

"No, no, don't worry about it. My concern over your welfare has completely cleared up now," Harry said briskly. "I feel as right as rain again."

Dempsey sighed. "Okaaay. I'm sorry, you're probably right. Probably gonna hit me later I guess."

Laying her towel out on the sand, Harry sat, knees raised and her arms looped around them.

"Apology accepted," she said primly, her head tilted up to him.

Annoyingly, he couldn't read her expression because of the dark sunglasses she wore but he suspected there would be a spark of victory in those blue eyes. No matter, he was the real winner, wasn't he, out here on the beach with her dressed in what amounted to little more than her underwear underneath that wrap?

He dropped one of the two bottles he carried by Harry's feet.

"Sunscreen if you wan' it."

She thanked him but made no move towards it.

Oh, okay. He got it. He hadn't taken her painkillers so she was gonna fry without his sunscreen.

"I'm gonna go take a dip," he told her, waggling the bottle of body wash he still held.

Harry tipped her sunglasses up and squinted. "Seriously? You're going to take that into the sea with you?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Water's pretty clean. Probably cleaner than the stuff we have comin' outa the pipes back there." He jerked the bottle back towards the cottage.

She laughed and Dempsey wasn't sure if it was at him or with him.

"What, you expect me to take two bottles into the sea?" he grinned. "This stuff's two in one! I'm just gonna wash and go!"

"You're mad! You know that, don't you?"

"Sure. I've heard it off of you plenty times before but I figure it's just how you Brits see someone who don't fit the mould, ya know."

"Go on then. Off you go."

She waved him off, dismissing him with a flick of her fingertips.

So Dempsey made his way carefully down to the shoreline by keeping to the line of rocks where it was easier to walk on the pebble-free sandy areas rather than taking the direct route across the expanse of smooth, shiny grey stones that slipped and shifted so easily underfoot.

The second his toes touched the water he realised his mistake – it was freezing cold.

It hadn't crossed his mind that given the current blazing hot weather they'd been enjoying, the sea would be anything other than milk warm. But hell, this was England and he should've known that normal rules didn't apply.

Too late to back out now though. He wasn't gonna go traipsin' back to Harry, unwashed, to have her laugh at him wimping out over cold water. Man up, Dempsey!

With his teeth gritted, he strode in up to his knees. The contrast between the sun beating down upon his back and the choppy waters lapping around him was unbelievable. Jeezas but it was cold!

He leant down and trailed his right hand through the water. At least that felt good, the coolness seeming to cushion and soothe the swollen flesh. Scooping up handfuls, he threw it over himself vigorously, every muscle in his body tightening with the shock.

He walked a little further out, up to the hem of his trunks.

Man!

Okay, he could do this.

He found he was holding his breath, the icy cold water and the slippery pebbles underfoot causing his lungs to inflate drastically.

But he kind of wanted to laugh too. He wasn't just trying to save face here; if he let on how freakin' cold it was, he'd never even get her up off her towel.

Conscious that her eyes would be on him, he waded deeper, catching his breath with a barely audible gasp as the water crept higher until, at waist deep, it felt as though he'd never have the capability to make babies ever again.

With a glance towards the rocks, he saw Harry was leaning back on her hands, the shades angled in his direction.

Just do it!

He took a careful stride forward and was glad of his caution when he realised that the seabed dropped down suddenly. It shelved away by several inches and stepping off, he was immersed completely.

All his senses seemed to freeze as the stone cold water hit him but he knew in a few seconds, he'd become acclimatized.

When he finally came back up for air, he felt quite invigorated.

Not so bad now.

Uncapping the bodywash, he squeezed a good amount into his left hand, wincing at the pain it caused to his right and then, tucking it into the waistband of his trunks, began to wash himself.

As he lathered up his hair, he snook a look up the beach again.

Was she watching him? Would the sight be doing anything for her like it would for him? Just the thought of watching Harry doing what he was doing was enough to heat the water around him up like a spa pool!

Cleaned up, his damaged hand didn't look quite so bad now but he was still struggling to get much movement out of it and it hurt like hell. If it was no better tomorrow, it might be a trip to the nearest hospital at some point.

Edging further out, Dempsey again ducked beneath the water to rinse off and it didn't seem anywhere near as cold this time.

When he came up the second time, he looked directly at Harry. She was leaning right back on her hands, one knee raised a little… and still wearing that damned wrap.

"You comin' in?" he called. "Feels terrific!"

"I'll bet it's cold," Harry called back.

"It's perfect! C'mmon, get yourself in here."

"Actually, I'm quite happy just soaking up the sun. It won't be out for much longer."

He couldn't lose this opportunity, damn it. It wasn't just the bikini thing, it was a chance to have some fun with her – real, honest to goodness, innocent fun. They could manage that together, couldn't they?

"It's the English seaside, Harry. Can't come all the way down here and not take a dip in the sea."

"Oh, I think I can," she called back, humourously.

"How 'bout a paddle?"

Harry hesitated. Since getting onto the beach, she had begun to have reservations about exposing her body. Stripping down to next to nothing was just too intimate in his presence, sending out the wrong signals. It was just the sort of situation they should be avoiding if they were going to stay professional.

But paddling was quite harmless, particularly wrapped in her sarong.

Dempsey noted the chink in her armor.

"An' ain't we s'pposed to be discussin' how things are hangin' with the case?" he pressed. "Can't do that from all the way over there."

Displaying a suitable reluctance in her body language, Harry stood.

"Just a paddle then," she confirmed.

Dempsey grinned, standing on the lip of the shelf now and bending his knees so that he was comfortably buoyant with the water at shoulder level.

But to his chagrin, she removed her sunglasses but not the wrap and walked down to the water's edge as she was.

"It's freezing, Dempsey!" she cried as the shallow little waves lapped hungrily at her toes.

"Nah, it's great once you're in."

"I'll take your word for it."

She stood with her hands on her hips, looking across at him as he slicked his hair back.

"How's the hand?" she asked.

"Better. So tell me what you scored at the hotel."

He kept his voice deliberately low.

Harry inclined her head. "The hotel?" she confirmed.

"Yeah. Anythin' that's gonna move things along?"

"I found a sheet with a list of addresses. Shops. All four of them antiques dealers. Three crossed out. It looked like a 'to do' list to me."

"Antiques dealers, ha? That ties in pretty well with what I got outa White."

Harry leaned forward, straining to hear. "Ties in with what?"

She took a step forward.

"With what I got from Inga's sidekick."

"A broken hand and a smashed shoulder, you mean?" she laughed.

"Yeah, yeah," he grinned. "Enough already! I keep tellin' ya, it ain't broke."

"So come on, Dempsey," she made a winding motion in the air, "what did you get?"

She was now up to her ankles, her eagerness to know and her inability to hear clearly drawing her beyond the water's edge.

"Peter Coates is dealing in art. We're talkin' real art – the good stuff. Originals."

Is he now? Originals as in dealing stolen antiquities, you mean? And Charlie Sachs was part of it all."

"Yep. Gotta be what White Papers was all about."

"White Papers?"

"Multiple briefcases, Harry. What're briefcases for?"

Harry frowned. "I can't hear you," she called over the piercing cries of a flock of seagulls passing overhead.

"We were right about the briefcases," said Dempsey, making no effort whatsoever to project his voice. "It was a smuggling gig."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, wading in up to her calves now.

"I know what you're trying to do, Dempsey," she accused loudly, only a few feet away from him, "but I'm not swimming. It's too bloody cold for that."

God, he was annoying… so why did she want to laugh?

She watched as he pushed himself backwards, treading water with his arms out at his sides.

"Ain't cold once you're in."

"So you've said but I beg to differ."

"But if I'm all the way out here and you're all the way over there, how're we going to discuss the case, Harry?" Dempsey asked with hammed up innocence.

"Why don't you just try speaking up, Dempsey?" she smirked.

"Be easier if we talked face to face."

"That being the case…" she crooked her finger at him.

Dempsey laughed and rolled languorously onto his side, swimming just a couple of strokes and then returned to treading water. "This is for the good of my health. I'm taking the waters!"

"The only thing you're taking is the…"

Both their heads swung upwards as a flash of scarlet appeared in the sky.

Harry found she was squinting against the sun and held her hand up as shield to watch the progress of a small microlite floatplane as it puttered across the sky from left to right, seemingly close enough for them to reach out and touch.

"I wouldn't fancy taking one of those out to sea," commented Harry.

Dempsey, who was also now standing with his hand shielding his eyes was actually only half concentrating on the microlite, his eyes drawn to Harry's profile.

"Gotta be safer than a banana boat though, ha?" he called back.

"You're probably right."

Slowly, she turned to follow the microlite's flight path, her back now to Dempsey.

It was just too good an opportunity to miss once the thought was inside his head.

Stealthily, he edged towards Harry, arcing around her to lessen the chance of being noticed.

Harry turned at the very moment he was upon her and shrieked loudly as Dempsey scooped her up off her feet.

"No! What're you doing?"

He was carting her back with him to the spot where he'd been treading water, lunging awkwardly over the pebbled shore as she struggled half-heartedly against him, protesting vehemently, laughing grudgingly.

"Dempsey! Dempsey, no!"

Her arms were around his neck and she was hanging on for dear life.

"You said you were gonna swim with me, Makepeace," he said through clenched teeth, his mock petulance and rancor making her laugh all the more.

"I didn't promise anything."

"Exactly. Which is why I've had to take matters into my own…"

He had misjudged the positioning of the shelf and he lost his footing completely.

"Dempsey!" Harry screeched.

She clung on, arms and legs wrapped around him as he went under, she just managing to keep her head above the water.

When he resurfaced, spluttering and coughing, Harry launched herself onto him, bearing down with all her weight.

"You idiot!" she gasped.

He came up again, right arm flailing but his left holding her to him about the waist as his legs pumped to keep them both afloat.

The look of pure shock on her face made him burst out laughing and reflexively she joined in.

"It's not funny," she pouted, smiling sulkily as she slapped at his shoulder.

Dempsey winced and so did Harry in response.

"Oooh, sorry. If forgot."

He nodded, sagely. "Yeah, sure you did."

"I did, honestly."

She returned her hand to the afflicted shoulder and stroked it tenderly.

Simultaneously, they realised how very close their heads were and not only that, the expression 'joined at the hip' had now taken on an extremely potent meaning.

The laughter ceased but the perpetual and agonisingly arousing motion beneath the water had to continue in order for them to stay afloat.

Pressed against his hipbone, Harry felt herself blush at the constant, delicious pressure between her thighs. And not only that, the tangle of limbs was incorporating more than just their legs. She had been wrong – the water obviously wasn't so cold after all.

She needed to pull away, make light of it but his arm was preventing her from doing so… wasn't it? He was holding her too tightly, far too close.

Dear God! She could feel the exact position of each one of his fingers, marking her skin with his fingerprints, raw and deep upon her waist. And the length of his inner arm firm around her back like a steely barricade, shoulder against her shoulder. But above everything else, the terrible, dense pounding ache that felt so good.

"I guess it must be colder than I'd thought," Dempsey murmured as he gazed into her confounded blue eyes.

"It's fine."

She couldn't tear her eyes away. Until she'd met Dempsey, she'd never understood what it meant when someone was said to have warm eyes. He was boring into her, melting her inside like no one else had ever done before.

Bringing his right hand up out of the water, he traced a bruised finger along her lips.

"So why're your teeth chattering, tiger?" he asked softly as he leaned forwards.


...and that's yer lot for now ;-)

Message to #TheGirls in Germany: Those looming fingers need to get busy with Chapter 52 now.