Part of him wanted to ask her why she was smiling, to make some ridiculous remark about her being full of surprises, but this was Ruth and time had taught him to be cautious. He was fully aware of the reason and he didn't want to embarrass her. So instead, having showered and dressed for bed he just crept up behind her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.
'That smells nice,' had nothing to do with the omelette that she had decided to cook, rather the fragrance of her shampoo that still lingered.
So do you, thought Ruth as he pressed himself against her. Was it really only a week ago that he'd arrived, she could barely believe how far they'd come in that time. Now though she needed to concentrate so as to prevent Harry suspecting that something that bordered on the momentous was less than two days away.
Catherine's call had completely thrown her. Totally unexpected it had momentarily thrown her, but having been indecisive for years about almost everything that related to Harry, she'd said yes without question. Quite how she was going to survive for another couple of days without telling him that they were going to have visitors, or more precisely visitors that just happened to be both his children she didn't know, but survive she had to. What they had to tell him had to come from their lips not hers and she couldn't break a confidence. The fact that he hadn't seen Graham for what Harry had led her to believe was years was a concern, but Catherine had assured her that if she could handle Harry, then she'd make sure that Graham in her words didn't behave like an arse. The fact that Catherine used the word handle, when less than an hour ago she'd been doing just that, had brought some light relief to an otherwise stress filled conversation and was the reason she was smiling. Buttering the bread which Harry was now doing had also taken on a whole new connotation, god she'd led such a sheltered life.
Rose was delighted when they called, keep them for as long as you like were her precise words, when Harry rang her the next morning suggesting that if the children would like to, that they'd take them out for the day. Could they bring their sledge had been their only question, to which he'd said yes even though they wouldn't be able to use it. They planned taking them to a cove with a large expanse of beach that they'd discovered during one of their walks and despite the fact that there was still six inches of snow outside, Ruth was preparing a picnic.
'There's always somewhere sheltered on a beach and they won't be cold I promise,' Harry responded to Rose saying that she'd need to wrap them up well, going on to tell her that he was planning on building a fire and cooking marshmallows.'
He loved the sea or more precisely he loved anything and everything when it came to water. He always had done since he'd been a small boy. Reverting to his childhood perhaps he was or surrounding himself with children for a whole day and reliving his only happy memories of Graham and Catherine when they'd been small, maybe, but he also saw it as an opportunity to make a decision about that oh so important conversation he wanted to have with Ruth.
'Behave yourselves and do what Harry and Susan tell you,' Rose told her brood, as Harry strapped first Rory and then Maisie either side of Robert in the now full Range Rover.
On a day when the sky was a clear blue and the reflection of the sunlight on the snow was mesmerising, Ruth's mind had returned to the fantasy where the little ones that were chattering away behind them were theirs. Had she known what was on Harry's mind and that he'd planned this entire day for her so that she'd be able to spend time with the children, she might have thought that he could read her mind, but at this stage she didn't. He knew exactly where he was taking them he'd seen the beach a couple of days earlier. The fact that the new car had arrived earlier than they'd expected was a real bonus, because to use Ruth's on the now snow covered roads, would have made it impossible.
'Seals,' squealed Maisie, pointing to a group of large rocks at one end of the beach, as holding tight to Harry's hand they negotiated the path down onto the sand and then having reached it, raced off in the direction of the water's edge with Rory and Ruth in hot pursuit.
Robert wasn't over duly impressed by seals, he rather fancied the idea of building a fire and was delighted when Harry told him that he was essential to his plan. He wasn't quite sure what that meant but it sounded very grown up. He liked Susan and by extension he liked Harry as for the next few minutes while the twins were otherwise occupied, they collected driftwood together. Keeping within the shelter of the headland where the snow hadn't settled, they made several trips until they had sufficient that was dry. It wasn't only Robert who was enjoying himself, so was Harry, who with one eye on the water's edge was watching what Ruth was doing. Three pairs of legs, two of which were doing as they'd been told and hadn't taken off their wellies before they paddled were jumping up and down like jack in the boxes. The other pair which despite the cold weather were in full view with their trouser legs rolled up belonged to Ruth, who despite the fact that her feet were freezing was making a valiant attempt to avoid the spraying water by ducking and diving. If Harry could have bottled that one single image he'd have kept it for the rest of his life. As it was he was utterly lost, drowning in emotion and with the most overwhelming feeling of love that he'd ever felt. He had his answer.
'You two seem to be enjoying yourselves,' was a statement directed at both Harry and Robert, when Ruth finally arrived back with the twins and settled them down in front of the fire, where the picnic lunch sat waiting. It was a statement that was loaded with I love you for doing this and so much more and both of them knew it.
'Who's Ruth?' asked an innocent Robert, when the inevitable happened as Harry forgot himself by asking her to pass him another sandwich, forgetting that she was supposedly Susan.
'I am,' she answered quickly, thinking on her now much warmer feet that were wrapped in a blanket, explaining to the children that Susan was her middle name and that she preferred it but that Harry had always called her Ruth.
'I like Ruth, it's a nice name,' said Robert, agreeing with a relieved Harry who was glad that it was children that they were dealing with and that Ruth had been quick in her explanation. She'd always be Ruth to him, legends were a thing of the past and in another life, besides which he loved her name, it was who she was and always would be.
'Can we do this again please?' Robert asked them, after they'd arrived home and were sitting round the fire, playing a board game that Ruth had found in one of the cupboards, having first rung Rose to say that they'd deliver them back at seven if that was OK? Quite why the ghastly Dolby had been in possession of anything as mundane as a compendium of games she had no idea, but everything in the house belonged to her now and once New Year was over, they'd have time to go through the cupboards together and decide what to keep. For now she was just grateful that they had something to keep the children amused, rather than resorting to watching television.
'We'll pick you up at six tomorrow,' a now tired Harry told Michael, when they delivered the children back at the vicarage after what had been a very long day.
There was to be no repeat performance of the previous evening, they were in a word knackered, having spent an entire day with three children. One would be enough decided Harry. I couldn't possibly cope with more than one thought Ruth. They were batting off the same hymn sheet, although as yet it was subject on both their 'to be discussed at later date lists.' Spooned together with the curtains open, something that Harry still needed because of his weeks in total darkness in the US, he fell asleep, whilst Ruth lay there with memories of a wonderful day, breathing him in and glorifying in their newly found closeness and his arm that was wrapped around her. Keeping her safe, he called it.
'Remember, I expect you to behave yourselves,' Rose reminded her offspring, for a second time in as many hours, as she showed her mother where to find the number of the hotel if there was a problem, knowing full well that their grandparents let them get away with murder when they were babysitting but that at least it wore them out.
In a second conversation that Ruth had managed to grab with Catherine whilst Harry had been in the shower, she now knew that with a bit of persuasion from the ever inventive Malcolm, that not only was Harry going to meet his wayward son, but that he and Catherine had been booked into a small guest house that was almost adjacent to their hotel. Just when they were going to make an appearance and whether or not they'd booked themselves in as members of the clergy, who seemed to make up most of the guest list or just plain Graham and Catherine Pearce/Townsend, she had no idea. All she did know was that Catherine had apparently in her words, got the situation under control and Ruth didn't doubt it.
'So what's it to be Ruth or Susan?' Michael asked her with a grin, as they walked from the car park and into the warmth of the hotel with just over an hour to go before dinner.
'Ruth,' said Harry emphatically.
'Are they really all members of the clergy?' a disbelieving Ruth asked Michael, when two hours later the four of them were sitting in a quiet corner away from the dance floor and watching the last of several dances which Harry was describing as terrifying.
'Its tradition, they'll calm down later,' Michael re assured her, going on to explain that in their far flung diocese that stretched the length and breadth of the Highlands, that there was still a lot of clan rivalry, which was enacted at the start of each convention.
'Christ,' said Harry but quietly, avoiding the melee in front of him and going to the bar for another round of drinks. His whole evening had been built on his need to dance with Ruth and his impatience was starting to build. They'd had a wonderful meal but enough was enough and he never imagined that he'd have to wait this long.
Ruth was just grateful that Harry hadn't worn a kilt otherwise he might have been dragged into the so called re-enactment..
At what Rose explained to Ruth was half time the room suddenly calmed and the small band headed out for their break. Ruth wanted to ask Rose what happened next, she also wanted Harry to ask her to dance, despite the fact that she thought she was rubbish when it came to dancing. There was no one there that would know them, there would be no prying eyes or chatter behind their backs as she'd feared when they'd attended functions in London. Seven years and she'd never danced with Harry, how was that even possible? Zaf and Jo, Adam and Ros, even as far back as Tom and Christine Dale had danced together in front of them and then quite probably ended up in bed, and what had they done? They'd watched on hesitant and stupid. Well not tonight, it was their turn, especially with Harry dressed as he was and walking back towards her, with his I really need to hold you look on his face.
'Shall we?' asked Michael, holding out his hand to his wife, leaving Harry and Ruth alone and teetering on the brink.
'Ruth,' was said almost in a whisper as the music changed. There were no flying kilts or flashing swords, in fact from where Ruth was sitting with Harry standing in front of her holding out his hand, the room was completely empty bar them. As he had done on the endless occasions in his dreams, Harry took Ruth's hand and walked as steadily as his now pounding heart would let him to the centre of the floor and took her in his arms.
'There could never be a Portrait of my love' sang Harry in Ruth's ear, surprising well in tune with Matt Monroe. It was from his era and old fashioned it might be, but it said everything that he had ever felt about Ruth and he'd asked Michael if he could arrange with the hotel that they'd play it. He was in heaven and Ruth was there with him, as for the next two minutes and forty seven seconds as Matt continued to sing, hazel and blue eyes shone, each into the other in the darkness, their owners oblivious to those that were dancing around them. Finally against all the odds, they were where they were destined to be and they both knew it.
If Harry had asked her there and then to marry him, she'd have said yes, in fact she'd have said yes to anything that he asked of her. Except that he didn't, he'd learnt his lesson. His things to ask and do on his Ruth bucket list were endless and number one was sufficient for tonight, well that and what he planned later in their room.
On the periphery of the room Catherine and Graham stood watching. Catherine had made no plans to intrude on their fathers and Ruth's evening, but Graham had insisted that he wanted to know what Ruth looked like before he met her the following day. Matt had reached the last line of the song and apart from watching what was happening in the middle of room, Catherine had got one eye on Graham who was flexing his hands.
'I thought you said he was at death's door?' he hissed at her, having just watched his father kiss Ruth.
'He was and Ruth's the only reason that he's not, I've explained that,' she said equally forcefully, dragging Graham back to the foyer where the receptionist was anxiously waiting for them. They certainly weren't dressed for a dinner dance and it had taken all Catherine's guile to persuade the poor man that they be allowed to take a quick peep to ensure that they'd got the right hotel, because they're been a cracking on the line she'd lied to him, when they'd spoken to their father earlier. Catherine had known from her conversation with Ruth exactly where they had been going and that they were going to stay overnight. It was New Year's Eve for goodness sake, it was what people who loved each other did and she would have been doing the same, if hers and Graham's circumstances hadn't changed. None the less she was as curious as Graham was to see what Ruth looked like having only previously seen her in her father's much fingered photo. Now that she had, she wished that she'd have more time to get to know her.
Ruth couldn't remember the last time that she'd been awake at midnight on New Year's Eve. Wherever she'd been, other than during her time at Cambridge, she'd always managed to find an excuse to go to bed early and to avoid it. People who you didn't like and even people that you didn't know seemed to assume that it gave them carte blanche to kiss you and until tonight and on one other occasion when she fancied a fellow student who in the end had turned out to be a lying bastard, she'd avoided it like the plague. Tonight though it was different and without her even realising it, Harry had managed to manoeuvre them to a dark corner of the room and away from the now rowdy group of supposed vicars who were working their way through the countdown.
'Four, three two,' he whispered in her ear seductively, his breath ghosting across her cheek, just as it had done on a day so long ago on the grid. He'd wanted her then and she him, but they'd held back for reasons that she no longer remembered. The rules that they'd set themselves, if that's what they were no longer applied, as here on what was for both of them a special night he never reached one, because he was kissing her and she was responding. The stairs and a large and comfortable bed beckoned and they flew up them at a speed that belied their ages.
Clothes went flying abandoned to the floor, shoes were kicked off to who knows where and any bruises that Harry might have had or Ruth might have worried about had been left on the dance floor, as at the start of a new year which promised so much, Harry was giving Ruth everything he had. Ruth on her part had melted the moment that he'd unzipped her dress, she'd never felt like this, she felt wanton, she didn't care. Stars were playing across the ceiling, her head was going to burst she felt sure of it as with ever touch of his fingers and his lips, he built her up to another climax until finally he was inside her.
Completely and utterly spent, neither of them had said a word or could remember going to sleep until they woke up the following morning and saw the room and their clothes strewn around the floor.
'Sorry about that,' said Harry, apologising unnecessarily for having lost control and worried that perhaps he'd upset her.
'I'm not,' she grinned at him as she dragged herself out of bed and went in search of her dressing gown and the kettle. For Ruth, her definition of the best sex she'd ever had which in her case until a week ago had been limited, had reached whole new proportions and she really didn't know how she was going to face Michael and Rose at what was already a late breakfast. There was no chance that she'd be able to skip it because it was Harry's favourite meal of the day especially in a hotel, she'd learnt that at Havensworth, but for a completely different reason.
Harry had no such concerns as they walked into an almost empty dining room with the various clans still asleep after their exertions of the previous evening.
'Good morning,' he said breezily, pulling out Ruth's chair for her to sit down as the waitress approached them to take their order. His order was simple, he was hungry and rather than have the attention drawn to her, Ruth ordered the same. She didn't eat cooked breakfasts she never had done, but it had been a twenty four hours of firsts and by the look of Rose's plate she'd had one, so why not Ruth thought. Rose wasn't Ros and she was pleased to see Ruth positively glowing, she also knew better than to make any uncalled for remarks. Michael was oblivious to most things that went on around him unless it involved one of his parishioners or his children, so breakfast came and went without embarrassment before they headed back upstairs to pack and then drive home.
Less than fifty yards away, Catherine and Graham were also eating their equally enjoyable breakfast in far less salubrious surroundings, discussing the day ahead. She'd left the dinner dance the previous evening determined that by the time that she and Graham met Ruth for the first time that there would be no animosity on his part. They had a father that they could so easily have lost, had it not been for the efforts of his friends and the obvious mutual adoration that they witnessed the previous evening. Before she and Graham said goodbye to them for what would be a minimum of a year, she was determined that her father and Ruth knew that they had their blessing.