He swallows and releases her, taking a step back and running his hand over the back of his head as he replies in an agitated voice, "I don't know, Ruth. Nico said that you've just broken up with your boyfriend, and I can't help thinking that it's been so long since we've seen each other, and last time... things between us were..." He sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, lifting his palms up helplessly. "And now this happens, and I don't know what to think. I-"
"God, Harry!" she exclaims in a frustrated voice. "What the hell is wrong with you? Every other man I've ever kissed has jumped into bed with me with much less encouragement than that! Why do you always have to over-think us? I have loved you for ten years, Harry! Ten fucking years, and I have wanted you for even longer than that. Every other relationship I've had has been a rebound from you. And I know I've hurt you, sometimes very deeply, and I regret that more than anything, but how can you doubt that this," she gestured between them with her hand, "between us can be anything other than an expression of love, a deep, passionate love that has survived against all odds? I have thought of you every day for more than a decade, have dreamt of you every night, have missed you desperately, and when I see you after all this time, something I've never believed would happen again, you ask me, why you, why now?" She sighs in exasperation as he watches her quietly, unwilling to interrupt her tirade lest he miss something she says. She's never been this forthright before; neither of them have. She takes a few calming breaths and says quietly, "You know why, Harry. Because I love you and I want you, and because I can. Because you're not my boss any more, because I want a good memory to hold onto forever, because I've always wanted to, but now I can. Self-control and self-denial have no place here, Harry. That's why."
She watches him, her gaze unfathomable as he processes her words and carefully works out what he can say that won't screw this up further. Before he can speak, however, she sighs and murmurs, "You're probably right, Harry. We've changed; both of us have changed, and perhaps we need a little time to reacquaint ourselves with each other... Let's just sit down and talk a little. We could pretend that we're two strangers who've just met on holiday in a warm, romantic place," she adds with a smile and takes a seat on the blanket, looking up at him expectantly.
Nodding slightly, he sits down on her left, and pulling his right knee towards his chest, he links his arms around it, letting his eyes glide over the landscape that's spread out so beautifully before them. The sea glistens in the moonlight and the crickets chirp around them in the trees. It is romantic, he thinks.
"I'm Ruth," she offers after a moment as she turns to look at him. "Jane Ruth Jameson."
"Seriously?" he asks in disbelief as he turns to look at her. "Jane?"
"No," she smiles. "I just wanted to see your face. It's actually Amie, Amie Ruth Jameson."
He chuckles softly and shakes his head before murmuring, "Amie Ruth... Beloved friend. It suits you."
"Thank you...?" she smiles and waits.
"Henry James Pearce at your service," he says, inclining his head gently towards her.
"Henry," she repeats.
"Harry," he corrects. "All my friends call me Harry."
"Harry," she murmurs softly.
He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply, and sighs. "I love the way you say my name, Ruth," he whispers as he opens his eyes and gazes at her adoringly. He watches her watching him for a few moments wondering what she's thinking before he decides to move them on. "So," he murmurs, "what brings you here, Ruth?"
"A holiday," she sighs. "I'm trying to escape."
"Escape?" he asks with a frown of concern, his mind immediately concocting all sorts of scenarios of Ruth in danger.
"Metaphorically speaking," she adds quickly, perhaps sensing his worry. She looks back out towards the sea and frowns unconsciously. Then she murmurs, "I'm not sure I can explain this without..." She tails off and turns to look at him.
"Try," he says quietly. Then after a brief pause he adds, "If it makes you feel any better, I promise to be as forthright as you are when you ask me the same question."
She looks away towards the sea and is silent for so long that he almost gives up hope that she will say anything. After several minutes, however, she begins. "I'm a librarian in a small town in Cyprus, but I haven't always lived there. I used to have a very different life from this, as different as night from day. I used to live in London and work in a very demanding job that I loved. What I did made a difference, had a huge impact on the everyday lives of so many people, and if I did my job well, they never even realised it. My job was everything to me; it was my whole life... until I started to develop feelings for my boss. He was a powerful, demanding, often harsh, and very stubborn man, but at the same time he was smart, fair, caring, loyal, and sexy as hell." He smiles at her description of him and finds himself enjoying this game they've began.
"My crush on him grew unchecked until soon I found myself head over heels in love with him. He did little to encourage my infatuation at first, but I slowly began to realise that he returned my interest, though I could never understand what drew him to me, his mousy, often clumsy analyst. Soon he began to flirt with me when we were alone on the Grid, and I found myself looking forward to those moments with increasing pleasure. Eventually, he asked me out to dinner, and I jumped at the chance without even pausing to think of the repercussions this would have for both of us at work. The evening was... magical and it's something I will never forget, but the next day, I quickly came to realise what I had failed to consider before, that we could not keep our budding romance away from work and that continuing would be undermining his authority and might, in the long run, cost me the job I loved so much... and break my heart. So, reluctantly, I broke it off, but what I failed to take into account was his stubbornness and the strength of the feelings we'd developed for each other. You see, we really couldn't keep our eyes off each other, and I think that, had I not left, I wouldn't have been able to stand strong for long in the face of the hurt, puppy dog looks he kept giving me that were so full of love and longing.
"But I did leave. I had to in order to save him and the millions of people we'd sworn to protect. My life changed dramatically from one day to the next. I left everything behind, my identity, my job, my belongings, my cats, and my heart. In the weeks and months that followed, I thought of him daily and secretly hoped that he would come to find me. Deep down, however, I knew that it could never happen, and after I had found a lovely, warm, sunny place to live, I began to miss my old life less and less. I found a new enjoyment in the quiet, elegant, calm, simple life I had carved out for myself. There was no use in looking back, so I endeavoured to look forward. I swam, I learned to cook, I read, I walked, I drank good wine, I dated, I had sex, I lived.
"Eventually I met someone who was honourable and kind, who was lonely like me, who was good to me, and whom, with time, I came to love, if not with the passion I would always feel for the man I'd left back home, at least with enough strength to commit to him. He wished to marry me and I didn't see any reason not to. He wanted the stability for his son and I agreed. We lived happily, for the most part, for a little over a year before my life fell apart once more. To cut a long story short, he was killed by terrorists who'd taken us all hostage because of an operation I had been involved in while I worked for MI-5. The grief and guilt I felt at the time... is impossible for me to describe. It was because of me that Nico had lost his father, that Maria had lost her brother, and it was something, I admit, I found hard to deal with... And in my guilt and pain, I did something that I would come to regret even more; I lashed out against the one person I have always loved more than life itself." She pauses and takes several deep breaths, and Harry can't stop himself from reaching out to her and covering her hand with his. She grips it tightly in her own, and when she speaks again, her voice shakes. "I'm sorry, Harry. It was so unfair of me to hurt you like that. None of what happened was your fault. Even as I was hurling accusations at you, I knew that. You did more to protect all of us than I could. Had the Uranium been where I said it was, we would have all been killed. Forgive me."
She raises her eyes to look at him and he sees the torment in them, the same torment he has felt for so long, and he wonders briefly how the pair of them can love each other so much and yet be constantly causing each other so much pain. "I forgave you long ago, Ruth," he murmurs quietly. "We were both hurting at the time over what happened, and I was remarkably insensitive during our conversation... even by my standards."
A snort of laughter escapes her at his words and he smiles, pleased to have succeeded in lightening the mood. They look at each other for long moments until he judges it a good time to bring them back to their pretence. "What did you do then?" he asks softly.
"I went back to Cyprus," she sighs. "I had Nico to care for and I had George to bury. Maria, George's sister, was very angry with me in her grief and I understood all about that, so I never held it against her. It took her some time to work through those feelings, but we're good friends again now. I began working at the local library, not wishing to go back to the hospital where I'd worked. I tried my best to help Nico through his grief and it wasn't easy, but we muddled through, and as he's grown, I've explained things to him more fully. He's almost fifteen now and he's got a real gift for music. He plays the violin and the piano, and he's also in a choir. He's been pestering me to send him to a music school, but it's expensive and... well, we'll see about that."
"And you? What's your life like now?" he murmurs when she pauses.
"Life? What life? I'm a single parent," she smiles. "We don't have a life."
He chuckles and shakes his head as he murmurs, "Touché."
"I'm a little tired of my life to be honest," she sighs. "Running a library is not as challenging as I would like, and I miss the excitement that my life used to hold, especially now that Nico's older and doesn't need me as much. I was lucky when I met Jean. We don't often have authors agree to visit our little library even though I invite them all the time. For some reason, Jean agreed to come and we became friends overnight. She's been insisting for months now that I come to stay with her here, and eventually I gave in. I'm glad I did now because I've meet you, Harry."
"And this boyfriend Nico mentioned?" he can't help asking.
A sound of frustration escapes her as she shakes her head and complains, "You know, I tried so hard to get him to relax, feel comfortable and confident, and not be afraid of people like he was for several months after George died, that I think I overdid it. Now, he'll make friends with almost anyone within ten minutes of meeting them and he's terrible at keeping secrets. Mind you, he was always like that, sharing far too much information about himself and his family. He'd make a terrible spook." She looks up at him again and sighs. "He wasn't really my boyfriend," she shrugs. "We never did anything together other than... well... he was more of a convenient, and rather more exciting than usual, shag to be honest. One can't be too picky in a small town when one's looking for a no-strings-attached relationship, and he provided it for me."
He nods absently, not quite believing his ears. Ruth looking for casual, convenient sex sounds so out of character. Then again, he thinks sadly, he really doesn't know her that well any more. It's been years since they've worked together, and even back then, he didn't know much about her private life. But the Ruth he'd known had been shy and reserved, whereas now, Ruth is confident and forward. Life has taught her to be self-sufficient and self-reliant. In many ways, he finds this Ruth more alluring than her former self, and yet he can't help missing his shy, awkward analyst.
"I promised myself," she adds quietly, "after George died, that I wouldn't settle for second best again, but I found I wasn't quite ready to lead a celibate life just yet either."
Silence descends over them for several minutes as he tries to push aside images of Ruth having acrobatic sex with an unknown, young, handsome, athletic man.
"So what brings you here, Harry?" he hears her ask softly.
"I found I needed a break from work," he murmurs in response, grateful for the distraction.
"What kind of work do you do?"
"I work in the Security Services," he smiles.
"That sounds dangerous, Harry. Are you a spy?"
"Yes, though nowadays, I'm desk bound and I'm not in as much danger as I used to be... though I have been known to occasionally get shot."
"A high powered, demanding, stressful job, no doubt," she smiles.
"It is that," he chuckles.
"Don't you get tired of it?" she asks next.
"It's been more and more difficult to carry on lately," he admits.
"Why?"
He hesitates for a moment, but finds that he wants to open up to her and this pretence is making it much easier. "I lost someone very dear to me about seven years ago now. I never realised just how important to me she had become until she was gone. She was beautiful, smart, passionate, and she had the most amazing eyes you ever saw. But most importantly of all, she had the strongest moral fibre of anyone on my team, and I relied on her to guide me in my decision making. She was the voice of compassion, of morality, of principle, and once she was gone, I began to lose my way. I made mistakes and things frequently got ugly. And over time, the burden of my actions began to weigh me down, and I began to lose myself."
"But why not leave? Why not do something else?"
"Because I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I left, because she left so that I could carry on the good fight, because all the memories I have of her are there," he confesses.
"Until now," she points out gently.
"Until now," he agrees. "But even here... this is a holiday. I can't spend the rest of my life on holiday, Ruth. I'd go mad. I need to be doing something worthwhile."
"And you've never met anyone else?" she asks a little timidly, glancing down at her hands.
"No," he says firmly.
"That's not right, Harry," she objects gently, looking up at him quickly before lowering her gaze once more. "Not when I've..." She tails off embarrassed.
"Ruth," he murmurs as he squeezes her hand gently, "I never expected you to remain faithful to my memory for the rest of your life. You weren't even forty when you left. What kind of a monster would I have been if I'd wanted you to waste the rest of your life pining over my loss? You were young and I wanted you to be happy. Granted, I would have much preferred you to be happy with me, but the way things turned out, it was impossible. And believe me, I never intended to remain faithful to your memory either. As much as was in my power with the hours I work and the free time I have, I did endeavour to meet other women, but I found that I didn't want to settle. I had my fair share of meaningless sex initially, but even that became less and less appealing, so I stopped."
"This woman you mentioned," she asks after a moment's silence as she raises her eyes to look at him. "Did you love her?"
"I loved her, I love her, and I will always love her," he murmurs as he looks into her eyes. He watches as the tears gather and one rolls silently down her cheek. Raising his hand to her face, he cups her cheek and slides his thumb across it to capture the wayward tear as he adds huskily, "Don't cry, Ruth. Don't cry."
"You seem to be saying that a lot tonight, Harry," she replies with a lopsided smile and a small sniff.
"Yes," he agrees, "and I'm still not convinced that they're tears of happiness. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain and make you cry, but it seems to be the only thing I'm good at."
"Only because you refuse to let yourself express what you feel, Harry," she whispers. "If you showed me what you truly felt right now, I'm sure it would make me very happy because, for once, I think we want the same thing at the same time."
"What do you want, Ruth?" he asks a little breathlessly.
"I want you, Harry. I want to love you openly and freely in any way I choose because life is too short and I might never have the opportunity to do so again."
"And what happens in two weeks when you leave, Ruth?" he murmurs huskily.
"We'll figure that out when the time comes, Harry," she smiles. "Maybe we'll find some way for us to live in the same city, maybe we'll agree to meet here every May, maybe we'll never see each other again. But whatever happens, I'll not regret these two weeks with you because I'll finally know what it feels like to be loved by you."
Her voice brakes at her last words, and he has tears in his eyes as he replies, "I love you, Ruth. I love you with all my heart. Love me. Please love me, my darling."
"I do," she murmurs and kisses him. "I do."
With a groan of pleasure, he parts his lips below hers as his fingers tangle themselves in her hair. He feels her hands pressing on his shoulders as she pushes him down and lies across his chest, her soft breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest, her fingers sliding behind his neck and her other hand gliding down his side. Passion floods his mind once more and he can no longer think as he succumbs to the sensations of her soft, warm body against his own, her scent flooding his nostrils, her warm breath caressing his lips, and her sweet taste titillating his taste-buds. His free hand follows the contours of her back, gliding over the smooth fabric of her dress, pressing her firmly against him until his palm slides over the curve of her buttock, his fingers spreading wide and reaching delicately between her legs. He hears her moan and feels her shift against him and an overwhelming desire to be inside her instantly takes hold of him and galvanises him into action. But as he attempts to shift his weight and roll her underneath him, a stone lying hidden below the blanket digs into his hip, making him inhale sharply with pain, parting the mists of desire clogging his mind, and forcing his brain to kick suddenly into gear.
"Ruth?" he murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as he stills.
"Yes?" she whispers and opens her eyes to look at him.
"I love you," he murmurs, fighting hard not to get lost in her passionate gaze and forget all about his misgivings, "and I want you... desperately..."
"But?" she asks as she continues to stare at him with those mesmerizing blue eyes.
"I'll be sixty in November, Ruth," he sighs. "The time for making love on blankets under the starts is long gone. My knees, not to mention my back, will never be the same again... and I wouldn't want you to have to spend the rest of your holiday taking care of an invalid."
She laughs softly and reaches her hand up to caress his cheek before replying, "I've waited more than ten years for this, Harry. I can wait a little longer, especially if there's the prospect of a warm, comfortable bed in which I can spend the entire night with you." She smiles and adds, "Besides, they'll probably send out a search party if we don't get back soon, and we wouldn't want Malcolm, Jean, or heaven forbid, Nico to get an eyeful."
"No," he chuckles, "though it might disabuse him of the notion that I'm gay."
"What?" she asks in astonishment.
He slowly pulls himself to a sitting position before turning to look at her and replying dryly, "Your son had the gall to ask me if I was Malcolm's partner."
"Oh, God, he didn't!" she says in horror before she begins to laugh, giggling uncontrollably for several minutes until she eventually stops and sits up, wiping her eyes with his handkerchief and chuckling softly as she murmurs, "I'm sorry, Harry. He has this friend at school who has two dad's that live together, and ever since he found out last year, he's been intrigued by it. It's not that common in Cyprus, especially in a small town like Polis, and I'm afraid it's made quite an impression on him. You wouldn't believe some of the questions I've had to answer on the subject. I see we'll have to have a talk again about making inappropriate remarks and conversation."
"He wasn't rude," Harry quickly reassures her. "He just asked me if I was Malcolm's friend... or partner."
"Well," Ruth replies and he can see that she's trying hard not to smile, "if it makes you feel any better, I had no idea that Antonis, that's one of the dads I mentioned, was gay. He looked very masculine and straight to me. It's no reflection on your masculinity, Harry. I can see how someone might think Malcolm's gay because he's so reserved, but I can't say the same about you. You're as masculine as they come and very sexy with it too."
"Thank you, Ruth," he replies as she kisses his cheek. "Now shall we get back to the others?"
"Let's," she smiles and stands up, brushing down her dress as he stands also.
"Need some help with that?" he asks with a mischievous smile. "My hands are much bigger than yours and I'm sure I'd get more of the debris off you with each sweep."
She laughs and swats his hand away before smiling as she sighs, "God, I've missed you, Harry."
"That's good to know," he replies with a grin. Then he gathers up the blanket, folds it up with her help, and tucks it under his arm before turning to face her. She immediately steps close to his side and tucks her hand into the crook of his free elbow as they make their way towards the house.
As they approach the building, she asks, "Which room is yours, Harry?"
He stops walking and turns to look at her in surprise. "The second on the left at the top of the stairs. Why?"
"No reason," she smiles enigmatically.
His breathing deepens and his heart begins to beat faster as he asks, "Are you intending to pay me a visit?"
"The thought did cross my mind," she replies, "provided you aren't adverse to entertaining ladies in your room late at night, of course."
"There's only one lady I'd consider entertaining in my room, Ruth," he murmurs huskily.
"Oh?" she asks playfully. "Who's that then?"
"You," he growls and drops the blanket, encircling her waist with his hands and pulling her against him for a deep, passionate kiss.