Three days later – Tuesday, 1st November
"Go on," she cajoles gently, "tell me. What on earth did I do? Surely it can't be that bad." She's beginning to worry now, starting to believe that she might have done something rather embarrassing.
He smiles mischievously, lifting his glass of White Burgundy and taking a long, slow sip, attempting to hide his satisfied smirk behind the glass for long moments and looking like he's enjoying her discomfort a little too much. Eventually he relents and lowers his glass, murmuring, "Actually, you were really quite... adorable." He smiles softly as he swirls the liquid in his glass, clearly lost in the memory for a moment before he raises his eyes to hers and explains, "You fell asleep so quickly, Ruth. One moment you were talking to me and the next – boom – you were out for the count. I tried to wake you, but you weren't having any of it. You must have been exhausted. So eventually I had to... carry you up to bed."
"You carried me upstairs?!" she exclaims in astonishment a little louder than she intends, unable to believe that Harry could manage that. He might be quite wonderful in almost every way, in her opinion, but he's already middle aged and not really in the best shape of his life, and she's really quite heavy for someone her size. "Sorry," she winces, looking around quickly, but luckily nobody seems to have heard her thanks to her forward planning and request for the most private table in the restaurant.
"That's quite all right," he smiles, taking another sip of his drink. They've finished the main course, which was really rather splendid, and are taking their time over the rest of the wine, savouring each other's company on this, their first proper date.
"Harry," she warns when he remains silent for long moments.
He grins, clearly enjoying toying with her like this, keeping her on tenterhooks. "Well," he says, "I made it as far as the stairs, but then, on reflection, I decided not to risk attempting those, so I tried to wake you again. I did manage to rouse you enough to get you to stand but, as you were still half asleep, you managed to negotiate only four or five steps with my help before giving up, at which point, you just... draped yourself across a few and went back to sleep."
"Oh God," she groans, hiding her face in her hands. "I thought you said this wasn't embarrassing."
He laughs softly and murmurs, "I never said that. I said you were adorable. I don't think I'll ever forget the look of... utter bliss on your face as you just lay down and went back to sleep, clearly having decided that there were far too many steps left." He chuckles to himself and lifts his glass to take another sip of wine.
"So how did I get to bed then?" she asks after a few moments, curious enough to risk further embarrassment. His eyes twinkle at her and she can tell that he knew she wouldn't be able to resist asking for more information. Insufferable man! He knows her too well by far.
"I had to carry you," he murmurs eventually, having almost exhausted her patience. "You wouldn't budge and I could hardly leave you in the middle of the stairs. Apart from anything else, you could have fallen down them in the night. So I managed to rouse you enough to get you to stand up long enough for me to get you in the fireman's lift and up the stairs and into bed." He drops his gaze for a moment before looking at her apologetically. "Not the most gentlemanly way to treat a lady, but I couldn't manage it any other way. I couldn't risk my knee, or lower back for that matter, giving way on the way up and causing us both to end up in a heap at the bottom with a broken neck apiece."
She smiles when she sees him drop his gaze to his hand where his index finger is busy tracing patterns around the base of his glass. He's embarrassed, she realises, embarrassed and ashamed that he wasn't strong enough, man enough, to manage to carry her to her bed in his arms, and she finds it utterly charming. In anyone else, his behaviour would seem too macho and somewhat ridiculous, but in Harry, it just warms her heart. "I'm impressed that you could lift me at all, Harry," she reassures him gently. "I weigh almost 10 stone! Carrying that much weight up the stairs is no mean feat, especially when you've got a dodgy knee." He lifts his eyes to look at her and smiles, his ego clearly soothed by her words. "So what did you do with me once you had me in bed? I seem to recall missing some articles of clothing when I woke up. Couldn't resist the temptation?" she adds with a cheeky smile, happy for the opportunity to turn the tables on him and embarrass him a little.
"Actually, you're entirely responsible for that, Ruth," he grins, making her blush again. Insufferable man, she thinks again in annoyance as he continues, "While I was busy turning down the bed, you were, apparently, awake enough now to have other plans. When next I looked up, you'd already managed to remove your skirt and were busy trying to undo the buttons of your blouse, so naturally, I said goodnight and attempted to leave... And that's when you pulled me onto the bed and began to... continue from where you'd left off in the kitchen earlier."
"Oh God," she groans again, burying her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Don't be," he chuckles. "It was rather enjoyable if a little unexpected... But you were exhausted and in need of sleep, so I... convinced you that I needed to use the bathroom, and when I returned, you were fast asleep... as I'd hoped you would be."
She's silent for long moments as she too takes a sip of her wine, hoping to wash away the feelings of embarrassment that are still staining her cheeks red. "But why don't I remember any of this, Harry?" she frowns eventually.
"Ah," he murmurs, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "As I was leaving to go home, you... screamed. It was..." he tails off and looks away for a moment, clearly trying to hide how much the memory of her pain upsets him, and it makes her heart melt to see how much he cares. "You were having a nightmare and I... I knew you needed rest and that you wouldn't get it without help. So I located your prescription in the bathroom and I... gave you a sleeping pill." He lifts his eyes to hers and gives her a deeply apologetic look as he adds, "I'm sorry, Ruth. I know I should have discussed it with you first, but you needed rest so badly and you were in no fit state to discuss anything that night. I made a judgement call... and I hope it was the right one."
"It's..." she hesitates, thrown by this new revelation, but knowing that he'd meant well and that she might have made the same choice in his position. "It's fine, Harry. I... I'd thought about taking a pill myself, especially after talking to Fiona, but I was scared to do it on my own in case I had a bad reaction to it. I've never taken one before, you see."
"I made sure you didn't, Ruth," he reassures her quickly. "I spent the night making sure of that."
"You slept in my bed?!" she exclaims in surprise, somehow managing to keep her voice down this time.
"Well, I..." he stammers, "I didn't plan to, but I was worried about you and so I sat with you, intending to leave after a bit, only I fell asleep and woke up beside you the following morning." She frowns at him in anger trying to mask the pain that grips her heart, but he misinterprets the look and drops his gaze with a mumbled apology.
"Well, you should be sorry, Harry," she declares angrily. "Do you realise that that's the third time you've woken up beside me and I have yet to experience that pleasure?"
"What?" he asks, lifting his eyes to hers in surprise.
"Every time we've shared a bed, you've woken up first and left!" she blurts out, no longer able to hide the hurt and frustration. Then feeling the emotions begin to get the better of her, she excuses herself and makes her way swiftly to the bathroom, not wanting to break down in front of him again or make a scene in such an elegant and busy restaurant. She tries valiantly to blink back the tears, but it's a losing battle and eventually she has to allow a few of them to fall to release the tension.
Typical bloody man, she fumes as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose before reaching into her handbag and beginning to reapply her make-up. It probably didn't even occur to him that she'd be upset about it, she thinks in frustration, beginning to feel her anger towards him dissipate at the realisation that he hadn't meant to hurt her. He'd most likely thought he was being kind and considerate, letting her sleep in a little longer instead of waking her only to say goodbye before going off to work. It's not as if he could have stayed with her any of those mornings. In fact, now she really thinks about it, she probably wouldn't have wanted to wake him either if their positions had been reversed. So as she eventually makes her way back to their table several minutes later, she finds herself feeling a surge of affection and love for him, especially when she sees how low and dejected he looks, toying with the stem of his wine glass and looking worried and forlorn.
He looks up as she takes a seat and smiles at him, reaching her hand across the table and letting it rest there, palm up, in invitation. "I'm sorry, Ruth," he murmurs earnestly as he covers her hand with his. "I didn't think about that. I just wanted to let you rest. I know what it's like to be utterly exhausted like that, to not be able to get a decent night's sleep because of the constant nightmares. It's debilitating and I don't want that for you."
"I know, Harry," she smiles. "I overreacted. I know you were being kind and thoughtful by letting me sleep. I just wanted, I want to experience the pleasure of waking up beside you. I feel... I don't know. I feel frustrated that you don't... want that, that you're keeping us... physically apart."
"But I've explained," he murmurs earnestly, frowning in worry. "I think it's best for us to take things slowly so that we can get to know each other well before we... become intimate again. This is just the fourth evening we've spent together, Ruth, and I know that, if I'd done this properly and asked you out first, I wouldn't have expected to... share your bed... not for a while yet."
She's surprised by his admission and wonders if he's being entirely honest as, in her experience, men want sex pretty much from the very first date. But when she searches his gaze carefully, he looks open and honest, and just a little bit uncomfortable at his admission. She wonders what she would have wanted if they'd done things differently and this had been their fourth date. Would she have invited him home for sex at the end of it? She can't be sure, she realises after a moment's deliberation.
She hasn't had a lot of relationships over the years, but that's mainly because men haven't really shown an interest in her and she's been too shy to just pick a guy she likes and flirt with him or ask him out. Plus it's not easy to find someone who's her intellectual equal, or at any rate, not intimidated by her brains, and at the same time, bold enough to take charge of their courtship. Most of them are as shy as she is when it comes to dating, so the relationship is doomed never to even begin. But once she's found a bloke she likes and they seem to get along, she's never felt the need to wait for months before having sex. Usually by the fourth or fifth date, things are clear enough for her. So on the one hand, she's sure she would have wanted Harry to sleep with her very much by their fourth date, but on the other, he's her boss and that would have complicated things – it does complicate everything.
"Harry," she sighs as she gathers her thoughts. She hadn't planned to talk about this with him, but rather to just attempt to seduce him tonight after convincing him to take her back to his place to meet his dog. She has to admit though that she's rather nervous about doing that as she's never tried it before, so perhaps it's better this way. "We've known each other for two years already and we work together very well, often in extremely stressful circumstances. I think we do know each other well, well enough, at any rate, to take this step. I mean it's not as if we haven't done it before and it was... quite wonderful," she blushes at her admission, "and I would very much like it if we could... well, you know. Unless..." she tails off in embarrassment as the unpleasant thought occurs to her, pulling her hand from under his and lifting her glass of wine to take a sip, feeling her stomach clench with worry and fear. What if he doesn't enjoy it with her? She thinks he does, and he said he did, but-
"Unless what, Ruth?" he asks, leaning across the table towards her, a frown creasing his brow.
She takes another sip of her wine and swallows, unable to meet his gaze as she whispers, "Unless it's not... good... for you."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Ruth!" he growls in frustration and anger, causing her eyes to lift sharply to his in alarm. "How can you say that?!" he demands in a hoarse whisper, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his anger. "I can't stop thinking about you, about making love to you. I can't function properly at work for wanting you. How can you possibly believe that it's not good for me? Our first time... it was the best I've ever had, Ruth. I can't sleep because of how much I want you." His gaze is piercing, his eyes blazing in anger and frustration, and she can't help feeling relieved and something akin to triumph in having caused him to lose control like this. As kind, sweet and supportive as he's been these last two weeks, she's found herself wishing him to be less careful around her, more spontaneous, more himself. She knows he's a passionate, explosive and intense man by nature, and though she adores his softer, gentler side and the fact that she brings it out in him, she can't help missing and wishing to experience the passion too, more often than she's had the chance.
"Then why, Harry?" she asks, her stomach clenching for an entirely different reason now.
"I can't... I want... so much more than that, Ruth," he whispers, his eyes gentler now, almost pleading with her.
"Me too, Harry," she smiles in relief. She drops her gaze, realising that now's her chance to explain and needing a moment to arrange her thoughts before she begins. "But I think... we've so much to contend with, Harry, mainly because of work, that it seems like it's making things more difficult, for me at least, to deny us something we both want so much." She blushes as she admits how much she wants him too, glancing up at him but quickly dropping her gaze again at the intensity of his. "So, I thought," she continues softly after clearing her throat while she absently watches her hands toy with her napkin, "if you'd like to, we could... go back to yours tonight. I still haven't seen your home and I'd like to meet Scarlet, and if we end up... making love, that would be... lovely, and if not, that would be fine too. And then in the morning, I'd get my wish to wake up beside you." She pauses, taking a deep breath to steady herself before looking up at his face and adding, "I just think it's time we stopped worrying about it so much and just... went with the flow. What do you think?"
"God help me, but I think," he murmurs huskily, his gaze still dark and intense, "that I can't resist you any longer, Miss Ruth Evershed."
"And that scares you a little, doesn't it?" she dares to whisper, gazing at him with understanding.
"You have no idea how much," he sighs, lifting his hand to rub his face, and she feels her heart flood with relief and love for him, for the trust he's showing her by admitting such a thing.