Early

Martin tried to roll over but found his arm pinned to the bed by a naked woman, who was lying on her side, facing away from him.. He slowly managed to extract the appendage from under her waist and while the body stirred slightly, she did not awaken. Martin pulled his dressing gown across his body, put feet into slippers and made his way to the loo.

In the mirror he stared at himself as he washed his hands. He looked much as he had the previous morning and each of the previous three years living in Portwenn, yet… this morning he smiled at himself. He flushed the toilet and went back to the bedroom. His night table clock read seven twenty-seven; he had overslept and by a good hour and a half. He went to the closet to select clothing for the day, when a startled voice spoke behind him.

Louisa had been jolted from slumber by the creak of the closet door hinges. "Martin? What are you doing?"

He turned around, holding a blue suit on a hanger. "Uhm…"

Louisa raked her tangled hair away from her face. "Getting dressed already?" she asked, a bit plaintively.

He ducked his head. "I… tend to be an early riser."

Louisa squinted at the clock on her night table. "It's barely half seven, and it is a Sunday," she said, stating the obvious.

Martin sighed. "I always awake early."

Louisa sat up, tugging the sheet up to cover herself. Seven thirty in the bloody morning, she thought, as she yawned. "I thought…" she patted his empty side of the bed suggestively. "We'd have a bit of a lie in."

"Um, of course." He shoved the clothing back into the closet then went back to his side of the bed, stripped off his gown and got back under the covers.

Louisa shook her hair back and gave him a kiss and a hug. "Morning husband."

"Yes, morning," he replied, feeling an emotional response to her touch. He put his arm around her.

After a few seconds, she said, "Sorry, Martin," she muttered as she scooted away from him. "Need a wee."

"Yes."

Louisa crawled out of bed, feeling rather anxious as she tugged her nightgown back on over her head. As she walked to the bathroom, she sighed, as her feet got chilled on the floor. Must remember to get my slippers, she thought, as she added it to her mental list.

"Problem?" Martin asked.

She shook her head, then yawned. "No, just tired." In the bathroom she finished quickly, washed her face, dried it, then racked her hair back with her fingers, combing it back. She examined her face. Not bad for a thirty-seven-year-old 'old maid' she judged. Oh, how the teen girls had sniggered behind her back as she walked home from school after Martin spent a night at her house. News traveled so fast in the village. Well, she wanted to tell them let's see what you do if you wait three years to get the person you desire to actually pay real attention to you. And what better attention than to sleep with them?

In bed, Martin lay staring at the ceiling, realizing that his usual routine would have to change. He always got up early, showered and shaved, got dressed, cooked breakfast, eat it, have espresso, take a brisk walk up to Lobber's Point and back, then review the mail and the latest BMJ.

If a Monday, he'd check the schedule of incoming patients, and so on, at eight o'clock, barely, Pauline would come blasting like a rocket, the patients would start to come in…

Louisa opened the door and emerged, then picked up her handbag and began to sort through it. "Hairbrush," she said as way of explanation.

Martin replied, "We need to move some of your things; dressing table and such."

Louisa had found her brush then stood in front of Martin's full-length mirror to work knots out of her hair. Fortunately, the strands were silky enough, even before her shower and applying conditioner, to make the task manageable. She caught Martin eyeing her in the reflection. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She finished with her hair, put some lip balm on and then returned to their bed. "So…" she started to say, "what shall we do today?"

Sunday's Martin would do laundry, clean the house, especially his medical area, then read for most of the afternoon. "I… um, what do you want to do?"

He was not surprised when his bride wrapped him in her arms and began kissing his neck.

=0=0=0=

Some time later, the smell of cooking bacon and eggs finally brought Louisa downstairs, her hair now washed and dried, along with the rest of her.

Martin turned when he heard her footsteps. "Good, just ready." He smiled briefly when he saw her.

Louisa had dressed in her faded, but oh so soft blue jeans, a white short sleeve top and a dark green cardi. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail; quick and simple to make and it kept hair out of her eyes.

She saw that Martin wore an apron over his blue suit, while he plied a spatula. With a light blue shirt and a dark striped tie, he looked very, very – Martin, but yummy. She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

He'd set the table for two of course, and a patient had left them flowers yesterday, so he'd put a few blooms into a glass jar in the center.

"Oh, this looks nice," she told him, "Smells nice as well."

"Flowers from a patient," he pointed. "Sit."

She did as he directed. He set a plate of bacon and eggs, with toast before her. "A lot of food, Martin," she told him.

He looked at his watch pointedly. "You didn't eat nearly any dinner, and this, uhm, breakfast is late." His watch read nearly eleven. "Your blood sugar…"

"Right," she replied. What a romantic he was discussing blood sugar at the post wedding breakfast, or brunch. But how very Martin; very practical. "Okay." They set to eating, while they snapped quick glances at each other. Louisa tried to focus on her meal, but there he was Martin – her husband – and they were married; all of eighteen hours ago.

She was just finishing toast and jam when Martin asked, "So, ahem, what shall we do today?"

"Well, I'd like to get a few more of my things from my house; the furniture can wait. Besides I'm sure that Bert and Al won't be in much shape for shifting furniture today."

Martin nodded. "Hangovers."

Louisa reached across the table and he took her hand after a long wait. "Yes?" he asked.

She grinned, then intertwined her fingers with his. "This table was in the way…"

Oh God, he thought. The time he got drunk. "Uhm, not one of my better evenings."

"Or mine. You know I did want to take you to bed that night." She gave him an encouragingly smile.

He stared at her, but all he could think of was her smooth and warm skin, silky hair, soft lips, penetrating and captivating eyes, limber limbs and hands, her breasts under his hands, the way she had folded into him, took him as he was, and loved him. "I… I... suppose that… was the case." Danny Steel had up sticks and fled to London and Louisa had made her choice, it seemed to him. A year on and here they were. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "You asked about what we might do today?"

She bit her lip, thinking it was too soon to get him back into bed. "I see it is sunny."

"Warmer than yesterday, yes. No wind."

"You know, we could go for a walk, up on the moor," she suggested. "Get…" she shook herself, just as some people walked past the front of the house and laughed, "away from the village. Just the two of us."

"Hm." The moor; ghastly barren place, thought Martin. No trees, windswept grass, wild horses which can block the roads. "I…"

She interrupted. "My dad used to take us up to Rough Tor. It's not too bad of a hike."

"Hike to Rough Tor," he answered in a flat tone, for he didn't like the sound of that.

"Yes," she smiled. "There's a carpark near. The path is only a little over a mile from that spot. Great views. Ever been up there?"

"No," Martin sighed.

Louisa stood up and looked in the pantry. "You've… we've got a hamper. You must have fixings for sandwiches?"

Martin sighed. "To go hiking?"

"Oh, come on; it'll be fun."