Chapter 18
The sun was shining through the canopy of trees; the promise of another pleasant day. A cobblestone path weaved its way from the towpath, up a small bridge with a gurgling river beneath. Mac sat on the stern, eyeing the scenery with a grin of delight - the "scenery" being her tall, handsome sailor who was busy hammering the anchors into the patch of grass at the edge of the canal. He placed a rope through a loop, pulling as hard as possible so that the muscles of his arms stretched and bunched with each movement. And damn if he wasn't one of the best things to look at in whatever town they were now visiting. Once done, he extended a hand, helped her hop off the narrowboat and then threaded his fingers through hers as they walked up the path.
Mac grinned. Holding hands was such a simple thing, a monotonous piece of most relationships but as his larger hand held hers, it made Mac feel complete. That hadn't happened with Chris or Dalton or Mic or Webb - all of her more 'serious' relationships.
She didn't remember holding hands with Chris, not even as they slurred their vows in a shotgun wedding. Dalton usually had a briefcase in one hand, a cellphone in the other and was far more interested in taking her clothes off.
With Mic, she often felt it had been a form of control on his part - a claim he held over her because she wore his ring. When they walked together he'd sometimes pull her along, it was the cause for more than a few arguments. Then there was Webb, the one mark in her checkered past that actually made her nauseated. Hand holding was certainly not a thing between them because that level of intimacy was never crossed. What she had with Webb still made Mac angry with herself, the macabre relationship she engaged in because the man she loved had slipped through her fingers.
Holding hands with Harm felt natural, sweet and loving. Mac was amused how he'd shorten his gait, slowed his step and waited patiently when she stopped to look at a bush full of pretty flowers. He regaled her with information he'd filed away in his history-loving mind and took her to a secret entrance that led to a garden behind the castle where he kissed her beneath the white blossoms of a Cherry Plum tree. If she wasn't already in love, Mac may have fallen all over again.
"What's wrong?" He asked after they were seated at a small wooden table with a red umbrella outside of a tavern. Their spot had a view of a river and the aqueduct way in the distance, barely peeking through the trees.
"Nothing's wrong."
Of course, he didn't believe her. "Maybe something isn't wrong but I can hear your brain on overdrive and it's been like that since last night." They'd made love several times after he affirmed his affection but while he was dozing off to sleep, he felt her pull away. Harm assumed she'd been using the head but when Mac didn't immediately return to bed, he began to worry.
"Nothing's wrong." She put down the menu in her hand and pulled her sunglasses off so that he could look her in the eye. "This has been too easy, hasn't it?"
"We've known each other for over ten years. You know more about me than I do. It's only natural that this should be easy." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
"You're right." Mac leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I feel good around you, comfortable in my own skin. And this." She raised the hand he was still holding. "It's unexpected but nice."
"Aren't couples supposed to hold hands?"
"Did you hold hands with any of your ex's?" She offered an amused grin and though Harm might have steered clear any conversation about his past lovers, Mac had opened that box.
He shrugged, "Once or twice, I guess." Holding hands with any of his past girlfriends wasn't exactly something that crossed his mind. There may have been a time or two when Renee's fingers might have twined with his but he'd rarely instigated such action. "I don't know, Mac. I wasn't invested in any of them as much as I should have been."
"Not even Renee?"
"Ah, no. That wasn't gonna work out and I knew it. I hate to admit it but…never thought it would last as long as it did."
"Over two years."
He nodded, "Just about as long as you and Mic."
Mac wanted to argue that he was wrong about the timeline but it was true that while Harm had left to fly, Mic had filled a void. Their dates weren't just working dinners and somewhere along the lines she'd begun to have feelings for the Aussie. "Maybe in another life we would have worked out. But in this life, it was just me settling…and I hate admitting it…I was settling with Webb too."
"Mic had his moments. I know the guy really loved you but Webb." He made a disgusted face. Talk about a relationship he could have made her avoid. "I'll never understand what in the hell you saw in the guy."
"He could be sweet at times, when he wasn't drinking," She shrugged and pushed aside memories of one of the worst nights in her life. Mac wanted to rid herself of all things Webb. "But that lying, conniving part of him always reared its ugly head and it wasn't just the alcohol. He accused me of being like him - of enjoying the rush of killing and being hunted…That's when I realized how truly sick he was."
"I'm sorry." The hand that still held hers squeezed a little tighter. "I promise to break his legs for you the next time I see him."
"Hah. No, that's not necessary. Karma already bit him in the ass." Last she heard he was at Langley riding a desk with no shot at field duty. He'd burnt several bridges, taken a risky turn too many and Kershaw had dropped him several pegs.
"Good, but I still wanna break his legs."
They strolled through the town after lunch, stopping at a few stores and the market to grab ingredients for dinner and breakfast. There were a few more days left of their trip and Harm wanted to travel down the canal as far as possible before they turned around and went home.
As much fun as they were having with the various locks and bridges, with only two persons on board it was hard work. Some of the locks took quite a bit of leg strength to get the paddles moving. The lift bridges required elbow grease and diligence to lift and lower with a crank.
Harm happily relinquished the galley to Mac not caring what she made for dinner. "Smells good." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist while his lips dropped down to the crook of her neck.
"Mmmm. Keep doing that and we'll move right to dessert." Her voice was low and sexy. Harm knew it wouldn't take much to skip dinner for more exciting endeavors.
"I can live with that." He grinned when she turned and looped her arms around his neck. "I really love dessert." His lips lowered to hers but the kiss only lasted a few seconds and his attempt to steer Mac towards the bedroom was halted by her palm against his chest.
"This Marine is famished and dinner is almost ready." Playfully she pushed him away and used a dishrag to swat his behind. "Interrupt me again and you won't get that dessert you want so bad."
"Is that a threat?"
"Not really, but it can be." Her expression made him laugh because Harm knew it wouldn't take much to have Mac abandon her culinary efforts for a quick romp in the hay. He definitely didn't want a hungry Marine to contend with either and so he busied himself setting the table.
"Mac, you're gonna burn the rice." He pointed to the pan and scrunched his face at the familiar smell of the cooked grains sticking to the pan.
"I know, that's the point." She was making a Persian dish of herbed yellow rice that was mashed into the oily bottom of the cooking surface to create a 'crust.' It was a recipe she learned from her dear grandmother who tried to persuade Deanna to leave Joe and have the girls move in with her.
Sadly, the older woman had passed in Mac's early teens but the language and some traditions that she cherished were still passed down. "It's called Tahdig, my grandmother taught me." Mac pressed down on the rice once more and then used a plate to flip the dish over so that the burnt side was on top.
"You'll excuse me if I'm a little skeptical."
Mac slid the dish to the center of the table and instructed him to cut it into four slices while she plated a stew of lamb and vegetables. From the corner of her eye she saw Harm make a face when the knife he wielded crunched through the first layer. "It's really good, I promise."
She took a slice and placed it on a small plate in front of him before serving herself. It was almost comical to watch Harm stare quizzically at the burnt rice unsure how it should be eaten. "Use a spoon, crack the top layer and try to get all of the rice in one bite."
Harm held his breath and followed her directions expecting a bitter burst of burnt food to ruin his palette. "Mmm…this is good." The crunchy section was the best part. It mixed beautifully with the buttery, fluffy rice beneath. "Wow, insanely good."
"Told ya….Wait until you dip the crispy part in the stew. That'll really rock your socks."
"Thank you, Mac…It's wonderful." His heart fluttered from the cute grin she gave him and he was sure that Mac would never stop surprising him.
There was something special about sitting with the lights off by the flames of a crackling fire. While it was not necessary to keep the boat warm, Harm liked the ambiance. Moreso, he liked how lovely Mac looked with the orange hues dancing across her flawless skin why she slowly rocked her hips against his.
"You feel so good." He groaned when her bare breast crushed against his chest and the movement of her hips synced with his. "So damned good."
He loved feeling this close to her in a soulful union that was unhurried and sensual. A little lazy lovemaking, she'd called it when Mac straddled him, took his length and slowly sheathed him.
"Mmmm, Harm." They way Mac said his name unraveled him and it took all of his control not to thrust into her recklessly. She kept her arms looped over his shoulders and her forehead rested against his. The closeness made it easier for her to kiss and lick and nibble.
She was his goddess, a tempress, his siren. All roles Mac played flawlessly. Most importantly, she was his lover that pleased him as much as she liked to be pleased. Mac was good for him and for the umpteenth time he thanked whatever stars aligned to bring her back to him.
"I love you, Sarah." Harm was holding her gaze as he spoke and for once, felt he had the upper hand in confirming his affections. Not that it was a competition but it wasn't awkward or serreptocious; he meant every word.
"I love you too." What he didn't expect was for her to stop moving, nor did he expect the tears that she miserably tried to hide.
"Please don't do that." He quickly wiped the droplets away with his thumb and gently cupped her face in his hands. "I don't know what to do when you do that."
"Oh, Harm." Mac leaned in and rubbed her nose against his. "You're doing it."
"Don't scare me like that, Marine. I thought I did something wrong." He tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears and kissed her deeply. The more they shared moments like this the more he lamented it not happening sooner in their relationship. He was a fool. They both were. "I said once I needed operating instructions to figure you out."
"You did?" She honestly didn't remember and Harm smartly didn't bring up the when and where. The aftermath of Paraguay had been the darkest time of his life and he was damned if even an inkling of that reared its ugly head.
He nodded, "I think I figured it out: good food, lotsa good lovin'...and of course, comfortable shoes." Or in her case, he would prefer she wear comfortable stilettos without any other stitch of clothing.
She laughed and began rocking against him again, a little more forcefully than before. Mac felt him pulsing inside her and when he held her hips and thrusted up, she felt her own releasing looming. "Mmm…You forgot one thing…a tall, sexy sailor to fall in love with."
"He's right here Mac." His fingers stroked her and as her moans filled the air, Harm urged her on. "Come for me, baby."
"Ah, you too."
"I'm almost there…" Just a little more and he followed when Mac fell over the edge.
A Few Days Later
It was bitter sweet to cruise back to the dock and return past all of the obstacles they faced. Mac was pensive, quietly seated at the bow while Harm piloted the vessel the last couple of miles to the narrowboat's berth.
That morning was somber although Harm did best at hiding it, Mac still felt the bad kind of tension begin to manifest and it scared her to think it could all end so suddenly. Maybe it had all been a dream? Relationships like theirs didn't seem to exist in real life: two people that loved deeply but could never make it work until fate brought them together again. It was the story of some stupid soap opera or the RomComs she despised so much.
Real life had shown her how cruel and unfair the World could be; going back to London would thrust them back to an existence full of questions with very little answers. It was terrifying they might go back to ground zero once their separate lives and careers got in the way.
From experience, she knew that long distance relationships couldn't work and while both of them had once held the promise of giving up their careers; life didn't work that way. No lives were at stake this time just the hearts of two stubborn people that never learned to commit. Funny how Mac always considered Harm to be relationship phobic, she was just the same.
"Mac, grab the bow line. Be ready to hand it to Liam." Harm yelled as he made a sharp turn into the slip Liam was indicating. The older man took the rope passed onto him and tied the vessel down while Harm shut off the engines and made a final check that all was safe and sound. "She handled like a dream."
Liam eyed the pair when they made their way, hand-in-hand up the dock. He cocked an eyebrow and gave Harm a toothy grin. "I see you enjoyed your time, Captain?"
"We did… The Colonel did a fine job learning to operate the locks." He kept an arm wrapped around her waist and grinned when Mac rolled her eyes at him.
"What he means to say is that I did most of work while he played with his tiller." She nudged Harm playfully and then handed over the boat's keys. "Thank you Liam, this was so much more than I expected."
"Come back any time you two." He watched them walk away and thought to himself that the Colonel was no longer 'just a friend' of the Captain. The canals had weaved their magic again.