A Kestrel Rising (6 page)

“Is that it?” She found a solid looking building on a corner.

“Bless you. Yes it is.” He turned the car around in the middle of the square and headed for it. He parked the car on a side street and fumbled in his coat pocket. “Here,” he told her. “You’d better put this on.” He handed her a plain gold ring. “Just to avoid any awkwardness, you are now Mrs. Carstairs.” He kissed her cheek. “Is that all right?”

She slipped the ring onto her finger. “It most certainly is.”

The lobby was a haven of warmth after the sharp cold of the high dales. The firelight caught on the brasses nailed to the heavy dark beams in the ceiling. Ilona took a deep breath and clung to Ian’s hand.

This is it. This is where everything changes.

Her stomach was in knots and her heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage. She found it difficult to follow the desk clerk up the narrow, crooked staircase that led to their room. When Ian closed the door gently behind her, Ilona looked around the room. It overlooked the market place, which was quiet in the late afternoon. The last of the light fell through the window onto the faded rugs on the floor. An ancient bed four-poster dominated the room. It was piled high with blankets and a flowered coverlet. Ilona trembled, knowing what would happen there. Ian set their cases down on an old chest and drew the curtains, leaving the room flooded with light from the fire.

“Are you all right?” His voice was hoarse.

Ilona managed a shaky smile. “I’m a bit nervous.”

He slid the coat from her shoulders. “That’s to be expected. If it’s any comfort, so am I.”

“You are?”

He held out his hands and she was surprised to see them shaking.

“You’d think I’d be old enough to know better,” he joked. “But I won’t let that stop me.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her with an endearing lack of certainty.

“I love you,” he whispered. His hands crept toward her waist.

“I love you.” She closed her eyes when his lips met the hollow at the base of her throat. She let her hands follow their own path, finding his warm, smooth skin under his jumper. It was unknown territory and she took her time, feeling him quiver at her touch as they backed awkwardly toward the bed. Ian fell back onto the eiderdown and pulled her with him. His lips never left her skin while he slowly unfastened her dress. He shrugged out of his jumper and shivered when she kissed his neck. She reveled in the scent of soap and his skin. She thought him perfect and continued to explore, drawing gasps when she found his belt and unbuckled it with a sudden wave of boldness she hadn’t known she possessed.

“Minx.” He released her from her bra.

She gasped when he discovered her breasts before lingering there for a while.

“You are beautiful.” He ventured further. His lips followed his fingers as they wove their way down to places that had yet to be explored. Ilona’s nervousness fled in advance of his hands and she found the courage to follow the same path downward until he groaned and tugged at his trousers, kicking them impatiently away, followed by his shorts. She dared to open her eyes, driven as much by curiosity as desire. Her breath caught in her throat while she admired the perfection of him, the way his skin glowed in the flickering light of the fire. She had known what to expect but giggling half-baked descriptions did not do the reality any justice.

“
You
are beautiful,” she echoed, when Ian pulled her toward him until she did not know where she ended and he began. She surrendered to the feelings that his touch aroused. Waves of heat moved through her. He became all there was as he entered her and cried out against her neck when he began to move. He drew her into a dance that had an entirely different rhythm to any that she had ever known. It all began to make sense, how it was that she loved him and why. He was meant to be there, whispering her name. She held him and followed him into the fire and beyond, drawn out of herself and no longer earthbound. She rose and fell with him until she found release and he collapsed against her with a long, shivery sigh.

They remained still for a while, recovering in a breathless silence that was punctuated only by the crackling and hiss of flames. Ilona wound her fingers through Ian’s tousled hair, content to remain entangled and warm. She willed time to stand still.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“No, not at all.”

He kissed her. “Thank God for that.”

She smiled. “In fact, it was wonderful.”

He shivered when she touched him. “I want to remember everything, Ilke—every touch, every word, and every glance. I don’t want to spoil the moment, but we can’t be sure we will ever get this chance again.” He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her. “I want you do me a favor, darling. If anything happens to me, please don’t give up. Don’t mourn me for ages. I don’t think I could bear it if I thought you would spend the rest of your life grieving. I want you to live, Ilke. Promise me this.”

Ilona’s throat tightened. She touched his face. She knew that he was right but she hated that it needed to be said. “I promise. I really will try, I don’t want to think about losing you. It would break my heart but I will live, because you’ve asked me to and because I love you and I always will.” She gave in to tears.

He gathered her into his arms and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll always do everything I can to find my way back to you.”

“I know,” she sniffed. She would have given anything to remain like that forever—safe, warm and loved.

“I wish it was summer,” he whispered. “Because I would carry you off into the meadow and make love to you under the open sky, among the heather and the drowsy bees.”

Something inside her turned slowly at the thought. “That sounds wonderful, but, really, anywhere would do.”

“Miss Lowe, I do believe I’ve uncovered a wanton streak in you.” He kissed her, his lips warm. “I never would have thought it.”

“It’s your fault. I was an innocent until today. Now you’ve started me on the road to ruin and disgrace.”

He chuckled. “Nonsense. I was just a simple pilot before I met you. I’d never had an impure thought.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Now you are talking nonsense.”

* * * *

Ilona gazed at the empty fields. They were washed with brilliant, gilded light from the morning sun as Ian guided the car away from the Dales. She was sorry to leave the fire-lit room and bed behind, but she had a wealth of memories to live on, as well as the certainty that she was entirely his and that he loved her beyond measure. She turned to look at him, wanting to touch him once more, to reassure herself that he was real. It seemed strange that, less than two hours before, they had been lying in a warm tangle of blankets and limbs.

“A penny for them.” He touched her knee.

“I was just remembering. That’s all.” She covered his hand with her own.

“I can’t blame you for that.” He smiled. “After all, I am unforgettable.”

“Trust you.”

He stared at her with mock indignation. “What’s so funny?”

“You are, and I love you for it.”

“I’m glad that you do, darling.” He took his hand from her knee with a sigh and changed the gears as the car eased down a steep hill. “I’ve decided that I would rather fly a plane than drive this old piece of tin. What on earth was Sandy thinking when he bought it?”

He pulled the car up to the gates of the airfield. Ilona stared at the dismal collection of buildings and wanted to cry. Even the sun had gone, lost behind gathering clouds that promised snow. The wind had risen from the north and hurled dead leaves across the road. She felt tired and wanted to retreat to her bunk to sleep for a while. She wasn’t ready for the reality that she had just returned to.

Ian took her face in his hands and looked at her for a long time. “Thank you, Ilke. Thank you for the happiest two days of my life.” He kissed her, a sweet, lingering kiss rich with memories.

“Thank you,” she replied, brushing the hair from his eyes one last time. “I love you, Ian.”

“I love you, too.” His hands fell away. “I will see you tonight, ACW Lowe—same place, same time.”

“Yes, you will.” She climbed out of the car, wincing as the cold wind whirled around her. The bicycle was in the same place she had left it and Ian put her case in the basket for her. He kissed her one last time. She hitched up her coat and climbed on, aware that he watched her, as she pedaled away.

* * * *

“This looks like a good place.” Ian eased the car off the narrow track that had taken them away from the main road. It led onto the open moor where a tumble of gray stones scattered across the heather. Ilona climbed out of the car and tried to take in the view and the sheer breadth of cloudless summer sky. The drowsy hum of bees and the occasional bleat from a distant flock of sheep punctuated the silence.

“It’s perfect. It’s beautiful here.”

After four months, they had finally managed to escape the war for a couple of days, to a cottage in a village on the edge of the moors.

Ian spread a blanket across a small hollow between the boulders. “We’ll be out of the wind here. Nice and sheltered.” He lay down on his back, arms behind his head and gazed at the sky. “Private, too.”

Ilona settled down beside him, resting in the crook of his arm, not wanting to spend a moment separated from him. She watched a kestrel soar overhead while it searched for prey hidden somewhere in the trembling carpet of heather. Suddenly it swooped, tucking in its wings as it plunged earthwards. At the last minute it rose again with empty talons and called out in apparent frustration when it soared away, leaving the moor quiet again.

“Are you happy, Ilke?” Ian asked.

“Very,” she replied. “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt happier.”

He turned on his side to face her. “Really?”

She touched his face. “Yes, really.” She waited as the breeze played with his hair and watched unspoken thoughts shift across his face.

He trailed one finger down her neck, raising delicious shivers. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Ilke. We’ve been caught up in a whirlwind, you and me, one that really isn’t of our own making.” He sighed. “I don’t have any idea how long this war is going to last and I was going to wait until it was all over, until I was sure that we would both see it through, but I can’t. I can’t see the sense of waiting for much longer. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and have lots of little freckly, red-haired children. I can’t offer you much. I’m a teacher and I’ll never be rich.” He smiled, a smile touched with uncertainty. “Will you marry me, Ilona Lowe?”

Ilona didn’t even need to think as she brushed the hair from his forehead. “Yes, Ian Carstairs, I’ll marry you.”

“You will?”

His incredulity made her want to weep. “Yes, as if I would ever deny you anything.” She kissed him. “I love you.”

He grinned. “I know I’m irresistible, aren’t I?”

She wound her fingers through his hair when he kissed her. “Yes, you are.” She began to cry again, with the sheer joy of loving him.

“Ilke, darling, you’re crying again. I seem to be making you cry a lot.” He slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “I can make you better, you know.”

She laughed. “You
have
made me better.”

“But I’ll make you even better.”

“I know you will but…out here in the open?”

His lips lingered in the hollow of her throat. “Did I not say when we were in Middleham, that I would make love to you in the heather among the drowsy bees?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, here we are, surrounded by heather and bees. It’s a lovely, warm sunny day. There’s no one around for miles, apart from the occasional sheep, so…”

“You are impossible.”

“No, not impossible. I’m just hopelessly in love.” His eyes were warm and Ilona was left in no doubt as to how much he loved her in the sunlit hour or so that followed.

* * * *

Ian pronounced himself satisfied with the sandwiches and with the two bottles of beer that she had packed. The early afternoon sun was warm and the breeze that had dogged the heather and swirled around the stones dropped, leaving the moor in silence. Even the bees seemed to have stilled. They fell asleep, Ilona lulled by the familiar song of his heartbeat. She was the first to wake to the weight of Ian’s head on her breast and his arm thrown across her waist. She watched him for a long time. The workload and the strain of the previous few months had etched new lines around his eyes. She felt a fierce protective rush of affection for him. She sighed and held him closer, hiding her face in his hair. It smelled clean—of wind, heather—and felt like silk against her cheek. She could have remained that way, the moment captured forever in amber like the light of the afternoon sun. She didn’t know how much time passed. The return of the kestrel distracted her when it glided down between the stones, settled on the largest one and regarded her with unblinking brown eyes. It ruffled its wings as she stared back. It was so close that she could see the gleam of its talons while it clung to the stone, bristling with defiance.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

It continued to stare but refused to budge. Ian stirred, tightening his arm around her waist. “Who are you talking to?” he murmured.

“It’s all right,” she soothed. “It’s just a kestrel. That’s all.”

“You’re talking to birds, now?” He lifted his head and, with a hurried whisper of wings, the bird took flight. “Huh, it didn’t like me.” His head dropped to her breast again, “But I know
you
like me. It must be madness in you. You talk to birds and you’re in love with me.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “That explains everything. I’m mad.”

“But you’re beautiful and you’re mine.”

* * * *

“I never noticed this last night, did you?” Ian twiddled with the tuner of a wireless that sat in the corner of the small sitting room of the cottage.

Ilona handed him a glass of wine. “We were otherwise engaged, I believe.”

“Och, yes, so we were.”