Dangerous Love (17 page)

“That is fantastic,” Bram said. “Now I need a hug! Have you got one for me?”

She scrambled up and sat on his lap. She looked so cosy. Regan couldn’t remember sitting on her dad’s lap. Ever.

“I’m moving back into my old camper van,” he said and Regan’s heart jolted with alarm. Was he planning to move on again?

“Why?”

“I’ve agreed to let Doug move into the flat. He’s been living in the van and going home at weekends, but he’s keen to make his position permanent and if he moves into the flat he’ll be able to bring his wife and kids here.”

“But you can’t stay in a camper van with a broken ankle.”

“Well, I can’t leave it behind,” he said and she couldn’t help laughing along with him. “I managed fine in the van before.”

“You are not sleeping in a camper van in this weather,” Regan said.

“Am I not?” His eyes shone with amusement.

“You can stay with us,” she said before she could stop herself.

“What about my dogs?”

“They can come too.”

“And cats?”

“Of course.”

“You are a very special lady, do you know that? It’ll be a bit cramped, but it’ll do until we get ourselves somewhere bigger.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Regan,” he said. “Are your ears still full of salt water?”

He nudged Georgie when he said that and they both laughed.

“Let me get this straight. You think we should move in together?”

“You were the one who suggested it?” He looked at Georgie and did an exaggerated innocent shrug which made Georgie giggle even harder.

“No, I didn’t… Well yes, I did, but who said anything about getting somewhere bigger?”

“I did.” He rolled his eyes. “Keep up!”

Regan shook her head. Two pairs of identical blue eyes laughed merrily at her.

“We will of course have to get married.” When he said that, he did the biggest wink at Georgie and they both burst out laughing.

“This isn’t funny,” Regan said. She was on her feet now, closer to the bed, her heart going wild behind her ribs. “Stop it! Both of you! This is our future you’re laughing and joking about. You can’t turn everything into a game. Moving in together, getting married, it’s all serious and…”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Regan,” he said and grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her. She tried to wriggle free, to protest, but his lips were very insistent and somewhere in the background she could hear Georgie laughing and clapping.

And it was a very nice kiss.

When he let her go, her eyes were still closed, her lips still parted. She ran her tongue over them, tasting him, wondering when she was going to wake up.

“When we were on the beach you said, and I quote, ‘I love you, you stupid great lump! I love you and I don’t want to lose you.’ Were you just saying that, or did you mean it?”

She opened her eyes, still feeling wonderfully dizzy from his kiss.

“Of course I meant it,” she said.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer again.

“They’re discharging me tomorrow. I’ve nowhere else to go. Well, apart from the cold, lonely camper van.”

Georgie tugged at Regan’s sleeve. “Say yes, Mummy!” Then she turned to Bram. “Can I call you Daddy now?”

Regan saw the laughter die in his eyes to be replaced with pain, sweet pain. “Oh, honey,” he murmured. “I would love it if you did. And you,” he squeezed Regan’s fingers. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you again. Seriously. Will you marry me?”

Regan hugged him, resting her head against his chest, feeling the fast thud of his heart. Her big, brave man was afraid she’d turn him down.

He kissed her head and murmured, “I’ll give up being a lifeboatman if that’s what it takes.”

She gasped. “You don’t have to,” she said, tears trickling from her eyes. “It won’t make any difference.”

“Oh.” He sounded deflated and dejected. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see,” she straightened up and cupped his dear, battered face in her hands. “I love you, Bram. Yes, I’ll marry you – unconditionally.”

Georgie leapt off the bed and began to twirl round.

“I’m doing a happy dance!” she yelled. “My mummy and daddy are getting married.”

A cheer went round the ward and patients and staff broke into spontaneous applause, but Regan could barely hear it for the singing in her heart.

They’d wasted far too much time already. The future was theirs and from now on there’d be no looking back.

THE END

© Teresa Ashby

Teresa Ashby has been writing short stories, serials and pocket novels since the 1980s for magazines in the UK and abroad – she welcomes visitors to her blog

http://teresaashby.blogspot.com/