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‘You promised to tell me what that word means.’
‘Aye, I did. What do you think it is?’
Had he leaned closer? Had she? ‘Something—nice, I think. Little one?’
‘Darling. It means my darling Meg. Do you mind?’
‘Mind, no.’ Her heart zinged at the sweet Irish word, and what it seemed to say about Seamus, and how he felt about her. How it made her feel. ‘It feels special.’
‘You are special, Meg. A man could fall in love with you over a bar of chocolate.’
Her breath caught, stuttered, then rushed out in a quick exhale. Love? Was Seamus saying he loved her? She sipped her tea and looked up at the stars, too numerous to count. ‘People don’t fall in love at first sight.’
‘Most don’t. Perhaps some do, the lucky ones. The moment you looked up at me on the truck with your big blue eyes wide with surprise, I knew it could happen.’
Meg dug her short fingernails into her palms and turned to look at him. Starlight and moonlight gathered in his eyes. She had to be dreaming. No man could make such a beautiful declaration in real life. It was poetry and romance. It was perfect.
And it was happening to her.
Seamus lifted her mug from her hand and set it beside his on the ground then he took her hand. ‘I want to kiss you, Meg.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered then more loudly, ‘Yes, please.’ If this moment was a dream, she would be brave. ‘I’d like to kiss you too.’
He held her face, his hands gentle, for all they were callused, and leaned closer. And then soft lips pressed against hers. She had little idea how to kiss well. A few fumbling, sloppy meetings of lips in the back of the movie theatre hardly counted, and yet Seamus’s lips on hers felt natural. Wonderful. She parted her lips to tell him so, but he caught her lower lip and then his tongue traced her mouth. She gasped and drew back.
‘Sorry, Meg. I’ll try not to do it if you don’t like it.’
She touched her lips lightly, her fingers tracing the path his tongue had taken. ‘I—haven’t had many kisses, and if I think about that last bit, it’s strange. Kind of nice, but strange.’
‘I can live with kind of nice. And you kiss perfectly well. I like your kisses. A lot.’
Seamus’s response made her feel on top of the world. He gave her the confidence to ask, ‘Can I try what you did? With your tongue?’
‘Sure, and just so you know, I’ll like whatever sort of kisses you decide to give me. Do whatever feels nice. Okay?’ His smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as she set her hands on his face, the same as he’d held hers.
Emboldened by his smile, she kept her eyes open and kissed him. Lips to lips first, then, when his parted, tentatively she traced his with her tongue. He tasted of tea and bush turkey stew, but beyond that, overtaking the sense of wonder at her first magical kiss, was an overwhelming sense of coming home.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Her thoughts whirled around that single unalterable fact, but she held onto the discovery and stayed silent. There would be time later to consider what her feelings meant. For now, she simply felt, and lost herself in kissing Seamus.
***
Two nights and manykisses later, as they left the dinner queue with their trays and headed out of the mess tent, Seamus balanced his tray on one hand and guided her with his free hand past their regular dinner spot.
‘Aren’t we sitting here tonight?’
‘I’ve a surprise for you.’ His hand on her waist felt natural and right. Hungering for his touch occupied her mind when he wasn’t near.
And then yesterday, wonder of wonders, the doctor had allowed Seamus to remove his sling. Now he had two arms to hold her, two hands to touch her. And touch her he did, every opportunity he could find.
It wasn’t that his embrace had been less wonderful before his sling came off, before he was able to fully enfold her in his arms. It was just that two arms were more. Two arms invited her to meld with him until she was certain they were simply two parts of one whole, meant to be together to make the world right.
Seamus took her into his arms the moment they were out of sight, and she was the same. If Seamus came into the ward, she had a sudden urgent need to check medical supplies or roll bandages. Seamus would slip in behind the curtain and, like filings to a magnet, she stepped into his arms.
If Matron was likely to return, they made no sound, but the look Seamus gave her needed no words. Like his expression now as she raised an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder. Matron had been tolerant—and surprisingly silent on the subject of one of her nurses sitting outside the mess tent with a soldier—but Meg doubted she would be as accepting if she saw Meg and Seamus disappearing with their dinner.
‘Matron’s in a meeting with the captain. Don’t worry about her. Just close your eyes and hang onto me.’ She balanced her tray on one hand and, trusting him completely, enjoyed a burst of pleasure at the change in routine.
