The Substance of Things Hoped For, 19/29
Title: The Substance of Things Hoped For (19/29)
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
Rose sat in bed the next evening, enjoying watching Peter as he slowly undressed after having checked one last time on Lucy for the night. He’d spent much of the afternoon distracted-not inattentive, and certainly not upset, but certainly preoccupied with something. She’d noticed it almost as soon as she and Lucy had returned from a visit with the Muirs, had patiently waited for Peter to share out what it was that he was thinking over; and now, with him thoughtfully walking over to the bed and showing no inclination to talk about it, she decided it was time to pry.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asked as the mattress dipped under his weight. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss across his bare shoulder, her hand sliding across the skin and down his arm to his hand.
“Eh?”
“You’ve been thinkin’ something over all day. Was wonderin’ if it was important.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward, turning the light off, then turned to slide his legs along Rose’s.
Rose remained silent, having learned that Peter would share out what was bothering him far more quickly if he wasn’t goaded or prodded. She shifted a bit, moving to slide under the covers, and fought back a smile as Peter moved to do the same, his arm slipping under her shoulders and pulling him to her.
“Annie rang, while you were out.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Of course!” He sounded surprised at her question.
“Well, I mean, she rang, and you’ve been thinking about it all day…”
“No, it’s not that she or Robert are unwell. She invited us up for a visit, actually. To Heatherfield proper.”
Images of the palatial estate flitted before Rose’s eyes-the immaculate lawns, the pricily decorated interior. She and Annie got on well, after the initial friction of their relationship-but Rose hated Heatherfield, hated how cold and impersonal and intimidating it was. She suspected Annie knew the place made her uncomfortable; Annie almost always managed to find a way to meet up with them in Glasgow or Stirling, or sometimes even London, with the rare invitation to the estate proper thrown in to show that the Carlisles were always welcome.
“Oh. All of us?” Rose finally asked, remembering that Peter was awake next to her, and no doubt awaiting her reply.
“All of us.” Lucy hadn’t yet been to the estate-a fluke of timing, really, given that the rare visits to Heatherfield almost always happened whilst Lucy was at school. Annie was genuinely fond of Lucy-as fond as Lucy was of her ‘Aunt’ Annie, really-and Rose let out a soft sigh.
She’d not be able to refuse the invitation-not when Lucy would be so eager to see the estate. Annie had told her about it, as had Peter, painting it as a magical place; Rose supposed it could be to some, but she simply couldn’t see it.
“You don’t want to go,” Peter said softly, the words followed by a resigned sigh.
“You want to go. Lucy’ll be over the moon to go. So we’ll go.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, Rose.”
“I just don’t like it there,” she said, her voice sounding small and petulant to her own ears. “I know you love it, and you know I really like Annie, but the house-it just gives me the shivers.” She tilted her head, looking up to Peter. “But we should still accept-it’s the only right thing to do. When would it be?”
“Sunday.”
“This Sunday?”
“Aye.” Peter paused a beat, then added, “I thought we might make a weekend of it-find a nice place to stay somewhere up there, maybe take Lucy on a proper visit to Glasgow, visit with Martin as we’d planned on Saturday, then up to Heatherfield on Sunday. Stay up there Sunday night-”
“At the house?”
“No, no-at wherever we like. And then come home Monday. A minibreak within our holiday.”
Rose’s hand was resting on his breastbone, her fingers idly brushing against his skin as she thought. It would be fun to make a short trip of it-to go to parts of Scotland she didn’t normally get to see, and to take Lucy to places she’d never yet been. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Peter had taken a holiday of any sort, with or without Lucy, and she thought hopefully of finding a place that had a family suite instead of a family room, allowing her to properly seduce Peter one of their nights away.
“I think it could be fun,” she said, smiling up at him.
He grinned, pulling her to him in a gentle hug.
When they suggested the idea to Lucy the next day she squealed with delight, elated to finally get to see her Auntie’s estate, thrilled by the prospect of visiting sites heretofore unseen and thus unexplored.
There was no way to do proper-and quick-research on B&Bs from the cottage, and so Rose rang down to London, speaking with her mum about finding a reliable travel agent to arrange the lodging at such short notice.
“Goin’ on a break, are you?” Jackie asked cheerfully, the sound of pages being turned just audible in the background. “Ah, here we are. You want me to call them, love? Get them to arrange things for you?”
Rose realized with a start that she did-for once, she wanted to not have to worry about finding lodging for the night, to not have to worry about how they’d get from point a to point b, to not have to worry about how much the lodging was going to cost, and what the restrictions would be. She’d spent much of her career doing just that for her team-and it was an utter relief to just hand the worry off to someone her mum trusted and not have to deal with any of it.
“That’d be lovely, Mum.”
“Right. I’ll get it all arranged for you. Be sure to answer the phone if it rings today, though-might be me callin’ with what you need.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Just glad to see you properly relaxin’ for once, love.” With that Jackie rang off, leaving Rose to sit, a small smile on her lips, in the kitchen. Peter found here there a few minutes later, his whistling breaking off as he found her there.
“All well, then?” he asked, moving to join her at the table.
“All well.”
“Where’ll we be staying?”
“No idea.” Peter arched an eyebrow at her words, and she elaborated. “Mum’s got an agent bookin’ for us. She’ll ring back when things are taken care of.”
His second eyebrow joined the first, an expression of utter surprise. “You’re not booking anything?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “’s fantastic.”
“Right,” he replied dubiously.
“It’s an adventure, Peter. Been a long while since we’ve had a proper one of those.”
“I thought every day was one, with a daughter like ours.” His eyebrows had relaxed, and his voice was laced with amusement as he spoke.
“Where is our daughter, speaking of?”
“Outside.”
“What, alone?” Rose stood quickly, eager to see if Lucy was safe.
“Alone.” Peter reached for her hand, tugging at it gently. “Safe. She’s a big girl, Rose-she knows better than to swim alone.”
“But-”
“Trust her.” His brown eyes were warm as she turned to look at him. “She’s a smart girl, is our daughter. Even when she makes questionable decisions.”
Rose turned back to the front of the cottage, torn between heeding Peter’s advice and easing her fears. She looked at Peter once again, saw him still gazing patiently at her, and made her decision.
“Alright.” Her voice was tiny, and she shuffled a few inches closer to Peter, away from the door. He stood, his arms wrapping around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head, the whiskers of his growing beard catching her hair.
“She’ll be fine, Rose. Just fine.”
Lucy was indeed fine, and came back indoors a almost an hour later, exhilarated from her time outside, alone. Rose didn’t miss the glances Peter kept stealing as Lucy talked about what she’d seen, pride evident in his gaze. She listened to Lucy’s excited words with a smile; and then, as Peter followed their daughter out to the front of the cottage to look at something in particular, Rose snuck out the back door, eager to be alone for just a few moments.
She wasn’t surprised when Peter found her fifteen minutes later, seated along the shore south of the house, her feet buried in the sand and her arms wrapped around her shins. She’d been watching the sea, her chin propped on her knees, not thinking at all but simply letting the wind whip about and the sound of the ocean soothe her. It was a gorgeous summer’s day, and she was sure there were plenty of families and people enjoying it further north, past the glade at the public shore.
He settled in next to her, immediately burying his toes in the sand, leaning back on his hands as he surveyed the vista before them. He didn’t say anything, though, simply kept her quiet company until she was ready to speak.
“Where’s-”
“Safe, Rose. She was reading on the front step when I told her I’d be walking this way. She knows where to find us.”
“Just wanted some time t’think,” she said after a break of a few moments.
“The beach is a good place for that.”
Silence once again fell between them, to be filled by the gentle sound of low waves breaking near the shore.
She gave a small laugh as she realized he was using the same tactic with her as she’d used with him the night before. He glanced over, curious; she shook her head, unfolding herself and mirroring his position. “I’ve been a goose, again. ‘m sorry, Peter.”
“You’ve been through a lot, these past months.”
“Yeah, but ‘s all comin’ to a head now, isn’t it? ‘s just…’s hard, steppin’ back and lettin’ Lucy go, even just that little bit.”
“She can take care of herself, Rose-she’s been off at school on her own for years.”
“Yeah, but that’s different-she’s at school, with teachers and headmasters and other people lookin’ out for her, and it’s even in a safe place with a gate ‘n all. But here-here ‘s just the sea and the shore and the wind, and who knows what could happen to her?”
“We’ve taught her well, Rose. You’ve taught her well. She knows what she’s allowed to do and what she’s not.”
“But what about the things we’ve not taught her?”
“Some of them, she’ll have to learn through mistakes.” He sighed, straightening, brushing the sand from his hands. “And I think for the others, her instincts and wit will see her right. She’s our daughter, Rose-I think she’ll turn out alright.”
She turned to look at him, taking in the small smile curving the corners of his mouth, the way the wind was whipping his hair, the way his freckles had come out thanks to time swimming and walking outside over even a few days. As he always did, he’d forgone shaving the instant they’d arrived at the cottage, and she noted that although his hair was greyer every year, his beard remained stubbornly auburn.
She didn’t miss the corners of his mouth curving higher, knew what he’d say even before he said it.
“D’you like what you see, then, Mrs. Carlisle?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she teased, taking advantage of his surprise at her response to lean over and kiss him. “I’d say I lovewhat I see,” she added, brushing another kiss across his lips.
He grinned then, a lovely true smile that only really appeared when they were in Croy or when he felt completely comfortable and safe. He leaned in, his smile fading, his eyes darker than they had been; and as he closed the distance for a kiss, he whispered, “Shame you didn’t head north…”
“Someone’d have found us,” she murmured against his lips, turning so she could slide her hands over his shoulders.
He didn’t reply, instead deepened their kiss, his hands gently cradling her jaw, holding her to him as his mouth worked against hers. She felt tension coiling low in her stomach, felt her breasts tingle in anticipation of what usually followed when he was like this; she wondered if they’d be able to get away with some time alone in the cottage, time to make love in the middle of the day instead of quietly in the dark of night.
“Rose,” Peter panted, breaking the kiss, his fingers tracing lightly down her neck.
“Mmmm?” She lazily opened her eyes, looking at her husband, at how black his eyes were now, at how his lips were red and glistening. She leaned back in, unable to resist him, immediately pulling his lower lip in for a gentle suck, nibbling on it, encouraging him to forget where they were and instead focus his full attention to her. Her hands slid down across his chest, Peter’s muscles jumping under his t-shirt as they moved across his ribs, then around his back, her splayed hands now pulling him closer to her, encouraging him to deepen the kiss once more.
He broke the kiss, panting, after another several moments. “Lucy-come looking for us-half hour…”
Rose furrowed her brows. “You told Lucy to come looking for us?” she managed, still short of breath.
“Aye.”
“She doesn’t have a watch.” Rose loosened her hold on Peter, her arms slipping from around him.
“She does. Gave her one from upstairs.” He was a bit more clear-eyed than he had been, with more brown visible around his irises, and Rose released a frustrated sigh.
“Right.” She leaned back, resigned, wondering if they’d ever again get a chance to shag whenever they wanted.
“I don’t necessarily expect her to keep true track of time-but just in case…”
“No, you’re right.” She sighed again. “S’pose we should be getting back, at any rate.”
“Indeed we should. Heaven knows what Lucy’s got up to in our absence.” He stood and, grinning, reached down to help her stand. “Let’s hope it’s nothing too destructive, eh?” He winked, slipping his hand into hers, and led the way back to the cottage.
Lucy was sitting on the doorstep when they returned, the watch sitting on the stone next to her. She was completely engrossed in the book on her lap, and looked surprised to see her parents when they returned.
“Good book, love?”
“’s alright.” Lucy closed it and Rose caught the title-one of the many fantasy books Mickey had given her for her last birthday. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy them, per se-it was that Lucy always complained that the stories Rose and her uncles told her were so much better than a book could hope to be.
“See anyone while we were away?” Peter reached his other hand out, taking Lucy’s small one as she stood.
“Nae. ‘Course I was reading…oh! But Gran rang!”
“You heard the phone? Out here?”
“Da left me his mobile.” Lucy dug in her pocket, producing Peter’s mobile and handing it back to him with exaggerated carefulness.
“You were only meant to use it to call, cagaran, not answer it if it rang,” he admonished lightly.
“It said Gran when it rang,” Lucy defended herself. “Didnae want her to worry.”
“What did she have to say?” Rose asked gently, trying not to let her amusement show.
“T’ring her back. Also said she couldn’t fathom where ye’d got off to,” she added, turning to look back at her da.
“I’m sure she has a few ideas,” Peter said mildly, releasing Rose’s hand and reaching for the door.
Rose laughed, shooing Lucy inside then following her daughter. Peter paused to collect the spare watch from the step then came inside, whispering to Rose, “She’ll think we’ve been at it like rabbits.”
“We would have been, too, if you’d not been so sensible,” she replied softly, grinning, stealing a quick kiss. She turned, and shouted up the stairs after Lucy, “Lucy! Time t’do some laundry!”
~ - ~
Chapter 20
End Note: You’ll have noticed that the chapter count has returned to “29”. I was inspired this past weekend--well, this past Friday, really--and managed to write quite a few things which had been nagging me by their absence from this story. So yes, there will be 29 Chapters in total.
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
Rose sat in bed the next evening, enjoying watching Peter as he slowly undressed after having checked one last time on Lucy for the night. He’d spent much of the afternoon distracted-not inattentive, and certainly not upset, but certainly preoccupied with something. She’d noticed it almost as soon as she and Lucy had returned from a visit with the Muirs, had patiently waited for Peter to share out what it was that he was thinking over; and now, with him thoughtfully walking over to the bed and showing no inclination to talk about it, she decided it was time to pry.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asked as the mattress dipped under his weight. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss across his bare shoulder, her hand sliding across the skin and down his arm to his hand.
“Eh?”
“You’ve been thinkin’ something over all day. Was wonderin’ if it was important.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward, turning the light off, then turned to slide his legs along Rose’s.
Rose remained silent, having learned that Peter would share out what was bothering him far more quickly if he wasn’t goaded or prodded. She shifted a bit, moving to slide under the covers, and fought back a smile as Peter moved to do the same, his arm slipping under her shoulders and pulling him to her.
“Annie rang, while you were out.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Of course!” He sounded surprised at her question.
“Well, I mean, she rang, and you’ve been thinking about it all day…”
“No, it’s not that she or Robert are unwell. She invited us up for a visit, actually. To Heatherfield proper.”
Images of the palatial estate flitted before Rose’s eyes-the immaculate lawns, the pricily decorated interior. She and Annie got on well, after the initial friction of their relationship-but Rose hated Heatherfield, hated how cold and impersonal and intimidating it was. She suspected Annie knew the place made her uncomfortable; Annie almost always managed to find a way to meet up with them in Glasgow or Stirling, or sometimes even London, with the rare invitation to the estate proper thrown in to show that the Carlisles were always welcome.
“Oh. All of us?” Rose finally asked, remembering that Peter was awake next to her, and no doubt awaiting her reply.
“All of us.” Lucy hadn’t yet been to the estate-a fluke of timing, really, given that the rare visits to Heatherfield almost always happened whilst Lucy was at school. Annie was genuinely fond of Lucy-as fond as Lucy was of her ‘Aunt’ Annie, really-and Rose let out a soft sigh.
She’d not be able to refuse the invitation-not when Lucy would be so eager to see the estate. Annie had told her about it, as had Peter, painting it as a magical place; Rose supposed it could be to some, but she simply couldn’t see it.
“You don’t want to go,” Peter said softly, the words followed by a resigned sigh.
“You want to go. Lucy’ll be over the moon to go. So we’ll go.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, Rose.”
“I just don’t like it there,” she said, her voice sounding small and petulant to her own ears. “I know you love it, and you know I really like Annie, but the house-it just gives me the shivers.” She tilted her head, looking up to Peter. “But we should still accept-it’s the only right thing to do. When would it be?”
“Sunday.”
“This Sunday?”
“Aye.” Peter paused a beat, then added, “I thought we might make a weekend of it-find a nice place to stay somewhere up there, maybe take Lucy on a proper visit to Glasgow, visit with Martin as we’d planned on Saturday, then up to Heatherfield on Sunday. Stay up there Sunday night-”
“At the house?”
“No, no-at wherever we like. And then come home Monday. A minibreak within our holiday.”
Rose’s hand was resting on his breastbone, her fingers idly brushing against his skin as she thought. It would be fun to make a short trip of it-to go to parts of Scotland she didn’t normally get to see, and to take Lucy to places she’d never yet been. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Peter had taken a holiday of any sort, with or without Lucy, and she thought hopefully of finding a place that had a family suite instead of a family room, allowing her to properly seduce Peter one of their nights away.
“I think it could be fun,” she said, smiling up at him.
He grinned, pulling her to him in a gentle hug.
When they suggested the idea to Lucy the next day she squealed with delight, elated to finally get to see her Auntie’s estate, thrilled by the prospect of visiting sites heretofore unseen and thus unexplored.
There was no way to do proper-and quick-research on B&Bs from the cottage, and so Rose rang down to London, speaking with her mum about finding a reliable travel agent to arrange the lodging at such short notice.
“Goin’ on a break, are you?” Jackie asked cheerfully, the sound of pages being turned just audible in the background. “Ah, here we are. You want me to call them, love? Get them to arrange things for you?”
Rose realized with a start that she did-for once, she wanted to not have to worry about finding lodging for the night, to not have to worry about how they’d get from point a to point b, to not have to worry about how much the lodging was going to cost, and what the restrictions would be. She’d spent much of her career doing just that for her team-and it was an utter relief to just hand the worry off to someone her mum trusted and not have to deal with any of it.
“That’d be lovely, Mum.”
“Right. I’ll get it all arranged for you. Be sure to answer the phone if it rings today, though-might be me callin’ with what you need.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Just glad to see you properly relaxin’ for once, love.” With that Jackie rang off, leaving Rose to sit, a small smile on her lips, in the kitchen. Peter found here there a few minutes later, his whistling breaking off as he found her there.
“All well, then?” he asked, moving to join her at the table.
“All well.”
“Where’ll we be staying?”
“No idea.” Peter arched an eyebrow at her words, and she elaborated. “Mum’s got an agent bookin’ for us. She’ll ring back when things are taken care of.”
His second eyebrow joined the first, an expression of utter surprise. “You’re not booking anything?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “’s fantastic.”
“Right,” he replied dubiously.
“It’s an adventure, Peter. Been a long while since we’ve had a proper one of those.”
“I thought every day was one, with a daughter like ours.” His eyebrows had relaxed, and his voice was laced with amusement as he spoke.
“Where is our daughter, speaking of?”
“Outside.”
“What, alone?” Rose stood quickly, eager to see if Lucy was safe.
“Alone.” Peter reached for her hand, tugging at it gently. “Safe. She’s a big girl, Rose-she knows better than to swim alone.”
“But-”
“Trust her.” His brown eyes were warm as she turned to look at him. “She’s a smart girl, is our daughter. Even when she makes questionable decisions.”
Rose turned back to the front of the cottage, torn between heeding Peter’s advice and easing her fears. She looked at Peter once again, saw him still gazing patiently at her, and made her decision.
“Alright.” Her voice was tiny, and she shuffled a few inches closer to Peter, away from the door. He stood, his arms wrapping around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head, the whiskers of his growing beard catching her hair.
“She’ll be fine, Rose. Just fine.”
Lucy was indeed fine, and came back indoors a almost an hour later, exhilarated from her time outside, alone. Rose didn’t miss the glances Peter kept stealing as Lucy talked about what she’d seen, pride evident in his gaze. She listened to Lucy’s excited words with a smile; and then, as Peter followed their daughter out to the front of the cottage to look at something in particular, Rose snuck out the back door, eager to be alone for just a few moments.
She wasn’t surprised when Peter found her fifteen minutes later, seated along the shore south of the house, her feet buried in the sand and her arms wrapped around her shins. She’d been watching the sea, her chin propped on her knees, not thinking at all but simply letting the wind whip about and the sound of the ocean soothe her. It was a gorgeous summer’s day, and she was sure there were plenty of families and people enjoying it further north, past the glade at the public shore.
He settled in next to her, immediately burying his toes in the sand, leaning back on his hands as he surveyed the vista before them. He didn’t say anything, though, simply kept her quiet company until she was ready to speak.
“Where’s-”
“Safe, Rose. She was reading on the front step when I told her I’d be walking this way. She knows where to find us.”
“Just wanted some time t’think,” she said after a break of a few moments.
“The beach is a good place for that.”
Silence once again fell between them, to be filled by the gentle sound of low waves breaking near the shore.
She gave a small laugh as she realized he was using the same tactic with her as she’d used with him the night before. He glanced over, curious; she shook her head, unfolding herself and mirroring his position. “I’ve been a goose, again. ‘m sorry, Peter.”
“You’ve been through a lot, these past months.”
“Yeah, but ‘s all comin’ to a head now, isn’t it? ‘s just…’s hard, steppin’ back and lettin’ Lucy go, even just that little bit.”
“She can take care of herself, Rose-she’s been off at school on her own for years.”
“Yeah, but that’s different-she’s at school, with teachers and headmasters and other people lookin’ out for her, and it’s even in a safe place with a gate ‘n all. But here-here ‘s just the sea and the shore and the wind, and who knows what could happen to her?”
“We’ve taught her well, Rose. You’ve taught her well. She knows what she’s allowed to do and what she’s not.”
“But what about the things we’ve not taught her?”
“Some of them, she’ll have to learn through mistakes.” He sighed, straightening, brushing the sand from his hands. “And I think for the others, her instincts and wit will see her right. She’s our daughter, Rose-I think she’ll turn out alright.”
She turned to look at him, taking in the small smile curving the corners of his mouth, the way the wind was whipping his hair, the way his freckles had come out thanks to time swimming and walking outside over even a few days. As he always did, he’d forgone shaving the instant they’d arrived at the cottage, and she noted that although his hair was greyer every year, his beard remained stubbornly auburn.
She didn’t miss the corners of his mouth curving higher, knew what he’d say even before he said it.
“D’you like what you see, then, Mrs. Carlisle?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she teased, taking advantage of his surprise at her response to lean over and kiss him. “I’d say I lovewhat I see,” she added, brushing another kiss across his lips.
He grinned then, a lovely true smile that only really appeared when they were in Croy or when he felt completely comfortable and safe. He leaned in, his smile fading, his eyes darker than they had been; and as he closed the distance for a kiss, he whispered, “Shame you didn’t head north…”
“Someone’d have found us,” she murmured against his lips, turning so she could slide her hands over his shoulders.
He didn’t reply, instead deepened their kiss, his hands gently cradling her jaw, holding her to him as his mouth worked against hers. She felt tension coiling low in her stomach, felt her breasts tingle in anticipation of what usually followed when he was like this; she wondered if they’d be able to get away with some time alone in the cottage, time to make love in the middle of the day instead of quietly in the dark of night.
“Rose,” Peter panted, breaking the kiss, his fingers tracing lightly down her neck.
“Mmmm?” She lazily opened her eyes, looking at her husband, at how black his eyes were now, at how his lips were red and glistening. She leaned back in, unable to resist him, immediately pulling his lower lip in for a gentle suck, nibbling on it, encouraging him to forget where they were and instead focus his full attention to her. Her hands slid down across his chest, Peter’s muscles jumping under his t-shirt as they moved across his ribs, then around his back, her splayed hands now pulling him closer to her, encouraging him to deepen the kiss once more.
He broke the kiss, panting, after another several moments. “Lucy-come looking for us-half hour…”
Rose furrowed her brows. “You told Lucy to come looking for us?” she managed, still short of breath.
“Aye.”
“She doesn’t have a watch.” Rose loosened her hold on Peter, her arms slipping from around him.
“She does. Gave her one from upstairs.” He was a bit more clear-eyed than he had been, with more brown visible around his irises, and Rose released a frustrated sigh.
“Right.” She leaned back, resigned, wondering if they’d ever again get a chance to shag whenever they wanted.
“I don’t necessarily expect her to keep true track of time-but just in case…”
“No, you’re right.” She sighed again. “S’pose we should be getting back, at any rate.”
“Indeed we should. Heaven knows what Lucy’s got up to in our absence.” He stood and, grinning, reached down to help her stand. “Let’s hope it’s nothing too destructive, eh?” He winked, slipping his hand into hers, and led the way back to the cottage.
Lucy was sitting on the doorstep when they returned, the watch sitting on the stone next to her. She was completely engrossed in the book on her lap, and looked surprised to see her parents when they returned.
“Good book, love?”
“’s alright.” Lucy closed it and Rose caught the title-one of the many fantasy books Mickey had given her for her last birthday. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy them, per se-it was that Lucy always complained that the stories Rose and her uncles told her were so much better than a book could hope to be.
“See anyone while we were away?” Peter reached his other hand out, taking Lucy’s small one as she stood.
“Nae. ‘Course I was reading…oh! But Gran rang!”
“You heard the phone? Out here?”
“Da left me his mobile.” Lucy dug in her pocket, producing Peter’s mobile and handing it back to him with exaggerated carefulness.
“You were only meant to use it to call, cagaran, not answer it if it rang,” he admonished lightly.
“It said Gran when it rang,” Lucy defended herself. “Didnae want her to worry.”
“What did she have to say?” Rose asked gently, trying not to let her amusement show.
“T’ring her back. Also said she couldn’t fathom where ye’d got off to,” she added, turning to look back at her da.
“I’m sure she has a few ideas,” Peter said mildly, releasing Rose’s hand and reaching for the door.
Rose laughed, shooing Lucy inside then following her daughter. Peter paused to collect the spare watch from the step then came inside, whispering to Rose, “She’ll think we’ve been at it like rabbits.”
“We would have been, too, if you’d not been so sensible,” she replied softly, grinning, stealing a quick kiss. She turned, and shouted up the stairs after Lucy, “Lucy! Time t’do some laundry!”
~ - ~
Chapter 20
End Note: You’ll have noticed that the chapter count has returned to “29”. I was inspired this past weekend--well, this past Friday, really--and managed to write quite a few things which had been nagging me by their absence from this story. So yes, there will be 29 Chapters in total.