The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon

      Clint stared long and hard at Leighton, the muscles in his jaw working overtime. His mouth opened, then shut wordlessly. He looked at Romy, deep and pained, and then something in his eyes shifted. As though someone had lit a lamp in a dusty, disused room and revealed treasures beyond belief. They widened as she watched.

      He shifted his attention back to the drowsy boy below him. ‘That’s because I love you, too, champ.’

      Leighton abandoned his death grip on his mother and threw himself against Clint. It was exactly what she wanted to do, but fear kept her motionless. Clint kissed the top of Leighton’s shaggy head and then looked up at Romy.

      She stared at Clint in taught agony and hissed, ‘That’s not something you say just because you think someone wants to hear it.’ She nodded towards Leighton. But she was talking about herself. ‘He’s eight years old, Clint.’

      ‘I know.’ He kissed Leighton’s head again. ‘I do love you, kiddo. I will be right by your mother’s side if you are ever in any kind of trouble and need me. Forever. I swear.’

      Romy frowned her confusion through a pulsing headache. Right by her side. But that sounded decidedly not like forever.

      It sounded like forever apart. ‘You can’t do this, Clint.’ The ache hummed in her whisper. ‘He won’t understand.’

      ‘He understands more than you know, Romy.’ He shifted his eyes to her as he spoke, thick and husky and pained. ‘I love you both. Very much. And whenever you need me, I will be there for you both. No matter where you are.’

      The whole cottage lurched at her feet and her surging heart leapt painfully in her chest. She tipped her chin up and eye-balled him. Took a chance. The instinct to protect herself was almost overwhelming, but she forced the words from her cold lips. ‘Why? Where are you going?’

      He frowned. ‘Nowhere. But after what I said earlier tonight…’

      ‘You still want us to leave?’

      ‘No! But—’

      Her heart pounded. ‘You want us to stay, then?’

      His blazing eyes said desperately, but his voice was less sure. ‘I’ve given up the right to hope for what I want.’

      Thump, thump, thump. ‘What if I want it, too?’

      Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. Including Leighton. Romy stared into Clint’s green eyes. She’d never seen them so naked. So brave. In the space between one blink and the next, she decided it was time she demonstrated some of that McLeish courage.

       Screw fear.

      ‘I want to stay.’ The words wobbled, then grew more sure. ‘With you.’

      Nobody moved. Romy’s heart beat hard enough to bruise her ribs. Then Clint gifted her with a brilliant, unrestrained smile and she was lost. She launched herself forwards, finding Clint’s lips with her own across the top of a squashed Leighton.

      ‘I love you.’ Kiss. ‘I love you.’ Kiss. ‘I love you, Clint McLeish.’

      He kissed her back as though she was the very air he breathed, his mouth hot and hard and so, so gentle. Then his hands came around the top of her body and dragged her half across to his side of Leighton’s bed. ‘I’ve loved you since the moment you handed me all the things you stole from my shop,’ he said, pressing his lips to her face, her hair, her mouth. She bit his bottom lip gently. Her voice was breathy, her laugh choked with tears.

      ‘I’ve loved you since you completely missed me stealing them.’

      He opened his mouth to protest and Romy took the advantage, covering it with hers and diving her tongue in deep for a hint of the heaven she’d been dreaming of since the night of the fundraiser.

      ‘Eeeww, Mum.’ Leighton pushed ineffectually against Clint’s body. ‘Gross!’

      Getting out of her child’s bedroom became a necessary priority. She needed to be alone with Clint. They tucked him back in hurriedly and then tiptoed down the stairs. Clint kept one hand on her the whole time. Her shoulder, her back, her nape, her hip.

      When his hand slipped up higher than her hip and his long fingers curled up around her rib cage as her feet touched the bottom step, she spun into his embrace. Into his waiting kiss. If the world ended now, Romy would go into eternity knowing she’d been loved. And more important, that she’d been able to love.

      They both emerged breathless, laughing. Her body zinged with the same rush that flushed his.

      ‘You asked me why I didn’t want to go back out into the field.’ He kissed her, slow and hard. ‘I’ve got too much to lose now. Too much to get home to.’ He kissed her again; she pressed herself to him. ‘And I don’t think I could stand to see that look on your face again.’

      ‘What look?’

      ‘When you thought you might not see me again. When I feared you were right. That’s not somewhere I want to put you ever again.’

      ‘You won’t. I won’t let you.’ She kissed him, pulling him down after her onto the couch and leaning into him. ‘I will never let you go.’

      He smiled. ‘Hey, enough of the stalker talk. You’re creeping me out.’

      She slapped him gently, then nestled in closer, looking at him steadily. ‘Any time you doubt your bravery, I’ll remind you how you risked your life for the people you loved.’

      ‘And right behind that, I’ll remind you of your blazing brilliance as you rescued your son.’ He kissed her soundly, then looked at her seriously. ‘And rescued me.’

      ‘You?’

      ‘You have no idea the darkness and sorrow of the place that I’ve been, Romy. The day you walked into my shop it was like a beacon went off, bright and unmissable in the sky, and I’ve been guided by it ever since.’

      ‘I wish I could give you a medal for what you did tonight. You deserve another flaming star.’

      ‘Romy Carvell, I would rather just one of those glorious, lusty looks from you than all the valour commendations in the country,’ he said.

      ‘This look?’ She threw her best movie-star come-on at him.

      ‘Nope.’ He kissed her until they were both breathless and then he slid his hand unapologetically up under her sweater. She flushed three kinds of hot and blazed back at him.

      ‘Oh, yeah,’ he murmured. ‘That’s the one.’

       Chapter Thirteen

      CLINT was respectful because the Colonel’s rank commanded it, but the effort nearly broke him. He gripped the telephone handset brutally. ‘Thank you, sir. Yes, I will. Goodbye.’

      He spent a moment managing his pulse, composing himself, conscious of the grey stare blazing into his back. Then he turned to Romy, cleared his throat. ‘Your father wishes to extend his congratulations.’

      It killed him that she was too frightened to make the call herself. Romy. The brazen, bolshie woman who took on wildlife smugglers head-on, who stood up to Clint as though he were a schoolteacher and not a trained killer. She sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed in the white slip of a wedding dress he’d married her in, waiting nervously. Yet she still found room in her heart to care. Maybe to worry a little bit.

      ‘How is he?’

      ‘He’s fine. He appreciated us letting him know about the wedding.’ He pulled her into the protective cocoon of his arms. She was going to need it. ‘He asked after Leighton.’

      Romy stiffened perceptibly. He stroked her hair, whispered against her ear. Broke the news as gently as