A finer end - Deborah Crombie [37]
“How much more difficult could it be than the weekends he spends here now?”
A good bit, she thought, but aloud she said merely, “What if Ian won’t agree?” She had never trusted McClellan’s sudden desire to make things up to Kit.
“We’ll deal with that if it happens. It’s not even positive about the job yet.”
Gemma sat forward and peered down into the garden. The roses were lush with late summer’s passion, but the rectangle of lawn was as primly tidy as ever. “Where is Kit tonight? I thought he’d be with you for the weekend.”
“In Grantchester, getting Tess ready for an obedience trial tomorrow. I’ll go up in the morning.”
Gemma felt suddenly excluded, as if they’d done a perfectly good job of carving out a life without her. And yet she knew that was unreasonable—wasn’t she the one who had chosen to go away? “I thought I’d see you at the Yard today,” she said, striving for firmer ground. “Tough case?”
“Wrapped up today, barring the paperwork, and that I’ve turned over to my sergeant.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Serves him right for being such a bloody eager beaver.”
“Wasn’t I?”
“Not like this. He’s a public-school boy—Eton, no less—and full of do-gooder’s enthusiasm for the job. Hasn’t learned he can’t change the world yet.”
“What’s his name?” she asked casually. Surely it was ridiculous to be jealous of this young man who had taken her place.
“Doug Cullen. He’s not a bad chap, really, and I think he’ll make a decent copper once he’s seasoned a bit. At any rate he’s intelligent, and that’s an enormous improvement over the last two they assigned me.” He took a sip of his beer and studied her. “You’ll be bossing sweet young things about yourself, any day now. How does it feel?”
She heard the distance in his tone and said awkwardly, “Don’t know yet, really.” He’d given her an opening, and the longer she waited to take it, the more difficult it would be. Abruptly, she said, “I’ve got my duty assignment. Notting Hill.”
For a moment he didn’t respond, then, without taking his gaze from the garden, he said softly, “Your old stomping ground. Good. That should make things easier for you. Congratulations,” he added, but she could see it took an effort.
“This has been harder than I expected.”
“Gemma, I’ve no doubt you can do the job—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I feel so … displaced … without you. It’s like half of me’s missing. I never realized …”
He stared at her, then said lightly, “And I thought you’d come to give me a ‘Dear Duncan’ send-off in person. I met this terrific bloke on my Criminal Behavior course …”
“Fat chance, that!” she exclaimed, laughing.
He moved his bare foot along the railing until it touched hers. “I’ve missed you too.”
The wave of desire that washed over her from that small contact was so intense it left her shaken. She closed her eyes and held quite still, struggling to convince herself that every nerve ending in her body hadn’t suddenly migrated to the left side of her left foot.
When she opened her eyes, Kincaid was watching her. “Gemma? You okay?”
Tentatively, she said, “Just exactly how much did you miss me?”
He brushed her cheek with a fingertip. “Are you angling for a demonstration, Inspector?”
Her pulse leapt. “Yes, sir, guv’ner, sir.” The lights blinked on in the house opposite, as if to signal the coming of night. “You can’t make a case without evidence, you know.”
“Oh, I think that could be obtained easily enough, don’t you?” He stood, and she caught the flash of his grin as he held out his hand to her. She slipped her fingers into his, and willingly gave herself up.
CHAPTER SIX
There are times in the history of races when the things of the inner life come to the surface and find expression, and from these rendings of the veil the light of the sanctuary pours forth.
—DION FORTUNE,
FROM GLASTONBURY: AVALON OF THE HEART
SHE LAY BESIDE him, listening to his soft breathing, with the slight whistle on the exhalation that might easily become a snore.