14. Harry
14
HARRY
The wind howls around the cottage all night, battering the windows, and flinging rain at the glass as if it’s trying to get inside. We snuggle under the fur throw, creating a tent over our heads, and we talk. We talk about whatever pops into our heads.
Ruby talks about her favorite books aside from Wuthering Heights . “ Forever Amber . It was banned when it was first written, although God knows why. There’s nothing risqué about it now. And The Other Side of Midnight by Sidney Sheldon. This book literally left me speechless for days after I finished it.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Hey.” She punches me playfully on the arm. “I can be quiet… When I want to be.”
I tell her about my sister Melanie.
“She and my mom were really close. When my mom got sick, Melanie looked after her. She washed her, and fed her, and brushed her hair. I’d come home from work and find her sitting in the rocking chair beside my mom’s bed, reading books to her, while my mom simply faded away.”
Ruby proves to me that she can be quiet. She holds me in her arms and transfers her warmth to me beneath the furry blanket, and I doze off, dreaming that Melanie, dressed as a British cop, comes to find us here in this remote farmhouse.
The following morning, we’re woken by the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee. I slide my arms out from under the blanket and immediately regret it as the chill raises goosebumps on my flesh. We dress quickly and head to the kitchen where Eileen is humming while she fries eggs in a pan on the stove.
“Morning,” she tosses over her shoulder with her usual wide smile. “I hope you’re both hungry.”
“Ravenous.” Ruby sits down at the table. She’s wearing a baggy sweater and clean jeans, and I don’t think that I could find a more perfect setting for her, despite knowing that she’s a city girl. “Can we explore the farm after breakfast, Eileen?”
“Aye, but don’t get too close to the cows. They’re in the shed up the hill for the winter. You’ll find Alastair up there.”
She places in front of us plates heaped with food and goes back to the counter where she slices homemade bread into thick pieces and spreads them thickly with butter.
I’ve never considered myself a foodie. I can cook—my mom made sure to teach me the basics—but I can’t remember a meal that I’ve enjoyed more than this breakfast. Perhaps it’s the wind still howling around the cottage, or the sea stretching endlessly towards the horizon, or perhaps it’s simply because I’m here with Ruby, somewhere where no one will ever think of looking for us.
Eileen refills our coffee cups and tells us to take some wellies from the front porch when we wander around the farm.
The wellies are splattered with dried mud, but Eileen has provided thick woolen socks to keep our feet warm. Ruby giggles when she realizes that they reach over her knees. “How am I supposed to walk in these?”
A faint tang of manure assaults my nostrils as I step into another pair. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Sure, I’m sure. You can’t pull the New Yorker act on me now, Harry. We’re in this together, remember.”
I kiss her forehead. “And you’ve never looked sexier.”
“Maybe I’ll bring the wellies to bed with us later.”
Alastair is a sandy-haired man with ruddy, weather-stained cheeks and a wiry beard. He introduces us to the cow shed, where the animal smell is quite overwhelming.
Ruby, unfazed by the farm odors, asks, “Do the cows have names?”
The farmer shakes his head. “Forming a personal attachment to the animals will only make my life more difficult.”
Ruby’s expression crumples when she understands the meaning behind his words. “Well, I’m going to name them.”
We wander around the shed, Ruby choosing names and stroking their foreheads, trying to ignore the plastic tags attached to their ears.
“This one is Daisy.” The honey-colored cow stops munching, hay and grass spilling from her mouth, and watches us with obvious mistrust. “Hello, Daisy. My name is Ruby, and the city boy here is called Harry. Don’t mind him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch your food.”
The sheep are even less friendly, running away the instant they spot us walking down the path. We go to the rocky beach and spend the rest of the day collecting pebbles and hunting in the rockpools for crabs. My foot slides off a mossy rock and I land on my back in the icy sea, gasping for air as the shock of the chill sucks the oxygen from my lungs.
Ruby offers me a hand, chewing her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. I grip it tightly, but she loses her balance too and lands on top of me, drenching her knees and splashing both our faces.
“Oh … my … God… That’s so cold.” Her teeth are chattering, her lips turning blue.
Laughing, we run back up the beach towards the cliffs where we’ve spotted a narrow gap between rocks. Squeezing through the gap and into a cave barely large enough for both of us to sit, I’m surprised at how warm it is when we’re out of the wind.
Ruby shivers against me, and I pull her closer, our cheeks colliding in the cramped space. “I’m … so … cold.” Even inside the gloomy cave, I can see that her face is turning blue, her jaw clenched.
I unzip my jacket to share my body heat with her, and she dips inside it, while I wrap it around her. “Better?”
“A bit.”
I hug her tightly, rubbing her arm to keep her circulation going when I feel her icy hand slide inside my pants. I jump involuntarily.
“Sorry,” she murmurs against my chest. But she doesn’t stop. She frees my cock, a gentle groan escaping her lips before her warm mouth closes around it.
It’s my turn to groan. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until the heat from her mouth transfers to my throbbing cock. I lean back against the walls of the cave and listen to the hiss and shuffle of the waves outside competing with the thumping of my heart.
The cold. The cave. The cozy room waiting for us back in Eileen’s farmhouse all contribute to the blood pumping around my veins and into my cock. I can’t hold back.
I feel blindly inside my jacket and wind her hair around my fingers, holding her mouth on me, not letting her go. She instinctively resists, but I’m already ejaculating into her mouth, my cock pulsing, my cum shooting down her throat.
Moments pass. My brain is still recovering from the intensity of the moment, and I can’t speak.
Then Ruby’s face appears in front of me, and she kisses me on the lips. I taste myself, sour, salty, surreal. “That’s one way to warm up.”
We stay inside the cave until our clothes are turning stiff with the salt before making our way back into the village. We buy a peculiar marionette with a face that could be either male or female dressed in a frilly white shirt and red corduroy dungarees, and a Noughts and Crosses board game with tiny figurines cloaked in red and black robes for pieces.
That evening we eat steak and ale pie in the local pub and wash it down with a pint of Guinness which the landlord assures us is good for our blood. We listen to the gentle accent of the locals, play pool with two silver-haired fishermen who beat us easily, and dance around the bar tables to Roxy Music’s ‘Avalon’, me twirling Ruby around with one arm above her head and trying not to fall over.
Then we wander back to the farmhouse in the dark, our hearts filled with new memories.
And at night, in the safety of our furry makeshift tent, I take my time exploring Ruby’s body.
Spooning her from behind, I kiss the back of her neck and stick my tongue in her ear, something that makes her arch her back and breathe heavily. I cup her breasts and tease her nipples between my fingertips, shifting her hair aside and tracing her neck and shoulders with my tongue until she grabs my hand and places it between her legs.
Ruby is always wet. She’s like a flower that opens up whenever we are together. Lying on her side, she raises one knee to her chest giving me access to penetrate her with two fingers, stroking her clit until her lips find mine greedily.
I pull my fingers out and roll her onto her back, spreading her legs wide. But this isn’t enough for Ruby. Gripping the headboard, she brings both knees up almost to her shoulders, tilting her pelvis upwards, her glistening pussy ripe for me.
“Lick me, Harry,” she murmurs.
“Very bossy.” I drag my tongue along her pussy. “Try again.”
“Lick me, Harry. Please…”
I lick her again, this time making sure my tongue gets right inside her.
“Again.”
Panting now. “Please lick me, Harry.”
I hold back, watching her, my mouth close enough to touch her sexy wetness. “Better.”
“Please, Harry. I want you to lick me.”
Smiling, I cup her butt with my hands and lick her gently, tasting her, teasing her with my tongue until she groans out loud. Then I push the tip inside her, find what I’m looking for, and drag it back and forth, feeling her wetness oozing into my mouth.
When she is still in the throes of her orgasm, I slide my cock into her, taking it slowly, filling her with my length. She thrusts against me, our hips pounding together, my mouth smothering hers to stop her from crying out and disturbing the sleep of the farmer and his wife.
I start to wonder if our life together will become a series of bubbles. Each one bigger and brighter than the one before, places in which to lose and discover ourselves at the same time. I don’t think about work. I know I must at some point, but right now, Ruby is the most important thing in my life.
The engagement ring is still in its tiny velvet box in my coat pocket. Just as the jeweler knew which ring I was looking for, I tell myself that I’ll know when the right moment presents itself. No rush. We have our whole lives ahead of us.
On the third day, when the wind drops and the setting sun is still warming our faces, we stroll along the beach towards the village pub, eager to sample the local fishermen’s catch of the day and try to beat our new friends at a repeat game of pool. They’ve whipped our butts twice, but Ruby promised them that we were merely warming up, lulling them into a false sense of security.
Up the slope from the beach and onto the road that leads to the pub, we both spot the police car outside the establishment at the same time.
“No.” Ruby shakes her head. “They can’t have found us here. They can’t have.”
I hear the incredulity in her voice above the drumming of my heartbeat.
“Maybe they’re inquiring about something else. Something local.” My words are swallowed by the sea shushing across the pebbly shore. “Maybe they’re here for dinner.”
Ruby’s shoulders slump inside her coat. “You don’t believe that do you?”
She’s right. I want to believe it, but it’s too much of a coincidence, the cops turning up again where we’re staying. Whatever problem Celia has with me, she’s not going to back down until I take Ruby home.
“Maybe it’s time.” I place my hands on Ruby’s shoulders and turn her around to face me.
Her eyes are large with tears. “I’m not going back, Harry.” Her voice is as determined as ever, and I feel a rush of pride in my chest for this beautiful woman. “I’m not letting her win.”
“Okay.” Deep breath. The cops only have to mention that they’re looking for an American couple and the landlord will know exactly which direction to point them in. “What do you want to do?”
“There’s no time to grab our stuff from the B&B.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, a tear spilling over her bottom lashes. Clothes are not important to Ruby, but I know that the marionette is. It’s a souvenir of our time here, a reminder of the precious time we’ve stored up inside our minds, snapshots of perfect moments to be brought out later and reminisced over.
Do you remember when we stayed in that tiny fishing village on the west coast of Scotland?
I pat my pocket with my hand. The ring is still there. I’m not going anywhere without it.
Two cops walk out of the pub, peering left and right along the street, eyes narrowed. That settles it. They’re not here to sample the beer-battered haddock fillets. They climb back into the vehicle, the headlamps throwing golden beams along the road towards us, and we both instinctively duck behind a moored rowing boat.
I wait for them to drive away before I stand up, helping Ruby onto her feet. “We’ll stay here until the next bus pulls in, then we’ll run for it. They’ll probably wait at the farmhouse for us to come back.”
Ruby nods. “Eileen will keep them talking.” She chews her bottom lip. “I hope she doesn’t think badly of us when we don’t come back for our stuff. It makes us look guilty.”
“I don’t think Eileen will jump to conclusions without hearing all the facts.” I don’t know how I know this, but I’m certain I’m right. Eileen is the kind of woman who tells it like it is and pays no attention to idle gossip. “Besides, I think she liked having us around.”
Ruby rests her head against my chest, and I hold her tightly.
I don’t say it out loud, but I was starting to feel like we could stick around for a while too.
Day has melted into twilight when the bus pulls around the corner heading towards the bus stop. The sign on the front, in bold black letters, reads: GRETNA GREEN.