A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! It's been fun writing this one, and your encouragement has kept me going.
In honour of all the rain recently, this chapter is a little...wet...

Chapter 12

Leaving the Wolseley in the station yard for the last time, eyes still puffy from crying over goodbyes with Milner and Brookie, Sam gave the car a pat.

"Don't be too temperamental for them, now" she said under her breath, gazing at the car fondly.

She turned and walked out of the yard, pulling her collar up as the rain drizzled down in a fine mist. She should have brought an umbrella. How strange to know she would never drive Policemen around any more. What would she do now?

She half wondered if she should have stayed and indeed become Milner's driver, but she knew it would taste bitter-sweet. Her loyalty was to Foyle, and she couldn't see herself being satisfied as a Police driver all her days. She had more to give. Even so, she felt quite sad to be leaving it all behind.

Sam lengthened her stride as the rain began to come down in sheets. This was really it — now she could begin her life with Foyle! It still felt odd to believe it. She wanted to give him everything, share all her secrets, tell him everything she had thought of since last seeing him — she could hardly stop herself from doing so. She felt herself to be the luckiest girl alive, and in his company her confidence seemed to grow. She too was aware of a sudden perceptiveness she hadn't thought possible. Everything seemed different now, and felt right.

Her thoughts kept her company as she walked through Hastings. By the time she was trudging up the small hill to Steep Lane, she was drenched. The rain had found its way under her collar to trickle down her neck. The damp cold was spreading up her back and she shivered. Her stockings were splashed with mud, waves of water having already made their way inside her shoes so that each step squelched. Her fair hair was plastered to her head. She felt like a drowned rat and imagined she probably looked like one too.

Ringing the bell, Sam tried to push the rain out of her eyes. I'll never ring as his driver again, she thought, looking out across the road.

Foyle, in just his shirt sleeves, braces hanging loosely by his hips, opened the door with a smile that quickly turned into a frown.

"Good God, Sam, you are drenched. Come in at once." He pulled her in, gazing at her in concern.

"I didn't think to bring an umbrella."

He helped her pull off her long coat, noticing the rain had gone through, leaving her shoulders damp.

"We should get you into something dry, Sam. You are soaked through." He plucked at her damp shirt and shook his head.

"Well, I miss the car. Not used to dragging umbrellas about with me." She sounded huffy, as if he was criticizing her. In fact she was just cold and knew he was right.

Taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, her said, "Come on, let's hang these up."

He took her through the kitchen into a small type of scullery. There he had two lines rigged, tied high, and a large basin was built into the wall. It was cold and bright here, even with the dull morning light. Sam shivered.

"Let me get you something dry to change in to. We'll hang up your things and they'll be good as new before you know it."

Foyle swallowed, finding himself full of anticipation all of a sudden. He shot her a quick smile and left, going up the stairs two at a time. He tried not to imagine her undressing. He tried to ignore the way her wet blouse had clung to her tightly, showing off the delightful curve of her breasts. The thoughts were difficult to push aside and he felt his heart beating more quickly that had nothing to do with the stairs he had just climbed. Do pull yourself together, man, he told himself firmly.

Finding an old jumper of Andrew's that might do, he went back down. Calling out to Sam once he reached the kitchen, he said, "I've found you a jumper, Sam."

"Oh do come in, Christopher, I won't bite."

He cleared his throat, "Are you decent?"

He heard her give an exasperated tut, and he chewed the inside of his cheek in thought.

Moving towards the scullery he wondered if she could hear his heart thumping. He poked his head around to see her with her back to him, standing in her stockings, blouse open and fumbling with the washing line. He had knotted it and she was having trouble getting it to come loose.

"Here, let me."

"Thank you."

She ducked under his arm and stood aside as he undid the line. Foyle shot a glance at her, noticing the subdued look on her face.

"Hard saying goodbye?"

She crossed her arms. "More so than I imagined. It was a damn fine car."

Foyle looked around, raising an eyebrow.

Sam gave him a crooked smile, "And I'll miss Brookie and Milner very much. They are good men."

"They able to come on Saturday?"

"Yes. Do you really think we will be able to get the license for then?"

"I don't see why not. I should know enough people to smooth over any complications."

"You are brilliant, you know." Her eyes shone at him and he felt pleased.

Foyle looked at her solemnly, "Yes, I know." He twitched his lips. "Now, that blouse?"

Sam slipped it off, shivering in just her satin undergarment. Foyle turned, pegging it to the line.

"Have you heard from Andrew?" she asked.

"No, not yet."

He heard shuffling behind him and when he looked, his breath caught. She had removed her skirt and stockings deftly, and without batting an eye, held them out to him.

"These could do with hanging up too."

He turned back to the line. "I have…er…perhaps…um… a dressing gown for now?"

Foyle felt his desire for her rising. He didn't dare to turn around again. Part of him hoped that if he did, she would be holding out the rest of her clothes to him. His brain seemed to yell, she is just in her underthings…just there behind you…within arm's reach! His hand holding the wooden peg shook slightly.

Sam considered taking everything off. She was cold through and her wet hair dripped down her back. Seeing him turn away however, gave her pause. Perhaps he didn't want her to.

She wished he would turn around and sweep her into his arms. She wanted him, almost greedily, with an intensity that surprised her. Why wouldn't he turn around?

Finally she gave a sigh, saying evenly, "I am freezing, Christopher; could I have a cup of tea before I die of cold."

"Of course."

Was that relief in his voice?

While the kettle boiled he went to fetch his dressing gown. She pulled it around her tightly, relishing the smell of him that lingered on the soft material.

Foyle stoked up the fire in the lounge until it was crackling prettily, and they sat silently in the armchairs in front of it, drinking the steaming, restorative tea. He caught her eye, raising an eyebrow as if to ask "is that better?".

Sam stirred her tea. "It was sad to leave it all behind. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you to walk away, Christopher," she said quietly.

"It was hard on one hand; it's all I've ever known." He paused giving her an upside down smile, "Better things on the horizon though. New things to look forward to."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "It felt like an end of era walking out of there today. Never to drive you again."

"Well, if we buy a car once the War is over, you can drive me then." Foyle winked at her.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

"I don't mean to be miserable, it just hit me that it was all over."

"Don't worry, Sam. We've got a whole adventure ahead of us."

She smiled warmly at him, "Yes, of course." Putting down her teacup, she stood and went to stand behind him, slipping her arms around his neck.

"We have so much to look forward to." She kissed his cheek. She wished he would just take her in his arms, but he remained unmoving.

Straightening, she began to pad softly around his lounge, gazing at books, then standing in front of the fire, before moving again. She couldn't stay still, as if something were on her mind. The dressing gown swished pleasantly as she moved, and she felt his eyes on her.

From beside the window, Sam called back to him, "Rain isn't letting up at all. We might have to start a jigsaw to keep us from boredom."

Foyle snorted.

"Unless you've got any better ideas?" She teased, turning to see if he was looking at her. He wasn't, but was instead staring into the fire.

She twirled the belt of the dressing gown absently. "Will you always be so reticent, Christopher?"

Without moving she heard him say softly, "Am I?."

"Yes. But, Christopher…" she paused, feeling in two minds about continuing. "Don't you...want me?"

He turned then, setting down his teacup with a crash. "Want you? It's all I can do to stop myself."

Foyle stood, coming to take her hand. "Sam, darling girl, do you think I don't make love to you right now out of choice? Is that what this is about? You think I don't desire you?"

She looked at him guiltily, "Being sensitive, I know…"

"I gave your father my word. I don't want anyone to think we haven't done this by the book."

Sam looked at him with some astonishment, "By the book? Since when have you ever done anything by the book? Forget other people. Brookie said it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, it only matters that we love each other."

"Well if Brookie says it then it must be all right." Foyle felt slightly annoyed. Couldn't she see how difficult this was for him?

She dropped his hands. "Don't."

"Sam," Foyle said warningly, "don't take this out on me. You know we've gone over this."

Her face crumpled. "What if I don't do it right?" she sniffed. "What if you realise after we've married that you don't want me?"

Foyle tutted, "For God's sake, really Sam."

She looked up, tears slipping down her nose.

He pulled her close, resting his forehead on hers. "You lovely girl, what on earth would make you think that?"

"Well," she mumbled, "the girls at the MTC said that…"

Foyle tutted again, putting a finger to her lips. "For once, Sam, put all these other people from your mind. This is between us. I love you just as you are. There are no right and wrongs when it comes to this…it just is."


She gave him a weak smile. "Sorry. I think I just…well it is all kept such a ruddy great secret."

Heaving a sigh, she carried on in true Sam fashion, racing through her thoughts at top speed, "Plus, everyone frightened us out of our wits about what might happen if we even considered taking our clothes off…I'm tired of following all the rules, because what does it really matter if we are to be married? And I…I want to make you happy…"

She finished with an anxious look at Foyle.

"You do. More than you could know. So, stop worrying and come here."

He pulled her into his arms. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and hear his heart. The rain outside pounded on the pavement and the windowpanes. It was oddly peaceful, and Sam snuggled closer.

"I know I'm being silly… I just don't like feeling I have to talk you into it…"

"T-talk me into…?" Foyle began incredulously. He kissed the top of her head and chuckled softly to himself.

After a moment he broke away, pulling the curtains across, throwing the lounge into a soft dimness. Sam looked at him questioningly.

He took her hand and brought her to stand in front of the fire where it was warmer, rubbing her arms comfortingly.

He looked at her thoughtfully, "You really worry about it?"

"Well, I've never…"

"And I haven't in a very long time. It will be a learning curve for us both. All right?"

Sam put her head to one side, admiring him in the soft firelight.

"All right."

She felt her stomach drop as his eyes came up to meet hers under hooded lids. He looked as if his eyes were feasting themselves on her. A shiver of pleasure went down her spine, taking hold within her. Licking her lips, she began to tremble with anticipation and hope.

"You want to know if I want you…" he paused, his fingertips resting on her cheek. "It's all I can do to stop myself. You are breathtaking. Beautiful."

"Don't stop then," Sam whispered, arms snaking around his neck. "Why shouldn't we be close?"

She gave him a shy smile, "Do you mind awfully?"

Foyle chuckled, his lips tracing hers. "Do I mind? N-no, I don't mind at all."

He kissed her gently. "You are my future and you mean the world to me, Sam. I gave your father my word I would look after you, so I will. Loving you body and soul is an important thing…to us both."

"We have been awfully good, haven't we?"

Foyle twitched his lips, "W-well…"

Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders and he plunged his hands into the honey curls, bringing her mouth to his.

"I've rather had enough of being good, haven't you?" she murmured.

With only a moment of hesitation, Foyle said, "Yes, rather." He deepened his kiss, and Sam rejoiced as his tongue probed along her lips. She knew she had gotten her way, and she felt the anticipation culminating into wetness between her legs.

"You are the. Loveliest. Man. Ever." she said between kisses, grinning against his lips.

He grinned back. Allowing his hands to wander freely, he pulled the robe off her slight frame, slinging it across the sofa.

"This…" He broke off with a sudden, sharp intake of breath.

Sam had unclasped his trousers while he wasn't looking, and he instinctively tightened his muscles, anticipating her hands. She hesitated and then slipped one hand in, finding the hard length of him. He groaned in her ear. She shivered, enjoying the sound.

Grinning wickedly at him, "You were saying?"

"Won't you ever behave?" he growled, kissing her roughly.

Pulling her down onto the hearthrug, he covered her body with his. He felt so strong that Sam felt both slightly intimidated and excited. All of her was soft, and yet all of him was hard. She could feel the muscles on his back rippling, the broadness of his chest, sense the hunger in his eyes.

He divested her of her undergarments swiftly, and his trousers and shirt went flying safely onto the sofa after them. Foyle pulled a pillow down and settled it behind her head. The muscles on his forearms stood out as he raised himself above her, cascading down to cover her body in kisses.

He made much of her, teasing with his tongue and exploring patiently. She watched him give attentions to her breasts, enjoying the feel of his teeth against their sensitive peaks. She ran her fingers through his thinning hair, pulling him down, closer to her. Lying beside him, she could feel him quivering. She felt the glow of the fire in her cheeks, no longer cold inside, the rain and sad morning forgotten. The rug was soft beneath her and she watched him as he leant down to remove his undershorts.

He caught her eye, "You all right?"

In answer she helped him pull the shorts off, quickly taking hold of him once again. He found her lips, slipping his tongue inside. His breath was shallow now, and he soon abandoned her lips out of necessity.

"You're so strong," Sam murmured appreciatively, one hand on his chest, fingers entwined with the hair there. She drank him in, committing each line and curve of his body to memory. Her other hand was still engaged elsewhere and Foyle felt himself give into his desires completely.

His fingers sought her none too gently, flicking inside and feeling her wetness for him. She moaned low and long, throwing back her head. He plied his fingers, moving and manipulating her rhythms. When she unexpectedly took hold of his hand and brought it back up between them to lick his fingers, Foyle sighed in her ear, a sound of deep longing.

Sam had to wonder — the man she had accused only half an hour before of being reticent was now so vulnerable and open under her touch. Her love for him deepened all the more, seeing this other side of Foyle.

She felt the eagerness in his movements, and she matched him, exploring with intensity. Sam loved the feel of his skin against hers. It seemed as if every nerve was tingling and she couldn't get close enough. Inside, she felt an emptiness, a yearning need; like a cavern, hollow and echoing with desire. She needed more of him than just his fingers. With a whisper, she said as much, causing him to pause.

"Please, Christopher."

"Gladly," he replied huskily, smiling at her with deep affection.

With a hitch of breath and only a slight stiffening of surprise, Sam felt him slip inside her. He sighed happily. And she had never known such relief. It was as if the very insides of her being were filled. As if a hunger was being sated, a thirst quenched; she no longer felt empty. She wanted to sink into him completely, to never let him leave the warmth of her — he felt so right inside her there that when he drew back she gave a small whimper.

He slid back in, causing her to arch into him. He repeated the motion, feeling his way deeper each time and Sam felt she might lose consciousness with the sheer pleasure of his movements. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around him.

"All right, my love?" he whispered with a low grunt.


"Jolly good," he grinned at her, pushing a stray lock from her forehead.

Warmth spread along every nerve, from her ears to her fingertips and Sam began to shake. Pulling her tightly against him, they rolled over. Sam suddenly found herself lying the length of him, chin on his chest. He gave her a glance of amusement and she giggled. She sat up, finding sudden new advantages to such a position. After a moment he groaned, eyes closing tightly.

"Am I hurting you?" asked Sam hurriedly in a worried tone.

"Not at all...you are magnificent."

Sam glowed. Foyle opened his eyes and smiled at her, sitting up with her. He cradled her head in his hands, kissing her and moving one hand to support her back. Guiding her, Foyle showed her how to move together, finding an equal rhythm that shook them both.

"Christopher…" She whimpered his name, causing him to move more frantically.

Their breath came loudly in each other's ears amongst sweet whispers. Sam felt tears prick her eyes at the words of love from Foyle. He pulled at her hips gently, sliding further into her, and felt her nails dig into his back quite unconsciously.

With a swift move, Foyle had her lying back again, and he teased her by slipping out, only to plunge in again. Sam felt her insides contracting. She hadn't realised she had muscles there. Foyle studied her face carefully, smiling down at her in between fleeting looks of focused concentration. She noticed this focus with a certain curiosity, wondering why he looked as if he were thinking of maths timetables. Little did she realise he was trying to avoid finishing too quickly.

"Darling, Sam," he murmured.

He plunged in again. Sam suddenly pulled him to her, giving a loud cry in his ear. She felt him leave and wanted to clutch at him to tell him not to. But with a shudder and guttural groan, he let his seed fall on her belly. His back was slick with sweat and Sam felt him collapse next to her, panting. She shook again all of a sudden, back arching. Grinning at her, he pulled her against him.

"You shake all you like, I've got you."

"You…lovely…" she panted, before another aftershock consumed her. She heard him chuckle in her ear.

She began to laugh with him, caressing his face tenderly. "You might have warned me?"

"About what?" he asked, letting his lips flutter over her cheek.

"That it is so marvellous. You are marvellous."

"If I had, dear Sam, I might have missed your gorgeous face of realisation." He grinned wickedly at her, "Besides, you would have never contained yourself…"

She gave him a dig in the ribs.

"Why did you leave at the end?" she asked curiously.

"J-just to be on the safe side. We haven't talked about…um, well, children…and I thought it best to…" he broke off.

Giving him a kiss she said, "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, my love," Foyle whispered throatily, "we did this together."

Sam lay back against him comfortably. "Well, if there is any trouble getting the license, at least we know we are married now. All the rest is just for show, isn't it?"

"And legality, but yes…you and I are…one."

"Now and forever…"

She gave a subtle yawn, "I haven't even had breakfast yet…"

She missed the look of adoration and happiness that Foyle gave her as she nestled in the crook of his arm.

He kissed her gently, "All in good time…Mrs Foyle."