English Doctor, Italian Bride

‘You did!’ Bonita pointed out. She was furious now, crying hot, angry tears, hands flailing, blaming him somehow. ‘You left the country when you were eighteen—I’m not allowed out the house after eleven! I’m not a child.’

‘Come here.’ He cuddled her then—and it felt nice. They hadn’t ever really got on. Oh, she’d had a crush on him for years, but he’d teased her so mercilessly, had been so downright horrible at times, that it hadn’t been hard to dislike him, too. But when he held her, for the first time she felt that someone might just understand. Her brothers didn’t, they just told her to toe the line and not upset Mum and Dad, and her parents certainly didn’t, and neither did her friends, who told her to just tell her parents where they could stick there rules. But standing in the kitchen Bonita realised two things.

Armstrong was an appropriate surname for him, because being wrapped in his arms was heaven.

And maybe, just maybe, Hugh was the one person on this earth who did understand.

‘Your dad’s just worried that you’re going to—’

‘It’s not Dad who’s the problem,’ Bonita interrupted, shaking her head against his chest. ‘It’s Mum. She’s the one who’s always having a go—she called me a tart last night before I went out, just for wearing lipstick.’

‘If your dad had seen you wearing lipstick you wouldn’t have been allowed to even go to the party!’ Hugh patiently explained, only she wasn’t listening, couldn’t see it, refused to get it.

It was her mother who was the problem!

‘I just can’t stand it here.’

‘You don’t have to for much longer,’ Hugh said. ‘Do your exams, get your grades and maybe when you go to university things will settle down, but you can’t throw it all away now.’

She nearly had. That morning, replaying the row, three months more at school had seemed endless, way easier to just leave, to get a job, to do anything if it meant that she could get away, to be allowed to live. And then he’d held her.

‘Don’t do anything rash, you could end up regretting it for ever.’

For ever was a lot longer than three months… even her jumbled mind could work that one out. Her head on his chest, she could hear the steady beat of his heart, the hands of time that soothed, only they didn’t…

The pendulum paused on the edge of time, dipped into the next second and clattered back into a different rhythm.

His mouth was there, just inches away, talking to her, telling her to hold on, delivering reasonable words that soothed. Only suddenly she was aware of it…and she knew that suddenly he was aware of her, in a way he never had been before. Everything shifted then. A slightly startled look flashed between them as they both caught the other looking in a way they shouldn’t. And then he kissed her…or she kissed him.

No matter how many times Bonita replayed it, she could never quite decide who moved first, just lips merging, blending to the most exquisite of tastes. His mouth tender at first, exploring her slowly, her inexperienced lips tentative, savouring each delicious sensation, the feel of him full on her mouth, the tangy fragrance and the soft coolness of his tongue.