A Discreet Affair

by Shelley Munro

  “Pamela, I’m sorry.” Michael stood in front of the blue-tiled fireplace, his hands at his sides. “You shouldn’t have had to witness the argument between me and Roburn. I’d never strike you in anger. Never.”

  “How do I know that?” she asked, her words filled with ice. She’d believed Thomas the first few times he’d apologized and promised to never hit her again. While Michael hadn’t hit her, he had struck another man in temper. It was easy enough for her imagination to connect the two events and worry about the future. Their future.

  “Pamela, give him a chance.” Christine sent her a reassuring glance, and it was this that soothed her tension. She dropped onto a chair, eyeing Michael with skepticism. Fine, she’d listen, but she didn’t have to believe or accept what he said.

  “I have a temper at times,” he said, surprising her. She’d expected a show of innocence, not a confession. Startled, she met his gaze. His smile appeared rueful. “I don’t lose my temper very often. Tonight I did.”

  “Why?” He wasn’t lying. Pamela knew it instinctively because it’d be easy for her to check his story, to ask others at the base if he routinely lashed out with his fists.

  “Roburn has my lucky coin and he refuses to give it back. I’m afraid I let his taunts get to me and hit him. Jeff was there. He witnessed the entire disagreement. He’ll tell you what happened.”

  This was about a stupid coin? Pamela’s mouth opened and shut with a distinct clack.

  Michael grimaced. “I know what you’re thinking, but that bastard stole my good-luck charm. He denies everything but my lucky coin is missing. I know he has it.” He paused. “Please excuse my language.”

  Pamela shrugged the apology aside. “Do you mean the coin on your dog tags?”

  He gave a clipped nod.

  “That man—Roburn—doesn’t have it. I have your coin. It’s in my dressing table drawer. I discovered it in my bed yesterday morning.”

  “You have my coin? Oh, hell.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Damn, I’ll have to apologize.”

  “Yes,” Pamela said tartly.

  A titter of amusement came from Christine. “Now that’s sorted out can I leave you alone?”

  Pamela nodded, rolling her eyes to communicate exasperation when Michael wasn’t looking. Her cousin smiled and wandered from the room. The distinct clanking coming from the kitchen suggested she was heating milk to make cocoa.

  Pamela took a deep breath and wondered what to do now. He’d struck a man in temper. It could have been her. “Would you hit me if I did something you didn’t like?”

  “No!” Horror laced his voice, and he prowled around the couch, closing the distance between them.

  “But you do have a temper.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’d hit you. I’ve never hit a woman.”

  “I’ve told you about Thomas. He used to hit me when I did something he didn’t like. Every time I didn’t follow his instructions to the letter.” She stared Michael directly in the eye. “He hit me often, and I don’t ever want to go through a situation like that again. I hate violence.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Look, I’ll give you my parents’ address. You can write to my friends and family and ask them what happens when I lose my temper. Normally I shout. I can’t promise I won’t shout at you or that we won’t argue in the future, but I can promise I’ll never strike you in anger. You can contact my CO and talk to the pilots in my squadron if you like. Ask them what I’m like.”

  He stepped closer. His voice softened, and he ran his thumb over her lips. “I care about you and truly want to marry you.” He sighed. “Flying is dangerous. War is dangerous. I thought my lucky charm would get me through, but the truth is you’ve helped me more than any lucky charm. Knowing you’re here waiting, that you care for me in return, makes this bloody war more bearable. Your love and regard is worth a lot to me.”

  Pamela nodded, a lump of emotion forming in her throat. The sudden wash of anguish made her face the truth. She’d come to care for him too, which was why she’d reacted strongly when she’d seen Michael use his fists. “Do you still want to marry me?”

  “Yes.” His hands curled around her shoulders, his masculine scent surrounding her. “I know there’s lots of gossip. I heard some of it at the pub tonight from Roburn, but we don’t have to rush into marriage. It might be better if we get engaged and marry in a few months’ time, once you’re sure of me.”

  Worry fell away then. Thomas would have never made an offer like that. He’d never offer to let her question his friends. Confidence grew in her as she came to a decision. She smiled. “How does a month-long engagement sound to you?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds perfect. That will give us time to visit my parents and collect the engagement ring I have at home.” Her lover’s green eyes glowed, and an instant later, their lips met. It was a kiss of promise, a kiss of discovery with hints of sensual pleasure and commitment. She leaned against his muscular chest, breathed in his scent and wallowed in his strength. One day at a time, exploring each other and slowly growing closer. Yes, she could live with that.

  Chapter Eight

  One month later

  Wearing her Sunday best, Pamela walked up the church aisle. Christine followed a few paces behind her, humming the wedding march. A smile spread across her face as Michael turned to watch their progress. Jeff stood at his side, both men resplendent in their Air Force blue.

  Her wedding day.

  Their wedding day.

  Pamela reached Michael’s side and clasped his outstretched hand. He drew her to his side and kissed her cheek.

  “Ahem,” the elderly minister said. “Perhaps we should perform the wedding ceremony before you advance any further.” He bore a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Pamela said.

  Michael’s hand tightened on hers as they repeated their wedding vows.

  “You can now kiss the bride,” the minister ended.

  They turned to each other and their lips met, sealing the formalities. The last month had done a lot to put her lingering worries to rest. She’d met Michael’s family and enjoyed their company while her relationship with Michael had blossomed.

  “I love you, Mrs. Stedman.”

  Pamela winked at her new husband. “And I love you, Mr. Stedman.”

  “Come on, lovebirds,” Christine said.

  “Yes,” Jeff said. “We don’t want to shock the minister with another kiss. Besides, I’m young and impressionable.”

  “Mum wanted me to take you all to the house. She’s prepared a special wedding breakfast,” Christine said. “I told you she’d come around once you got married.”

  “That’s really nice of her,” Pamela said.

  They walked outside holding hands and found a group of friends and neighbors waiting for them. A cheer broke out and Pamela grinned at her new husband. Her mother still wasn’t talking to her and the atmosphere between Pamela and her aunt remained strained, but their engagement had slowed gossip. Marriage might even make them respectable.

  Congratulations came from all directions. With her hand in her husband’s, she stepped forward into the future. Despite the uncertainties they faced, a bottomless peace and satisfaction filtered through her. They had love and each other. They were the lucky ones.

  The End

  About the Author:

  Shelley Munro lives in New Zealand and writes contemporary, paranormal, and historical romance for Ellora’s Cave, Samhain Publishing, Liquid Silver Books, and Carina Press. She has sold over thirty-five books to date. When she’s not writing she enjoys traveling and exploring the world. You can visit Shelley at www.shelleymunro.com

 

 

 
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