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The Honeymoon	By : HagenRenaker Category: 1 through F > Foyle's War Views: 2428 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Foyle's War nor do I make any money off of it.

Chapter List
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Sam’s hand was still clasping her husband’s as she sat enjoying this second breakfast of her honeymoon. A wedding trip to Scotland! Partly this was so that they could attend an important dinner given by Edinburgh’s commissioner of police. But as Christopher had reminded her when they’d begun planning their wedding and their trip, it was also because she had once told him how cold she had been on a trip to Edinburgh she’d made with her father’s ecumenical tour group. Sam’s fiancé had informed her with twinkling eyes that he was taking her to Scotland, where he’d see to it that she was kept warm.
He had a similar impish look in his eyes right now, and Sam wondered what had prompted it.
“What are you thinking?”
Two nights ago had been their first as a married couple, and the level of passion they had shared at long last had shaken and thrilled them both.
“Well, I was just wondering how long it will take for someone to assume you’re my daughter instead of my wife. Oh, it will happen, y’know.”
Before she could object with her usual argument of how youthful he still was despite the twenty-five year head start he had on her, Foyle continued.
“I only mention it so that you won’t feel you have to be upset about it on my behalf.”
Sam smiled at Christopher’s philosophical acceptance of this, but countered with a naughty grin, “Well, whenever someone makes that mistake, I think you should kiss me, then and there. Quite passionately, too, I should say.”
Her husband gave her a look that she interpreted easily:
Hmm, somehow I think not.
But the gleam of affection in his eyes was obvious to the young woman who was eminently capable of making him feel twenty years younger.
And his stamina made him seem more youthful to her than his years would warrant. They had made love passionately twice on their wedding night, then again last night and even this morning. Sam shivered deliciously with the memory of it and felt the surging signs of her body’s preparedness to test his stamina again.
“And what are you thinking?”
Foyle’s tone was distinctly mischievous, which made Sam blush deeply, much to his quiet delight.

* * * * * *
The unsmiling but helpful keeper at the Argyll Arms had warned them that the Craiggary Castle might chill them to the bone even in late May unless they took along wool coats. Thus advised, Christopher and Sam hiked up the hill to reach its entrance with warm garb draped over their arms.
By the time they had been led through the ancient building’s lowest and dampest rooms they had donned their extra layer of wool. Their guide was fatuous enough that they felt no compunction in hanging back until they had surreptitiously got separated from the rest of the group. From the castle’s entrance level they climbed up some steep spiraling stairs, then stood for a moment at one of the narrow turret openings and peered out.
“Pity one can’t see the scope of the countryside better from up this high,” Sam mused wistfully.
Her husband put his arm around her shoulders and bent his head towards hers to see out through the roughhewn vertical notch. “Perhaps higher still?”
They took to the stairs again until they could climb no more, stymied by a very wide and thick oak door that appeared to lock with a key, but would not open.
Sam tried to hide her disappointment. “Frustrating, that. But did you notice how beautiful this stonework is? Particularly the curving ones in the stairwell.” As they made their way down, they examined more carefully the deep, bluish grey stones, punctuated by lighter, almost silvery ones, and in so doing were not as alert as might be; Sam tripped at one point on their trek down and found herself sitting at his feet in an instant. Her self-effacing smile up at him assured him that she was all right, although she did rub her ankle for a moment before accepting his proffered hand. Then she paused a moment, sitting back on the step.
“Sam? Your ankle hurt?” Foyle glanced at her feet in concern.
“Yes, quite… quite all right, I mean… thought I saw…” Sam was feeling along the base of the step over which she had stumbled, and for a moment worked at a movable stone she had felt below the cap until she was able to extract it altogether. “Gosh, look, Christopher!”
She held up an iron key, so sizable and simple that it was the very model of the concept “key.”
Foyle raised his eyebrows, murmuring “Well, well, well, well, well.”
“Hidden behind this stone! Do you fancy trying it on our door?”
He smiled at her enthusiasm and nodded. “You’re all right to stand, then?”
She nodded as she rose carefully, dusting her thick wool skirt. “Think I snagged my stocking, though. Will you mind being seen with such a slovenly girl?”
“Yes, of course, but I shall have to bear up under the shame of it.”
He turned and led the way back to the top of the winding case. Excitedly Sam tried the great key, but it took both of them quite a lot of rattling and exerting to move the heavy lock. As true to cliché as its large key, the door groaned dramatically as they leaned upon it, warily peeking in.

TBC (soon!)
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The Honeymoon