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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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The dinner, impressive by wartime standards, was being thrown by the Police Chief Commissioner of Edinburgh as an appreciation for all the hard work and struggle his staff had endured for the last three years.

The commissioner’s wife Connie turned just as Christopher Foyle walked into the sitting room with his lovely young wife on his arm. Her eyebrow arched slightly—great God, she was a young wife; about Connie’s daughter’s age, at a guess—but to Mrs Falkirk’s credit she managed to smile warmly and greet them as if both were her oldest friends.

Foyle was having a hard time suppressing a grin; he was immensely proud of Samantha and of himself for catching her, but he was conscious of not wanting to appear smug in front of the many other men of his vintage at this gathering. He kept a somber countenance as best he could, quite unaware that his irrepressible eyes, which were sparkling, utterly gave the game away.

“Conneee!”

The high-pitched girlish squeal did not become the sequined lady with a robin-like posture who bore down on the hostess and the two recent arrivals.

“Millicent said that at bridge next time, you might—”

The dowager interrupted herself as she took in the young woman with the striking red-gold tresses standing beside her friend. Rapidly assessing the girl and her attire, she was diverted by her vivacious expression; the girl’s eyes quite danced.

Constance Falkirk stepped in quickly.

“Helen, may I introduce Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle of Hastings, and his—”

“But what a lovely daughter you have, Mr Foyle!” Helen exclaimed, and then wondered what on earth had so suddenly amused father and daughter that they could not contain their laughter.

The newlyweds exchanged pleasantries as courtesy demanded, but had made their way toward the Commissioner before the baffled matron had the presence of mind to ask her hostess what that was all about.

After Connie discreetly imparted the true nature of the Foyles’ relationship, Helen reddened, but recovered sufficiently to utter “Well!” in apparent disapproval.

No matter. Commissioner Falkirk, a dignified and handsome gentleman in his own right, was the soul of graciousness. His eyes and smile showed—without a trace of lasciviousness—how lucky he thought the DCS to be.

Sam charmed nearly everyone; even the wives who had been prepared to resent her youth were won over. The bride was unfailingly polite to all, even the youngest bachelor present, seemingly unaware of his warm regard. The detective sergeant was about thirty, but looked younger.

Once again Sam found herself stealing glances at her own husband more than at anyone else in the room, inwardly cursing the tradition that separated husbands and wives at the dinner party table. Foyle was chuckling at another guest’s remark when his crinkled eyes caught Sam looking at him with such love and gratitude that it stole his breath. His gaze held hers for a long moment, and into hers crept a sunrise.

…

Their first night together had been even more beautiful than she had dreamt it would be, and heaven knows she had tried to dream about it well before she had even been sure that Mr Foyle returned the strength of her feeling for him. Their wedding was a simple and quiet affair, at St. Clement’s just round the corner from 31 Steep Lane. Luckily, Andrew was stationed close enough to be able to attend. Christopher’s distinguished brother-in-law Commander Howard, Paul Milner and Mr Reid and Mr Rivers were there, and Sam’s mother and father and Uncles Aubrey and Stephen, both vicars, and Stephen’s wife Madeleine. Gwen was her bridesmaid, and a few other friends from the MTC had managed to be present. That celebration had been a far more modest affair than this one, but at the time, the newly wedded couple, though happy to be sharing the day with their loved ones, were secretly eager to be away on their own.

Since first admitting their love for each other, Sam and her boss had shared some acutely impassioned kisses, but he was insistent that they be married before they went any further than that, and she had agreed—though she found herself thinking more than once that if he had suddenly decided otherwise in the midst of their fervent courtship, she would not have had the will or the desire to stop him.

On her wedding night she had been only slightly nervous, for despite her lack of sexual experience she had complete confidence in his ability to teach her what she needed to know—just as he had always taught her how to look for evidence or clues, or how to question people. Patiently, without condescending to her, and taking joy from her learning or figuring things out on her own.

They would not leave the Hastings area until the next morning, so Sam’s first taste of married love was at the Crescent Hotel, a small but elegant establishment with an impressive bank of windows facing the sea. Not so very long ago they had taken tea in its restaurant, and the Boss had congratulated her for the way she had wheedled the required information from the waitress, Dorothy. She added it to her collection of praise from him, some of it silent and visible only in the way he arched an approving eyebrow at her… but all of it treasured.

Suitcases set down, dinner was merely picked at (Foyle was incredulous that she had so little appetite, but he, too, was feeling too keyed up to eat), so they had retreated to their room, locked the door and looked rapt into each other’s eyes.

He had an expression on his face that she’d seen only once before, when she was first telling him how she felt about him and he was struggling to believe it could be true.

“Sam... ”

He shook his head. “I still keep thinking I should hurry before I wake from this fantastic dream.”

She gazed at him, touched and overwhelmed, dipping her knees a little as her eyes hungrily searched his. Foyle stepped quickly to her and embraced her, kissing her more deeply, more fully than he had felt free to do before. Sam was not altogether prepared for the sensation that overcame her during the kiss. Part nervousness, part sudden weakness, part excitement that made her moan uncontrollably with desire for him as his hands gently cradled her head and he coaxed her lips open with his tongue.

He sighed rapturously at the sweetness of her lips softly parting beneath his. The light fragrance of her skin and hair made him dizzy, and he was so rampantly aroused that he didn’t trust that he could wait for her to change into her trousseau lingerie.

For her part she was already eagerly trying to pull his jacket from his broad shoulders. He released her long enough to remove it and loosen his tie. His eyes were darker blue than she ever had seen them, and glinted slightly as they drank in hers. He embraced her again even more eagerly.

“Mmmm, Chris—” her words were lost under another melting kiss. Even as his mouth grazed hers, he undid and slipped off the grey jacket of the going-away outfit she had worn to leave the reception. Sam felt a sharp pleasurable sensation within as he worked on the buttons of her blouse and eased it from her shoulders, which he then caressed almost reverently with his lips. His hands moved up from her waist to feel the shape of her breasts through the silk of her slip, and she gasped when he captured her lips again, allowing him to intensify his kiss.

He was tender and yet firm and definite in his hold of her; she had never experienced this combination before and found it exhilarating.

Sam let her hands run over the smooth fabric of his shirt, savouring the lines of the muscles of his back and arms. He had managed to undo the waistband of her lightweight wool skirt, but soon realised he would have to unzip it before he could have it off her.

She leant her forehead to his and looked up at him through her lashes in that flirtatious way that he loved. She teased, “Don’t you even wish to see what a tempting honeymoon negligee I chose?”

He smiled lazily as he released her, saying, “You’re tempting enough as it is, but I’ll do whatever you wish, Mrs Foyle.”
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The Honeymoon