Page 9 of The Last Kiss

“Olive!” Mrs Allen hissed, darting a wary glance at Sir Arthur.

He stared at Olive, bristling at being so addressed by a young lady, but they’d all become accustomed to Olive’s social oddities over the past few months. “Madam,” Sir Arthur said stiffly, “the business of government isbusiness, not nannying those who — ”

Thankfully, he was cut off by the dining room door opening. “Apologies, Sir Arthur,” Grieves said, turning his attention to Ash. “But there’s a…person outside asking to see Mr Ashleigh. Rather a rough — ”

“What person?” Ash said, before his father could speak. “Who is it?”

“He gave his name as West, sir.”

Dear God, impossible. For a moment Ash couldn’t move, he just stared at Grieves’ impassive face.

“Would you like me to send him away? I — ”

“No!” Leaping to his feet, Ash grabbed his cane, his heart a live thing pounding against his ribs. “My God…” He laughed, dazed by delight. “My God! Where is he?”

“Ashleigh!” His mother exclaimed at his profane language while his father regarded his emotional display with raised eyebrows and a slack mouth.

Ash stumbled back from the table. “Sorry,” he said to the ladies. “I’m sorry, I have to — ”

Walking as fast as possible — curse his leg; he couldn’t run — he left the room and hurried to the front door, which stood ajar. The fresh spring air riffled through the flowers on the hallway table, sunlight dazzling him as he flung the door wide. And there he was: Harry West, silhouetted against the pale gravel driveway, a dark but unmistakable figure.

“West!” Ash called, limping down the steps as fast as he could manage.

West turned, swiped the cap from his head, and broke into a grin. “Captain. I — ”

“My God, man!” Ash flung his arms around him with a laugh and such wild joy he couldn’t think straight. “My God, West, I can’t believe it.”

After a hesitation, West returned the embrace, thumping Ash on the back, then quieting and holding him tight for a long, sweet moment. Dear Lord, Ash felt like he was breathing for the first time in forever. He didn’t want to let go, wanted to absorb West’s presence like balm. “My God, it’s good to see you.” His voice sounded rough, throat thick with emotion, an unmanning prickling in his eyes.

“Aye, you too.”

Ash pulled back far enough that he could really look at West, holding him by the shoulders, his cane discarded, feeling the man’s familiar strength beneath his hands. He looked thinner than Ash remembered, his strong jaw and nose sharpened, and there were shadows beneath his bright hazel eyes. But he was smiling, gazing at Ash as if lost for words.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ash managed at last. “Good God.”

West laughed softly. “No, me neither. I — ” His attention shifted over Ash’s shoulder and he stiffened. It was only then that Ash realised his father had followed him outside. Ash turned awkwardly, stumbling as his duff foot snagged in the gravel. West caught his elbow, steadying him, and for a moment their eyes met and — Christ, how he’d missed this man.

“Father,” Ash said, dragging his gaze away from West. He smiled to see his mother and Olive in the doorway, too. “Everyone, th-this is Private West. The m-man who saved my life.”

“Not a soldier no more,” West said and nodded to Ash’s father. “Sir Arthur.”

“Ashleigh has told us a great deal about you, West. I must thank you for what you did for my son.”

“No need,” West said, pushing a hand self-consciously through his hair. “He’d have done the same for me, or any of the men. He did, for some of the lads. And more.”

A silent moment fell between them, shared memories that didn’t need to be voiced. Lord, it felt good that West justknew. Tears thickened Ash’s throat, emotions surging like they hadn’t in months. “W-well,” he said, trying to control himself, “come in. J-join us for luncheon.” He looked around for his cane, but before he could stoop to retrieve it West had picked it up and handed it to him. Ash gave a rueful smile. “Blasted thing.”

West shrugged, squinting into the sunshine. “Could’ve been worse.”

They both knew the truth of that.

“Come on.” Ash looped his arm through West’s to haul him along. “Are you hungry? You m-must — ”

But West resisted, his attention darting between Ash and his father. “Probably shouldn’t,” he said, pulling his arm free.

Ash stared at him, bewildered. “What? Why not?”

West looked embarrassed, frowning down at his boots, and the falling silence seemed to suck all the noise from the world.

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