Page 106 of The Admiral's Daughter

I kind of get why officers like to do parade drills now. It’s cathartic shouting at a bunch of no-good sailors. My lips curl as I laugh at the thought of telling Kit, Cheddar, and Boot what to do. That’s incentive enough to start ranking up, I think.

Getting my head back in the game, I march along with my squad and around the corner. Remaining in line and professional is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do as soon as I spot Cleo looking exquisite and…yep, totally confused.

My heart is hammering in my chest. My palms are sweating inside my gloves. Every muscle in my body wants to break formation and run to her, but I hold steady. Professional. Controlled. Even though I’m anything but.

She’s probably wondering what the bloody hell a Royal Marine Band is doing marching up the street blasting out a well-known and beloved tune. Hell, even I can’t help but sing along to it in my head.

We carry on marching in perfect formation. As we get to the marker I scouted earlier in the day I call to the squad again, making sure my voice is loud and clear. “Parade…eyes…right!”

Every head turns to the right, their eyes fixed. In my peripheral, I see Cleo bring her hand up to her mouth. I’m pretty sure her shoulders are shaking too, so there’s a decent chance she’s crying. We march to another marker and I salute her. I may have sent her a cheeky wink as we passed. Can’t let her be a total mess.

We pass the group outside the restaurant and when we’re clear, I continue to call to the troop. “Parade…about…turn.”

In perfect symmetry, the squad about turns and marches back towards Cleo.

“Parade…halt. Left…turn!”

As soon as the squad is facing the restaurant and all the crying and laughing people, Drum Major Peacock signals the band with his staff and the music changes to the poshest rendition of Happy Birthday I’ve ever heard.

When the sound starts, Kit, Cheddar, and I reach around our tunics and pull out the concealed folded cards Boot made for us. Unfolding them, we stand in a row and hold the cards to our chests. ‘Happy Birthday Cleo’ is displayed in big, bold letters.

My eyes dance with laughter as I watch her. Cleo’s shaking her head, laughing uncontrollably. I can’t stop the smile from stretching across my face. I look to the side and see my bunkies, and the rest of the squad I corralled into taking part, all beaming. Yeah, the extra scut work is so worth bringing this kind of joy to the woman I’m definitely in love with.

Finally, the band comes to the end and falls silent. So does everyone else. I pass my cardboard sign to Kit and step forward into Cleo’s space. She has tears running down her face, and she’s looking at me like she can’t quite decide if this is real.

“Pretty romantic, if I do say so myself.”

Cleo snorts. Honor hands her a tissue. After a few moments, she shakes her head and looks me dead in the eye. “Pretty proud of yourself right now, huh, Dawson?”

“You could say that, Ms Carter.” We smile stupidly at each other for a few seconds before Cleo launches herself into my arms. I hold her as tight as I can and inhale her scent until it’s burned into the back of my nose and throat.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she says into my neck.

“Happy birthday, baby,” I reply before swallowing my nerves. “I-I love you, Cleo.”

Yes, it’s the first time I’ve said it, even though I’ve felt this way for months.

She pulls back and frames my face with her hands. “I love you so much, River!”

The kiss breathes new life into me. I’ve missed her so much, and it’s quite rude, in my opinion, that I’ve had to wait this long to touch her. Bloody Morley and her punishments.

“Er, Riv?” Cheddar calls.

“Oh fuck,” I say, turning to the squad. “Squad…fall…out.”

“About bloody time,” Kit grumbles, but she’s smiling. She rushes over with Cheddar and Boot to sweepCleo up in a hug. Reluctantly, I let her go and step away. Peacock is waiting for me outside the throng of partygoers.

“Thank you so much for this,” I say, shaking his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Dawson. Plus, the admiral was quite persuasive.” He laughs.

Grinning, I nod. “I can imagine.”

“Are you okay if I take this lot back to base? We’ve got a concert tomorrow.”

“Absolutely, although you’re all more than welcome to stay for a few drinks.”

Peacock looks at his band and laughs at their enthusiasm. “Alright. One,” he calls.