I couldn't help myself, and wrote a bold-Shelagh fic of my own. May even write a series of ficlets if you want me to! :P

"I'm a bold girl," she teased, with a rather contradictory flush of pink blooming on her cheeks. She looked demurely down at her hand, holding the cigarette with utmost delicacy. She noticed the hairs on her wrist standing to attention; she could feel every pore on her body tingling with an electric consciousness of his ever intensifying scrutiny. Patrick's heart clenched with adoration topped only by a not-unpleasant jolt of surprise at the provocative words that had just come out of his usually so reserved wife's mouth. Seeing the spark of shock and the unmistakable glint of base desire in his eyes Shelagh smiled coyly and bowed her head. "Sometimes."

The momentary silence that followed hung charged and palpable amongst the wisps of cigarette smoke. Shelagh brought her Henley up to her lips, flicking her gaze up to meet his for the most fleeting of seconds. Was it him imagining things, or did she linger on that draw for a moment longer than entirely necessary? Her resolute avoidance of his gaze and steadily deepening blush indicated she probably did. Clenching his cigarette between his teeth, Patrick simultaneously raked his fingers through his already shambolic hair and ran a hand along the inside of his collar. His wife really did look extremely sexy when she smoked, and at that moment he couldn't for the life of him work out why he had neglected to offer her one more often. As he observed her sitting primly on the sofa, exhaling wisps of smoke from perfectly pouting lips, all his instincts told him to take her in his arms there and then. But Timothy was only a stone's throw away in the kitchen doing his homework. It was the middle of the afternoon.

Clearing his throat, Patrick turned to support himself against the mantel piece, tearing his eyes away from the delicious and strangely intriguing sight before him. "Oh, I'd say you're a bold girl more than sometimes," he teased, loosening his tie, not entirely sure where he was going with this; Shelagh's unexpected frankness had thrown him a little, and made him throw caution to the wind.

"Oh yes?" she prompted, her voice cutting perfectly sweet and clear behind him.

"That pencil skirt for a start."

Shelagh stifled a laugh and drew thoughtfully on her cigarette, eyes never leaving his back, trying to gauge his reactions from the slope of his back and the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took long, slow breaths. "Go on," she murmured.

"Oh I don't know. You've locked my office door once or twice." Patrick closed his eyes and swallowed, thankful he was facing away from his wife. He did not want to push her too far, but he just couldn't seem to exercise much as much restraint as he would like at that moment.

Suddenly, Patrick felt a warm flutter of breath against his neck and startled, almost dropping his cigarette and setting fire to the carpet. In a bold move that surprised them both Shelagh had succumbed to the perilous turn this conversation had rapidly taken and was now flush against Patrick's back, tiptoeing to bring her lips close enough to tantalisingly tickle his skin but not enough to satisfy his rapidly building need for her touch. "I've always felt I could be more bold," she smiled, her voice, perhaps from the smoke but also from something more, unusually husky.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice unreadable but the jagged quality of the intake of breath that followed clear evidence of his quickly crumbling reserve.

Shelagh took a step back from him and continued silently smoking, glancing over to the kitchen hatch to make sure she had been correct in thinking it was safely down. The tension in the air was heady to say the least, and she suddenly felt the need to sit down, returning to her place on the settee as if none of that provocative episode had happened. The blush was to remain firmly on her cheeks though, as Patrick, drawn like a magnet to her side, now came to stand over her. He stubbed his cigarette resolutely on the side table, his dark, glinting eyes never leaving her face for a second.

Usually Shelagh smiled coyly and looked away whenever he fixed her with that heart-stopping gaze, waiting for the tender fingers beneath her chin to gently raise her face, followed without fail by a feather-light kiss dropped on her upturned lips. But today something was different; she did not break eye-contact, but stared back at him testily, feeling her heart race as she viewed unabashedly the effect this new bold Shelagh was having on her husband.

When Patrick gave one last sigh of defeat and bent to kiss her, Shelagh put her hand up to stop him and raised her eyebrows, a smirk of pure smugness on her face. "I want to finish my cigarette," she pouted. "This might be the only offer I'll get for a while."

"Don't bet on it," Patrick growled, and Shelagh despite herself giggled at the pained expression ingrained on his disarrayed features. "I'd like to see more of bold Shelagh," he added, shutting his eyes as she arched an eyebrow and slowly placed the last stub of her Henley to her lips. "Where in heaven's name did you learn to be such a calculating flirt?" he groaned, still avoiding looking at the siren who sat so temptingly beside him.

Before he could say another word, Shelagh had thrown her cigarette aside and was once more tickling the side of his face with her breath. "Kiss me darling," she whispered, her words appearing unusually more of a command than a request.

Patrick bowed his head and struggled to take a breath. "My love, it's four in the afternoon and our son is in the next room."

Shelagh smiled in a burst of confidence, but nevertheless kept her voice to a whisper. "And your point, Doctor, is?" Her husband groaned and habitually fidgeted with the knot of his already loosened tie. Shelagh's lips ever so gently pressed beneath his ear, tasting the warmth of his weathered skin with a maddening delicacy.

"My point is..." Patrick sighed, giving in completely, letting his hand trail lightly across her thigh. "We'll just have to be quiet then won't we?" he breathed, cutting off his own words by crushing his mouth onto his wife's. Instantly she parted her lips allowed him access with a long sigh. Teasing her husband was fun, but she realised it involved teasing herself too, which it would seem only led to a risky build-up of emotion that now found its release in Patrick's unreserved embrace. He moved to kiss her neck, roughly pulling apart her cardigan to skim his teeth across her collarbone.

Never before had a kiss between them become so immediately intense. Hands roamed everywhere; Shelagh felt sure she would be visibly bruised by tomorrow from the unusual roughness of their clinch. She found her boldness transcribed by his visceral reactions into an altogether more alarming key, one which thrilled her with its raw promiscuity. She raked her trembling fingers through Patrick's hair as they pressed their bodies desperately against each other.

Suddenly, pushed backwards by the force of Patrick's kiss, she bumped into the sideboard, making the decanter and brandy glasses clink loudly. They stopped dead, eyes dark and ablaze, panting heavily, listening for any sign from Timothy in the kitchen. When no danger appeared imminent they resumed their ministrations, muffling their giggles between their lips, lightheaded from their boldness and aching with desire. Patrick continued to push Shelagh backwards until she made contact with the living room door. Still kissing her fiercely he fumbled with her skirt as she made light work of his trouser buttons, biting her lip to keep in a cry as he found his way into her and pinned her against the cold wood, burying his face in her neck as he did so, drinking in her heady floral perfume.

Shelagh soon let out a yelp, almost giving them away, but Patrick was quick to muffle the sound with his lips once more, kissing her deeply until they both wilted, exhausted and glowing, against the door frame. "Well that was unexpected," exhaled Patrick, gently resting his chin upon his wife's head and feeling her laugh shakily under her breath.
"Indeed," she murmured, pulling away and smiling coyly up at him. "I think I outdid myself."

Patrick stroked her petal-flushed cheek and kissed her softly on the lips, lingering there as he admonished, "I should think that's quite enough boldness for one day Mrs Turner."

"On the contrary Doctor Turner," came the breathless reply. "It's only four o'clock in the afternoon. I haven't even scratched the surface!"

Please review if you have the time :)