A/N: Here's the result of that little teaser I left behind last story. My thanks as ever to PDXWiz, jtbwriter, Harry2, BishopT and Kyryn. I'm going to begin shortening intervals between story dates because I've come up with some new ideas—not to mention getting some input from others, which is most welcome. They will appear in the near future. For now, enjoy!
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§ § § -- September 1, 2003

Roarke stared at his daughter across the table while she checked her watch for the third time in ten minutes. "Leslie," he said, "that won't make the plane come in any sooner, so will you kindly cease?"

She looked up, startled. "Was I looking at my watch again?"

He rolled his eyes expressively. "Yes, you were, and it appears that you've grown completely unaware of it as well. The plane will be here at ten o'clock, and not one moment sooner. So please, my child, finish your breakfast and remain calm."

She groaned. "Almost an hour to go! I don't think I can stand it!"

Mariki appeared in time to hear this last. "Oh yes you can, Miss Leslie. Although I have to tell you, Mr. Roarke, it's such a relief knowing Prince Christian's coming home today. Your daughter has been completely impossible ever since she got home. Honestly, it's worse than when his arranged marriage kept them separated."

Roarke laughed at that, watching Leslie glower at Mariki. Christian had opened a branch of his business in London, and the whole thing had gone with an almost supernatural smoothness. A certain Sir Simon Lightwood-Wynton, recently knighted and even more recently married, owned a small building in a very attractive retail district and, upon hearing that Christian was seeking space to rent, had given him a deal that was impossible to beat. In no time at all Christian had been able to begin the arduous process of hiring people who met his standards of quality; they had to be very good on their own, but he also liked them to be familiar with his own way of doing things. He wanted seven computer specialists, an office manager, and a secretary with whom he would be keeping in touch as to the progress of the new branch; and that had meant long days of personal interviews and long tired nights of sleep. Leslie had been with him all through July, and they had spent Sundays playing tourist so that Christian could have some sort of break. They had also taken the last weekend in July and flown to Lilla Jordsö to visit Christian's family, finally meeting little Prince Matteus—Gerhard and Liselotta's son—and baby Princess Elisabeth, daughter of Cecilia and Axel. Liselotta was expecting a second child, due in late September, and had admitted to hoping for a girl, after which she and Gerhard planned to stop having children. Rudolf had split up with his longtime girlfriend several months before and was currently devoting himself to helping his father, Carl Johan, with the assorted landscaping projects going on around the castle grounds. And young Prince Roald, twenty-three, was still the classic hell-raiser, resulting in some teasing between Anna-Laura and Christian. Gabriella, they had learned, was in the process of divorce from Elias, who had never quite been able to accept the blow of learning she couldn't have children; and Margareta, still very single, had thrown herself into work with five different charities, which kept her away from the castle so much that the rest of the family joked about forgetting what she looked like.

But at the end of July Leslie's vacation time had elapsed and she had to return home to Fantasy Island; Christian, still in the process of hiring new employees, had planned to remain through August, and their separation at Heathrow had been difficult for them both. All month they'd stayed in close touch through e-mail, echoing their years apart, and once a week Christian called from London. He had been determined to come home by the beginning of September, no matter what; fortunately his office manager and secretary had already been installed early on and both knew the ropes well enough to be able to screen candidates for the last open position in the new branch. So Christian had left the final hiring up to them and had departed London over the weekend; he was due in on the ten-o'clock charter, and Leslie was in something of a frenzy.

"Just for that, Mariki, I'm going to stop eating right here and now," Leslie announced now, pushing back her chair and rising. Mariki rolled her eyes.

"That figures," she snorted. "I'm telling you, Miss Leslie, you're going to make yourself sick. Just as sick as sick can be."

"I am in perfectly fine health, thank you," Leslie retorted primly.

Roarke smiled a little wearily. "Before you continue with that age-old argument," he said, "I suggest, Mariki, that you kindly clear her place…and Leslie, I have an errand for you that will take up the time remaining until you go to meet the plane. There's plenty of outgoing mail to send, and I have three incoming packages at the post office that must be picked up, so why don't you handle that."

"Maybe I'll go to the plane with her," Mariki said, "just to tell Prince Christian that it's about time he got back here, so she'll quit moaning and groaning all the time."

"I am leaving now," Leslie announced with overdone dignity and marched across the veranda, to Roarke's resigned chuckling. Once out of their sight, though, she broke into a half-run, hurrying into the study to gather together all the outgoing mail and then rushing to the Enstads' car, parked in front of the main house as had become her habit in Christian's absence. She was thankfully unaware of Roarke's surprised and amused gaze on her as she went, and even more mercifully unaware of Mariki's choice comments, which Roarke had to tell her to squelch before his daughter happened somehow to overhear her.

By the time Leslie dropped off Roarke's packages at the main house, there was less than ten minutes remaining till the plane was due in, and she headed straight for the dock, parking and wandering across the clearing in the general direction of the landing ramp. At the moment no one was there except the attendants who moored the charter preparatory to disembarkation, and they waved at Leslie in greeting before resuming their quiet conversation. Leslie herself burned off nervous energy by pacing the clearing and frequently looking into the sky, straining her ears for the drone of the charter's engine.

Eventually she thought she heard it, and stared eagerly up, waiting. Sure enough, within ten seconds she saw the plane sail low across the sky, almost low enough, she thought, to see its passengers. It was another ten-minute ordeal while the charter landed, taxied into the lagoon and pulled to a stop at the dock, and several more minutes of waiting for the attendants to tie it down. Then the hatch popped open and four or five vacationing guests stepped out before Christian at last emerged—only to be stopped by an attendant who asked him a question. Leslie bounced impatiently on her feet, about to run up the dock herself to grab him, but at the last moment he replied, laughed and broke away. Instantly he spotted his wife and ran to meet her, catching her in his arms and whirling her around once before hugging her hard. "Leslie, my darling, do you know what a beautiful sight you are to come home to? I thought I'd never survive this trip!"

"I didn't either!" she exclaimed, half in tears with joy and relief that he was home. "I drove Father a little nuts, and Mariki was more of a pain than usual…"

Christian laughed. "Ah, familiar things. Oh, it's so good to be home." He held her close, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "My Rose…"

Leslie clung to him, breathing him in; he still had the same scent about him, of a little sandalwood soap underlying his rare cologne, and though he sounded weary, his voice was as warm and affectionate as always. "Christian…oh, Christian, my love, if you only knew how much I've missed you. The house seems so empty without you. I love you so much."

"Oh, I love you too, my darling, more than I can say. What a relief it is to be home with you. I presume," he added, drawing back and grinning at her, "that we're going directly there. Otherwise, you may find yourself being made love to right here in the clearing."

Leslie laughed and hugged him hard again. "I've missed you almost enough to let you. Come on, let's get out of here. There's no reason to waste any more time."

They gathered the two suitcases he had taken with him and headed for the car, each carrying one bag so they could hold hands, loath to release each other completely. Of course, once they reached the car they had to, and Christian caught her long enough to plant a quick kiss on her mouth. "Just as a prelude," he said. "I'd kiss you properly, only I don't think I'd be able to retain control if I did. So it'll wait until we're home."

On their way home they talked a little about the last week of Christian's stay in England, about the fantasies from the weekend just past, and a couple of mundane household matters, but their anticipation underpinned every word and they kept reaching out to touch each other. Finally, as Leslie pulled into their driveway, he said, "I'll be home the rest of this week, my darling, since for one thing I have to recover from a terminal case of jet lag. I'm all yours until I take you in to the main house as usual. And what of you?"

"Father told me he won't need me till Friday," Leslie said, killing the engine and smiling. "So by the time you've gotten over the worst of the jet lag, you'll be so sick of me that you'll be thrilled to death to see me leave Friday morning."

"Blasphemy," said Christian, pretending shock, and she burst out laughing. Grinning back, he added, "That would never happen, and you must be thoroughly mad to think so. Before I go up in flames from wanting you, let's get inside so we can do something about it. I'm actually thirsty, too. Herregud, I want to do everything at once…eat, drink, sleep, make love to you…I don't know what comes first."

"Huh…speaking of blasphemy…" Leslie teased, and he roared with laughter. "Let's go, quick. I don't suppose you're going to give in to the inner neatnik and insist on unpacking before we turn to something a lot more interesting."

"Ah, well, maybe the suitcases can wait," Christian said cheerfully.

"Maybe?" she shot back, eliciting more laughter from him, and they finally got out of the car, retrieved his bags and went inside. There, Christian grew serious: no sooner were they in than he dropped the suitcase he carried, removed the other from her hand, drew her in close and kissed her, long and deep. Leslie submitted instantly and without a sound, responding as eagerly as he, clinging to him and combing through his dark hair with one hand. Christian gathered a hank of her hair in his hand and stroked slowly down, managing to deepen the kiss still further, pressing her hard against him at her helpless moan of surrender. Neither wanted to let go, but before very long they found themselves beginning to pull at each other's clothing, which finally broke them apart.

"I need you," Christian whispered, gasping. "Right this moment."

"Don't wait," Leslie begged, pushing his shirt off his shoulders even as she spoke. "I can't wait, and I don't want you to, either." She reached down and molded her hand to him, her eyes widening for a moment. "Oh, my love…"

Christian's body convulsed gently at her touch, and he closed his eyes and moaned. "Be careful," he pleaded. "I don't have much restraint left." In reply she rapidly unbuckled his belt and undid the black slacks he wore, pausing once or twice to massage him a little, just to hear his groan. "You're killing me, Leslie! Please, don't torture me so…"

"I'm dying for you, Christian," she murmured. "Don't just stand there." Immediately he reached for her blouse, swiftly unbuttoned it and removed everything she wore from the waist up, except for the ruby heart necklace he'd given her, then bent long enough to take one breast into his mouth and suckle at it. Already desperate for him, she nearly reached her peak just from this, her breathing coming hard and fast and every exhalation a high-pitched little cry. "Now," she wailed at last.

Christian needed no further urging, stripping her completely and finishing the job she had started of removing his pants, then bracing her against the wall and deftly entering her, with her help. Too long denied each other, they had no patience, and both exploded within a minute, almost simultaneously. The moment Leslie shrieked his name, he followed her to fruition, crying out, "Leslie, my Leslie Rose…" The words died into a series of soft cries.

Barely recovered, she lifted her head and kissed him. "Oh, my love…I couldn't stop myself…it's been so long."

He smiled, still breathing heavily, and said softly, "Believe me, my Rose, I didn't have any more stamina than you did. I couldn't sleep on the flight from Los Angeles to Honolulu because all I could think of was making love to you. But now that we've bought ourselves a little more patience, I suggest we move to the bedroom, and we can indulge ourselves until we've exhausted all our energy." Christian shook his head slowly in wonder. "Just a month without you, and I've utterly lost my mind."

"You have company," she murmured, closing her eyes and twining her arms around his neck. He still stood there inside her, his head resting against hers as he worked to regain enough equilibrium to take her upstairs. Then, slowly, they disengaged, he set her back on the floor, and they joined hands, leaving suitcases and clothing where they lay in the foyer. She glanced back once and giggled softly at the sight. "Never thought we'd do that."

He followed her gaze and grinned lazily. "We have all sorts of time to go back and pick those things up. First, I want my fill of you, and I suspect that's going to take the better part of the day." At the top of the steps in the bedroom, he turned her to face him and kissed her, deeply but at leisure, before murmuring against her mouth, "How I love you, my Leslie Rose. I waited most of my life to find you, but you were worth every second of it, for I had never expected love to be like this."

"I didn't either," Leslie murmured, tears stinging her eyes. "I thought I was in love with Teppo, but there's no comparison. I love you so very much, my darling, so much that I can hardly remember what it was like the first time…there's just you."

Christian closed his eyes and groaned softly, taking her hand and guiding it to him. "Just a few words and you have me ready for you again. I'm yours, my Rose…do to me what you will." He kissed her again, then led her to the bed and tugged her down after him.

They passed the next couple of hours making love, until Christian could no longer stave off exhaustion and jet lag and went limp on his pillow. "I'm so sorry, my Rose," he said sleepily. "I just can't…"

"I know, my darling…it's all right," Leslie assured him and kissed him softly. "You sleep as long as you want. When you wake up, I'll be here, I promise you."

He smiled, his eyes slipping closed. "I love you, my Leslie Rose…" The words faded into silence, and five seconds later he was asleep. Leslie smiled, a wave of love swamping her and making her linger, stroking his hair. I love you too, my amazing, wonderful prince, she thought. You made me the luckiest girl on the planet. She kissed his cheek and reluctantly slid off the bed, dressing in a tank top and shorts before retreating downstairs to get their clothes and his suitcases so she could unpack for him.

Late in the afternoon, after Christian had slept for about three hours and they'd made love for a little while longer, they were checking through e-mails from his family in Lilla Jordsö when the phone downstairs rang. "You're really sure you don't want an extension up here?" Leslie teased her husband. "Even here in the library? We could always turn off the ringer when we wanted to be purposely deaf."

Christian grinned. "Oh, that we'll see about," he said indulgently. "Hurry, my Rose, and at least see who that is."

She returned upstairs a couple of minutes later with the cordless living-room phone in her hand. "It's Father," she reported. "He's invited us to supper at the main house."

"Oh, yes, Mariki's cooking," Christian said with anticipation, "and that would save us the trouble of cooking for ourselves. Then we could just come back here and make love all night." He snickered at her expression, and she had to laugh. "Yes, it sounds enticing…I'd like that." Leslie nodded and relayed this to Roarke.

In another hour they pulled up in front of the main house and went inside, where Roarke was just putting the desk to rights. "Ah, Christian, welcome home!" he said warmly, coming around it and shaking hands with his son-in-law. "How was your trip?"

"Quite fruitful, Mr. Roarke," Christian said. "I'm lacking only one employee in the London branch and then we're fully in business. But you can't imagine how good it feels to be home again. Marriage to your daughter seems to have truly spoiled me. I've never felt as lonely in all my days as I did in London without Leslie."

Roarke chuckled and said, "Simply the sign of a happy and healthy marriage. I am given to understand that Mariki has prepared teriyaki chicken, a wide array of stir-fried vegetables and an assortment of fruit, so you shouldn't go hungry. Shall we?" The Enstads accompanied him out onto the veranda and around to the table, which Mariki was already loading; tantalizing smells wafted through the late-summer air.

"Welcome back, Prince Christian," said Mariki with a grin. "Hope you and Miss Leslie are hungry."

"Starved, now that I've caught those delicious scents," Christian told her, like Leslie and Roarke taking his usual chair. "I do have to admit to fatigue from so much traveling, but I anticipate a good night's sleep tonight. The trick is to stay awake long enough to satisfy my hunger and then get to the car after we're through."

Leslie remarked with a grin, "I hope you're not expecting me to carry you in case you do nod off in your chair. Mariki, maybe you'd better get him some coffee." They all laughed, and Mariki retreated, leaving them to the meal.

The threesome were engrossed in a very lively conversation, and thus even Roarke didn't at first notice the two figures who crossed the veranda toward them. Then a female voice with an accent remarked, "Well, well. So the rumors of your marriage are true."

They all stilled and turned to stare; Roarke and Leslie were blank, but Christian emitted a choked gasp, making his wife and father-in-law turn to him. "Christian, are you all right?" Leslie asked in alarm.

He nodded faintly, looking dazed, his hazel eyes nearly round with shock. Leslie shot the woman and her young male companion a nervous glance, then looked at Roarke, who had taken in Christian's reaction and was now assessing the visitors with slightly narrowed eyes. Christian slowly rose about halfway from his chair; Roarke glanced at him once, then said in an unmistakably implacable tone, "Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell us who you are and what you are doing here."

The woman surveyed the table, and it was plain that she realized they were in the middle of the meal, but didn't seem to care that she'd interrupted them. "My name," she said, eyeing Christian, "is Ingela Vikslund—and this is Kurt." She nudged her companion, a dark-haired boy, forward. "Christian Enstad, meet your son."