A/N: Here's the new story I hinted at in the last one. It's going so well that I may be able to post a new chapter per day. Which I'm sure would suit my faithful readers… [grin!] Enjoy, and the next installment will go up tomorrow. I look forward to your comments!

§ § § -- January 16, 2006

There'd been the usual party for Christian and Leslie's wedding anniversary that their friends had insisted on throwing; it had been a bit more raucous this year than usual because for one thing, it was their fifth anniversary, and for another, they had been unable to be together the previous year. Their friends seemed to be trying to make up for this latter, even though Leslie had said there was no reason to bother. But she and Christian put up with it anyway and did their utmost to be good sports about it.

But she deliberately held one item back; and when their guests, including Roarke, had returned home and the triplets and Ingrid were all in bed for the night, she slid into bed beside him and smiled at him, seeing the expectant gleam in his eyes. "So, what did you think of the whole thing?" she asked.

"You know what I think of parties in general," he reminded her with an arched brow. "Stop trying to distract me. It's my intention to make love to you tonight, and by fate, I'm not going to let you talk me out of it."

Leslie laughed. "I'm not trying to, silly. It's just that I have one more present for you that I didn't want to give you in front of everybody else."

Christian's features shifted into a comical, suggestive leer. "Is that so? Are you going to perform a striptease for me, and that's why you couldn't do it?"

"Boy, the testosterone's raging tonight, isn't it? No, my love, it has nothing to do with lovemaking, so try switching off the libido for a few minutes at least and let me tell you what it is." She waited till he sighed and assumed an expectant look, and then grinned. "I'm giving you a fantasy."

This time his distraction was genuine and he looked startled and confused, peering at her with only partial comprehension. "What's this? Has Mr. Roarke endowed you with the power to grant fantasies all on your own?"

"No, that's not what I mean. Sheesh, you're usually less dense than this—you must've been drinking too much of Anton's beer." Christian's Fantasy Island employees, as well as the families of those who had them, had also been at the party, and Anton Lauterhoff had presented Christian with a case of a certain German beer that Christian had grown to like many years before when he'd visited Germany with one of his Sundborg employees. "See if you can focus that sodden mind of yours and let me explain."

"I didn't drink that much of it," Christian protested, rolling his eyes. "If I had, I'd be half asleep by now, and I wanted to be awake and alert specifically to make love to you this night. Well, then, hurry up and tell me what this is all about so I can get started."

Lightly she swatted his shoulder. "One-track mind. Okay, here's the thing. When we got back from Boston the other day, I talked all this over with Father, and he agreed. Now, you don't have to do it right away. But when you're ready for your fantasy—whatever it might be—all you have to do is come to Father and me and let us know, and we'll set it up for the next weekend. How's that sound?"

Christian stared at her in puzzlement for a minute or two. "I don't know if I actually have a fantasy…well, at least not one Mr. Roarke would consent to grant." He must have seen some subtle change in her expression, for he shrugged and smiled. "Oh, don't mistake me, my Rose, I'm grateful, if surprised. I just can't think of anything I really want."

"That's why you should save it till you really need it. I'm sure one of these days, something will come up and you'll be chomping at the bit to get away from it all for a while. So when that day comes, just come and see us, and we'll take care of it for you."

"Well enough," Christian agreed and smiled, leaning over to kiss her. "It's very unexpected, and I'm sure I'll be grateful later, when I don't have something else much more urgent on my mind. Now come here and let me kiss you properly so we can do what I've been waiting all day to do."

Leslie laughed softly. "Lech," she teased in a near-whisper.

"Your lech," he replied with a little smile and kissed her too deeply for her to respond. For another hour or so they forgot all else, melting into each other and enjoying themselves and their time together, so much rarer since they'd become parents.

Towards one in the morning, as they were sinking toward slumber in each other's embrace, Christian mumbled, "I thank you for the gift, my darling, but right now I don't see how I'll ever use it. I already have my greatest fantasy right here with you."

Sleepily she kissed his chest. "You're beautiful to say that, my love, but someday you'll use it. I guarantee that." She heard his drowsy grunt and smiled to herself.

§ § § -- February 28, 2006

For the past month or so the news had been filled with the trial in Sundborg, Lilla Jordsö, of Ingela Vikslund on the charges of kidnapping, incarcerating and attempting to murder Christian's brother-in-law, Esbjörn Lagnebring. She had been found guilty on all counts and sentenced to twenty years in prison; but even though this had happened a week before, the buzz showed no signs of abating. That was merely because it was no longer the trial itself that was the center of attention: it was the fact that Christian's late brother and father had both played small roles in the whole operation. Arnulf I, in an attempt to provide his people with jobs during a national recession, had endorsed Ingela's father's plans to drill within easy sight of the country's northern shores; and Arnulf II, who had been very much his father's son in just about every possible respect, had apparently managed somehow to be in a position to deflect the would-be assassin's shot so that Esbjörn had been only wounded instead of killed—which meant that Arnulf had known exactly what was going to happen. The fact that he had prevented a serious wounding from becoming the murder the world had thought it was mattered little in light of the fact that the two kings had not only known what was going on, but allowed it to happen—and worse, refused to come clean about their roles even after Vikslund Oil backed off from its plans and Arnulf I signed into law a bill to prevent any oil company from drilling so close to the coastline. That had meant that Anna-Laura had spent more than two decades believing she was a widow, and her two children had grown up without their father.

With the trial over now, this had become the center of attention, and too many of Christian's customers at Enstad Computer Services found some reason, however foolish, to bring it up in his presence. Christian had had a very trying week, and by the time he came to lunch that day, he was in a mood the likes of which Leslie hadn't seen in him for a very long time, if ever. "Uh-oh," she murmured.

Christian speared her with a look and nodded. "Yes, you guessed it, I'm in what some writers might call a 'fine, tearing mood'," he confirmed, his voice clipped and shaking slightly with his effort to control his rage. "I'm frankly sick of it. If one more person asks me about Father or Arnulf, I shouldn't be held responsible for what I might do to him."

"They know it wasn't your fault, Christian," Roarke said, serene as ever.

"Not to all appearances. Fate take us, Mr. Roarke, if you could have spent the morning in the office with me, you might not say such a thing. Some have intimated that the entire family was putting on an act at Esbjörn's fake burial. Only two of us knew the truth, and I wasn't one of them. But how do you tell that to anyone? They merely assume I'm trying to cover my own…behind." He shot Roarke a faintly sheepish glance. "At any rate, I have to tell you, I'm incredibly sick of being me. Now more than ever, I wish fate had seen fit to have me born to an obscure working-class family far away from anything having to do with royalty!"

Leslie and Roarke looked at each other, and Leslie cleared her throat. "Hmm…that 'common bricklayer' yearning again, huh, my love?"

"Yes," Christian spat out. "I can't tell you how much I've wished I…" He fell silent suddenly and stilled, clearly visited with a realization. Leslie began to grin and glanced at Roarke, who winked knowingly.

"I presume you'd like to use that wedding-anniversary gift Leslie arranged for you," said Roarke, his voice slightly quizzical, courteous, inviting…and just perceptibly amused.

Christian, in his turmoil, seemed to miss this last tone. "Yes indeed, Mr. Roarke, and I thank you for bringing it up. The sooner the better, if you ask me. Can you do it this weekend? If you can, I'll do my best to stick it out with these crazy questions for the rest of the week. I'll have something to look forward to."

Leslie grinned, and Roarke chuckled a little. "Indeed. Very well, then, you arrange to take the next weekend off, and leave the rest to us."

After lunch Christian returned to work almost happy; at least, he was whistling a bit as he departed the porch. Leslie watched him go while Mariki cleared the table, and finally looked at Roarke. "Do we really have to do it the way you said we would?"

Roarke looked at her with gentle remonstration. "My dear Leslie, you should realize that in light of all your husband's complaints, it's the only way to get the message across to him. It may seem harsh to you, but unless you can think of some other method that stands a proper chance of having the effect you want, it's what we must do."

She sighed. "Okay, okay. But I can't help wondering what he'll be like when he gets back…and if he'll ever speak to either one of us again."

Roarke laughed. "You worry far too much, my child. Try to trust in me, just for once."

"I always trust in you—with our regular guests. But this is Christian we're talking about. I can't help getting butterflies in my gut just thinking about it."

"If you were planning to be so apprehensive about the fantasy, then tell me, why did you arrange to give it to him?"

She cleared her throat at the pointed tone in Roarke's voice, shifting her weight and suddenly busying herself untying bibs from around toddlers' necks. "I…well, I didn't think he would ask for that fantasy."

Roarke was silent for long enough that she looked up finally and caught him watching her with a skeptical, expectant look on his handsome features. "Oh?" was all he said when they made eye contact.

"Okay, maybe I did." But he still eyed her, and she threw her hands in the air. "I give up. There you go again, reading my mind. When are you ever going to teach me to do more than just appear and disappear out of the study, anyway?"

Roarke laughed again and arose. "I'm afraid I couldn't teach you the trick of mind-reading even if I had it," he said, disregarding her skeptical eye-roll. "You forget, my child, it's my business to know what's happening on my island, insofar as I am able to keep up with this growing population and the ever-shifting cadre of guests. It seems only natural that your conversation with Myeko Okada at Prince Miroslav's wedding party last fall was the catalyst for your request."

Leslie stilled in the act of lifting Tobias out of his high chair and stared at him. "Did I tell you about that? I don't remember doing that."

"Didn't you?" Roarke asked, looking so genuinely surprised that she snorted to herself and resumed releasing triplets from their confinement. She missed Roarke's private little smile, and it was probably just as well that she did…