"Lucien Blake, what on earth are you doing to my garden!"

Sheepishly, Lucien turned to face the ire of his fiancée. "Jean! I'm, erm, just conducting a little experiment! This," he gestured to the plaster powder on the floor. "This can all be cleaned up in a jiffy."

Jean pursed her lips at him and eyed him up and down. "And what about the state of you? Are you going to be cleaned up in 'just a jiffy'?"

And then, realizing how casually Lucien was dressed, Jean's eyes widened, taking in the wide expanse of his shirt collar and the patches of exposed skin at the top of his neck and chest. She could see his singlet beneath his shirt and she followed the row of buttons down to the exposed belt wrapped around his waist and then over the splotches of white over his trousers.

Lucien watched Jean's eyes travel down his body and stood still for her, letting her look her fill, unbearably smug at the thought that Jean desired his body. "What was that you were saying, Jean?"

Shaking herself out of her musings and swallowing (when did her mouth get so dry), Jean glared at him. "I'm bringing a broom out and you're cleaning this up. The last time you held an experiment in the house, I was scrubbing stinksap off the kitchen table for an hour."

Lucien frowned at her, "I am sorry, Jean. I promise I'll clear up just as soon as I'm done." He walked towards her, arms outstretched for an apologetic hug.

But Jean wasn't having it.

"Oh absolutely not, Lucien. You're filthy and your hands are covered in plaster."

Lucien paused for a moment, evaluating his hands and looking down the front of his trousers. Then, with a grin, he continued his advances. "C'mon, Jean, it's just a little hug."

Slowly backing away, fighting a smile, Jean shook her head, her hands coming up in front of her in an attempt to ward him off. "Lucien, don't you dare."

"Don't do what?"

"You know exactly what, you pompous-" With a laugh, Jean turned on her heel and tried to outrun Lucien's grasp but Lucien was too quick.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and ensured his dirty hands and trousers rubbed over Jean's prim clothing. With a laugh, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and rubbed his beard against her soft skin.

"Lucien! You utter-"

"Now, Jean, I know you don't mean whatever it is you're about to say."

Turning in his arms, she laced her hands behind his neck and tugged him down for a quick kiss. His hands wandered over her back and down her backside, squeezing slightly. Breaking away, breathless, Jean smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt and wiped the smear of lipstick off of his lips.

"I'm getting a broom and you're cleaning this up."

He smiled at her, utterly besotted, and placed one, last gentle kiss on her lips. "Absolutely, love."

With a shake of her head, Jean turned to go back into the house and fetch the broom for him. As she walked away, Lucien admired her backside and, more importantly, his two plaster handprints imprinted firmly into the fabric of her dress.