Welcome to chapter 5 of my Phryniverse-series (Starting with A Time For Everything, then The Art Of Taming An Ocean, Blood And Stone and The Sky Tastes Like Raspberries). It should however be, as usual, readable as a stand-alone with no problem. The usual applies, there will be sex, alcohol and of course, murder. Enjoy ;).

Chapter 1: Teatree

The Honourable Phryne Fisher was woken by a pair of lips gently kissing the nape of her neck. She shivered slightly in the cool morning breeze and snuggled closer into the warm body in her back, without opening her eyes. The warm arm holding her, curled around her tighter, when Jack noticed her stirring.

"Good morning, Mrs. Robinson," he teased, pressing a kiss to her ear.

"We are not quite there yet," she grumbled in her state of half-sleep, which however did not stop the Inspector in the slightest. His fingers trailed along her arm in a gesture, that they both knew she wouldn't be able to resist for long.

"No, but you will be. Eventually."

There was such a cheeky smile in his voice that she shifted and finally pried her eyes open.

"That is true, Lord Robinson. We have to set a date first though."

Deep creases appeared on his forehead, and Miss Fisher couldn't resist extending her fingers in an effort to melt them away.

"You are aware that I will not take on your title, Miss Fisher?" he finally concluded, not even trying to hide his relief.

"No, you won't. But I wonder how many people will remember that, when you are the husband of a Baroness one day?" Phryne grinned, cuddling back against him. Inspector Robinson stayed silent at this, pondering her words with some awe. He had never actually thought about Miss Fisher being the heiress of a noble family. Well, of course, he had known that she was the daughter of a Baron, it had been one of the many things that had intimidated him about her to start with. But the closer they had become, the less it all seemed to matter. She was Miss Phryne Fisher and Honourable only, when she needed the title as a weapon to get through a door otherwise closed to her. A cold wind picking up, brought him back into the reality of the moment and he looked down at his lover, still curled against him and seemingly having gone back to sleep.

"Phryne, I'm sorry, but I think we might want to head inside," he urged.

Reluctantly Miss Fisher let go of his warm, naked chest and followed the direction of his eyes to a grey sky above their heads. When had that happened? She was quite sure that it had been brooding hot just yesterday. But then, she couldn't really recall a lot about the last few days. After they had chased a serial-killer through Melbourne which had left both of them injured and drained, Jack had decided that it was time to take a step back and had allowed Doctor Mac to declare him unfit for duty while the heat wave rendered crime in the city minimal. The deep wound on his leg, that a confrontation with the murderer had left him with, was healing only slowly, not least due to several occasions where he had to run after fleeing suspects; and Deputy-Commissioner Fredrik had been only too happy to grant the stubborn DI a generous amount of sick leave, after he had ended two killing sprees and saved Commissioner Sanderson's daughter from being shot in her father's absence, which might have put quite a dent into his career. Jack had kept the fact to himself that the latter was mostly due to Miss Fisher's involvement.

Instead the Inspector had grasped Phryne's hand and taken her up to the rooftop, where they had spent their time under the stars every night since the one in which he had asked her to become his wife. Up here, the heat was bearable, even though they didn't sleep much. Jack Robinson would have liked to pretend that he had been making love to her all through the hours of the night, but the truth was, he was not twenty anymore and they were mostly talking, cuddled up together in the light of candles and moon. Phryne had also taken a liking to reading crime novels to him, by a rising writer called Agatha Christie. After his first astonishment, Inspector Robinson found this ritual rather amusing and utterly intimate. They had also, of course, made love more often than he could count. He was not that old after all and keeping his hands of Phryne was a challenge he lost more often than he cared to admit. So in retrospect, the last few weeks were a blur of good food, warm skin and plenty of intriguing crime-plots, none of them in which either of them were involved. And while a part of Jack missed the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the bigger one felt like a contented tom-cat that had spent an afternoon lying in the sun with its limbs outstretched, unwilling to ever move again. But now there was rain clouds balling up over their heads and that was likely the end of their summer. He couldn't help the stab of disappointment in his chest.

Warm lips on his pulled him gently back from his pondering.

"Stop thinking, Jack," Phryne urged, "you are getting wrinkles." Before he could utter a word of protest, she kissed him again. His arms wrapped around her warm, white back without asking him for permission as the tension melted away. So maybe their summer of leisure was over. There would be other seasons. While he fell into her touch, her warm hands roaming his body, chasing any remainder of sleep away, a part of him realised, that they were still up on the rooftop, exposed to nature. He pulled himself to a sitting position but the intent drowned in the heat racing through his loins, as Phryne's searching mouth found one of his nipples. He gasped, throwing his head back, a fact that she used to her advantage and attacked the tender skin she knew to find on his neck. Jack held on long enough to a rest of sanity to pull her on top of himself. Wrapping her arms around her, as if to protect her naked back from the biting wind, he locked their eyes as he moved his hips. Her lashes fluttered shut briefly. Their lips found each other somewhere in the slow rhythm they built between themselves.

The first raindrop splashed onto Phryne's cheek seconds later. Jack wiped it away, before kissing her again. Her warm breasts were pressed against his chest in their tight embrace, her eyes were nearly black with desire. Watching her was almost more breathtaking than the fireworks going off in his own body. Almost.

The next raindrops hit his back, his arms, fell into her hair. Neither of them stopped, they were too enthralled in each other to care. Their lips hardly moved far enough from each other to breath. Hot air ghosted over Phryne's face as she pressed herself against her lover, let her lust wash her away. She too knew, that it would be the last time in their summer together, but it didn't matter. They had a lifetime in front of them to enjoy this and all other pleasures of life in every way they could think of. She watched Jack's eyes grow darker, his breath heavier. Rain was pelting down on them by now, sizzling on their heated skin. Her soft fingers ran through his wet hair, pulling him in for another breathless kiss. Jack Robinson was hers and soon he would be her husband. They had plenty of summers ahead of them. But for now there was just the rain showering them with big, warm drops and covering two heated, wet bodies entangled in something that was pretty close to heaven.

X

Mr. Butler had given up a long time ago on wondering about the state of Miss Fisher and the Inspector, when they snuck through the house. He had been a servant for a long time. He recognised the sparkle in Miss Fisher's eyes and the way Detective-Inspector Robinson's hands just moved a little giddier when he prepared his own toast in the morning. Mr. Butler had also come across enough torn clothes, crumpled sheets and broken inventory to be quite aware that his Mistress didn't limit her recreational activities to the night time or her bedroom. He wasn't worried about either of it. In fact, quite the opposite. That Miss Fisher and her Inspector were enjoying themselves, gave him a deep, satisfied calmness and the ring that silently sparkled on her finger nowadays intensified his hopes that Jack Robinson was here to stay. It had taken his Mistress long enough to figure it out after all. Yet, he was a little worried, when the rain started. At the time, he was tidying up the bedrooms, a task that was currently rather boring, as they were hardly used, when he noticed the drop starting to splash against the windows. He resisted the urge to head up to the rooftop. Surely, they could not have missed being drenched, so there was really only one explanation for their absence – they did not care. Whistling under his breath, he finished off Miss Fisher's room and was on his way to the Inspector's, when the roof door flew open and two soaked, but laughing people burst through it.

"Good morning, Mr. Butler." Miss Fisher greeted, while the Inspector blushed furiously, but was pulled into her bedroom by the hand, before he had a chance to extend any more than a small greeting with the servant. Mr. Butler grinned and headed on to Jack Robinson's sanctuary. He was quite sure, it wouldn't be needed at this stage.

X

An hour later, Phryne settled with her mail in the parlour. She used to do this in her office, but the truth was, nowadays she seemed to enjoy Jack's quiet presence while she went through her paperwork. That and the heat had been most bearable in this room for the last weeks, a problem that was currently rather solved by the look of the floods that were still coming down onto their house. A thunderstorm had joined in, tearing the grey sky apart with flashes of lightning. Jack had slipped onto the piano stool, resting his remaining teacup on top of the instrument, a habit, that would have brought down the wrath of his piano teacher on him, but didn't bother Phryne in the slightest. He was playing something that she didn't recognise but was mixing with the rain into a beautiful background noise. Miss Fisher sifted through her letters, fishing the important ones out and keeping them for last. There were a few proposed cases, none of them interesting her.

"This one's for you, Jack," she stated, handing him an expensive looking envelope. His music trailed off, as he grabbed for it, while Phryne curiously stood beside him.

"Uncle Walter," he said, on inspecting the address. "Probably trying to talk me into travelling up to Daylesford for our family meeting, yet again."

"Why don't you?" Phryne asked teasingly.

"Why don't I what?" Jack responded, returning to his music. He hadn't played this much in years as he had in the last few weeks. It was as if Miss Fisher opened up all the dams in his head. A single experience with her lead inevitable to him not being able to stop himself.

"Go and see your family?"

She settled back down into her chair, watching him.

"You know, why I don't want to see my family," Jack said quietly. She did. She had heard him argue with his cousin Iris about his withdrawal from the Robinson's after having had a falling out with his father about living under a roof with an unmarried woman.

"True. But things have changed, haven't they?"

He looked up at that. She smiled.

"We are getting married, Jack. There is nothing 'immoral' about us anymore," she grinned. "Well maybe beside this morning's episode, but we don't have to share that."

Jack Robinson smiled at that, picking up the piece again. This time, it dawned on Phryne just what he was playing. It was Chopin's 'Raindrops'. She got up to press a kiss to his head, which he accepted with closed eyes and snuck her arms around his shoulders.

"So we are going?" She asked, in a pause. His hands stilled.

"We?"

"Of course we. You can't leave your fiancée behind in Melbourne while you roam the countryside alone, that would be highly immoral, Inspector. I am also dying to meet your family that you have so successfully hidden from me for the last two years."

Jack didn't point out that her first meeting with Iris hadn't been a particularly pleasant one. His cousin had taken his half-hearted attempt to cut her out of his life personally and lashed out at his supposed dalliance with the rich Miss Fisher. This had briefly endangered his relationship with both women. Luckily they had formed some kind of peace treaty in his absence, but a further meeting between them could certainly get interesting. He didn't even want to think about his father and his prejudices. Miss Fisher didn't seem particularly worried about this however, as she had retreated from him to dig further through her letters.

"Mr. Goldner is enquiring for a date to meet you, Jack."

The Inspector turned to her.

"Whatever for?"

"We talked about this, Jack. I intend to add your name to all of my paperwork before we get married. You will need to find your way into my finances."

Jack nodded grimly. She smiled, slipping onto the stool beside him. He made room for her.

"Oh, don't look like he is going to behead you. I am an incredibly rich woman, Jack, and therefore you will be an incredibly rich man once you become my husband. You better get used to it."

He stayed silent and looked for a moment as if he was going to play again but instead sighed miserably. She wondered why this bothered him so much. Was it an underlying form of classism? He turned, opening his lips, obviously looking for words.

"Phryne? You don't think I'm marrying you for your riches, do you?"

Her mouth stood agape for a moment at this, then her face turned into a mask of disbelief.

"I am pretty sure that to count as a gold digger, you actually have to be interested in money, Jack."

He smiled a tiny smile at that, but his brows were still knitted, convincing Miss Fisher that he was actually worrying about this strange idea.

"I believe you are marrying me for one reason and one reason only, Jack."

"And what is that?"

"That you are too utterly smitten with me to resist the urge to drag me to the altar kicking and screaming."

Jack Robinson smiled, this time genuine and relieved, despite not pointing out how close her teasing remark was to the truth.

"So, why are you marrying me then, Miss Fisher?" he asked.

"Well, that's obvious, Inspector." She prompted. "For your riches of course."

She winked, opening the last letter, while he raised his fingers and drew a few tentative notes from the piano. The thoughtful creases on her face made him stop his attempts.

"Bad news?" He asked.

"The opposite really. But I might not be able to join you in Daylesford after all."

Jack tried to hide his relief by rescuing his cup of tea from the top of the piano and draining it. But Miss Fisher seemed to be taken over by a giddy form of excitement.

"Our daughter is coming home next week."

He almost drowned.