Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and have just borrowed them for my
- and your - pleasure.
FATAL HARVEST
Steed shows off his roots. Emma does some weeding.
Chapter 2
As she opened the door, Emma noted with amusement that her guest's idea of a quiet evening did not include casual attire. Ruthlessly well-groomed in one of his favourite suit, Steed was waiting, a handsomely lettered cardboard box tied up with gold string in one hand and a bottle of one of their favourite French wines in the other.
"Dessert, as promised", he announced genially as he took a step inside.
His pale grey eyes swept her up. His gaze was disconcertingly intense, at odds with the voice, warm and insouciant. The overall effect was a perfect counterpoint to the delicious mix of expectation and relief that his reappearance never failed to stir in her.
As soon as she took the box from him, his free hand slid around her waist and drew her closer for a first kiss. He had been burning for this moment, doubtlessly from having savoured it many times in anticipation. Her onw free hand reached up round the back of his neck, eager to respond. Without breaking the kiss he gently kicked the door shut behind them and moved with her towards the couch of her living room. They sat down, laying his offerings at their feet in unisson.
His hands were already over her, grateful and lusty. Food and drink would wait.
A "quiet" evening at home with Steed just back from the field, thought Emma with a soft, throaty chuckle, is definitely an understatement.
His mouth moved from hers to her neck and lower still, where he found and nuzzled one of her nipples through the sheer blouse. She buried her nose in his soft, thick hair and ran her own hands lightly down his sides, mindful of any new bruise or wound that she might come across. Her gentle wariness did not escape him. He drew back slightly and saw in her deep brown eyes the hint of concern she could not quite suppress.
"I am fine, Mrs. Peel", he assured her. His strong hand traced delicately the outline of her jaw as he added in a low, throaty voice. "And I might add that you are finer, even, than when I left."
"Flattery alone" she said, wrily, eager to distract him from her fleeting show of anxiety, "will not get you dinner, Steed."
His eyes lit up and he flashed her a leering smile. "Shall I earn it instead by proving my fitness, Mrs. Peel?"
-o0o-
The edge of their desire now blunted, they were lying side by side on her bed. Emma's thoughts were turning to dinner when Steed stirred anew against her back. Steed was nibbling playfully at her ear when his mind wandered back to Mother's request.
"I nearly forgot something" he said languidly She felt him turn over and reach behind him for his jacket, neatly folded on a nearby chair.
He pulled a small box from a pocket and handed it out to Emma. She kissed his broad chest lightly and cast an amused glance at her dresser across the room, where a collection of trinkets had been growing steadily over the last year. Steed might not be able tell her where he had been or on what business, but he had taken to bringing her back small gifts from his travels. A way to let her know that she had been in his thoughts, something he could not always bring himself to say simply.
Turning over, she propped herself on her elbows to better examine the wooden box. Its lid lifted to reveal a small cuckoo clock cradled in layers of paper.
"Won't you wind it up?" whispered Steed, his hand wandering teasingly up and down along her spine. The delicate mechanism in the clock came to life. A tiny door opened. The bird was holding a banner which unrolled as he glided forward with a bright chirp. She deciphered the message printed in flowery script: "Mrs. Peel, you're needed". Her brows shot up.
"Aren't you overdue for a leave, Steed?" she asked pointedly.
"Mother's idea of a leave" Steed corrected her. "He sprang a new case on me, right out of the debriefing room. To hear him talk, it is an assignment tailored for us."
"It will have to wait," she said firmly, "until tomorrow evening, at the very least. I really must review my notes for a morning briefing." With a faraway look, she added "I am starting to have visions. a juicy, tender roast of lamb ready to be warmed up, new potatotes eager to be steamed, and a freshly tossed arugula salad."
Steed was already getting up and dressing himself. He leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly. "I believe, Ms. Peel, that I can find my way again in your kitchen. Feel free to start poring over your notes. If you finish early, we can team up and crack one of those devilish crossword puzzles."
Emma returned to her secretary where her notes were neatly spread out. The tempting aroma of food soon distracted her. She strode back towards the dining area where Steed was finishing laying out plates and silverware on the table. He poured wine in two crystal goblets and offered her one, raising it to her health.
"To the imminent conclusion of your assignment, Mrs. Peel?"
Emma nodded with feeling. "I'll drink to that. We completed our last two site visits only last week. We submit our individual reports tomorrow. Only one more meeting left after this one, where we will review the summary and offer our recommendations."
"No regrets?"
She shook her head. "None, really. It is not your brand of research, but it was fascinating in its own right."
"I hate to concede it, but your talents would have gone to waste had you not accepted the task, Mrs. Peel. The diabolical masterminds you are so adept at defeating have been on hiatus lately. Mother kept me on the straight and narrow."
"Just as well," she flashed him a smoldering glance. "I am ready for a change, though."
Steed arched a roguish eyebrow and his smiled broadened. "Really, Mrs. Peel? This is precisely the state of mind that Mother was hoping for."
FATAL HARVEST
Steed shows off his roots. Emma does some weeding.
Chapter 2
As she opened the door, Emma noted with amusement that her guest's idea of a quiet evening did not include casual attire. Ruthlessly well-groomed in one of his favourite suit, Steed was waiting, a handsomely lettered cardboard box tied up with gold string in one hand and a bottle of one of their favourite French wines in the other.
"Dessert, as promised", he announced genially as he took a step inside.
His pale grey eyes swept her up. His gaze was disconcertingly intense, at odds with the voice, warm and insouciant. The overall effect was a perfect counterpoint to the delicious mix of expectation and relief that his reappearance never failed to stir in her.
As soon as she took the box from him, his free hand slid around her waist and drew her closer for a first kiss. He had been burning for this moment, doubtlessly from having savoured it many times in anticipation. Her onw free hand reached up round the back of his neck, eager to respond. Without breaking the kiss he gently kicked the door shut behind them and moved with her towards the couch of her living room. They sat down, laying his offerings at their feet in unisson.
His hands were already over her, grateful and lusty. Food and drink would wait.
A "quiet" evening at home with Steed just back from the field, thought Emma with a soft, throaty chuckle, is definitely an understatement.
His mouth moved from hers to her neck and lower still, where he found and nuzzled one of her nipples through the sheer blouse. She buried her nose in his soft, thick hair and ran her own hands lightly down his sides, mindful of any new bruise or wound that she might come across. Her gentle wariness did not escape him. He drew back slightly and saw in her deep brown eyes the hint of concern she could not quite suppress.
"I am fine, Mrs. Peel", he assured her. His strong hand traced delicately the outline of her jaw as he added in a low, throaty voice. "And I might add that you are finer, even, than when I left."
"Flattery alone" she said, wrily, eager to distract him from her fleeting show of anxiety, "will not get you dinner, Steed."
His eyes lit up and he flashed her a leering smile. "Shall I earn it instead by proving my fitness, Mrs. Peel?"
-o0o-
The edge of their desire now blunted, they were lying side by side on her bed. Emma's thoughts were turning to dinner when Steed stirred anew against her back. Steed was nibbling playfully at her ear when his mind wandered back to Mother's request.
"I nearly forgot something" he said languidly She felt him turn over and reach behind him for his jacket, neatly folded on a nearby chair.
He pulled a small box from a pocket and handed it out to Emma. She kissed his broad chest lightly and cast an amused glance at her dresser across the room, where a collection of trinkets had been growing steadily over the last year. Steed might not be able tell her where he had been or on what business, but he had taken to bringing her back small gifts from his travels. A way to let her know that she had been in his thoughts, something he could not always bring himself to say simply.
Turning over, she propped herself on her elbows to better examine the wooden box. Its lid lifted to reveal a small cuckoo clock cradled in layers of paper.
"Won't you wind it up?" whispered Steed, his hand wandering teasingly up and down along her spine. The delicate mechanism in the clock came to life. A tiny door opened. The bird was holding a banner which unrolled as he glided forward with a bright chirp. She deciphered the message printed in flowery script: "Mrs. Peel, you're needed". Her brows shot up.
"Aren't you overdue for a leave, Steed?" she asked pointedly.
"Mother's idea of a leave" Steed corrected her. "He sprang a new case on me, right out of the debriefing room. To hear him talk, it is an assignment tailored for us."
"It will have to wait," she said firmly, "until tomorrow evening, at the very least. I really must review my notes for a morning briefing." With a faraway look, she added "I am starting to have visions. a juicy, tender roast of lamb ready to be warmed up, new potatotes eager to be steamed, and a freshly tossed arugula salad."
Steed was already getting up and dressing himself. He leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly. "I believe, Ms. Peel, that I can find my way again in your kitchen. Feel free to start poring over your notes. If you finish early, we can team up and crack one of those devilish crossword puzzles."
Emma returned to her secretary where her notes were neatly spread out. The tempting aroma of food soon distracted her. She strode back towards the dining area where Steed was finishing laying out plates and silverware on the table. He poured wine in two crystal goblets and offered her one, raising it to her health.
"To the imminent conclusion of your assignment, Mrs. Peel?"
Emma nodded with feeling. "I'll drink to that. We completed our last two site visits only last week. We submit our individual reports tomorrow. Only one more meeting left after this one, where we will review the summary and offer our recommendations."
"No regrets?"
She shook her head. "None, really. It is not your brand of research, but it was fascinating in its own right."
"I hate to concede it, but your talents would have gone to waste had you not accepted the task, Mrs. Peel. The diabolical masterminds you are so adept at defeating have been on hiatus lately. Mother kept me on the straight and narrow."
"Just as well," she flashed him a smoldering glance. "I am ready for a change, though."
Steed arched a roguish eyebrow and his smiled broadened. "Really, Mrs. Peel? This is precisely the state of mind that Mother was hoping for."