OMG I can SO die happy now! I mean… over 100 reviews!(Helvetica Bold you're the 100 th ;)) You guys gave me the best birthday present ever XD (was two weeks ago)! I was squealing like an idiot in front of my laptop XD! Err…I'll stop my rambling.

Some rightfully reminded me a few chapters earlier that Jane hadn't made a comment on Teresa's dressing yet –I considered that until now, she wasn't wearing any 'special' outfits. Hope the beginning of this one will be satisfying ;)

Thanks to chocolatefanChiisana Minako MK (yeah, even if I'm not a great fan of Grisby's their break-up was disappointing, though with Hightower on the way…it was predicable); IloveplotbunniesLOLY POP XDFrogster (thanks for the good suggestion ;) it will be used next chapter xD Xtra thanks!); BFangz ; leelou09 ; Famous4it (o**o thank you); Helvetica Bold ; macisgate ; Ebony10 ; Moonlight-Nettes90 ; Anna (I like it too xD thanks); Simonisthecuttestmentalist; rigspeltforeverxx and Adrianna (thank you, it means a lot...hope you'll enjoy the 'more') for their reviews! (*pauses* OMG so many? You. Are. Awesome!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Mentalist, I do not earn money over these fics, and I definitely don't deny having an obsession with AUs xD! warning: my English grammar isn't the best. Hope you'll enjoy the story anyway –won't blame you if you don't ;D

Slave

10.

Jane was starting to wonder if Teresa was starting to back out. Not that he'd blame her. His plan of her posing as his wife in itself was insane. Mashburn was getting impatient too. Both were in the hall, seated on chairs, waiting. She had requested Van Pelt's help for the dressing, refusing any other maid for the job. He respected her decision, knowing that she was closer to the redhead than anyone else and would reject harder anyone else. But still, they had been locked in her room for more than an hour.

"Brooke is going to kill us" Mashburn said, grimacing.

Harper had left earlier in the evening, wanting to visit a part of London she hadn't seen yet –that was the official excuse, both men knew she was creating an underground Londoner list of contacts- before heading directly to the Byron's residence, where the Lord was expecting them for dinner. They were already late, on Teresa's account, and that was going to make the woman really, really annoyed. As if there wasn't enough tension between the two women already. Harper and Teresa had almost bitten each other's nose off during the previous day's dinner at the residence, shooting bittersweet and fake compliments to each other, though Jane suspected in Brooke's case it was more an evaluation Teresa was more than glad to counter. He sighed at his friend's statement.

"Kill you" he corrected, "Not me. You're her favourite target, remember?"

Mashburn groaned and shook his head. Feeling in the mood for a bit of teasing, Jane added:

"I tell you, she has a soft spot on you."

"Sure she does" the brown-haired man groaned. "And I am Georges Washington."

Jane looked at him and frowned, an awed expression on his face:

"My God, I am talking to a legend!"

The statement earned him a slap on the shoulder.

"Shut up Patrick!"

"Denial, denial" he sing-sang. "You so want to sleep with Brooke."

"So do you with Lisbon" Mashburn shot back annoyingly. "Don't think I'm the only one in denial, Jane. I've seen the way you've been looking at her."

The blond man was about to reply when someone clearing his throat interrupted them. Van Pelt was standing here, glaring at them. Both men jumped on their feet at her sudden presence, ill-at-ease all of a sudden.

"Good thing I got here first" when no one answered, she muttered something like 'men' and 'conversations', turned towards the corridor and shouted: "C'mon Lisbon! You've been making those two gents long enough."

The voice answering was somehow off to Jane's ears.

"Was it really necessary to tighten that corset that much Van Pelt? I can barely breathe!"

For a second he pitied her. He had assisted to his wife's dressing, and he couldn't believe how much torture they had to get through for wearing a dress.

"Don't blame me young lady" Van Pelt chided, amused. "I'm not used to dress woman in high society."

"High-society" Teresa's voice coming closer repeated in disbelief. "Please, I feel like I'm a doll put up for a show."

The tip of a dark green fabric brushed the corner of the wall. Then, she appeared.

She was wearing a half-long sleeved, dark-green dress, perfectly modelling her frame. Her collar was opened slightly under her collarbone, on which a silver necklace covered with emeralds was contrasting with her skin paled with makeup. Elaborated lace bordered the limits of the dress, around her neck and sleeves. Her hair had been tightened in a high ponytail, then rearranged to appear more sophisticated that it really was; the left outs were graciously falling on her thin neck and silver earrings. She looked at them nervously:

"Is it okay?"

Mashburn's reaction was immediate:

"'Okay'? Okay is a euphemism! You are gorgeous!"

She turned her face expectantly towards Jane who hadn't spoken yet. In fact, the man was wondering if he would ever utter a word without making a fool of himself. She was just so…breath-taking. Teresa met his eyes and her cheeks coloured in a nice shade of red. Apparently he didn't need words to make her understand, he thought with a small smile. He stepped closer to her, took her hand to kiss its back and asked in a soft and teasing tone:

"Shall we go, Mrs Jane?"

-S-

Lord Byron and his wife were atrociously hideous, was Teresa's first thought when they appeared at first sight. On one side, the Lord, in his late forties, could have been a perfect replica of the Pigman who had tried to buy her the day of her escape. Removing a few pounds, and less well-dressed. His falling and thin face with dry and pervert eyes repulsed her the second she met them, but she forced herself to smile politely. She just tightened her grip on Jane's hand to seek for reassurance, to which he answered with a soft rub of the thumb on her wrist. On the other side, Mrs Byron had certainly been good-looking in her youth. Teresa admitted some of her features could have been attractive without the layers of fat on her cheeks and her plump body. For the first time since the last evening, when Miss Harper's and her glances met, they agreed on something.

After the classical introductions, they were directly led to the table where servants served the food in a neat order. Small talking began around the entry, about family.

"I heard you have two nice children sir" Jane said politely.

"A fine son and a daughter" the man replied on the same tone. "Alas, Will is in France for 'studies' as they say, and my daughter had married some time ago. I assume you don't have children yet, Mr Jane?" he added, eyeing Teresa in a disturbing way.

"None alive I am afraid" he replied coolly. "My first wife died with my child. Thankfully, I met Teresa, so the topic will be in order in a few years I presume."

He threw her a glance mixed with wariness and amusement when she bit her lip to avoid the creeping blush on her neck. Mashburn and Harper didn't push the button, seeming rather glad the attention wasn't focalised on their future. A slight silence settled before Mrs Byron decided to speak for the first time:

"So Mr Jane" she said with a too polite smile. "Why did you choose to remarry with such a young woman?"

"Mrs Byron!" her husband chided annoyingly. "Please excuse my wife Mr Jane. This comment was much uncalled for."

Jane merely chuckled and Teresa saw in the corner of the eyes Mashburn and Harper barely hiding their smirk.

"It's all right Mr Byron, the offence isn't taken. To give you an answer Mrs Byron, I shall say that at first, I was attracted by the fire in her eyes." Then he looked at her with a hint of enjoyment mixed with compassion and apology: "I might add as well, she knocked me down the first time I saw her and was hitting me less than an hour later."

Teresa chocked on her water. Jane's so supportive pair of friends –namely Mashburn and Harper –were having a very hard time biting back their laughs. Perhaps the slightly undignified expression on Lady Byron's face helped a little.

"I can't believe you said it" the dark-haired young woman muttered, wiping her mouth, embarrassed.

"But I felt I needed to my dear" Jane replied, grinning. Unfortunately, the lady wasn't done yet:

"And her youth and beauty has nothing to do with that?" she insisted. "You must be at least…eight, ten years older perhaps?"

The table fell silent. Teresa felt her pulsing point accelerating with irritation. This time, she felt so much insulted. Both she and Jane in fact.

"I mean" Mrs Byron went on, ignoring the warning looks of her husband. "A lot of people marry for money or the pride of having a beautiful companion…"

The last sentence erased the last bit of tolerance she had towards the pompous I-know-everything woman.

"The day I met Jane was a blessing! Stop insinuating something ill in our relationship" Teresa snapped angrily. The table became silent, but she didn't care. Her glare was set on the shocked woman. Jane told her she could act upon her feelings? Well she wasn't going to pray for it. "He's maybe arrogant, mocking, invading, nosy and never acts like he is supposed to in society but he's a good man! We married for a reason, Mrs Byron, and even if there was something else that is certainly none of your business."

Harper coughed not so discretely to cover up a laugh and Mashburn shamelessly grinned like a fool. Jane seemed a bit taken aback, but pleased nevertheless. Mr Byron was smirking at his wife's sudden indignation:

"You are such a rude girl! Haven't your mother taught you manners?"

"Unfortunately she left us before my education was perfected" Teresa shot back. "But needless to say your own parents haven't perfected yours either. I haven't asked you your excuses for marrying your husband."

Mrs Byron's face turned red and she grumbled indignantly before reporting her attention to the lunch. Jane sent her a wink before the discussion was redirected –to some people's relief and other's annoyance- towards a more serious subject, business.

-S-

Hiding in the bathroom held holding heroic, but Teresa felt it was a necessity as a temporary withdraw. They had just ended the main lunch, and since the cook was still battling with the dessert, the guest had been offered to have some tea in another room. Teresa had jumped on the occasion to retreat in the restroom for a couple of minutes; she needed to get some space and collect herself before returning to face the couple of annoyers. The small room was nice, for a bathroom; few paintings hanging on the wall and traditional old vases set carefully on white columns. She stood before the mirror tiredly, checking if her make up hadn't slipped too much. Thankfully, Byron hadn't tried to hit on her but the lady's low observations had turned her so angry. How dare she? How dare she go on with innuendoes in front of the future business partners of her own husband? Perhaps she was over reacting about Jane too. The sneaky observations shouldn't have upset her that much, right?

Teresa shook her head, remembering a few words Van Pelt had thrown at her out of the blue, a few hours earlier, when she was helping in the dressing.

"You have a crush on Mr Jane, right?"

Teresa gasped at her in the mirror, eyes opened wide. The housekeeper stared back in the refection.

"What?" she only managed to reply, caught off-guard.

"That's what I thought" the redhead smirked in satisfaction and continued her work.

Damn Van Pelt, Teresa cursed inwardly. Of course she liked the man. Jane had saved her –against her will at the time- and had been nothing but a perfect gentleman to her. But a crush? The door opened, cutting her thinking, and –speaking of the devil- Jane's grinning reflection appeared in the mirror.

"I did too much, didn't I?" she asked, unsure as she glanced at Jane with timidity. He just shook his head and moved next to her.

"Nah, it was fine. Thank you for supporting me" he said kissing her cheek, lips on her skin set a little longer than necessary. "I was flattered by your…enflamed discourse."

Her heartbeats slowly increased their pace and she groaned, looking away, knowing her face must have taken a nice shade of red. You so have a crush on Mr Jane, a small voice similar to Van Pelt's teased in her head. When he leant closer though, face inches from her ear, she completely froze. His breathe was tickling her neck, and a mix of wariness and warmth spread in her chest.

"Mrs Byron is watching at us through a peep-hole right now" he murmured in her ear "Painting on your left, the third black girl's eyes near the frame". Teresa straightened at the words and bit her lip worryingly. Had she blown off their act? She quickly and discreetly glanced on her left. A flicked of second was enough, and she noticed shining, living eyes staring at them. She growled inwardly. This was so uncalled for…

"She's trying to find a flaw in each couple since her marriage is a failure. Care to prove we are perfectly fine, dear wife?"

The seductive and playful tone made her smile, and for the pleasure of pissing that woman off –truth be told, she was curious to see how he wanted to 'prove' the woman wrong- she nodded slightly. Jane wouldn't lie to her about this anyway, would he?

With a slow and gentle motion, he backed her against the desk, leaning over her, stopping inches of her face. His hands set on each side of her waist on the desk before the mirror, trapping her between the furniture and him. It was a silent agreement between them that what was about to follow was just a mere stunt, a joke to support their act and unnerve a sharp tongue. Their eyes met once, a playful glint reflecting in both features. He brushed the corner of her lips before applying a slight pressure. Then butterfly kisses on her face. Her hands rested on his hips, barely holding his clothes. His light touches tickled her face, triggering soft giggles and their eyes met again. Their faces were closer this time and Teresa knew immediately something has changed.

His breath pace had accelerated slightly, irregularly. Then, the dark glint in his eyes. It was faint, very faint, but she still noticed it. And before she could ask or check if the peeping tom was gone, their mouth connected again and it was no longer a game. No teasing, no playfulness. A foretaste of desire. She didn't know why, she didn't know how, but something freed inside her, as her hands passed his shoulders and her arms slid around his neck, bringing him closer. He pulled her lower body against his, deepening the kiss. Eyes closed; heat overwhelming, thoughts numb and Teresa could feel nothing else but those warm, dominant and inviting lips, a twist of longing building in her lower stomach and a moan about to escape from her throat when…

"Mrs Jane? Soon done with your make up?" Harper's voice interrupted through the door. The handle started to move and before her brain could stop her Teresa squealed:

"N…no! No wait, I'm coming!"

"What?" Harper ignored her panicked cry, pushing the door, going on with an annoyed tone. "Please don't make me believe Patrick is hiding in the closet half-nak…"

Harper's face froze through the opening. The two were still in each other's arms and unmoving. Teresa groaned and hid her face in Jane's chest, who merely chuckled while sliding a hand in her hair.

"It's okay Brooke" he shot at his friend. "Teresa and I just can't keep out hands off each other."

A slap on the shoulder, an 'outch' of protest, and it was enough for Harper to confirm in her inner-self that Jane was still as crazy and daring with hot-tempered women.

"The dessert is being served in a few minutes" she replied, shrugging. "Go back to the living room once you're done making out." Harper shut the door, shaking her head and left whistling, a satisfied glint in her eyes.

Back inside, Jane released his arms, throwing a quick glance to make sure the disturbing eye wasn't moving anymore, and turned to read Teresa's face. Her face was flushed –no surprise here- and her eyes reflected a mixture of pleasure and…shame? His amusement faltered immediately. She was weighting the consequences of her letting-go, wondering how she should act towards him, if he'd take advantage of the situation and make a move on her later, if he'd dismiss the incident…He could tell a float of possibilities were crossing her mind, but he didn't want her to worry.

"Listen, Teresa…" he started, not sure about what he was going to say.

"It's…it's okay Jane" she cut quickly, not looking at him. "It was part of the deal, I accepted and there's nothing else to add. I mean" she laughed nervously "It was bound to happen anyway, right?"

"I'm not sure what is the 'it' you're talking about" Jane replied, slightly puzzled. Did she think he wanted to sleep with her now? "But I'm sorry…I haven't touched a woman for some time. Guess I just lost control…" he bit his lip, knowing perfectly it was a half a lie. A succession of emotion flashed in her eyes –worry, anger, relief, disappointment?- before she managed a shy smiling -a mask, and answered back:

"All right, I got it. Shall we go back to the living room?"

"Go ahead; I'll join you in a few seconds" he assured with the same fake smile.

How could he explain this loss of control wasn't due to an exchange with a mere woman, playing the role of dear-wife, but because it was her? As he stared at her figure walking out of the room, he tightened his fists. How should he interpret the sided-glance she threw at him before leaving? The burning in her eyes had been different for a second, clouded by something he was afraid to identify, though he was almost certain his face had reflected the exact same expression.

"It's a pity you don't realise how beautiful you really are" he whispered for himself, gaze not leaving the closed door. He wiped his face with his hand, hoping the tiredness and headache would fade soon enough. Something had been unleashed between them and for the first time since he bought her, Jane wondered if he hadn't made a huge mistake.

I. Hate. Writing. Fluff. Love to read it, when it's not mine xD. Hope you've enjoyed it :)

Next chapter preview:

The touch of a finger on her cheek made her jump. Fear, mixed with anger and adrenaline gave her the push she needed to blow his hand away, glaring at him with all her might. Never again. Never she would allow this feeling of panic dominate her again.

"Get your paws off me you pig!" she shouted, stepping back. "And don't you dare come close to me."

Thanks for reading so far!