Chapter 25

Remington woke to a cold empty bed and the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Glancing at his watch, he rolled his eyes, "It's late," he mumbled. Climbing out of bed, he stumbled toward the sound, as he called, "Laura? Please tell me you are not…"

"I'm not what, Mr. Steele," she called back from behind the shower curtain. Peeking her head out, Remington could see her hair was mostly dry, just the ends were damp.

"Not washing your hair, Mrs. Steele. I see you're feeling better this morning," he replied. As Laura closed the shower curtain to finish showering, he relieved himself. Brushing the shower curtain aside, he commented, "We don't have much time to pack."

"Already done. I took the liberty of packing your bag for you as well. Your suit for traveling is on the chair," Laura informed him as she turned off the water and snapped open the curtain fully. Taking the towel she had left on the vanity, she wrapped it tightly around her body before stepping close to him. "You'll need to shave as well," she commented as she ran her hand along his rough, stubbled cheek. Remington caught her hand before she could pull away, drawing it close to his lips as he said, "Thank you, love. I'll be ready in short order."

Pulling her hand away slowly she replied, "I'll leave your bag on the bed. We need to leave within the hour to make the ferry on time."

Remington was ready as promised, showering and shaving in record time, dropping his shaving kit into his awaiting suitcase. He didn't miss Laura's meticulous packing, every item in its place, folded neatly to prevent wrinkles. Zipping up the bag, he surveyed the room for a moment, almost sad they were leaving, if only for a few days.

Carrying the bag down the stairs, Remington called for Laura when he reached the landing, noticing her bags beside the door. "I'm here," she called as she entered the foyer, Terrence only steps behind. "Do you have everything?" she questioned.

Patting his pockets, Remington pulled out his passport as well as his wallet, knowing full well what her comment referred to. "You?" he replied simply.

Picking up her purse, she pulled out her own passport and wallet. "If we don't leave now, we're going to miss our ferry," she stated.

"Well then, after you, Mrs. Steele," Remington stated, reaching down to lift his suitcase as well as hers as they departed the castle.

As they rode to the ferry and ate the scones Mickeline had packed for them, Terrence entertained them with story after story of visitors to the castle he had seen through the years. Once they confirmed Terrence would be picking them up Friday afternoon, the Steeles boarded the ferry, stored their luggage before settling in for the three hour ride. They found a few reclining seats near the window where Remington immediately made himself comfortable, allowing the gentle rocking of the ship to lull him to sleep.

Laura sat beside him, her mind racing as she mulled over the events of the last few days. Looking at it every which way, she considered everything she could have done differently, of things that could have been changed, of ways she could have persuaded Tony to accept that their relationship meant nothing, but in the end, she was convinced. She was a victim of Tony's obsession with her and nothing she had done would have changed that.

She lightly fingered the line of stitches on her head, wondering if she hadn't been in the mine, would that have changed anything. Again, her conclusion was the same. Her injury only added to Tony's obsession, as he attempted to blame Remington for it without listening to reason.

Glancing back at her sleeping husband, Laura stood, stretched and walked outside hoping some fresh air would help clear her mind. She walked the length of the deck towards the stern, basking in the warm sun, lifting her face to the wind and inhaling the strong, salt air. She took a moment to lean on the railing, to watch the horizon rippling with the distant choppy waves. The scene was almost mesmerizing as she closed her eyes to inhale again. She straightened up suddenly when she was startled by hands stealing around her waist, her own hands snapping back to stop them, but relaxed again when she felt Remington's chin settle on her shoulder.

"I thought you were sleeping," she said, inclining her head against him, her hands rubbing his. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, his scent mingling with the salt air, taking comfort in his presence.

"I was, until I realized my wife had taken leave once again." His lilting voice rumbled low close to her ear, "Laura, I'm going to start getting a complex if you keep that up," Remington continued, pulling her closer to his body protectively.

"Sorry, I needed some air. Time to think," Laura said cryptically.

"Think? About what, love?" Remington questioned, rubbing her waist with his hand.

"I think I finally understand," Laura stated.

Confused, and more than a little apprehensive, Remington released her, leaning against the railing to look at her, and asked, "Understand what, Laura?"

"Tony. He's very much like Keyes, you know. He was obsessed with proving you weren't who you said you were and Tony's obsessed with who he thinks I am. He wouldn't listen to me, wouldn't let me explain, didn't want to let me explain us. He only wanted me, to possess me," Laura stated matter of factly, leaning on the rail beside him.

The muscle in his cheek twitched, and he folded his arms, "I see. And what does that tell you? Do you really think he will just simply scurry back to the States, full of remorse, licking his wounds?" he said through clenching jaws, frustration simmering.

"No, I wouldn't be surprised if he hangs around Ireland for a bit longer. Tries to contact me again, somehow, although I don't think he's stupid enough to come back to Ashford Castle," Laura said. She took a deep breath, absently rubbing his arm, subconsciously aware of his growing tension.

"And then what? Do we sit around, waiting for the axe to fall or do we call Detective Doyle and finish this for good?" Remington snapped. Laura turned to him in shock, her caressing hand frozen in mid-air. Her shocked expression told him all he needed to know. His frustration had been misdirected and she didn't deserve that. Standing to his full height, he pulled her into a hug, dropping his chin on her head. "I'm sorry, Laura! That bastard just gets under my skin. I just don't know what else he's capable of and that bloody well scares me."

Hugging him tightly, Laura thought for a moment before she replied, "I'm here, with you. And we are together, on our way to London, just us."

At that, Remington tensed and hesitated, before saying, "Laura, about that..." He was feeling uncomfortable about this trip, knowing instinctively, that, despite his best efforts, it would be difficult to keep his emotions from bubbling to the surface.

Leaning back to look at him, Laura was surprised to see the strained look in his eyes. She reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead, and urged him on, "Tell me."

Shaking his head slightly, his jaws tightening as he let out a breath, he stared blankly at the horizon and continued, "This trip… I don't know what awaits us in London. Daniel… well, you never know what you're going to find. I'm afraid there may be something, some part of my past… I don't want it to affect us, where we are." At this, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin, unable to look at Laura.

Laura's heart twisted at his renewed insecurity about their relationship, and, seeking to banish it, she lifted his chin, her thumb nestling in his faint cleft, and and when he opened his eyes, she declared softly, "Your past cannot, and will never change where we are now."

"Are you sure about that, Laura? After all, how many people from my past have popped up along the way and managed to drive a wedge between us? Daniel, Shannon, Felicia, Anna?" he questioned, his voice shaking slightly.

"Rem, we're fine," she tried to reassure him as she rubbed his cheek with her hand.

Stilling her hand with his, Remington released her and turned away. Leaning on the rail, he blindly focused on the water churning in the ship's wake. With an air of dejection, he could only bring himself to answer, "For now."