"So you see Inspector, it's all been a big misunderstanding," Christopher explains for the fourth time. "There's no bomb threat. There's no terrorists. There's no covert operation. It's just four Special Operations officers from Devon and Cornwall who came up to visit London and stopped by our benefit."

The lights have been raised in the large ballroom and guests sit at various tables around the room. The band sits along the edge of the stage, joking with one another and the officer watching them.

Sergeant Becker and PCs Tuinhoff and Gibbons sit with two Met officers at an isolated table while Joe and Stirling sit at another, also being questioned by two police minders. There had been a push to separate the husband and wife for questioning but Joe had refused.

"I just finished driving all this way to be with my wife," he said. "She stays with me."

A few words from Michael and the officers were only too happy to accommodate the couple.

"So at no time did you allude to the Royal Festival Hall security guards that you were here on special police business?" one of the officers asks.

"No, I did not," Joe says, his frustration having grown to epic proportions over the course of the past two hours. "All I said to them was I needed to speak with someone attending the event. I assured them several times there was no emergency."

Stirling leans her head against his shoulder, her eyes growing heavy. This is the fifth time he's been through the story. And she's exhausted.

"And you needed to speak with your wife," the officer reads from his notes. "A Dr. Stirling Aylesworth?"

"Yes," Joe agrees, putting his right arm around Stirling to steady her against him.

"And you never told a – Dr. Gregory Staples – that you were here – and I quote – looking for someone?"

"I don't even know who Dr. Gregory Staples is."

"He was waiting for the elevator the same time as your group."

"Oh him. I didn't speak with him. I believe PC Tuinhoff did."

The officer immediately makes a note in his book.

"What about Rebecca Taylor? Did you tell her it was imperative that you speak with one of the guests?"

"And Rebecca Taylor is?"

"The brunette hottie at the reception desk."

Stirling opens her eyes and looks over at the officer with a slight frown.

"My apologies, ma'am," he says, blushing as he notes her disapproving look.

"I informed Ms Taylor that I needed to speak with one of the guests right away. I then informed her which guest and she let us in."

"And Gary Belsing? You never told him – and again I quote – No time, mate. Have to get to the hall as quickly as possible?"

"It wasn't me," Joe says with a sigh. "It must have been one of the other officers. Look, I admit to speaking with the security guard and Ms Taylor. Yes, I told them I needed to speak with someone attending the benefit. At no time did I suggest it was a police emergency or that I was attending on official police business. I just wanted to see and talk with my wife."

He leans over and kisses the top of Stirling's head, relishing the familiar smell of her strawberry-scented shampoo. She leans more of her weight against him, smiling contentedly.

"When can we leave, Officer?" she asks quietly. "My husband has answered all of your questions multiple times. We're both quite knackered."

The officer looks up from his notebook and gives her a polite smile. "Soon Dr. Aylesworth. I'd just like the Sergeant to go through everything one more time."

Stirling almost groans but Joe beats her to it. She glances tiredly at Christopher, who is still talking with great animation to the Inspector in charge. She looks beyond him to the table where Louisa sits patiently and the Doc less so. She frowns. Where's Michael?

She looks slowly around the room, starting at one corner and moving across. She finally spots him standing near the public loos, chatting on his mobile. She glances at her watch. Who the hell would he be talking to at half one in the morning?

She watches as he ends the call and leans against the wall, a self-satisfied grin on his face. She knows that look.

Suddenly, the Inspector's mobile rings, interrupting Christopher's monologue. Stirling watches with great interest as the Inspector answers the call. His expression slowly changes from cocky self assurance to a deep frown. He listens for about two minutes, nodding occasionally, before saying a few words and pocketing his mobile.

"Okay officers, pack it up!" he yells. "Our work here is done."

Joe watches in disbelief as the two interviewers across from him fold up their notebooks, put away their pencils and grab their hats.

"That's it? After all that, you're just leaving?"

Stirling reaches over and covers his hand with hers. She gives him a knowing look along with a quick wink. "I think the officers know what they're doing, sweetie."

He looks at her strangely before turning back to the two Met officers.

"Thank you very much for your time Sergeant Penhale, Dr. Aylesworth," one of the officers says formally. "My apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused."

The Met unit quickly reassembles and leaves as swiftly as it arrived.

Christopher is soon busy getting the band back up and playing, the bar serving, the lights low and the guests happy and dancing.

Stirling looks over at Michael again. He hasn't left his spot near the loos. He must feel her eyes on him because he looks up and smiles at her, giving her a big thumbs up. She laughs.

"What, Cheeky?" Joe gently touches the side of her face with his fingers.

She smiles at him. "I think The Met just received the Aubrey Treatment."

He gives her a puzzled look before shifting his gaze over to the very dapper Michael, still grinning like a giddy little kid against the wall.

"He did something, didn't he?"

Stirling looks into Joe's eyes and nods her head with a slight smile.

"You have no idea how happy I am to know your friends are my friends. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of Aubrey."

She laughs and leans her forehead against his chest.

"Tired?"

She nods her head.

"Maybe we should call it a night?"

She nods her head again.

Joe slowly stands up and stretches before helping Stirling to her feet. He escorts her over to a table near the dance floor where Christopher, the Ellinghams, and his three Special Ops team members are sitting. Michael wanders over a minute later.

"Sergeant, your fellow officers were just telling us how it was your idea to search for abandoned mine shafts," says Christopher. "Smart thinking."

"It's very impressive, Joe," adds Louisa. "You're a hero."

He blushes, his hand tightening around Stirling's.

"It really was a team effort."

"Enough with the bullshit line, Sarge," PC Gibbons says. "It was your idea all the way. We just went along to see if you had finally lost your mind."

Everyone around the table laughs.

Stirling clears her throat and approaches Sergeant Becker. "Hello. I don't think we've been properly introduced." She sticks out her hand. "I'm Stirling, Joe's wife."

He stands up and formally shakes her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Stirling. I'm Sergeant Max Becker and these two idiots are PC Pete Tuinhoff and PC Roger Gibbons."

She shakes hands with the other two officers.

"We've heard a lot about you," says PC Tuinhoff.

"And saw a lot of you," PC Gibbons adds with a big smile.

Stirling glances back at Joe with a frown as he blushes and looks down at the floor.

Sergeant Becker removes PC Gibbons cap and slaps the young officer across the head with it before shoving it down on his head again.

"OW! That bloody well hurt!"

If she wasn't so exhausted, Stirling's sure she would start laughing. "Based on the appearance of your face, I'm guessing your mouth gets you into all sorts of Barney, constable."

"What, this?" PC Gibbons points at his black eye and swollen cheek. "Your Lover Boy did this."

Now Stirling is really frowning at Joe, who is wondering how quickly he can get her out of the room.

"That's how he broke his hand," PC Tuinhoff adds helpfully.

"And on that note, I think I should get Stirling off to Bedfordshire before she falls over." Joe gently grips her arm. "But, I have no idea where I'm going."

"No problem." Michael quickly pushes a few buttons on his mobile. "Leyland will be waiting out front for you by the time you make it downstairs. After he drops you two off, he can come back for the rest of us."

Joe and Stirling say good night to everyone, particularly the three Devon and Cornwall officers who plan on exploring the city a little longer before turning the police van back toward home.

"Try not to get into too much trouble," Joe suggests with a grin.

Sergeant Becker hands him the van keys. "Don't forget to stop and get your kit. Just send the keys back with this Leyland chap."

After a few last quick goodbyes, Joe manages to lead Stirling out of the ballroom and onto the lift. As the door closes, she leans against him tiredly, closing her eyes. He wraps his right arm around her, trying to fight back a yawn.

"How long has it been since you've had a proper night's sleep?"

Joe's quiet for a moment, calculating. "Days. Although I did have a nice nap on the drive up to London. The doctor at the hospital prescribed these painkillers that are amazing. They knock me right out."

"Sort of like you knocked out PC Gibbons?"

He's instantly on the defensive. "I can explain everything!"

She laughs tiredly, placing a finger against his lips. "It can wait. I'm too tired to process anything of importance, especially why my husband is suddenly engaging in brawls."

"It wasn't a brawl," he mutters.

"I still can't believe you idiots drove all the way up here." She looks up at him as the lift doors open on the ground floor.

"I missed you, Cheeky. I just had to see you."

He bends down and kisses her gently, his right hand cupping her cheek.

They're still kissing as the lift doors begin to close but Joe quickly shoves one of his feet out to block them. The doors open and close multiple times, banging against his foot, before the emergency alarm sounds.

"Excuse me!" A voice echoes from across the reception area. Their lips separate as they turn to look toward the security desk. "In or out, make up your mind." The young security guard looks irritable. "Guests need to use that lift."

Holding her hand in his, Joe escorts Stirling through the reception area and out the main doors. Leyland and the Bentley wait patiently just outside.

"Good to see you again, Joe." The chauffeur holds the door open for Stirling to enter the back of the vehicle.

"Nice to see you too, Patrick." Joe gives the elderly man a light slap on the shoulder. "I don't need any help." He walks around to the other side of the car and slides in next to Stirling.

"We just need to make one stop at a multi storey a few streets away," he says, as Leyland pulls the car out into traffic. "I need to pick up my kit."

After stopping to get Joe's duffel, the Bentley begins the trek north toward Hampstead Heath and Heathcliff Hall. As they drive, Stirling leans more and more of her weight against Joe's right side. Eventually, he eases her head down to rest on his lap, the rest of her body curled up on the leather back seat. She's asleep within minutes, his right hand gently petting her hair.

"Did she nod off?" Leyland looks back at them via the rear view mirror.

Joe nods his head, fighting back a yawn.

"You must be knackered yourself."

"You could say that. It's been a long week."

"And congratulations on the good work you did out at Cape Cornwall. Very smart thinking."

Joe gives a slight smile, glancing down at Stirling. "It was something she told me that made me think of it. When we were out there on our honeymoon, she read all of the guide books, the brochures, everything she could find. And then, at just the right moment, she would inundate me with information on the most mundane things. She's the only person I've ever met who could speak for several hours on the rock formations of Cornwall. Anyway, some of those mini-lectures obviously stuck with me because I remembered the numerous abandoned mines that were in the area and the warnings in the guide books."

He glances out the side window at the night-time streets of London passing by and smiles. "She's with me, whispering ideas in my ear, even when I'm hundreds of miles away. Since I've met her, she's made me a better person."

Leyland clears his throat politely.

"I consider myself one of Miss Stirling's biggest fans but don't sell your abilities short, Joe. It was you who made yourself a better person. Certainly, Miss Stirling has helped you discover some of the qualities that you already possess and helped you find the confidence to try new challenges. But you are the one who has done all the hard work. And if she were awake, I'm positive she'd tell you the same thing."

"That's kind of you, Patrick."

"It's the truth."

A comfortable silence settles within the car as Leyland continues to motor north. The streets become less busy and congested the further they travel away from the Thames. Joe finds himself dozing off from time to time, jerking back awake as his head bobs forward. Stirling barely moves, her head snuggled comfortably against his jacket, which he set on top of his right upper thigh.

"We're almost home," Leyland announces about 30 minutes after they left the festival hall.

Joe watches in amazement as an ornate iron gate slides across the stone wall beside them, opening access to the drive. A few seconds later, the Bentley stops in front of one of the largest houses he's ever seen. Well, ever seen this close. He carefully eases out from under Stirling's head and opens his door, standing and turning to gaze at Heathcliff Hall.

"Bloody hell!"

"I do believe Dr. Ellingham's reaction was somewhat similar." Leyland smiles as he retrieves Joe's duffel bag from the boot.

Stirling stirs slightly in the back seat and Joe ducks his head back in. "Time to wake up, Cheeky. We're at Michael and Christopher's palace."

She slowly sits up, looking around in a daze. "We are? Already? I feel like I just fell asleep."

"Give me your hand and up you get." He gently helps her out of the car. "It's definitely way past your bedtime."

Suddenly, she gasps. "I've gone and left my guitar and rucksack at the hall." She looks at Joe in alarm.

"Don't worry, Miss Stirling," Leyland says gently. "I will fetch them when I go back to pick up Mr. Michael, Mr. Christopher and Dr. And Mrs. Ellingham."

She relaxes against Joe's right side. "Thank you, Leyland. I can't believe I forgot them. My brain is definitely not working properly."

The chauffeur opens the front door and escorts the couple into the house, turning on the lights as he goes.

"I can take your bag up if you like, Joe?"

"I'll do it." He takes the bag from the elderly gentleman's hand.

"Miss Stirling's room is on the first floor, south wing, which is to the right, all the way down at the end of the hall. It's called the Equine Room or, typically, the Stirling Room."

Joe smiles. "Thank you, Patrick. I can take it from here."

"Very well. I'm off to fetch the rest of them. Please, make yourself at home." And with that, the chauffeur gives a quick bow and walks out the front door.

"Time to take you to bed, missus." Joe clutches his bag while gently supporting Stirling up the stairs.

She smiles as she leans against him, her eyes half closed. "That sounds wonderful, Lover Boy. But I'm so tired, I just want to sleep."

He laughs as they reach the top of the stairs and turn right. "You have a very dirty mind, Doctor. That's what I meant – time to get you to bed so you can get some sleep."

He opens the bedroom door and leads her into the large suite, helping her sit on the side of the bed before turning on the lights. He looks around and gives a whistle of appreciation. "Nice room, Cheeky."

He squats down in front of her and unzips her boots, gently pulling them off and setting them neatly to the side. In no time at all, he has her undressed and under the duvet, where she snuggles with a hum of contentment.

Joe moves about the room, looking at the decorations and photos as he carefully takes off his sling and begins to remove his own clothing, setting each item on a nearby lounge chair. He kicks his shoes off and sets them beside Stirling's boots before wandering over to look at a painting in the small sitting room area near the en suite loo. As he awkwardly unbuckles and undoes his trousers with his right hand, he realizes he's looking at a painting of a younger version of Stirling.

"This is you, isn't it?" He points at the painting, amazed. After a few seconds of silence, he looks over at the bed and realizes she's fallen asleep.

He smiles as he gazes at the life-sized portrait, removing the rest of his clothing. He throws them with the rest of his kit on the chair and walks over to the bed, clicking off the light before crawling under the duvet next to Stirling.

As he shifts his body closer to her, she sighs and rolls over, snuggling up against his body like it's second-nature to her, which it has become. He gently places his left arm over her body, resting his broken hand gingerly against her back. She presses her face closer against his chest, kissing the base of his neck in her sleep.

Joe smiles and closes his eyes, relaxing into unconsciousness, the most content he's been in almost a week.


Stirling slowly feels herself rising up from the depths of sleep. She's so warm and relaxed; she feels almost boneless. Humming happily, she moves closer to the warmth that envelopes her body. It feels so solid but soft at the same time. She wishes she could crawl right in and wrap it around her body.

"Good morning, Cheeky," a familiar voice says and she smiles in her semi-conscious state. "You look happy."

I am! I'm having the most wonderful dream.

She feels lips kiss her forehead and move down to her nose, cheeks and lips before tickling along her jaw and down her neck. Heaven.

"That feels brilliant," she mutters, fighting to keep from opening her eyes. "You're so wonderfully warm."

Her brow creases as she feels something hard and rough slide up her right side, stopping just under her breast. It feels uncomfortable against her skin. She reaches up with her hand and touches the foreign object. It feels like a cast.

Joe!

Stirling immediately opens her eyes but is blinded momentarily by the bright sunlight streaming through the open curtains. Squinting, she looks up at the man lying next to her.

"I thought you were a dream." She wipes at her eyes.

"No, it's really me." Joe's head propped up on his right arm, his elbow digging into his pillow. He looks over her shoulder at the blue sky visible out the first-floor window. "It looks like it's going to be a beautiful spring day in old London town."

"Wonderful." She grumbles, pressing her face into his chest, trying to shield her eyes from the light.

"Someone's grumpy this morning."

"It's too early!"

"Early!" Joe laughs. "It's almost time for elevenses, Cheeky!"

"Really?" She pokes her head up to look at the clock beside the bed. "Damn! We missed brekkie!"

"No, we didn't." He points to the small table in the sitting room area. An insulated covered tray sits on top plus a pitcher of orange juice and a tea pot in a cozy. "Leyland brought that up about an hour ago."

"He did?" She glances down at herself with a concerned look.

He leans over and kisses her nose. "No worries. I made sure all your wobbly bits were covered."

"Thank you, kind sir, for preserving what little dignity I have left."

She looks down at his left hand, which rests lightly along her side. She reaches down and gently picks up the wounded limb, bringing it up closer to her face so she can examine the cast.

"I have the film with me."

"Good. I'll look at it later. Looks like a classic boxer's fracture. Two knuckles, correct?"

"Yes." He watches as she tenderly kisses the ends of each of the swollen digits that poke out the end of the cast.

"Did you really wallop PC Gibbons in the face?"

"Yes."

She kisses his fingers again. "And what on Earth possessed you to start a punch-up?"

Joe's eyes darken as he watches her. "He was being a tosser." He leans in and kisses her gently.

She smiles, pulling one of his fingers into her mouth and sucking lightly. "How was he being a tosser?"

Joe leans against her body, kissing her once, twice, three times. "He was being disrespectful to you." He presses his lips against her throat.

"Me?" She sucks on another finger. "I wasn't even there?"

Joe groans, pulling her even closer. "He said something rude about the photo you sent me. He saw it when he pinched my mobile. I had to set him straight. You're not to be treated and talked about like part of his wank bank collection."

Stirling laughs softly, looking into his eyes questioningly. "Wank bank?"

He nods his head, kissing down her neck and along her collar bone.

She giggles as his lips tickle lower. "Am I in your wank bank?" She smiles mischievously.

He lifts his head to look at her before shifting his body, pulling her on top of him. "I don't need one." He pulls her head down for a hard, passionate kiss. "You keep me far too busy to need one of those."

She laughs with delight as she sits astride him, her hands braced against his chest. She lowers her head down to kiss him again. "Good answer, Sergeant."

His arms wrap around her and he presses her body against him, his lips drawing a gasp of excitement from her.

"Time to work up an appetite, Cheeky." He groans against her warm skin.


Wrapped in a comfy terry house coat, her hair still wet from the shower, Stirling sits at the small table and takes a big bite from a warm, buttery croissant.

"Hungry, Cheeky?" Joe laughs as he lifts his tea cup.

"I could eat a horse and chase the jockey!" She wiggles her eyebrows as she shoves more of the croissant in her mouth.

Joe coughs as he chokes on his tea. "Bloody hell, Stirling!" He blots at the large splashes of tea now covering his own house coat. "A little bit of a warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she says with a giggle. She gasps and clutches at her stomach as she feels a sharp pain along her ribs. "Ugh."

"Are you okay?" Joe is instantly on his feet. "Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"It's okay." Stirling relaxes back into her chair as she rubs the side of her belly. "He was just giving me gyp. It felt like his foot was caught between my ribs for a second or two."

"Ha!" He leans forward and rubs the front of her tummy. "He's sticking up for his daddy."

"That's all I need, both of you ganging up on me."

"You love every minute of it." Joe leans forward and kisses her gently, nipping at her bottom lip.

"Enough, you animal!" She laughs, giving him a gentle shove away from her, before reaching for a still-warm tea biscuit. She's dreaming about slathering it in wonderful, sweet marmalade.

He leans back and looks up at the portrait hanging across from him. "I noticed this painting last night. It's you, isn't it?"

Stirling looks up as she spreads on the marmalade. "Yes – a very young, very thin, very cocky me and one of the most talented, sane horses I ever had the privilege of riding."

"It's a beautiful portrait. I'm a little jealous that Aubrey has a painting of my wife hanging in his monstrous house."

"Why? You have the real deal." She leans over and offers him a bite of her tea biscuit, which he takes all of in one gulp. She laughs as he then grabs her hand, attempting to lick off her fingers.

There's a polite knock at the door.

"It's safe, Leyland, you can come in. Joe was just trying to eat my fingers."

The door slowly opens and the elderly gentleman enters carrying Stirling's guitar case and rucksack. He sets them carefully beside her suitcase.

"Dr. and Mrs. Ellingham are also wondering when you will be ready to leave for the station." He arches his eyebrows questioningly.

"Shite!" She glances at her watch, paling. "Our train leaves at two o'clock and it's almost one. Oh my god!"

She leaps to her feet, feeling panicked. Joe gently reaches up and grabs her hand.

"Cheeky, just breath."

She looks down at him, wide-eyed. "We're going to be late if we don't get our arses in gear."

"Just slow down." He continues to hold onto her hand, keeping her from scampering off in a frenzy. "I've been thinking. Why don't we stay on a few days more? I missed out on the beginning of the trip and I know you had wanted to do some things together while we were here. Doc Brian can look after the surgery and I'm certain PC Garrett would love to stay on and spend a few more days near Reagan. After last week, the force owes me a few days to recuperate, especially after I broke my hand."

"Smashing a fellow officer in the face." She looks at him pointedly.

"Hopefully, it will be okay with Aubrey and Christopher if we stay on?" He looks over at the chauffeur.

"I'm sure they would be delighted, Joe." Leyland also looks pleased.

"But we should get dressed and say goodbye to Doc and Louiser. And I might have to go with them to the station to exchange your ticket for a later date."

"I can do that." Leyland steps forward. "And also purchase a return ticket for yourself. When do you wish to journey back to Portwenn?"

Joe looks over at Stirling questioningly. "I think Wednesday would be a good day. That gives us a couple of days and nights in the city."

"But that means I only two days in the surgery until I start my leave!"

"Sounds perfect." He walks over to her and gently cradles her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along the dark half circles under her eyes. "You look exhausted, love. You need to rest. It's time to step away from the surgery and let Brian do what he came to Portwenn to do. This is our last opportunity to relax and enjoy each others company before the sprog arrives; just us."

She looks into his eyes, falling deeply into their depths. She feels a wave of calm wash over, relaxing her.

"Change the tickets to Friday, Leyland. I'm starting my leave a week early so I can enjoy some alone time with my husband."

Joe smiles, leaning forward and kissing her gently.

"Wise decision, Miss Stirling." Leyland turns to leave the room. "I will let Dr. and Mrs. Ellingham know your plans."

"We'll be down shortly, Patrick." Joe's eyes never leave Stirling's as he listens to the elderly gentleman leave the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. In less than a step, he has his arms wrapped around her and he's kissing her passionately. "God, I love you," he whispers fiercely against her lips.

She holds him just as strongly. "And I love you."

He smooths her hair back from her face gently. "Let's get dressed and say goodbye."

"Yes," she whispers, touching his lips one last time before moving away to choose clothing from her suitcase.

London. Five days. Alone with Joe. Stirling smiles with glee, feeling happier than she has in the past few weeks. Heavenly!