A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, it's been over a month, I know. October was a mad month for me, but now we're back to this tale. And in honor of Harry's birthday (the day I'm posting this), there is an M-rating for the end of this chapter.

Chapter Fifty-Five

It was a truly magical night. Harry had done his best to plan something nice for them. It was worth celebrating, after all. True, the seventh wedding anniversary was not the biggest event, but it was the first anniversary they'd had since Ruth had finished with all the baby things.

Harry never would have phrased it like that to her face, knowing all too well how sensitive she got about motherhood things. But he did sort of lump it all together in his mind. Pregnancy and childbirth and breastfeeding. It was all miraculous, actually, and he was constantly in awe of what Ruth had done to grow their daughters inside her body and bring them into the world and feed them that way. And he'd had so little to do through all of that. Just walk on eggshells around her, since she'd been apt to burst into tears or a snarling rage at the smallest thing for a good three years there.

Three whole years. Christ, it felt like an eternity. And really, it was Harry's own fault. They'd tried so hard to conceive a child. Harry was sure it was his fault, since he was older and he'd utterly ruined his body through the various war-related trauma he'd barely survived. Even Ruth did not the full extent of what he went through in the war, and hopefully she'd never find out. But what it left them with was nearly a year of hormone injections and tests and carefully scheduled sex to increase their chances of having an heir to the throne. They'd gotten lucky with Emilia, and Harry had fallen madly in love with her from the moment he knew Ruth had that baby growing inside her. And if the pregnancy and bedrest and long labor wasn't enough, Harry had made Ruth go through it all over again. He'd actually talked to Doctor Parsons and they'd figured out that Ruth had only spent thirty-three days not being pregnant. Thirty-three days between when Emmy was born and Harry had seduced his wife and made love to her for the first time in months and got her pregnant again. Two babies in less than a year. On the one hand, he was quietly proud of his own virility. But knowing how Ruth had suffered, how horribly difficult it had been for her and then in turn for him in trying and failing to support her.

Thank god that was all over now. Charlotte had her first birthday, celebrated in an elaborate party at the palace with King James doting on his two little granddaughters. Ruth had been able to switch Charlotte to the bottle a few months before, which was best for everyone involved, so both babies were exclusively eating food now. And for the first time since their fourth wedding anniversary, Harry and Ruth could celebrate with champagne and sex that didn't need to be modified to account for her pregnant belly or overly sensitive breasts. They'd had plenty of sex after Charlotte was born—once Harry had gotten a vasectomy to ensure that they'd not have any future surprises—but their anniversary was a special event. Harry wanted to make it special.

For a whole week before, Harry put together the pieces of his plan. He had made arrangements at a restaurant in the capital and told the security team that he intended to drive Ruth himself in his own car. Adam nearly had a fit, but Harry was adamant. They figured out a way for Harry's plans to go forward and for Adam to be satisfied with the security arrangements. And at last, the day arrived.

Ruth was stuck, unfortunately, doing a speech at the opening of a new water treatment plant in the countryside. She was grumpy about it, as she always was about the royal duties. But it meant that Harry got to spend the day with his sweet baby daughters.

"Daddy, will you read to us?" Emilia asked for the thousandth time.

Harry never quite understood why she wanted him to read books to her. She would sit and listen for about thirty seconds before interrupting to ask a question and then getting up to do something else and ask more questions and chatter on and then ask him to read a different book.

Charlotte, on the other hand, was very quiet and sat where she was left. But she was somehow always in motion. Her little legs would flail around. Her ankles turned like tiny propellers. Her fingers reached at anything she could grab and fidget with. It wasn't a nervous habit, like Ruth had, but just constant movement.

But Harry was very happily at the whim of his girls. He took the book that Emmy had brought and he started to read again. And sure enough, she was up and wandering off to another part of the nursery before he'd even passed the first page. Harry was tired and just kept reading. Charlotte and her little propeller feet were a good audience, despite being distracting.

He was grateful when Ruth arrive home and came to see the girls. "Emilia, it's very rude to ignore your dad when he's reading you a story." She hadn't even said hello, just walked in and immediately knew what had happened and dealt with the issue. It reminded Harry of when they used to work together and she'd barge into his office to tell him something without even saying hello first. He smiled, enjoying the consistency of her little quirks.

"He's reading to Charlotte," Emmy said dismissively, playing with her blocks on the bookshelf. She was so little and yet shockingly eloquent. Harry figured she got that from Ruth. Most things they got from Ruth. Both girls had Ruth's eyes and all her brilliance, he was sure. They had Harry's nose and mouth and curly hair—though Charlotte's was dark like Ruth while Emilia was blonde like Harry and his elder children. All the best things they got from their mother, he was sure.

Ruth was undeterred by Emilia, however. "Did you or Charlotte ask for a story?" she asked knowingly.

Emmy looked up at her mother with a furrowed brow, clearly unsure how to answer that questions.

With a sigh, Ruth said, "Next time, do not ask for things you do not want, and if you do ask and change your mind, say so. Don't just leave your poor father reading when no one's listening."

"I listen!" Charlotte added. She wasn't speaking full sentences yet, but with her chatty sister and her naturally gifted mind, she'd been starting to talk quite early. And she understood everything, it seemed. Always watching, despite the fidgeting.

Ruth bent down to pick up their youngest child. "Daddy can read more to you tomorrow, okay? Fiona and Wes are going to be with you the rest of the day, won't that be nice?"

Charlotte's little face lit up. "Wes!" she exclaimed happily. She'd developed quite an attachment to Wesley Carter, now three. He, however, was just as attached to Emilia. All their parents were sure that he'd get used to Charlotte being around as well; she was just new to the dynamic that he'd had with Emmy for over a year. Surely all the children would be friends for the rest of their lives.

"Mummy, where you going?" Emmy asked curiously. Walking over to her parents and sister.

"Where are you going," Harry corrected. It was automatic; they'd all been instructing the children in proper speech that way.

Emmy glanced at her father in acknowledgment of what he said, but she didn't bother to correct herself. Ruth just gave a small laugh. "We're going to dinner and spending the evening just us two. Seven years ago today was when we got married, and we're going to celebrate. It's called an anniversary," she explained.

"Why?" Emmy asked curiously.

"Because we love each other very much, and an anniversary is a nice way to celebrate that. Things can get very busy, so we like to set aside the special days just for us," Harry told her, hauling himself off the ground and standing up. "And it's time for Mummy and me to get ready to leave, so you two will have to entertain each other for a little while, alright?"

Emmy came and hugged Harry around his legs. He grinned and picked her up, briefly wondering how long he'd be able to do that, and kissed her cheek. He then leaned over to Charlotte in Ruth's arms and kissed her as well. Ruth then did the same.

"Alright, we'll see you tomorrow, girls," she said, putting Charlotte down.

Harry put Emmy down and added, "Have fun and be good!"

With that, he and his lovely wife left the nursery, closing the door behind them. "How were they today?" Ruth asked.

"Nothing noteworthy. I will say that Charlotte's propeller feet are extremely annoying but absolutely adorable, and I hope she never grows out of doing that," he said.

"She will," Ruth replied darkly. "Dad told me I used to do the same thing, but my grandmother scolded me and said it wasn't very princess-like and I was too afraid to do it ever again."

"Well, we won't be doing that to Charlotte," Harry pointed out.

"We wouldn't and Dad wouldn't, no, but Juliette might. Or any one of the other nobles. I worry sometimes that the world isn't very kind outside of our household. They're going to grow up much more in the spotlight than I ever had to."

Harry took Ruth's fidgeting hands as they walked to their rooms and kissed her fingertips. "We'll do the best we can. At some point, someone in the world is probably going to be mean to them. All we can do is make sure they're prepared to face it and to make sure they know they can come to us for anything they need."

Ruth looked at him in slight surprise.

Harry understood her reaction. He wasn't known for being the most sensitive of people. Kindness was not his first response in most circumstances. And this certainly was not how he parented his elder children, and Ruth knew it. She'd spent more time with his children in the years she'd known them that Harry had in their entire lives before that point. She had always been the kinder parent between them. Harry was more laissez-faire and cynical more of the time.

"I want to do better with Emmy and Charlotte," he explained. "I'm old and tired and I just want our little girls to be happy. I wasn't very present with Catherine and Graham, and I didn't actually regret it until we had the little ones."

Ruth smiled and kissed his cheek. "You're a wonderful father, Harry. I know you weren't always this way, but I know that no matter what, you have loved and protected all four of your children as best you could. You're just able to do more this time around."

Harry gazed at his wife and felt the besotted look on his own face. "All thanks to you. All thanks to what you've taught me, Ruth. It's been ten years since we had our first date and seven years since we were married, and everything in my life has been better in these last ten than in the thirty-plus before."

She grinned. "I love you very much, but we've got dinner reservations, I understand. You go shower, since I'm sure you've been crawling about on the floor with the girls all day, and I'm going to dress for dinner."

He did as he was told since she was right, he had been crawling around with their daughters all day. Charlotte liked to ride on his back like a horse, and it was more exertion for Harry than he'd expect.

While he showered and dressed, he shouted to Ruth in her dressing room, answering her questions. He'd not told her everything about what they were doing for dinner, only telling her that he wanted to reminisce about their early days. He would be wearing a blue shirt with a gray suit and black tie, just as he had on their second date. Their first date had been rather disastrous, though it had ended with them agreeing to try again so Ruth wouldn't be so nervous. The second date had gone significantly better, ending with Harry spending the night in her bed. And he knew that tonight would end the same. Though thankfully he got to spend every night in the bed they shared as husband and wife.

When Harry called to Ruth, telling her they needed to head out soon, she came rushing out, bumping into the sofa on her way. She may be Crown Princess Louisa, but it seemed she would always be Harry's clumsy Ruth.

But any clumsiness was forgotten when Harry saw what she was wearing. It was a purple dress that reached down to her knees. The dress had small cap sleeves and a very modest neckline, but a silk ribbon tied at the waist to show off her newly returned trim figure. And her hair was dark and shiny and curled softly around her shoulders. Her makeup was sultry and far more done up than he'd seen from her in quite a long time.

Harry gaped at her for a moment and then finally said, "You look like you did on our second date." He recalled her dress had been nearly this same color. Her hair and makeup had been the same.

"Not exactly, but I tried for a more grown-up version of that," she said, blushing prettily. "You look just the same, though. I'm glad we had the same idea."

He grinned. Recreating the second date and not the first was certainly on both their minds. "I like the grown-up version," he said.

Ruth brushed off that compliment, a habit that Harry hated. "I can't fit into anything like that anymore. And I unfortunately need significantly more infrastructure under my clothes. This was the best I could do."

In an attempt to keep from bickering on their special night, Harry chose not to chide her for speaking ill about herself. Yes, the decade had brought many changes to her body, but that wasn't a bad thing. Her body was different because she'd aged ten years and given birth to two children! Ah well. A topic of discussion for another time.

Harry had led Ruth out to his car, and she was extremely impressed that he'd convinced Adam to let him drive. Dimitri was following along in another car, just as Tom had done when Harry and Ruth had been dating. And when they arrived at the restaurant, Ruth was delighted to find that it was the same restaurant they'd gone to for their second date. Harry had rented out the whole place so they could have their privacy and the security team could make proper arrangements. Zaf and Dimitri and several others of Adam's officers were patrolling the restaurant and kitchen and stationed at every entrance.

They had a marvelous meal and drank champagne and wine and talked endlessly. It was rare nowadays that they had so much uninterrupted time. At home, they had the children to contend with. The phone always rang for some reason or other, whether it was Harry being called about foreign intelligence work or Ruth dealing with some sort of royal task. Even if they were in public, the press and the public were constantly around them. This was truly a wonderful treat for them.

Ruth looked absolutely radiant. Joyful and beautiful and more carefree than he'd seen in a very long time. Ever since their honeymoon, cut short because her grandfather had a heart attack, Ruth had been burdened by the weight of her life. And she was still burdened, he knew. But he hoped that for just this one night they could enjoy themselves as husband and wife and not Major Pearce or Sir Harry and Princess Louisa. Just Harry and Ruth. Just a tired, middle-aged man who loved his wife more than words could say. Just a slightly awkward intelligence analyst and the senior officer who was utterly entranced by her. Harry still, to this day, was not quite sure how he'd managed to be so lucky to catch Ruth's attention. He had worried that she'd agree to go to dinner with him, and now they'd been married for seven whole years. She truly was the best thing that had ever happened to him in all his life. Even with all the headache that her family caused him, he'd not regretted being with Ruth for a single moment.

They were both a little tipsy when the meal finally ended, so Harry asked Dimitri to drive them home. Harry didn't want to chance it on the long drive, and he much preferred to fool around with Ruth in the backseat. Zaf drove Harry's car back, and for the first time, Harry was glad to have a whole security staff.

The drive back to Leister was spent with Harry's hands up Ruth's skirt and her tongue in his mouth. They were making out like teenagers, even more than they had that night when Tom had honked the horn on his car to interrupt them when Harry drove her home from dinner. This was much more fun. And no one honked to interrupt. Though neither of them realized the car had stopped moving. They didn't break apart until Zaf came by to knock on the window. Harry had to remove his hands from her bare bum, and Ruth had to detach her lips from where they'd been sucking on Harry's neck. They got out of the car, red-faced and panting.

Zaf watched as the princess straightened her very wrinkled dress and noticed the purple blotches on Harry's neck. He grinned and whispered, "Well done, sir."

Any other time, Harry would have grumbled embarrassedly. But he was in such a good mood, nothing would bring him down. He just gave a smirk and a wink to Zaf as he took Ruth's hand and practically dragged her inside and up the stairs to their room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry took Ruth back into his arms and kissed her deeply. His hands searched the back of her dress for the zipper. But as soon as Ruth felt what he was doing, she pushed him back.

"Let me go get undressed and I'll meet you in bed," she offered.

"I think I can manage to get you undressed myself. It's much more fun my way," he pointed out cheekily.

But Ruth hesitated. She chewed her swollen lips, trying to find something to say.

Harry did not want his erection to dissipate, so he hoped to get this moving. "Ruth, darling, what's the matter?"

"We've been spending this wonderful evening like we did all those years ago, but…Harry, I don't look like I did ten years ago."

"Neither do I, Ruth," he replied. "And considering I'm your husband, I like to think I know what you look like."

"No, I know you do, but back then, you just took off my dress and my stockings and my knickers because that's all there was. I wasn't kidding when I said I couldn't wear things like that anymore…" she confessed nervously.

Harry had not realized until right that moment that alongside the mood swings and sensitivities and whatever else from the pregnancy and post-partum changes, Ruth had become unhappy with the changes in her body. She had never been self-conscious about such things with him before. But Harry would not allow his wife to think for one second that he did not love and desire every inch of her. "Why don't you let me give it a go?" he suggested.

Ruth hesitated again. "Just…turn off the light first."

"No, I don't think I can do that," he countered.

Her face betrayed her horror at that suggestion.

"Just trust me, darling, alright?"

That convinced her. She nodded, however reluctantly.

Harry set to work, then, turning her around and unzipping her dress. She had a slip and all sorts of foundation garments on underneath. Harry was undeterred. He reverently kissed the nape of her neck. Ruth stepped out of the dress pooled at her feet and took off her shoes at the same time. She lost a good three inches, but Harry quite liked how tiny she was. After all, he was not a tall man himself.

He lifted the slip off over her head and slowly traced his hands over her girdle and bra and knickers. They may have been foundation garments, but they were quite pretty. White and silk and little lace edges. "I quite like this," he whispered, fingering the lacy strap on her shoulder.

Ruth shuddered in his arms, melting into his touch. That was exactly what he wanted. He found the little hook and eye fastenings to the girdle and undid each one as he held Ruth's back flush against his chest. She could feel his erection through his trousers, pressing into her bum, and she wiggled herself against him as he continued to tease her with his light touches.

When the girdle came off, Ruth gave a great sigh of relief. She probably couldn't breathe well with that on. Poor dear.

Harry let go and turned Ruth around to kiss her. "To the bed, I think," he whispered against her lips.

But Ruth shook her head. "Not just yet," she countered.

Before Harry could insist, Ruth started removing his clothes. Well, that he could certainly allow. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, leaving him to take it off as she loosened his tie. And Harry's entire upper half was bare before he knew it. Ruth kissed her way down his chest. Her teeth grazed over his nipples, causing an electric jolt to his groin. He moaned her name as she sufficiently distracted him.

Then, all of a sudden, Ruth was on her knees and his trousers and trunks were around his ankles. She took his cock in her hand, pumping him a few times before her tongue darted out to trace over the head of him. His knees almost buckled then. And then she took him in her mouth and sucked him better than ever in his memory. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding how she moved on him.

"Jesus, Ruth, that's so good," he groaned. He indulged far longer than he should have. This was supposed to be about seducing Ruth, but she'd flipped the tables on him. She had a tendency to do that. She was by far the cleverest person in the world, and Harry was utterly weak to her charms.

Ruth stopped on her own, which was probably for the best. She stood up. "I don't want you to finish just yet. Besides, I'd rather not make a mess on the carpet," she explained, kissing him again.

Harry watched in dazed awe as she made her way to their bed and pulled the sheets back. He was still frozen while she put one leg up on the edge of the bed and removed her own stockings, possibly one of the most simple yet erotic things he'd ever seen.

But then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He freed his feet from his shoes and socks and the clothes littered around him and hurried to join Ruth in bed. He threw the covers off, making sure that she couldn't hide from him. He rid her of her bra and knickers as quick as he could. And then he indulged.

Her breasts were the most different thing about her, he thought. They were bigger than before. The skin was thinner and looser, and they were so very soft in his hands. Harry had to be careful, now that his daughters had made good use of their mother's milk; if he was a bit too rough, he could hurt her without meaning to. And so tonight, Harry's touch was gentle and he used only his tongue in exploring her breasts. He did not want to do anything by sucking or biting and inadvertently causing her discomfort. There would be time another night to test her, to experiment. Tonight he only wanted to ensure that she was comfortable and happy and pleasured. Ruth's little gasps and heaving breaths told him he was on the right track.

As Ruth writhed beneath him, Harry moved on, kissing down her belly. That, too, had changed. The skin was not as taut as it once was. She had stretch marks all over her. Most of them had faded from red to a pale purple and some were even starting to go to a silvery white. She'd held their beautiful babies in her belly, and it was incredible to remember just how big she'd gotten. She was thin and petite now. Not as thin and petite as she'd been a decade ago, but he wouldn't want her to be. Harry was nearly fifty. It wouldn't do for his wife to still have the body she'd had when she was in her early twenties.

Harry spread her legs and settled himself between her thighs. Her legs were almost exactly the same. And this, the hot, wet center of her, this was just the same. He may have had an altered memory of things, but Harry was rather sure that he'd never guess that she'd given birth to two children by the look and smell and taste of her.

"Oh god, Harry!" Ruth gasped. Her fingers gripped his thinning hair tightly, digging her nails into his scalp as he went down on her with gusto. He hoped to make her come twice this way. He could usually manage that. He'd certainly built her up enough. But it would all depend on how long he could control himself before the need to plunge his cock inside her proved too powerful to ignore. Even now, he was already having some difficulty.

Harry's lips and tongue worked her, and he took one hand off her hips and began using his fingers in concert with his mouth. He could feel her begin to flutter, and he wanted to push her over the edge. Ruth cried out and her body shook as she balanced right on the edge. Harry curled his fingers inside her, searching until she shattered. Almost without warning, her inner walls caught him in a vice grip. He lapped up the rush of wetness and carried her through her first orgasm, not relenting until a second came right on its heels.

Ruth's voice was hoarse as she called to him. "Please, Harry," she begged, pulling his hair and beckoning him toward her. She was still twitching with aftershocks, but he would not deny her. Nor would he deny himself.

He moved back up her body and kissed her deeply so she could taste herself on his tongue. But she could not kiss him too long, needing to gasp for air.

"I love you, Ruth," he said. His own body was trembling with need for her.

In answer, she lifted her legs for him to fit between. She cradled his body in her thighs as Harry lined himself up to her entrance and slowly pushed inside.

Though not normally one to talk much during sex, Harry found himself needing to speak to her, needing her to know through his words as well as his actions. "Ruth, my Ruth," he moaned. "Oh my beautiful darling, I love you."

"Yes, Harry, my love," Ruth called in response.

Neither of them was making much sense, but it didn't matter. They spoke of love as they made love, slowly and passionately. They were both overwhelmed by their need for each other until they finally finished, gasping and crying out each other's names.

Harry was not entirely sure what had happened. He woke up to find himself on his back with Ruth's whole body on top of his. Her cheek rested on his chest, and he thought he could feel her smiling.

"Ruth?" he croaked.

She hummed in response. "I love you, Harry," she whispered, pressing a kiss just above his heart. "Go to sleep."

He chuckled lightly, not wanting to disobey her. "Happy anniversary, darling," he said.

"I think this might be our best one ever," she said, mumbling sleepily.

"Me too," Harry replied. And then, before he knew it, he fell back to sleep again.