A/N: Hello! Back again. I'm really sorry about the delay in updating - work has been unbelievably busy (in fact I should be working now... but that would be too boring.)

Thank you all for your reviews - I'm so glad that you enjoyed the chapter.

I have no connection with New Zealand by the way. It was just an appropriate nation to represent rugby (when the Welsh team is not available because a key member needs to explain it all to Tempe...)

Story continues below:

"He's kicking that player!" Temperance exclaimed pointing at an Exile player who was trying to join the pile-up of bodies on the field.

Huw shrugged his shoulders dismissively, "The player's lying in an off-side position."

"And that makes it okay?" Temperance asked incredulously.

Huw turned towards her, surprised by her shocked tone, "Pretty much. I mean, he's deliberately lying there to slow the ball coming out of the ruck." He paused, "What you want in a ruck is to recycle the ball quickly, get it out and back into play as soon as you can. By lying there he's making it more difficult. He knows perfectly well that he should just roll away - just as he knows that he's going to get a few digs from the boot for his trouble." His eyes narrowed as he watched the referee, "If it doesn't come out soon the ref is going to blow for a scrum."

Suddenly the ball appeared and the Exiles passed it out left, before running into a solid defence line. The players who had been in the ruck picked themselves up quickly and Booth emerged from the bottom of the pile unscathed.

The game continued and began to settle into a less frantic rhythm as the New Zealand Embassy side began to assert their superiority. They battered into the centre of the Exile defence, forcing them to commit players before executing dazzling passing manoeuvres that exploited the gaps appearing on the wings. The Exiles were encamped inside their 22, putting up a dogged defence, but they were increasingly being forced to rely on kicking for touch to relieve the pressure and then defend a line out.

Booth was in the thick of the action, making tackle after tackle, but seldom getting the chance to run in attack. Temperance was unaware that her eyes were following him around the pitch.

After 20 minutes the New Zealanders had run in two tries and scored four penalties; the Exiles had a single penalty on the scoreboard. After another try saving tackle from Booth, the referee blew for half time.

The players grouped together in either half of the field, drinking water. A few received a quick check-up on bumps and bruises.

Temperance sat back down on the blanket and smiled her thanks as Nia handed her a carton of juice. Huw headed off towards a stall selling doughnuts, his daughter in tow.

Temperance's throat was feeling quite dry and she bit her lip in embarrassment when she realised that it was probably because she had been shouting so much during the game. She looked across at Nia shyly, who grinned back at her.

"I think I can assume that you're enjoying it so far?" Nia said.

Temperance nodded, unsure how to explain her instantaneous enthusiasm for the game.

Nia's smile widened, "It's always more fun when you have someone special to watch in a match."

Temperance felt herself blush, again.

"I'm not being funny - wait until you see me watching Huw. I'm like a women possessed!" Nia shook her head slightly, "And you don't even want to know what Huw's like when he watches me play."

Temperance looked at her in surprise, "You play too?"

Nia nodded, "It's great fun. Not a good idea in my condition though."

"I can imagine." Temperance said as Huw returned with the doughnuts.

Temperance took one when it was offered and enjoyed biting through the crackly sugar glaze, although by the time she finished it, her fingers very sticky. Her eyes strayed back towards Booth, who looked up from a stretch at the same moment and smiled at her.

Their gazes locked.

Temperance felt the heat rush to her cheeks again and a tingle run up her spine. The logical part of her mind wondered how Booth could have that effect on her while standing 30 metres away.

Booth gave himself a shake, staring at Temperance - particularly when she was licking her fingers - was likely to stir parts of him that had no place on a rugby field.

After a moment, they both looked away.

Then it was time to start the second half. The referee blew his whistle and the action restarted with the teams playing the other way.

It wasn't long before Temperance was on her feet again. The game followed a similar pattern to the first half. Booth's team started well and managed to get some possession of the ball. Temperance watched with baited breath as the Exile team crossed the halfway line. The player with the ball went down after a crunching tackle, but the ball was quickly back in play and passing along the line of blue-shirted players advancing on the New Zealand 22. Suddenly the ball was in Booth's hands.

He set his shoulders and charged towards the line. He side-stepped one defender and shrugged off another.

Temperance was gripping the rope and leaning forward to get a better view.

The try line was getting closer. He kept running.

Temperance was frozen rigid on the spot.

Five metres away from the line, a last desperate tackle scythed his feet from under him.

Temperance groaned in despair.

As he fell, Booth twisted in the air and stretched out towards the line. He landed with a jarring impact on his chest, with both his hands stretched above his head holding the ball, he had nothing to break his fall.

His eyes screwed shut in pain as the breath was knocked out of his body and his tackler's knee dug into his hip.

He opened this eyes tentatively to see the referee blow his whistle and hold his flag aloft to signal that the try had been awarded. Booth grinned triumphantly into the turf, sure he could hear Temperance shouting his name somewhere in the distance.

Booth's try spurred both sides on. The New Zealand side struck back with a magnificent running move of their own, which was let down by their own poor handling, metres from the try line. The Exiles, too, piled on the pressure, but lacked the incisive edge needed to cut through the New Zealand defence.

Tiredness started to creep in as the game moved into its final five minutes, with errors becoming more common and tempers starting to fray. A wild tackle from an Exile player, which felled a New Zealander and left him massaging his throat, gave away a penalty, but also started a shoving match. The referee weighed in and broke it up quickly, standing fearlessly between two hulking second rows who were taking swings at one and other and topped him by at least a foot.

Temperance knew that there were only moments left. She wondered if the Exiles could get one more try, which would take their score to at least eighteen. Her hopes rose as they started to run the ball towards the left flank again, but were dashed again as they were swallowed up in a ruck, Booth among them.

She gave a gasp of concern as she saw a New Zealand player's fist make firm contact with Booth's face as they both surged together in the ruck.

The ball turned over and came out on the New Zealand side and Booth stood up slowly, shaking his head from side to side. Temperance was astonished to see his assailant put a friendly hand on his shoulder, seemingly checking that he was okay.

Her hands on her hips, she turned to Huw to demand an explanation, "How is that okay?"

He smiled mildly, "Accident." He glanced at her irate expression and wondered if she was going to march onto the pitch and smack the player back. He'd heard some stories about Bones' enthusiasm for direct action.

But before she had time to act, the ball trickled out into touch and the referee blew for the end of the game.

The players all shook hands, offering congratulations or commiserations as appropriate, before the two teams trooped off. The New Zealand Embassy team had opened their title defence with a win, 13 points to 32, but the Exiles were pleased to have got on the scoreboard and not let their opponents romp away with it.

Temperance had to stop herself from clambering over the rope and running out to greet the slightly battered figure trudging towards her. She waited, her attention riveted on him and her eyes darting up and down his body: registering the fact that he was breathing heavily from the exertion, his chest filling out his shirt as he took in deep breaths; taking in the reddening bruise on his cheek from where he had been punched and realising that he was favouring his left leg slightly from his painful, try scoring landing.

For his part, Booth couldn't tear his eyes from her and the fierce, yet tender way she was looking at him.

He came to a halt a few feet away.

Temperance stepped over the rope and closed the distance, catching his hands in hers.

They stared in silence for a moment.

"You played really well," Temperance said quietly, surprising him.

He smiled and gave a deprecating shrug, "Still lost."

She frowned and then gently reached toward his cheek, her hand hovering, not touching the reddening skin, "Does it hurt?"

He grinned, "Yup." His gaze drifted away from her and towards his friends who were watching them avidly. "Probably should see if Nia's got any ice."

Temperance murmured her agreement, feeling stupid for not thinking of it herself. She turned away.

Booth stepped in close to her and cupped her face, making her look up at him. His lips were inches away from hers.

"Or maybe you could kiss it better?" He whispered.

TBC

Sorry - fluff is the order of the day when work sucks!

Hope you like it - please review if you have time, it's always lovely to hear what people think.