§ § § -- December 28, 1999

It was close to dinnertime when Anna-Kristina came into the study unannounced; Leslie was beginning to feel a little anxious because she hadn't heard from Christian all afternoon. She'd been devoting quite a bit of uneasy thought to what he was like in anger and how stubborn he was about grudge-holding, so when his niece walked in, she nearly asked. The only thing that stopped her was the way Anna-Kristina arrived: she half stumbled through the door, as if she'd been drinking, and had to hold onto the support post at the foyer steps to keep herself on her feet. She was visibly quaking and had a faintly dazed look on her face; only her eyes glittered with a fierce light.

"Are you all right, Anna-Kristina?" Roarke asked urgently.

She nodded perfunctorily at him and focused on Leslie. "I heard about your fight with Uncle Christian," she said.

Leslie sat up. "What'd he tell you?"

"Just that you and he had an argument and he didn't want to discuss it. If he won't talk about it, maybe you will."

"Before you do," broke in Roarke, "I want to know why you are in such a precarious state, Anna-Kristina. You appear to be ill."

Anna-Kristina sighed. "I…well, if you must know, Mr. Roarke, I haven't had any of that spice since I arrived here. I didn't bring a supply with me."

Roarke stood up like a shot, and Leslie stared at her. "Why not?" she asked in disbelief.

"I came without it because I truly believed that you could correct my need for it, Mr. Roarke," Anna-Kristina said, now holding the post with both hands. "But with all the new information I have, I'd rather die that have to worry about having a ready supply for the rest of my life."

Roarke's temper snapped unexpectedly; although his voice was deceptively calm, Leslie could hear the underlying rage and knew he was maintaining iron control. "You dare suggest you'd prefer to die rather than assure yourself of a source of an ultimately harmless spice? To admit such a thing is to give up, and that is the most cowardly thing I know. I would advise you to rethink your position, young lady. If you will kindly excuse me…" He stalked out through the French shutters, then paused on the terrace as if something had just occurred to him. "Leslie, there is a small supply here, is there not?"

Leslie nodded. "In the cellar lab," she said. "When Rogan and I made up the cure for you last winter, he made certain to leave his spice jar there for safekeeping."

"Good," said Roarke curtly. "Get it, and see to it that Anna-Kristina takes some with dinner. For that matter, have her eat here, and Christian if he so chooses. I'll return before dinner is ready." With that, he left.

Leslie got up and started toward the foyer, noting the startled look on Anna-Kristina's face. "Why was he so angry?" the younger woman asked.

Leslie paused, eyed her and sighed heavily. "It's a long story, but I can tell you that amakarna was instrumental in the deaths of Father's parents, and willful suicide is a fairly sore issue with him. That was a really foolish thing to say, Anna-Kristina. Come on, take a seat in here and wait for me while I get the amakarna."

When she came back, Anna-Kristina had been joined by Christian, whose expression was shuttered. He looked around when he heard Leslie come down the steps, then frowned and deliberately turned his attention back to his niece. "I can't believe you forgot that spice on purpose," he said.

"Don't you scold me too," Anna-Kristina said wearily. "Thank you, Leslie. I guess I will eat here with you."

"All right," Leslie agreed. "Christian, what about you?"

Christian shrugged. "I suppose. Anna-Kristina, if you do something like this again…"

Anna-Kristina glared at him. "Don't lecture me!" she exploded at him. "And stop ignoring Leslie! She's brought back some of that damned spice so that I can be forced to ingest it with my meal this evening. You've been a terrible grouch all afternoon and I'm truly sick of being around you!" She turned to Leslie. "I apologize, but is there a bathroom I could use, somewhere here?"

Leslie nodded. "Just off the kitchen—it's mainly for the staff in there. Tell them I gave you clearance to use it."

"Thank you," said Anna-Kristina and determinedly pushed herself to her feet. Christian started for her, but she barked at him, "Don't touch me!" Startled, he froze where he stood, and both he and Leslie watched Anna-Kristina weave down the hall towards the kitchen.

"I suppose," Christian muttered stiltedly after an awkward silence, "I should be grateful you even have any of that junk, but I can only think that its presence underscores my point from earlier."

Leslie studied him. "You know, Christian, I'm willing to explain things more fully to you, since Father informed me of his actual reasons a while ago. But I don't think you really care to know…or would you like to prove me wrong?"

Her frigid tones caught his attention and he really looked at her for the first time. He cleared his throat a bit and said more calmly, "All right, I'm listening."

Leslie drew in a breath and explained what Roarke had told her about his parents' deaths, absently turning the spice jar in her hands as she spoke. Christian listened blank-faced; when she paused for a breath or two, he shook his head. "Entirely emotional reasons," he said dismissively.

"I'm not finished," Leslie snapped, losing her own temper now. "Dammit, Christian Enstad, you sure hold a grudge like any other self-important royal. Do you want the full story or not? Or have your feelings changed and all you want is to run back to Marina?"

Christian gaped at her, then cursed in his native tongue. "You can push right back, I see. All right, then, tell me the rest of it."

"Father did try growing the spice once," she said coldly. "But it refused to root in the soil on this island. He could never figure out why, but something prevented amakarna from being cultivated here. I'm sure you think that's wonderfully convenient, but if you don't believe me, you can ask Father." Without warning her voice broke and she turned her back on him. "Do what you want, but that's the whole story, and it's the truth."

Behind her she heard Christian release a long breath. "It does sound convenient, but on the other hand, I've heard too many stories of strange flora here to discount it out of hand." He fell silent a moment, and Leslie waited, her heart pounding and her stomach rolling nervously. "It seems I was a little hasty in blaming you for wanting things to stay as they are. It's only that I'm so fed up with the waiting, and I often wonder how much more I can take. I've considered abandoning everything and running to you countless times."

Leslie turned and met his gaze. "I've probably wished on just as many occasions that you would. Oh God, Christian, I'm so sorry. Father said something to me about blind loyalty, and I'm afraid he was right. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, my Leslie Rose," Christian said fervently, pulling her into his arms, "as long as you'll forgive me. I truly felt like hell after I left you, but I was afraid for a while that I had completely destroyed everything."

She nestled into his embrace with enormous relief. "I think I might have come looking for you eventually if you hadn't come here first. Please, my love, stay and eat with us. I think Father's charged me with seeing to it that some of this stuff goes on Anna-Kristina's food anyway."

Christian laughed. "It serves her right if she thinks we're babysitting her. But I think she can be trusted to put it on her own food, so you probably don't have to force-feed her." He sighed deeply with audible relief and rocked gently back and forth from one foot to the other with her still in his arms. "I've been thinking. It's the holidays, and I see no reason Anna-Kristina and I couldn't stay here through New Year's. I'd be very interested in experiencing one of your famous New Year's Eve parties—some of the circles we run in have raved about them in the past. And this year's will probably be extra-special."

"That it will," Leslie confirmed. "I'm glad—it'll be so wonderful to ring in the new year with you."

"Good. What Arnulf doesn't know won't hurt him," said Christian, grinning. "Besides, I'd put serious money on the probability of Marina being in Italy with her boyfriend, so I think it's only fair that I have the same privilege."

"Well, I'm happy to see you two coming to your senses at last," a tart voice remarked, and Christian and Leslie looked around to see Anna-Kristina standing in the foyer, still bracing herself on the wall for support. "I started to think it would never happen. Maybe now Mr. Roarke won't be so angry at me for wishing I could die instead of depending on amakarna all my life."

Christian groaned. "Don't be ridiculous, Anna-Kristina. I can't blame Mr. Roarke for getting upset. You're very lucky that he and Leslie happened to have a little bit of it here. Incidentally, just where did it come from?"

"My cousin Rogan had it," Leslie said. "He brought it with him—it had been in Marina's sister's things when she died, and he wanted to be sure no one used it to some bad end. It was one of the ingredients in the cure for the bone-eating disease, you might remember. When he was done with it, he deliberately left it here in the house so that it would be safe from any other possible schemes."

Christian nodded. "I see," he said. "I admit, I thought Mr. Roarke had kept it in secret. I apologize for that as well." He stared at the spice jar and heaved a weary sigh. "If I never hear of that stuff again, it'll be too soon."

"I'm starting to feel the same way," Leslie said. "Unfortunately, I guess it's too intertwined in all our lives for us to ignore it now. Well, dinner should be ready shortly, and none too soon for you, Anna-Kristina. You're going to have three witnesses, so you'd better make sure you put some of this on your food."

Anna-Kristina grimaced. "If you think you've had enough of that spice, just imagine how I feel about it! All right, all right…you win."

Dinner was actually a quiet affair, marked in particular by Anna-Kristina's visible revival after sprinkling some amakarna across her food and making short work of what was on her plate. Roarke and Leslie went over a few details in regard to the New Year's bash for Friday night, but beyond that it seemed as if they were all too tired to talk much. Roarke had an island council meeting to attend that evening, so he left immediately after the meal; and Anna-Kristina decided to return to the bungalow and catch up on her sleep. Christian and Leslie watched her go, then got up and wandered across the veranda, both surprised at their sudden free time alone and wondering what to do with it.

"How long do these island council meetings last?" Christian asked.

"Two or three hours usually," Leslie said, "but this one's the year-end wrap-up, so I expect Father'll be gone even longer than that." She gasped suddenly. "Oh my God. Christian, my love, wait here a few minutes—I'd better put away that amakarna before someone else gets to it, even Mariki. She wouldn't have any idea what to do with it." She rushed back across the porch and grabbed the spice jar, then retreated into the house in order to replace the jar in its spot in the cellar lab. Christian watched her go, frowning deeply, trying to chase away a thought that had begun to nag him. Don't even think it, Christian Carl Tobias, he warned himself. It's all but treason. The idea itself stabbed him deeply enough to cause a nearly physical pain, which in itself was enough to make him shy away from it. Firmly he shut a mental door on it and mustered up a smile for Leslie when she returned.

"So what can a couple in love do on this island for three hours or so?" he asked with a comical leer that made her snicker.

"You're a lecher with a one-track mind, you know that?" she teased him. "In fact, I do have a suggestion. Have you ever walked a beach in the dark, lain on the sand and just stared up at the stars? I was here the first time I saw the Milky Way since my childhood in Connecticut, and it was even more amazing than I remembered. What do you think?"

"I like it," Christian agreed. "And I may as well play the role of single-minded lecher right to the hilt and try to think of some way to seduce you on that beach, as long as we're out there alone in the dark."

Leslie eyed him with mock jaundice. "Huh," she said, but he could see the twinkle in her eyes. "We'll just see about that, Christian Enstad." He only grinned.

The idea stuck with Leslie most of the way down the Ring Road to the same secluded beach where Christian had discovered the unusual rose that had spawned his nickname for her. They left their shoes in the jeep and picked their way down to the sand; by now it was almost completely dark, and the remnants of sunset colored the western horizon a series of graduated blues ranging from Caribbean to navy to indigo before giving way to black. The stars were just as Leslie had described them, glittering in spectacular glory overhead, pockmarking the sky to such an extent that it seemed as if they could throw shadows with their combined light. The scene was so suggestively romantic that when Christian wrapped a proprietary arm around her waist and drew her in against his side, she was reminded of his half-joking warning and began to wonder how much resistance she had left. Not since Teppo had died had she been with any man, and the nine-year drought lowered her inhibitions to some extent, with Christian in such close proximity.

Leslie wrestled with her morality for about thirty seconds, thinking she might very well be a hypocrite for constantly fending him off and then making a move on him, and wondering whether he'd pick up on that. Maybe we won't have another chance before he's forced to take Anna-Kristina home, she mused uneasily. And with our wait stretching out to infinity, who knows when we can really be together?

She felt Christian tighten his hold on her and looked up, only to find him watching her curiously in the starlight. "You looked very thoughtful there," he said softly. "What's on your mind?"

Leslie felt sheepish. "You'll laugh if I tell you," she hedged.

Christian turned fully to face her and gathered her in against him. "I could never do that to you, my Leslie Rose. Tell me, please."

"All your half-serious jokes about making love to me before you go," she said, shrugging, lowering her head with some embarrassment. "I've only ever known the experience with Teppo, and nine years have passed since the last time with him. And here I am, and there you are, and we're in love and still being thwarted in our quest to be together for real." She shook her head. "I don't know, maybe I'm looking for excuses, because my conscience is giving me hell for even entertaining the thought. And I feel two-faced for it too, after all the time I've spent refusing you and suddenly being on the edge of changing my mind."

"Maybe, my darling, you just need some help," Christian murmured, tilting her head back and kissing her. He still had a way of wiping her mind clean of all thought, though in a moment or two he made the mistake of lifting his mouth from hers and gauging her reaction. "Is it working?"

"Do you think I'm just a tease for having second and third and fourth thoughts?" Leslie asked him anxiously. She could easily feel his need for her, and her body was answering with equal enthusiasm.

Christian smiled reluctantly. "No, only conflicted," he said softly, "and maybe infused with a little too much American prudery. Not to mention your upbringing since you came to Fantasy Island."

"Is that good or bad, in your view?" she wondered.

Christian chuckled helplessly and hugged her very hard. "It's part of what makes me love you so very much," he told her. "Tell me, though, if I pushed the issue—not that I would ever force you, of course, but if I did—what do you think you would do?"

"It's been so long, and you tempt me more than you think you do," Leslie said, closing her eyes and steeping herself in the familiar scent of him. "I think I'm afraid that if we started, though, we'd never stop."

"That's probably true," Christian observed with a matter-of-fact mien that made her laugh out loud. "I've been wondering how many couples your father's hosted here who have slept together, having known each other only a day or so—never mind having the benefit of wedding vows. What must he think of such things, being the man he is? Does he ascribe it to human nature, or does he quietly disapprove? And if he allows it among his guests, who is he to discourage it in his daughter?" He caught Leslie's sharp reaction and placed two fingers over her lips. "This isn't meant to criticize, my darling, it's only curiosity speaking here. The thought has occurred to me before, and it seemed a good time to ask." He read the dubious look on her face and added teasingly, "Remember what you said he told you about blind loyalty!"

Laughing with resignation, Leslie shook her head again. "You're forcing things into the open that I never had the courage to examine even to myself. Well, I don't really know what he thinks about guests sleeping together without being married. All I know is, even if he can't really control what they do, he can definitely set rules for me. Being his daughter made all the difference. After all, I do still live at home—it's just expedient for the business since we work together."

"That's as well," Christian said, "but you're thirty-four years old, and I think that's more than old enough to control at least some aspects of your life. I truly think that, if we did go ahead and make love, the only way he could find out is if you let your conscience punish you for it to such an extent that he reads it in your face or in your body language. Tell me I'm wrong, if I am, but that's my feeling."

"No," Leslie murmured at some length, fingering his open collar, "you're not."

He nodded, watching her. "All right, then, with that question answered, let's try another. Let's assume there's no way your father can ever know. What would you do, from this moment, standing here in my arms?"

She went still for half a minute, only her fingers closing in tighter on the fabric; then, as though beaten, she looked longingly up at him and confessed, "I'd let you do anything you wanted." She drew in a soft surprised breath when, as if in response, she felt a rush of pure desire spiral through her. It was more than she could resist, and had she known, she would have been amused by how greatly she surprised Christian by pulling his head down and kissing him with at least as much fervor as he had always exhibited toward her.

An entire five minutes elapsed before they let go. They were both breathing hard and their eyes were glazed with need—but it had been Christian, incredibly, who had broken contact. That nagging thought had sneaked up on him at just the moment he would have preferred his mind shut down altogether. He cursed resignedly in jordiska and set her back from him. "I can't, after all. I can imagine what you must think of me."

"It's your conscience talking," Leslie suggested. "Just like mine."

He nodded, seizing on her excuse. "My mistake, calling it 'American prudery'. Perhaps I'm not quite as free-minded as Marina is after all." He cursed again and turned away, exhaling loudly and raking both hands through his hair. "Leslie, my darling, sit here on the sand with me and help me count the stars."

She smiled and slipped her hand into his. "Come on," she said gently and led him nearly to the waterline, where they settled into the sand and stargazed for the next half hour. Neither spoke in all that time; Leslie was ruminating over how very nearly she had given herself to him and how badly she still wanted to do so, while Christian was fighting his treasonous common sense and holding her possessively, as if for fear he would have to let her go.