I hope it's still being read, and that it's enjoyed, if not please do let me know! This chapter and the next were rather challenging to write. I've written smut before in print and online but they tend to have descriptions of anatomy and FF is a bit uneasy about it getting too naughty which is fair and reasonable. So I wrote it as I wanted to, then stripped (excuse pun) down and hope it's okay. I felt it was important to write this because togetherness and bravery is such key theme and I'm not a great fan of gratuitous smut, but likewise get very disappointed when authors shy away from it when their writing shows they have the skills to do it super well. I can't think of any writer in this section of FF whose work doesn't have that potential! Anyway, it's a gently smutty this bit, Chapter 17 later this week. Feed me with your work, cos I love new stories! Stay safe and well!

OOOOO

The past few days pass in a strange sense of limbo. There's an air of relief that Robert Makepeace is no longer going to turn up but there's a tension about the place. Dempsey expects it to be intense until the 'cretin', as Freddy privately says, is buried. The morning after the news, he returned to London but promised to be back as soon as he could. He was already in need of rest before Chas called him away and the days away chip at his energy.

Harry was still asleep when he left and he's uncertain where Makepeace's passing leaves them. She had retired to bed, before he'd come back to the library after giving their guests the sober news. Douglas looked grim and his aunt stunned. Abbot sprung into efficiency reminding Dempsey briefly of Chas and his capability in any crisis. Tea seemed to magic from pots. In the morning, the breakfast of pancakes was welcomed when he sat in the kitchen with Douglas who had risen to send him off, promising unnecessarily so, to look after Harry. As Dempsey drove away, he already missed the Hall and all its occupants.

Robert Makepeace's body was released from the post-mortem before Dempsey arrived with minimal fuss. The report also showed drug abuse and signs of fighting. Dempsey stands watch at the crematorium to make sure the job is done and only then does he breathe a sigh of relief. He calls Freddy to tell him this news and hears the emotion in the man's voice before he hangs up. Spikings embargoes the news indefinitely, or until the press gets bored, he tells his Detective Inspector over a pint at the local.

Dempsey leaves London when he gets the news he wanted. Keith Ryman sentenced to eight years and Angie Hughes deported to the USA where his old colleagues in NYPD are waiting to charge her with a list longer than his arm. Two lives wasted.

Now, he is returned to his room at Winfield Hall after a polite welcome from Abbot, who is the only person around at the late hour. After an inquiry about his health, Dempsey is invited to the kitchen where he sits with Dwayne and Lou eager for the crumbs of his sandwich. He apologises to their longing faces for demolishing it in three bites and drinks his coffee, thanking Abbot profusely as they talk idly about the dogs before retiring.

Dempsey stands under the shower trying to cleanse the past few days away. If only it was that easy to wash away his fears and doubts. He pads out across the hallway back to his bedroom, pausing at Harry's door. There's no light on and he creeps past, hoping the sound of the water pipes cranking and groaning, didn't wake her. He shivers under the bathrobe only to find that a guardian angel has lit the fire and quickly warms up before diving into the bedclothes.

He's realising that there's an art to living in this house and staying warm. He thinks about how beautiful it would be in summer and hopes he'll be around to enjoy it. He's just settling down when there's a tap on the door and it opens enough to let in a shard of light from the hall.

Dempsey had assumed it was Abbot or Freddy when he'd said it was okay to come in. He wasn't expecting Harry to appear, dressed in flimsy nightwear. He keeps his eyes firmly on her face as she approaches and asks if she can sit on the bed. Her face seems, once again, cast in marble as she sits at the end of his bed, the furthest distance away from him that she can be.

"How are you?" She asks, fumbling with a thread on the bedspread. The firelight casts her face in dark shadows.

"I missed you." Dempsey tries to encourage her out of reticence. He doesn't think she's shy, not anymore. He wants to be sure that she knows what he's been doing, even if he's uncertain that she wants to talk about the reasons. 'It's over, he's been cremated. I went to check myself."

Harry looks up, there's a flicker of anger on her face that surprises him. "Unless it's to do with work, I don't want to mention his name again."

Dempsey agrees. That's perfectly okay by him but she can't forget her past like that, surely? "I still talk about my old man sometimes. Eats you up if you don't get the words out…in my experience."

She nods, but she's still restless. When she moves around the bed to sit beside him, there's momentary shift in the air. He wonders if she feels it. He glances at her long pale legs, the shape of her to see her check out his body with a look of longing that he thinks could threaten to unravel the binding she's living by for so long,

"You were falling in love with me and I've been hiding from you because I felt shackled to the past." Harry begins quietly. He waits, heart pounding, to hear her next words. "James, I've been in love with you for a lot longer than you probably think, but it scared me when you said those words. I don't want to disappoint you. I know you've had other women and I'm not going to be like them…"

Dempsey hoped that she did feel something for him, but he's unfamiliar with love, and unused to tackling patience and thus he's uncertain of what to say. He's learning to trust his mouth a little more so he rolls with it. "Honey, loving you ain't hard, it's too dammed easy. Hell, I've gotta ask if you want to loved by me. I ain't posh, I'm a pain in the ass, loudmouth cop, Harry. I'm gonna annoy you, the job is long hours…"

"You really have to ask that?" Harry is astonished. The irony makes him smile. "I hope we're not going to argue."

"Me too, 'cos Freddy already said I had his blessing, I don't want to fall out him too." Dempsey confesses with a wily smile, remembering the conversation with the older man in Eaton Square. He wonders if he's trying justify his presence here, even if she has come to him. He's never worried about his performance in bed, but it's Harry. "Get over here Harry, this bed is too dammed big."

"Freddy said that? Oh, he is incorrigible! He does like you, you know." Harry gives a soft laugh and crawls over to him, he thinks of tigers, "Do you think we could leave him and anyone else out of this conversation? It's rather putting me off."

"Off what, Tiger?" He challenges playfully.

"Tiger? Nobody has ever called me that before but I like it." He sees her eyes flick to his mouth and then to his chest, bare beneath the fallen blankets. "I've barely kissed you this week."

"No, you haven't." He comments, knowing his face shows his desire. Harry shivers and he notes this for future reference though the look she's bestowing him could easily make him beg. "I haven't kissed you much either. You make it too easy to get carried away."

She breathes sharply at this, a nervous look across her face and just as he's about to reassure her, it's replaced with a lustful look that he wants to see again and again. "That's a terrible thing, not kissing when it's what we should be doing." Harry muses.

"Sure is." He looks goofily at her.

"Dempsey… do you think we could get carried away now?" Harry asks and who is he to deny her?

He explores her mouth and he hears her sigh, he finally understands that this is what it is to make love as his heart seems to somersault in his chest. It's not a one night stand, she's not a scribble in his black book and they can take their time. He doesn't care how far they get, but her bravey for being here with him is a bigger turn on that he anticipated.

"You called me Dempsey!" He remembers because it felt good in some strange way that he can't fathom.

Harry nods, "Suits you, but you're also my James too."

"Your James. Your Dempsey, huh?" He kisses her again. It's straying to something more heated, her hand on his chest and his fingers lingering on the thin straps of her nightdress. "You okay with this?"

Harry breathes into his neck, "I want to stay with you, …I want you."

"You sure?" Dempsey checks, understanding immediately what she's asking from him, "I'm okay going at your pace, there's no pressure here."

Harry nods, "I don't know how far we'll get. If anything isn't right, I will tell you."

Dempsey's mouth goes dry as he studies her face for a brief moment, looking for any doubt but finding none, she slips off the robe she's wearing and her fingers linger on the bedclothes, pulling them down. "I ain't wearing a lot underneath here." He warns, hearing his voice crack.

He watches her, watching him and feels the heat of her gaze move over him. His boxers don't do a great deal to disguise his anticipation. "You're… uhmm…very fit." She teases.

Dempsey flexes his stomach muscles, showing off after all the months of working out and running. He chances an inappropriate remark with a broad grin. "You saw my equipment when you came around."

"Oh yes, I do believe I did." Harry quips. His body twitches in response at her light touch. She moves her legs so she's sitting astride his lap. He sighs her name as he rests his forehead against hers, his hands moving over her breasts, covered by the nightdress. It's a delicious torture, one that he never wants to end.

He sees the moment when Harry takes a leap of faith. It's as if she's read his mind and also wants to see her skin rest against his. He watches as she grasps the satin in her hands. He hears her intake of breath as she pulls it off. Then she is sat before him, bared, a goddess to his senses. She's trying not to close her eyes as if to hide herself from him. Easy, he tells himself.

Dempsey runs a gentle finger on her bottom lip, trapped in her teeth and her eyes flicker to meet his. "Don't, you'll hurt yourself." He murmurs and she gently kisses his fingertip instead.

"You know you could do anything with me right now and I'd be a happy man." He watches her tongue and feels his blood rush south.