"Didn't you say Dr. Neff has a beard?" Steed asked. Emma had followed him back to his apartment from the hospital. It was going on three o'clock in the morning, but her mind was racing with Miss Mallon's information. Fortunately, Steed was as susceptible as she was to the excitement of new information. She poured them each a brandy while he took off his jacket and stretched out on the sofa.
"Yes," she replied cagily, handing him his glass before taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. "As do many other men."
Steed grinned wolfishly at her, raising his glass in a silent toast as she stretched her legs out beside his facing him.
"Bela was not wearing a wolf mask," she pointedly changed the subject. She wasn't actually defensive of Dr. Neff, but she knew that Steed was just baiting her because she'd spoken favorably of him. She found Steed's possessiveness endearing – mostly because it was combined with deep respect for her -- but sometimes it could be distracting in the midst of a case.
"Because he lost it when he attacked Randy Styles," he replied smugly.
"Have they had any luck finding the source of the mask?" Emma knew that
he had turned it over to the ministry's researchers to find out where it had been purchased.
"A dozen variety stores in and around London sell that particular item at this time of year. Now that we have a description of the attacker, albeit vague, we can canvas all the stores."
"Curious he didn't just purchase another one, isn't it?"
Steed took a sip of his brandy, stalling while he thought of a response.
"If you'd lost your mask while committing a murder, you would probably choose to change your disguise for the next one too," he finally said.
"But tonight's attacker chose to use no disguise at all," she replied thoughtfully, sipping her own drink.
"We don't really know that the mask was related to the previous murders at all," Steed replied almost apologetically.
Emma shot him a fond smile. "Still, you should have someone take Miss Mallon's description to the shops that carry them," she said pointedly.
"I'll call and arrange it in the morning," he nodded, understanding her quite clearly. That kind of work was a waist of both their talents. They sipped their brandies in silence for a few minutes, each lost in thoughts that gradually transitioned from the case to more personal notions. The tension of interviewing Miss Mallon was beginning to wear off.
"Do you really think the second man could have been Dr. Neff?" Emma asked after a while.
"I haven't met him. What do you think?"
Emma sighed, picturing the eccentric psychologist with his tray of tea things. But then her memory focused on his shaggy head and yellow eyes and she shuddered involuntarily. But odd eye color and a bad haircut did not make him a criminal, and for that matter the second man had saved Iris Mallon, not attacked her.
"I can't say," she shrugged, then downed the last sip of her brandy and swung her feet to the floor. "He's odd, and he knows a lot about werewolves. But that hardly means he's involved with these murders or was in the park tonight."
Steed was watching her as she spoke, a spark of desire smoldering deep in his warm grey eyes. She recognized it and indulged in a corresponding flicker of yearning. But she was also very tired. Stifling a yawn she stood up, took Steed's nearly empty glass from him, and went to the kitchen. He followed, coming up behind her where she stood at the sink. His hands settled on her waist and his breath on her neck was a sensation nothing like the one she imagined Miss Mallon must have felt. Her body responded with a warm pulse of pleasure just as she stifled another yawn. Then he bit her neck gently with a playful growl and she couldn't help giggling. She set the glasses on the drain board and turned to face him, placing her hands on either side of his face.
"Let's go to bed darling," she purred. "If you let me go to sleep, I promise to wake you up in the morning with a special surprise."
"I'll hold you to it," he replied, his arms encircling her in illustration.
"I'm counting on it," she purred, touching her lips to his and sighing at the attendant fizzle in her groin.
"Sure you can go to sleep?" he teased, releasing her and turning toward the stairs. She yawned again and followed him.
ooooo
Steed brushed loose strands of auburn hair off of Emma's temple and touched his lips to the delicate skin next to her eye. A smile curled her lips as she sighed contentedly. True to her word, she had awakened him more than an hour earlier in a most inventive manner. Afterwards they'd drifted in and out of sleep, holding one another, occasionally indulging in gentle caresses as if to reassure themselves that their lover was real. Steed cherished these moments when the dynamic, self-possessed Emma allowed herself to relax in his arms, disregarding the pull of responsibilities beyond their bed in favor of simply being held.
Emma cherished these times as well, knowing that although they did not speak of it these fleeting moments of quiet intimacy were the foundation of a powerful bond. She loved Steed – was in love with him – and she knew that even if he could not put that word to his regard for her, she had reached him on a deeper emotional level than the women who'd come before her. She did not flatter herself – he must have been in love with other women in the past. But she did allow herself to believe that the bond they shared was stronger than any other he had known recently.
Realizing that wakefulness was imminent, she shifted onto her side to face him, sighing again as he obligingly slipped his hand around her waist and stroked her back. She smiled into the blissful grey depths of his eyes a few inches from hers, then gave in to impulse and pressed her mouth to his in a tender kiss. He returned it, his lips parting slightly out of habit, but refraining from overt seduction. That was behind them for the morning. Now it was time to plan the day.
"What do you want to be for Halloween, John?" she asked as if speaking to a child.
"I thought I would wear that wolf mask," he replied. A frown creased her brow and was rapidly replaced by a knowing smile.
"He might bolt if he's at the party," she said, referring to last night's attacker. She thought she had followed Steed's logic: If the second man last night had been Dr. Neff, then he knew the murderer and might have invited him to his party. But in fact she had misread Steed.
"I doubt that -- it's his party," he said. Emma's left brow arched in consternation and Steed grinned wickedly. "What about you? Shall we visit Mr. Schenck of Universal Costumes?"
"I already have what I need," She replied rather regally. He could tell from her secretive smile that she was not going to reveal her costume plans. "You shall have to visit him without me. I asked Dr. Neff to visit the scene of Randy Styles murder with me this morning. I think I'll take him to see where Miss Mallon was attacked too. It will be interesting to watch his behavior."
"Very," Steed said, then placed a light kiss on her forehead and eased his arm out from beneath her before sitting up. It never failed – drowsiness dissipated at the prospect of action. His two loyalties – his job and his lover – were much like addictions battling one another for his attentions. Only his lover was also his partner, so she played a roll in his job. She had, he realized when he cared to think about it, insinuated herself into most aspects of his life. The things he kept to himself – his family and his past principally – were the last holdouts, but they were also nearly inviolate. He simply would not allow himself to consider sharing them with anyone. Fortunately Emma seemed to understand his reticence. In fact, when he cared to think about it, he realized that his current work and personal life was as near to perfect as it could be.
Emma lay back and put one hand behind her head, watching the play of muscles under skin as he stretched and rolled his shoulders. He glanced back at her and smiled rakishly.
"Go ahead," she said, reading his thoughts. "I can make a call or two and shower after you."
"You could shower with me," he suggested, knowing she'd decline. As expected, she chuckled and gave him a shove toward the far side of the bed.
"Maybe later," she said, watching him stretch again once he was standing. He ignored the little flash of heat in his loins at her suggestion and headed for the bathroom.