Heck, he's taking the lead now. He's also potentially very out of character. I've realised that there is a danger of this becoming just pure smut. I will try and sort myself out soon.

"Isobel, I'm a patient man, but what the devil are you doing in there? You've had time to flood the place never mind clean your teeth?"

There was a pause and then the sound of little padding footsteps across the corridor. She appeared in the doorway wearing her nightdress, her hair all pinned back away from her face, looking quirkishly cheerful in her own peculiar way. His pretence of being cross with her was suddenly unable to support itself as she looked at him rather expectantly.

"I shan't be a minute," she told him, "I'm just giving my face a little wash."

"Well, hurry up then," he continued to chide her, hiding his face in his book so that she could not see that he was almost laughing, "I want you in bed with me."

There was a slight pause, before her footsteps returned quickly and came closer as she almost ran and jumped on the bed.

"Careful," he told her, lying happily on her back, with her eyes closed and almost grinning, "You'll go through the floor."

She opened her eyes and looked at him sternly.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you told me to get into bed with you," she told him, "In your masterful and commanding way."

"As I recall, it was you who wanted me to be masterful," he reminded her, bending over to kiss her lips quickly.

"Oh yes, but I was referring more to you ravishing me senseless than telling me to hurry up in the bathroom."

He smiled down at her fondly.

"Are you giddy, Isobel?" he asked, having a strong suspicion what the answer to that might be.

"I am rather happy, yes," she admitted, "And it's never a good idea for me to have tea just before I go to bed."

"And what might I enquire has made you so happy?"

"You."

It was foolish- he had asked, after all, to hear it- and yet at the little word his heart seemed to drop a little in his chest, hearing the sudden seriousness in her voice, the little moment's thought she gave before she said it. He shuffled down to lie beside her, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers.

"I love you Isobel."

"I know. I love you as well."

He gently took her waist in his hands, kissing her mouth. After a few moments they broke apart, her resting her forehead gently against his chin, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Richard?"

"Mm?"

"Would you mind telling me something?"

Shifting his arms to wrap around her back and hold her, he waited for her to ask.

"What do you remember about me? I don't doubt that you saw me," she amended herself quickly, as if worried that he might have taken it the wrong way, "But it's been playing on my mind, and I'd like to know all the same."

He regarded her for a moment, very seriously.

"Your eyes," he told her.

"Shifty little things, my mother used to call them," she replied, with half a little laugh, "Said I always looked as if I was up to some kind of mischief."

"Well, knowing you, I would have said that she wasn't far wrong there," he replied.

"They're not that remarkable, my eyes," she said a moment later, "They're a pretty ordinary sort of colour."

"It wasn't the colour," he told her swiftly, "It was the look in them. You looked at me for a tiny second, so unashamedly and full in the face. They were so alive, and it was that that made you stand out; you were a thousand times more alive than anyone else in the room."

"That's not saying much. I vaguely remember those awful medical board receptions and feeling as if I was the only one within a square mile who was still breathing. Quite ironic, if you think about it."

"You were the most lively person I'd ever met," he told her swiftly, "Really, Isobel, I'm only trying to tell you the answer to your question. You were and still are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on- it's ridiculous to hear you put yourself down like you do- and you are just going to have to start believing that, before I'm forced to just show you. If it hadn't reached me that night that you were engaged, I'd have probably cornered you that night and asked you to marry me. That, or something far less gallant. I could be quite the cad in those days."

It occurred to him that somehow she had ended up underneath him, breathing heavily with a slightly wild look in her eye. He also realised that he had ahold of her wrists and was pinning them down either side of her head to the mattress. Her chest, underneath him, was heaving. He was about to apologise profusely for losing control of himself so easily, when something stopped him. That look in her eye. A challenge.

And then something inside him suddenly seemed to snap completely. He was kissing her neck so fervently and running his hands through her loose hair. Kissing every inch of her that he could reach, running his hands over her breasts, kneading them through her nightdress, tracing one nipple and then the other other lightly with his tongue, enjoying the way her hips raised up against him off the bed at the feeling.

She was beautiful, she was incredible, she was addictive; her excitement was infectious. Gently pushing her knees apart, his hand pushed her nightdress up, ghosting between her legs, giving her barely a semblance of the pressure he knew she needed. Oh, he loved to drive her wild like this. He teased her a little, skirting around the spot she had shown him the other night, avoiding it until she had thrown her head back, moaning at him under her breath.

He pressed against her with his thumb, putting her out of her misery. Her hips bucked under him and he wait a few seconds before lying down beside her, his hand resting possessively over her groin.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about this then too," he whispered, "Doing this for you. Being inside of you. Making you climax. And quite a few nights since then. "

He traced a finger slowly between her folds.

"You're so beautiful when you lose control like that," he whispered, moving his finger slowly back and forth, "Come on. For me."

She whimpered a little, her hand trying to reach his between her legs, to direct him again. Moving his hand altogether, he pinned hers back by her side against the mattress. She moaned helplessly.

Slowly, he planted a kiss on her centre, pressing his tongue firmly against her favourite spot. The effect was extraordinary. He felt the rush of moisture and the erratic bucking of her hips as she came before he heard her cry.

He simply held her body until she had ridden out the sensation, touching her hair and whispering that he loved her.

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