A/N: Penultimate chapter, and thanks to all those who have read and reviewed. This fic began as just an idea for a one-shot, which then ballooned into 8 chapters.

This chapter is definitely M rated, so avoid if it's likely to offend.

Ruth is already under the duvet, dressed in her sensible flannel winter pyjamas, when Harry enters the room. He stands beside the bed, and removes his bathrobe. She watches him, but he avoids eye contact with her. Underneath his bathrobe, he wears navy blue track pants and a sky blue t-shirt. Ruth notices that he still has the protrusion of a belly, and she likes that. His chest and shoulders are broad, and she likes that even more. He won't blow away in a wind, she thinks, as he slides under the duvet, and turns to face her. Ruth can smell his cologne on his skin, and toothpaste on his breath as she leans towards him, and their mouths meet in a quick kiss.

"I imagine Ellie will be up at first light," Ruth says, lying her head back on her pillow.

"Maybe even earlier," Harry says as he turns out the light on the small table next to his side of the bed.

Now they are in bed together, Ruth realises that there is not a lot of room in a double bed for two mature-aged people. As much as she would love to fall asleep with Harry's arms around her, she knows that to do so would be far too tempting.

"Ruth," Harry says into the darkness.

"Yes?"

"Can I hold you?"

Bugger. Put like that, she can hardly say no …... can she? Ruth slides closer to Harry, and turns so that he can slide his arms around her. He begins kissing her, and the kiss quickly becomes passionate, his tongue sliding against her own. Ruth is almost ready to say `to hell with what is right and proper', when Harry pulls out of the kiss, and slides away from her.

"That was a close one," he whispers.

They are still lying on their sides, facing one another, when they fall asleep.

When Ruth wakes, it is still nighttime, and the house is quiet. She is lying facing away from Harry, and she can feel him curved around her back. Harry's arm is draped over her, and his hand rests on her stomach, underneath her pyjama top, his fingers sliding slowly and gently over her skin. She knows he is awake, and she knows that he knows she is now awake.

"Harry?"

"Sshh," he says, lifting his head so that his mouth is close to her ear. "Do you trust me, Ruth?"

"Of course."

"Do you want me?"

"Harry, we can't -"

"We can, and we will. Catherine and Mark only arrived home an hour ago, so we'll have to get up to Ellie, but it's only four-thirty, and the door is closed. Even if she does wake up, she can't come in."

Ruth tries to turn, but she is caught in his embrace. "We can't make love, Harry. It wouldn't be right."

"Trust me. No animals will be harmed by what we're about to do ….. and nor will our reputations."

Harry's lips are close to her ear, and she feels his tongue slowly wind around inside her ear at the same time his fingers find her breast, and he caresses her skin so that she shudders with pleasure. Ruth then turns her face to him, and he lifts his body further, and meets her mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. She can still taste the flavour of peppermint toothpaste on his breath, and on his tongue.

"Toothpaste?" she asks, pulling out of the kiss.

"I got up when Catherine and Mark came home, and I thought I'd clean my teeth while I was up."

"You've planned this?"

"Only in my head."

"That's usually where plans are made, Harry. How come you didn't shave?"

He rubs his fingers over his chin, only a little scratchy with stubble. "Do you think I should?"

"No. I like it. I rather like doing this."

And Ruth leans close to him, and rubs her cheek against his. Then she turns her face so that she can kiss him. Harry moans into her mouth, while he moves his hand slowly down her abdomen, and his fingers slide under the elastic of her pyjama pants. When his fingers reach her pubic hair, he pulls his mouth away from hers, and kisses her from underneath her ear, all the way down her neck, and to her collar bone. By the time he is licking and kissing the hollow at her throat, his fingers are sliding across her sex, so that eventually - inevitably - he slides one finger inside her.

Ruth does trust him. She now knows exactly what he has in mind, and he is getting there very fast. As he dips into her with two fingers, and sets up a steady rhythm, she can feel him pushing his erection against her thigh. Ruth turns slightly towards him, so that she can again feel his mouth on hers. She is close to climax, but she is trying to hold back. Harry's fingers inside her, his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth, and his erection pushed hard against her hip – through two layers of clothing – are too insistent, too exciting for her to hold back any longer. Ruth takes her mouth from his, and buries her face against his shoulder while she comes, her cries of pleasure muffled by his t-shirt.

She rests against him, and Harry removes his fingers from inside her, and pulls the waistband of her pants up to her waist. Once Ruth can again speak, she looks up into Harry's eyes. His pupils are fully dilated, and she can see from his face that he has held back his own orgasm.

"Thank you so much,"she says, pulling away from him to make room for her to slide her own hand under the elastic of his track pants. "Now it's your turn."

"No, Ruth. I'm fine."

She finds him then, still hot and hard, and he twitches as she touches him. "You're not fine. Let me."

Harry leans into her, again putting his mouth on hers in a hard and insistent kiss. He slips one of his hands under her pyjama top, over her belly to her breast, and massages her flesh, his forefinger moving around and around her nipple, while Ruth takes hold of him, and begins to slide her hand up and down his length, squeezing him between her fingers as she does so. It feels like only seconds before he twitches in her hand, and then begins pulsing. Ruth pushes her body against him as he comes, aware that she wants to avoid stains on the sheets. Harry's orgasm is long and exhausting, as he ejaculates against Ruth's bare stomach, and then he pulls her with him as he lies on his back, with her draped across him.

"Dear God," he says at last, his mouth against her neck. "That was …... unbelievable. Just imagine what we'll be like when I'm inside you."

"I hope we didn't wake the others."

"Ellie is a heavy sleeper, and so is Mark," Harry replies, still breathing heavily, "and I suspect Catherine is tired enough to sleep through anything."

"Harry, you groaned quite loudly, and for rather a long time."

"If anyone mentions it, we can tell them I was having a nightmare. Northern Ireland."

"Of course. Your post traumatic stress kicking in."

"Do you think she'd believe that?"

"Not a chance." Ruth lifts herself so that she can kiss him, tasting their passion on his mouth.

It is much later – after they'd quickly visited the bathroom, washed, and tidied themselves - that they fall asleep quickly, exhausted from their impromptu lovemaking. This time, Ruth is content to snuggle in Harry's arms, her head resting on his chest while she sleeps.

Ruth wakes first, turning towards Harry, watching his face, stress-free and restful in sleep, his breathing deep and steady. Noticing the time on the clock on Harry's bedside table, Ruth places her lips gently on his cheek, waking him slowly.

"I'd really like a cuddle before Ellie wakes," Ruth whispers against his mouth.

Harry smiles, and stretches, and then wraps her in his arms, and returns her kiss. It is a gentle, soft and loving kiss, and they part, smiling at one another. Ruth feels Harry's hand under the duvet, as he glides his palm over her abdomen, and then down her body to her thigh. She watches him, knowing what he'll be equating the word `cuddle' with `sex', so she turns in his arms, and lies close to him, sliding her arms around his neck, gliding her fingertips over the skin of his neck. She lifts the fingers of one hand to run over the hair on the back of his head. Harry is now wearing his hair much shorter than he had when she'd left London. It is smart, and suits him, but leaves her with nothing to wind around her fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asks against her ear, his hand still sliding up and down her thigh, while his other arm is wrapped around her waist.

"It's your hair. I can't grab it."

"That's the idea."

Harry pulls away a little to look at her, and then he kisses her with passion and need. Ruth feels him pushing his belly and hips against her, and his warm body feels so good to her that she is tempted to once again allow them to enjoy one another. She moans against his mouth as he kisses her, but then they are both startled by a tapping on the door, and a small voice calling out.

"Poppy," Ellie calls, and so, breaking away from Ruth with another quick kiss to her lips, Harry gets out of bed to open the door to his granddaughter, who quickly climbs on to the bed, and slides under the duvet next to Ruth. "Oof. Ellie. Poppy," she says, pointing at each of them in turn. "Get up. Poppy get bekfast." Then she wriggles her feet under the duvet, accidentally kicking Ruth in the thigh.

"I'll go downstairs to get her breakfast," Harry says, "while you two get acquainted."

Harry tries to be quiet as he makes a pot of tea for he and Ruth, and some cereal and a trainer cup of warm milk for Ellie. He carries a tray with their breakfast things upstairs, and down the hallway to the bedroom, just in time to hear a snippet of conversation between Ruth and Ellie.

He is standing just outside the door, when he hears Ellie say, "Oof love Poppy?"

"Yes, Ellie," Ruth replies quietly. "Ruth loves Poppy."

When he steps through the door, he smiles at them both, his heart singing.