This is the other version of their afternoon in the hotel ;) If you haven't read the notes before chapter 5, go back and read them now! Still T.

Jean watched him as he poured out two glasses of whisky. She took hers from him gratefully; she was nervous and thought the drink might help.

The knowledge that this was their last day together for several weeks or months was pressing down on them both. Yesterday had been carefree and relaxed, but now she had an ache in her chest at the thought of staying behind when he went back to Ballarat.

She knew she ought to stay. Christopher and Ruby needed her, and she had promised them. She had let Christopher down too often in the past. But her heart lay with this man, and in his house in Ballarat.

He sat down heavily on the bed opposite her and took a mouthful of his drink. Jean shuffled forward on the chair until their knees were touching, but said nothing.

"You won't stay away too long, will you? It won't be the same at home without you." He finished his drink and set the glass down on the dresser.

Jean sipped her whisky and grimaced. She would never understand how he actually enjoyed this stuff.

"It'll only be a few weeks, Lucien. I'll be home before you know it. Anyway, you'll be busy with work." She suspected she would have more time to miss him instead. "I have to stay for a while, but a month or two will make no difference to us in the end."

She reached out and took his hand, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. This felt so natural now, yet just a few days ago, on the bus, it had seemed so daring.

He stroked her cheek with his other hand and she slid quickly onto the bed next to him. The mattress dipped under her and pushed them nearer, legs touching, and Lucien pulled her closer against him with an arm round her waist and fingers spreading over the curve of her hip.

She rested her head against him and he rubbed his cheek against her hair. The scent of her hair tantalised him, and he started kissing her hairline, then when she turned in towards him, he kissed her mouth gently. Jean opened her eyes and met a look of such desire in his eyes that her breath hitched and she broke the kiss.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, both silently asking the same question.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, and when she nodded he kissed her again, teasing her lip with his tongue until she parted her lips a little. Jean felt him smile then, his whiskers tickling her mouth, and she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations that were flooding over her.

He was just so different, so him, and she suddenly wanted to feel his skin under her fingertips. She tried to undo his tie and collar button, but after a moment he put his hand over hers and stopped her.

"Let me," he murmured against her lips, and made quick work of undoing his tie and shirt collar with one hand. Jean stopped and looked at him appraisingly; that seemed very smooth, and she realised, not for the first time, that this situation was not as unfamiliar to him as it was to her.

She felt awkward and out of practice. It was more than fifteen years since she had been this intimate with any man and she sighed almost imperceptibly.

Lucien placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "This is different for me too, Jean. You are different, and you're the only one for me now, and for the rest of my life, I hope."

She nodded slowly, and then leaned forward again to kiss him, first on the lips but then on his neck and collarbone, tasting his salty skin as she slowly undid some more shirt buttons. "Me too," she breathed against his neck.

Lucien meanwhile had undone the top buttons of her dress and was tracing the lace edge of her slip where it touched her. As his fingertips slid between her breasts she groaned quietly and, emboldened by this, he then reached down to lift up the hem of her dress and stroke her leg upwards, with only the thin silkiness of her stockings between their skin.

"Lucien...?" she said, and indicated the bed with a glance. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, and she acknowledged to herself that this was a step for him too.

"If you're sure," he replied, and her stomach contracted at the hope in his voice. She responded by moving away from him, turning her back, and swiftly undoing the remaining buttons on her dress. As she eased off her shoes and stepped out of the dress she heard from behind her a catch in his breath, and she could feel her cheeks growing pink despite herself. Quickly draping the dress over the chair she got into bed without meeting his eyes at all.

Once safely under the covers she risked a look at him, to find he had taken off his shirt, shoes and socks, and was making short work of the trousers. Turning towards her he grinned delightedly and climbed into bed, scooting up close to her and reaching out for her. Jean slid her hand under the back of his vest against his skin, pulling it up and off, and he knew then he would always remember every detail of this afternoon with joy.

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Lucien woke and for a moment was disorientated. He was lying on his front in a room made gloomy by the coming dusk. He felt more relaxed than he could remember feeling for years. Someone was leaning against his side and he could feel a delicious tickling sensation on his back.

"Jean?" he murmured.

"Mmm," she replied, and the movement of her lips against his skin thrilled him. He realised she was kissing the scars on his back, the darker whip lines that were faded now, but would always remind him of horrors he couldn't talk about.

Yet now he didn't feel the rush of shame he expected. He had always hidden his scars, but he knew he didn't need to keep them from Jean anymore.

He turned over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She sighed with satisfaction and stretched like a cat, then fell back against him gently, letting her head rest on his chest.

"We won't be able to do this in Ballarat, you know," he said with a grin. "Not with Mattie and Charlie in the house."

"Hmm, we might have to be careful. There's enough gossip about us already."

Lucien groaned. He knew that most of the gossip was directed against Jean, and he knew there was little he could do to prevent it, at least until they were married.

Married. In his own mind now he was sure they would get married, and soon, though perhaps it would be a little hasty to mention it now. But they were both old enough to be certain that what they felt would last.

"Are you going to tell anyone about us?" Jean asked at last.

"Not unless you want me to," he replied, shifting so he could see her face better.

"I'd rather not tell anyone yet. Maybe Mattie and Charlie if we have to." She sat up, ignoring the fact she was naked. "And I won't put them in a difficult situation at home - so I don't think we should be sharing a bed at home. Not yet, anyway." She frowned at him, daring him to disagree.

"I may just have to pay another visit to Adelaide before too long," he suggested with a cheeky look in his eye. He didn't argue with her. She was right; they could hardly sleep together openly at home and expect Mattie and Charlie to cover for them. But he hoped it wouldn't be for long.

They both dressed slowly, all shyness gone now, and Jean attempted to tidy her hair in front of the mirror. Then they walked arm in arm back to Christopher's house and Lucien kissed her goodbye at the front door. He didn't linger over it - there was no point, they knew he had to go the next day.

"I'll phone you at home tomorrow," Jean promised, her eyes glistening a little with emotion, and with a quick smile towards him she opened the door and went inside. For a moment Lucien was left staring at the front door, until he turned and started slowly walking back towards the hotel.