I've vaguely based the castle on Langton Castle in the Scottish borders but moved it northwards. Anyway meet Arlington. Thank you as ever for the reviews and entertaining another AU story.

Scotland was everything he hoped it would be, and Arlington was all he anticipated. Dempsey supposed the latter was useful, he'd gotten fair warning whereas their host was on the back foot, exclaiming that he had no idea Harriet's fiancee was 'a Yank, like me' when they finally arrived at the castle.

The term 'Yank' felt like a relic from Second World War and Dempsey had given the guy a friendly smile and shook his hand. Harry said she barely noticed that her fiancee was American in polite tones.

The castle was something else. Dempsey counted three storeys high with battlements on top of a central tower, with four wings and four turrets. Around them, mountains were topped with snow and tall forests. On the drive, they had passed a loch as the road undulated through the countryside, away from the dual carriageway that had taken them from the railway station. Dempsey had tried to map it out, conscious that they were now alone but gave up.

The driver was called Greg. He was dressed in a black uniform with 'Arlington' written in gold script on the breast pocket. Dempsey settled instead for chatting to him about landmarks and what to look for. The man seemed friendly enough, with a soft Scots accent and happy to show off. Dempsey figured he was probably part of the walls in the household. The kind of guy who was often ignored but given the power to speak, would tell many stories.

Harry was coiled tight. Dempsey didn't know her well enough, yet, but he was making it his business to read her body language. She stared ahead and only occasionally looked around but fortunately was sat out of sight from Greg's rear view mirror.

"Hey, honey, isn't that beautiful?" Dempsey said softly, taking her hand in his again and rubbing his thumb over her racing pulse. She followed his gaze to another view and looked back at him. Trust me, he tried to tell her.

She somewhat unwound and nestled into his side, threading her arm though his and smiling at him sweetly; "We've never have made it this far; you've always wanted to come to Scotland."

Good girl.

"Do you have Scottish ancestry?" Greg asked.

"Not that I know of," Dempsey replied, "I like to explore a place, y'know, drive on the left and everything."

The guy laughed.

DMDM

Arlington gave Dempsey a long appraisal, a patronising gesture as he'd ever got before he turned to Harry, who was holding Dempsey's hand.

"Harriet," the man gave her a kiss to her cheek.

Dempsey had looked up what he could about their host; pulled in a few favours at NYPD and found there were unproven rumours of predatory behaviour. He probably had an account to pay off women and written non-disclosures in staff contracts. Inside, Dempsey felt angry about his behaviour towards Harry, but remained polite.

"Mr Johnson," Harry tired to reset the boundaries.

"Arlington, please," insisted their host.

"Arlington," Harry shook his hand and then turned to Dempsey, "This is my fiancee, James Dempsey."

Arlington's handshake was cold, quick and dismissive.

"Thank you for hosting us," Dempsey offered and decide to play up to the stupid American image for a while, "this place is amazing."

"I'll show you both around," Arlington took three glass from a waiter and handed them out, his eyes lingering on Harry; "to our week together."

"Slainté," Demsey said keeping eye contact on Arlington as he took a sip. Harry raised her own and simply nodded her thanks.

"Dempsey is it?" Arlington asked, "Sounds like an interesting name."

Dempsey nodded and kept his cool. He knew that their host hadn't lived in America for a while, preferring to flaunt his alleged Scottish ancestry in his latest life reinvention. It was unlikely Arlington knew Coltrane or any other corrupt bastard responsible for him being this side of the Atlantic.

After an hour of listening to their host talking about the castle and his dubious connections to it, Dempsey wondered if the man ever got tired of his own voice. He had studied him all the way round, picking up for clues on what made him tick. Arlington was about five foot eight with greying hair that curled a little. He cut a bulky figure softened by a love of wine and food, poured into a clashing choice of golfing clothes that he boasted came from St Andrews.

The remark was lost on Dempsey - golf ruined a good walk, in his opinion - until it became clear he should be impressed and he was trying to be, when Arlington lost interest again and introduced them to a woman with dark hair who was uniformed, like Greg.

"This is Katherine, she's the housekeeper," Arlington told them that she was looking after them this week and they were lead to their rooms in the East turret.

They had a sitting room on the first floor furnished with soft red sofas and stone walls; from there a circular staircase took them up to a door, which opened into a luxury bathroom. Another set of stairs climbed up a bedroom where the roof rose up into the turret. The room was all about the four poster bed.

"The roof here is all yours," Katherine explained opening a door onto the battlements. "Arlington hates heights so his room are on the West first floor. You don't mind being up here do you? I thought you'd like the privacy."

Dempsey shook his head as Harry said that it was fine. Thank god, he thought.

"Would you like anything else, I can unpack for you?" Katherine asked.

"That's not necessary, thank you," Harry said firmly. After pointing out the phone by the sitting room door, they were finally alone.

"How are you holding up?" Dempsey asked Harry as she fell into one of the two couches.

"I hate small talk at the best of times and doing so under pressure was awful," she sighed. "The drink helped I suppose."

"I can order some more?" He suggested but she shook her head.

"I'm going to wash the train away; that shower looked amazing," Harry picked up her handbag and he followed up her with their coats.

"I feel like I need to leave a trail of breadcrumbs so you can find me," Harry commented as she look around the bedroom and then experimentally bounced on the mattress.

"I could sleep on the couch downstairs," Dempsey suggested as she looked up, flushed and embarrassed at their proximity but he had to offer an 'out'.

"We should share a bed; when we had maids once upon a time, they would gossip."

"Gossip is money in this place," Dempsey agreed and began to sort through his things, finding his wash bag. There was another story in her words, but he let it be for another day.

Dinner was meant to be a sit down affair and he waited patiently for her to finish her shower. There was enough time. Outside was still cool but he stood in the air anyway, taking in a few deep breaths. He studied the view down a long lawned avenue, realising they must have arrived at a different side.

Harry appeared wrapped in a towel and he did his best not to look at the elegant shape of her legs and get lost in thoughts of what was beneath. Blushing, she explained; "I forgot my clean clothes…"

"I'll get myself cleaned up also, give you some space," Dempsey grabbed his bag and was grateful for the privacy of the bathroom.

He found her in the living room, wearing a black dress with thin straps, decorated with sequins, perfect for the occasion.

"Beautiful," He said truthfully and her nervous look dissipated at his words. He'd upped his game with an Armani belt and shirt and threaded through a cufflink.

"I can do that," Harry took the one for his right sleeve from him."It's the sort of thing a fiancee would do."

"Yeah," his mouth was dry as she moved closed to him and concentrated on the task. He wondered why such a simple act felt so intimate.

They got lost twice on the way to the dining room, ending up in a corridor with armour and another took them to an unused room with furniture covered in white sheets.

"Kinda weird but I keep thinking about my mom's home in Brooklyn and how you can't buy soul," Dempsey murmured.

Harry shivered beside him and nodded. "Must cost a lot to heat this place too!"

He immediately shrugged off his coat and draped it around her, "it's what a fiancee should do."

"Not in my past experience," a smile played on her mouth despite the clear sorrow in her words and he gave her hand a squeeze.

As it was she burst into a broad smile that became nervous, shared laughter at their predicament. She felt into his side and he caught her neatly. "Sorry! I'm a bit on edge."

"It's okay, no need to throw yourself at me, I'm a sure thing here," he grinned and kept his arm around her anyway.

Some logical thinking about where one would put a dining room helped them find their way to an elegant room with high ceilings, and a long table. A side board contained drinks and hot plates. Arlington stood beside a large fireplace, above it was the stuffed head of a long dead stag.

"Welcome," he said surprisingly warmly and proceeded to order around the waiting staff who had arrived laden with caviar, gazpacho and warm breads. Dempsey was full before they'd reached the main course.

Arlington cleared his plate and eyed them curiously, "How did you pair meet?"

Dempsey leaned forward and nudged Harry with his shoulder, "In a cafe in London. I had the worst chat-up line."

"What was that?" Arlington looked amused.

"She asked my name and I said it was whatever she wanted it to be."

"And you're still with him?" Arlington challenge, his eyes glinting with amusement and a little suspicion.

"I almost left," Harry smiled at Dempsey, "but he persuaded me to stay."

"And then what?"

"She proposed!" Dempsey joked and they were saved by Katherine and her staff who cleared the table.

Night had fallen when the meal was over. Arlington had entertained them with talk of past guests and was surprisingly clued-up about the nature to be found. He stood up. "Would you like a walk around the estate?"

"I'm going to fall into a food induced sleep," Harry confessed, "it was delicious, thank you."

"Of course, you had an early start," Arlington nodded, "get some rest and sleep in, you can call down for breakfast, I'll be working in my office for most of the day."

They smiled their thanks and headed up to their quarters, thankfully guided by a member of staff. Once inside, they flopped on the bed.

"I shan't fit into any clothes if we eat like that all week," Harry yawned, her hands over her eyes.

Dempsey took off his shoes; "Let's make it a long walk tomorrow."

She hummed in response and yawned again. He dropped down to the floor and eased off her heels and she watched him with a gentle smile as he set them neatly to one side.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he caught her eyeing him as he stood in boxers. "Does this bother you? I've packed some athletic pants."

She shook her head as she shuffled to the bathroom, "I'm too tired to care and it's probably good for me."

Dempsey wasn't sure what part was good for her, and hoped she meant him. When she returned, dressed in a simple white pair of pyjamas and looking younger without make-up, they agreed on a side of the vast bed.

"These sheets are so soft," Harry mumbled and then turned to face him, "I'm too tired to feel nervous about sharing a bed with a stranger."

He looked at her thoughtfully, unable to agree with himself if that was good or bad, "How about we share a secret each night?"

Dempsey held his breath wondering if she might answer. "When I was thirteen I had a huge crush on a gardener that my parents employed and I started to smoke to impress him."

He grinned, "You ever get caught?"

"He was only there for a month and had a thing about my sister, the one who is a nun. She barely noticed him. Smoking made me sick so I stopped very quickly." Harry smiled.

"Freshman year, Angie Clarkson let me feel under her shirt after a baseball game."

Harry laughed, "Did you get to second base?"

"Nah, it was a hard year." He chuckled.