June 1990 – 2 years, 7 months old
Olivia was snugly secured in her father's arm as he and Laura approached the stairs which led to the mammoth front doors of Ashford Castle, Terrence O'Riley, principal chauffer for Ashford Castle, following up in the rear, arms laden with luggage.
"It's Snow White's house, Da!" Livvie exclaimed, her blue eyes rounded as she took in the castle before them.
"Not quite, a stór, though I imagine she'd fancy living here should it be," he answered, laughter weaving through his words, as the couple climbed the stairs. "This, in fact, is one of our homes." Mickeline swung open the doors, having seen the car arrive.
"Is I a princess, Da?" she asked, laying a hand on both her father's cheeks, to be certain he was paying attention.
"'Am I a princess', baby'" Laura corrected gently. "And no, you're not…" she glanced sideways at her husband "…Although there are times your Da fancies himself a king." Livvie's eyes grew all the wider at her mother's announcement.
"Da's a king?" she asked, drawing out each word in awe.
"Only insomuch as he treats your mother like a queen," he answered, as he captured Laura's hand and brought it to his mouth, whispering his lips across her knuckles, his bright blue eyes focused intently upon her. He barked a laugh as she rolled her eyes heavenward.
"Ha!" she proclaimed, the single word a clear indictment of his claim. Having overheard the last of the conversation, Mickeline concealed a laugh of his own with a discrete cough.
"Yer Lordship, Yer Ladyship, tis a true pleasure ta 'ave ye in residence once more," he greeted. Remington set Livvie on her feet and accepted Mickeline's offered hand.
"You're looking well, Mickeline," Remington complimented as they exchanged handshakes. "It would seem the role of resort manager agrees with you."
"That it does, Yer Lordship." Mickeline's eyes settled on Livvie when Remington set her on her feet to help Laura off with her coat. "And who 'ave ye brought with ye? Surely, this can't be our Little Lady, fer tis a young lady we 'ave 'ere." Livvie tilted her head to the side and studied the strange man before her.
"I'm Olivia," she finally pronounced.
"Ahh, then indeed tis ye. Grown like a weed, 'have ye?" He playfully bowed before her. "Tis our great pleasure to 'ave ye 'ere Lady Olivia." She giggled, finding great amusement in his speech and the courtly gesture. "Shall I see ye ta yer rooms, Yer Lordship, Yer Ladyship?"
"By all means, lead the way," Remington answered for the pair, gesticulating grandly. Laura gnashed her teeth together. If the history of their visits to Ashford were any indication, a couple days would need to pass before Remington ceased reveling in the stately treatment both his title and ownership of the castle bestowed upon him. And in the meantime, the puffed out chest and air of superiority would reign.
The staff had, for the second time in the last three visits, prepared a surprise for the Steele family: Livvie's room had been revamped, the crib replaced by a twin, four poster bed, replete with pink canopy, and a gorgeous, white, eyelet, goose down comforter. Nestled amongst the pillows of the bed, awaiting the arrival of the Little Lady, a dark haired, blue eyed, rosy cheeked doll, dressed in a bonnet and dress made from hand sewn lace.
"You and the staff have outdone yourselves again, Mickeline," Laura praised, as Olivia gasped upon seeing the doll. "Thank you." Olivia scrambled up on the bed, and plucked the doll from its little haven.
"For me?" she asked, hopefully.
"Tis indeed fer ye, Lady Olivia," Mickeline confirmed with another bow, that sent Olivia's laughter wafting through the air.
"He's funny, Mommy," Livvie proclaimed, turning around and wriggling down off the bed. "He didded this…" she executed a bow in imitation of Mickeline, "Liked in my princess movie."
"'He did this,'" her mother automatically corrected. "What do you say to him for giving you the doll and a beautiful room, Livvie?" Laura coaxed. Livvie grinned up at the man.
"Thank you."
"Yer quite welcome, Lady Olivia. Twas a pleasure, I assure ye."
"Livvie, stay here and play with your doll while Mommy and Da go unpack in their room," Laura instructed.
"Okay, Mommy." Out of habit, Remington turned on the baby monitor, still taking up its position on the nightstand, and the couple left the room.
By the time they arrived in the master suite, all their luggage had been delivered, and stood stacked in the center of the room. With a sigh, Laura reached for the first of the cases to begin unpacking, then let out a screech as she found herself swung off her feet.
"What are you doing?" she demanded to know around her helpless laughter.
"If I recall correctly, Mrs. Steele," Remington answered, blue eyes twinkling bright, as he carried her across the room towards the bed, "We've a baby to make, and where better for it to happen than here, hmmmm?" He lay her on the bed then stretched out atop her, resting upon his elbows as he looked down at her. Her hand skimmed up his arm, over his shoulder, and her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Ye sweet talkin' Irish man," she answered, in a playful imitation of an Irish accent, "Is it some lovin' ye be lookin' fer then?'" A wide smile spread across his face, then with a touch of the tips of his fingers to her cheek, he grew serious.
"Here? With you?" He leaned down, allowed his lips to hover mere millimeters from her own, then whispered, "Always." His lips teased, caressed hers, until she squirmed beneath him, the quiescent desire for the man that always hummed beneath of the surface of her skin coming to life. Still, she leaned her head back, parting their lips, to look towards the door.
"What about Olivia?" He bent his head to scatter soft kisses, gentle nips along her jaw and neck.
"A new room, new doll? She'll be occupied at least an hour," he hummed. With a pair of fingers against her jaw, he turned her to face him again, immediately claiming his lips for his own. Her lips parted willingly and he eased his tongue inside, to explore, taste, to stroke her own. With a moan low in her throat, her hands caressed his back, before moving to his shoulders shoving at his suit's jacket. He gladly shed it, allowing it to drop carelessly to the floor, his lips never leaving hers. She reached for his tie, began loosening it when…
"Da!" Olivia's voice simultaneously traveled over the monitor and through the hallways, as she tried to discover where her parents had gotten off to. "Da! Where is you? Mommy?" Laura's arms dropped to the bed, and she laughed, with frustration, against his lips. With a groan of dismay, he reared back his head and looked disbelievingly towards the bedroom door.
"Fatherhood calls, Mr. Steele," Laura observed, breathlessly.
Reluctantly, he eased himself away from his wife's tempting little body, and off the bed. Then, with a final look of dismay at Laura, her chest heaving where she still lay, he tightened his tie as he left the room to answer his daughter's bidding.
The staff of Ashford Castle, always taken with the child of the Earl and Countess of Claridge, were left positively bedazzle by her this stay. Inevitably, when a member of the staff saw the Little Lady in a hallway or room, that person would bow or curtsy, as their gender dictated, in order to lure a joyous laugh from the blue eyed, raven haired little gamin. By the end of the second day, each bow or curtsy would be matched by a curtsy of Olivia's own.
Much like her father, Livvie soaked up the fawning, the adulation making her all the more charming in return. In no time, she had the staff wrapped around her little finger, they becoming her playmates during games of hide-n-seek, ring-around-the-rosie, and the castle's own rendition of marco polo. It wasn't uncommon for Remington and Laura to go hours without seeing hide nor hair of their child, although her sing-song voice and melodious laugh could be heard throughout the castle, assuring she was in good hands.
They put the time alone to good, and very pleasurable, use: Taking long walks, attending to castle business… and making love, the last perhaps the most productive of all.
For Ashford Castle, long remembered as the place where they'd finally let down their walls and crossed that line, was also the place where their second child was conceived.