Kind of an interlude chapter before the real ball gets rolling. :)
Ten:
Moving Quickly
Harry watched Ruth finishing up her nightly bedtime routine and smiled a little. How familiar the small habits were even after only a few days together. She loved a lotion that smelled of tangerines and sugar, same as she had before; it was still one of the few things the same as when they'd been 'dating' before.
"The next few weeks will be complicated," she said quietly. "With starting a new job, traveling from office to office, and getting Portia back into school. I'm going to be in New York when you have to go back to London – I don't know how we're going to manage to take care of her, Harry. I can't just drag Portia around with me, and it's not fair to ask Catherine to take her for two weeks while I go traipsing around the world…"
"Portia can come with me," Harry said, pulling the covers up a bit more over his waist. "And, since you'll be traveling from office to office, and we'll be in London anyway, we can meet up. You can stay at mine, and then you can head on and Portia and I will come back and get all of her things for school." He paused, keenly aware that he'd crossed a line back into 'boss' territory. "I mean, that would be the most practical way of going about things, but it would require you to place a degree of trust in my abilities to take care of our daughter."
"I… I can't ask you to –"
"Ruth," he said softly, "I will not take her and run away into the night. I am her father. You and I are getting married. It's simply the most convenient arrangement."
"Yes, but…" Ruth paused, then sighed. "I've always worried. Even when she's just next door. It's not possible for me to let go of that, Harry. I don't know that I can just… let you take her." Her hands were moving faster and faster as she nervously rubbed lotion into her skin.
Years of running and hiding had permanently scarred her emotionally, and Harry could see how hard it was for her to try to hide from him how panicked she was. He tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, taking the few steps to her side. He gently stilled her hands, holding them in his own. "My love," he said patiently, "I promise that I will allow no harm to come to our Portia, as much as it is in my power to do so. You will be able to call at any time and see how we are, to reassure yourself that all is well. And I promise, no wild parties or slumming it."
"I can't imagine you slumming," she said, laughing a little, but he could tell she was on the verge of tears. "You'll probably have her at Buck House, eating fairy cakes with the bloody Queen."
He smiled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Probably not," he murmured. "But don't you think she deserves to meet her grandmother and grandfather, at least? Your mum and my dad?"
"My mum thinks I'm dead," Ruth said, shaking her head.
"No, I told her the truth. That you were forced into exile and I had no clue where you were," Harry said softly. "We mourned you together in public and hoped in private that you were still alive."
"You'll take her… to meet my mum?" Ruth asked quietly.
"Of course," Harry said, nodding. "And we can meet with Elizabeth somewhere private so you can see her, as well. I think she'd like that more than you can possibly know, Ruth." He stroked her cheek very gently. "Will you trust me enough to watch out for our daughter?"
She hesitated, then whispered, "Yes."
"Good," he said with a smile. "Now, I've got to remember that she's never had Marmite and that I shouldn't let her near Sarah at the breakfast table, or she's likely to get a mouthful."
"No, best stick to jam," Ruth advised. "Can you cope with a ten year old on a flight that long?"
"Love, I've faced down the Prime Minister and not blinked. I believe I can handle a slip of a girl for a few days by myself."
"Right," Ruth said quietly. "Good thing I'll only be a phonecall away, then."
Harry paused. "Yes, it is a good thing," he agreed. "And Skype is a lovely technology, when one wants to be a bit naughty with so much space between…"
"Harry," she scolded softly, "not everything is about sex."
He smiled a little. She had no idea, did she? "No," he agreed, "it's not."
She gave him a light kiss and murmured, "We should get some sleep. I've got to go to Cartier tomorrow and see about jewelry –"
"Oh, funny you should mention jewelry," he said. "Hold that thought."
"Harry, you didn't…"
He rolled his eyes and sighed, crossing to the dresser and retrieving the jewelry bag. "I saw these earrings and thought you might fancy them," he said softly, presenting her with the box. "No pressure, but you might care to wear them Sunday."
Ruth opened the box and gasped. "Harry!" She held up one of the cascading intricate diamond and platinum earrings and looked in the mirror. "Oh my god, seriously?"
"Very seriously, m'lady," he said softly. "It would please my greatly if my lady wife would wear her finery on Sunday evening. They'll land you on the best jewels list at least."
"What else have you in that bag of yours?" Ruth asked, pushing past him before he could stop her. Once her hand was in the bag, all bets were off, and he didn't even bother trying. She came up with his wedding band, first – a simple circlet of thin, brushed titanium. It was a far cry from the horrid gold bands that Jane had insisted on, and he was proud that he'd come far enough in life to afford the best. And then she was opening her wedding band, and staring at it in silence. "You… you can't be serious," she whispered.
"Only the best for you, Ruth," he murmured.
Ruth pulled the ring out and placed it on her finger, her eyes lighting up in a mix of wonder and shock as the seven carats of emerald cut diamonds sparkled away on her finger like they belonged there. And they did – so much so. The ring was a promise that he would love her and care for her, and in the end, if there was nothing else to hock, she would always have that damned ring.
"I love you, and cherish you, and I want you to know how much every day when you see your rings," Harry said quietly. "I never want you to feel as though I'm taking you for granted, Ruth. Not anymore. Maybe in the past, but… eleven years apart, and I'm a different man."
"You are," she agreed. "But you're still my Harry." She was still admiring the ring. "You're… you're… god, you're something else, Harry Pearce."
"And you are my everything," he said gently.
If Los Angeles in July was sweltering, Las Vegas was positively like the fires of Hell unleashed. By the time they got to the hotel, despite the air conditioning, and it only being a fifteen minute drive, they were both uncomfortably sweaty – and it was only ten in the morning. God only knew how bedraggled they would look at three when they were married in the hotel's chapel.
Ruth was nervous, sick to her stomach, but she refused to let Harry see that. She wanted him to think her calm, cool, collected, the perfect Lady Pearce to be on his arm forever more. She didn't want him to think that she was a nervous flake like she'd been when they'd first met.
He got them checked in and said, "Love, why don't we go change clothes and go for a dip in the pool? It will certainly do well to cool us down."
"God, no," Ruth sighed. "It's already entirely too hot for that – we'll burn to a crisp."
"Then what would you like to do?" he inquired.
"We should go eat, wander around, go shopping… maybe split a bottle of wine and be thankful Cate agreed to look after Portia?"
He smiled and held her hand as they waited for the elevator to take them to their suite. "I had to bribe her, you know," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yes, I had to promise to bring a tin of those rhubarb crumble sweets she enjoys from Harrods when Portia and I return," he said with a chuckle. "I'm afraid I know my children's weaknesses and will exploit them for personal gain. Though, I'm still trying to figure out how to use Portia's love of strawberry jam against her in a court of law."
Ruth gave him a kiss and leaned into his arms. "I love you."
They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon wandering from casino to casino, shopping and stopping to play a few hands of Blackjack. Lunch was at an Indian restaurant that left them both saddened by the state of Americanized curry, and about two, they went back to the hotel to get dressed for their wedding.
"Are you nervous?" Harry asked as he puttered around the bathroom in his trunks and dress shirt, trying to decide which tie he wanted to wear.
"Yes," she said very quietly, slipping into her teal wrap dress and tying it off. "But only because I'm scared you're going to come to your senses and leave me at the altar."
"Never," he said. "We've spent too many years apart for me to contemplate not having you in my life now. And in less than an hour, you'll be stuck with me."
"I can think of worse things," she murmured.
"Yes," Harry agreed. "Like being shot. Or having a heart attack like event."
"God, don't even joke!" She slipped into her heels and watched him finish getting dressed. "Harry, you need to hurry or we'll be late."
The service itself was simple and brief, but once it was over, there was no doubt in anyone's mind at all that Sir Harry and Lady Janet Pearce were the happiest newlywed couple of the day. It was plain to see in the way they adored one another.
This time, the tub was definitely big enough for two.
Ruth began to contemplate bathroom renovations at home.
Harry was just chuffed that he'd finally bagged the girl!
"Yay, you're home!" Portia squealed excitedly when they stepped through into Catherine's living room. She all but flung herself at her parents, laughing and all smiles. "Are you married now? Does that mean mom and I get to go to London with you, dad?"
"Maybe," Harry said, giving her a big hug. "Did you behave for Cate?"
"I did," Portia replied.
"Good – I'm glad," he said. "Now, I'd like to hear what you all did while we were gone."
"We played video games," Charlie said. "We're really good at MarioKart, grandpa."
Portia released Harry and wrapped her arms around Ruth. "I missed you, mommy," she whispered.
"I missed you, too, love," Ruth said softly. "Now, how about we go home and decide what to have for dinner?"
"Can we have spaghetti?" Portia asked hopefully.
"Can we come over if you have spaghetti, Janet?" Gracie asked.
"I don't see why not, if it's okay with your mum," Ruth replied.
"Are you our granny now?" Charlie asked. "I mean, should we call you granny?"
"Only if you want to," Ruth said gently. "If you want to call me Janet, that's okay, too – I don't want you to be pressured one way or the other."
"Okay," Charlie said. "Can we have spaghetti at Janet's house, mom?"
Catherine smiled. "Sure… if it's okay with your grandpa and Janet."
"Absolutely," Harry said. "We should have a lovely family dinner tonight…"
"And slurp lots of noodles!" Gracie giggled.
"Grandpa slurps his noodles the best," Charlie said.
"Harry!" Ruth scolded.
"Only Japanese noodles," he sighed. "It's a sign of good manners."
"Let's go home and start dinner," Ruth said. "And then we can tell Portia about our plans next week."
"What plans?" Portia asked.
"Never you mind till we get home," Harry said gruffly, but with affection in his tone. "Let's go, little miss."
"Can I get a piggyback ride?" Portia asked.
Harry sighed, but acquiesced, allowing his petite princess up onto his back. "All right, homeward bound," he said, already out of breath. "I'm too old for this."
Ruth was too busy taking a picture of her two favorite people in all the world, and grinning at the infectious smiles on their lips and the happiness in their eyes as they adjourned home.
END PART TEN