Much thanks to Angie for the beta.

Chapter 5

Steele stood at the bottom of the elaborate staircase and stared up with a look of calculating chagrin. He wasn't quite as steady on his feet as he professed and he leaned heavily on the expertly crafted cane Laura'd insisted he use if he was going to be stubborn and not allow himself to be pushed around in a wheelchair. He had to admit it did give him an elegant stately look, while performing the very important function of keeping him upright.

He turned the full wattage of his smile, dimples and all, on her. "Might be fun to see the inside of a different room this evening. Test out another bed..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively knowing full well he'd never be able to follow through in the unlikely event she actually believed him.

She tilted her head and regarded him with silence and a speculative raised eyebrow.

Rather than admitting defeat, he'd figure a way up that staircase. Somehow. Male pride demanded it. Bloody overrode his common sense. "Nevermind."

"You don't have anything to prove, you know." Her voice was light, her eyes tender but it was a stubborn source of masculine pride that he make it up those steps.

He made it cautiously up the first two and was already winded. "I can make it."

Her voice came from directly behind him. Not the place he'd prefer her to be if he stumbled.

"Would it damage your dignity if I ask a Mikeline to follow us up?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "It might." And then it took his full concentration to put one sluggish foot in front of the other and make it up the staircase without help.

He melted onto the mattress with an exasperated, exhausted groan. He was more winded and in more pain than he really wanted to admit. But Laura was looking at him in that way she had. The one that told him that she knew he'd been wrong and she knew that he knew that she knew it. He might as well admit it.

"You were right."

Laura simply smiled and drew the blanket up over him. "I know."

"No need to rub it in."

Her voice was soft, soothing. "Never."

If he'd had the energy, he'd have questioned why she was being so uncharacteristically understanding. But he knew she'd dish out the 'I told you so's' as soon as he was well enough to take them. He caught her hand when she finished tucking him in. "Stay."

She pursed her lips and misunderstood. "You need rest."

He'd have laughed if it he wasn't so damn exhausted. "I can rest just fine with you here next to me."

She pinned him with a knowing look. "You're not well enough and you know it."

"Rest. Only." He stressed with a disdainful curl of his lip. "A nearly insurmountable challenge with a beauty such as yourself but I shall overcome with obstinate dedication." He favored her with his most brilliant smile, dimples and all. "I did listen, you know."

When she settled on the edge of the bed and brushed her fingers through his hair, he knew his plea had worked.

"Listening and obeying carry vastly different meanings in Remington Steele's immeasurable vocabulary."

As loathe as he was to admit it, making love to her really was the last thing on his mind. "We haven't slept in this bed together in the entire time we've been here."

"Sleep?" She settled an arm around his shoulders and he nuzzled his cheek against the soft swell of a well-covered breast. It was a testament to how far they'd come that she didn't lean away or try to stop him. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

He blinked up at her with heavily-lidded eyes. "Sadly, that is the only response my traitorous body will obey."

The soft lilt of her laugh was a balm to his aching body as she slowly extricated herself out of his embrace and slipped beneath the blanket on the other side of the bed.

Once comfortable, she gingerly threaded her fingers through his and shifted so that her head lay against his shoulder.

"That's all you get - for now."

His fingers lazily twirled up and down her arm and he brushed a gentle kiss into her hair. He could feel his body relax as his vision narrowed to a sliver of consciousness. Moments before sleep claimed him, he murmured a soft, "It's enough," and tightened his grip on her hand.

When he woke hours later, she was gone.

"I'm going crazy in here, Laura," an exasperated Steele said from the bed as Laura set a tray with a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. Her heart was racing. And not in a good way. Every time she walked up those stairs she was reminded of him lying in a pool of his own blood. Life seeping out of him with every beat of his heart.

They were leaving as soon as he was well enough to travel.

She'd book them into first class so he could recline. Maybe they could leave tomorrow.

"You're healing."

But he ignored her and continued on with his, less energetic than usual, tirade. "Crazy. Nuts. Trapped. Like in "The Poseidon Adventure. Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine , Red Buttons, 20th Century Fox. 1972."

Her lips twitched as she felt her melancholy mood lift with the mere mention of an old movie. More like his old self. Better. Healing. Jovial. "I don't think there are any bogs in Ireland big enough to sink the whole castle.

"Lauraaa."

She'd grown thick, immune skin over the years but there were some reactions his whining was always guaranteed to get out of her.

"Your incarceration will be over soon."

He shot her the most pathetic look she'd ever seen. So she broke down, balanced a hip on the edge of the bed and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

"Better?"

His eyes slid appraisingly down her well-clothed body before drawing her closer. "Marginally." He dropped a few light, teasing kisses along her cheek, forehead, eyelid, before she pulled away.

"No unneeded exertion," Laura chided when a long-fingered hand trailed down her neck.

His response was a firmly whispered, "It's needed, Laura. It's definitely needed."

She leaned into his arms again and tilted her neck, allowed his lips access to the sensitive skin. "I know," she whispered. Even in the early days of their acquaintance she couldn't remember feeling so - itchy.

She settled onto the bed and he grunted in pain when he tried shift to his side. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his chest and held him in place while she rolled over and molded her body against his uninjured side.

His lips were soft and gentle as they coaxed hers apart and they leisurely kissed until, with a reluctant sigh, she shifted away.

"Soon," she whispered when his eyes, darkened with growing passion, focused entirely on her face.

"Not soon enough," his voice was husky, deepened with a desire she felt as keenly as he.

Cane in hand, Remington and Laura settled into their first class seats. He'd consented to a wheelchair to the boarding gate but insisted the cane would do for the remainder of the walk. Once they reached their seats, he sank gracefully onto his and sighed. He didn't even bother to look at Laura. He was already far too familiar with the 'I told you so' expression.

Instead he kept his eyes closed and grinned when he felt her raise the arm rest and slip her hand into his. He turned his head and accepted a gentle kiss.

A flight attendant stopped by and asked about drinks.

Steele's eyes popped open with an energy he didn't quite feel. "Champagne, my good lass. Thank you. Thank you. We're celebrating."

Laura shook her head disapprovingly. One little glass wouldn't hurt.

"And what are we celebrating?"

"The end of our honeymoon, of course."

"Of course."

He could see the nuance was lost on her.

"The sooner we get home, the sooner I can -" He wiggled his eyebrows in the most disgustingly dirty tango he could manage. "Get back to my 'husbandly duties.'"

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and chuckled softly. "You have been very neglectful, Mr. Steele."

The heat in her tone was positively lascivious and he tugged gently at his collar, shifted restlessly in his seat. "Oh, I intend to rectify that just as soon as-"

"The doctor clears you for - vigorous activity?"

He wasn't sure how she could look so innocent but act so appealingly salacious. "Oh it will be vigorous. Very vigorous. I assure you."

Despite a childish eagerness at the thought of finally sharing his Rossmore apartment's large bed, Laura had more than a few misgivings about her decision to come home so soon after her husband's release from the hospital.

As much as he'd tried to hide it behind wandering fingers and innuendo-laced words, she could see the exhaustion etched into his ashen face. He'd been unusually quiet for hours now and she knew, despite her best efforts, that he hadn't been comfortable in the spacious first class seat. She even regretted allowing him his traditional champagne toast.

Beside them, Fred held their bags, and hung back to let them precede him as the elevator door swished open at the fifth floor.

Just as they stepped out, the stiff-backed Gladys Lynch glanced up at them from where she stood in front of apartment A.

Laura's jaw tightened and she fought the urge to grind her teeth as they stepped out of the elevator and approached. She already had her key out and in the lock before her husband seemed to notice their uninvited guest.

Before she could force a smile on her face and greet their guest, her husband beat her to it. "Always good to see you, Ms. Lynch!"

"I doubt that."

Laura shoved open the door and waved Fred inside where he promptly deposited the bags.

"Thank you, Fred. I'll see you tomorrow."

Fred nodded and Laura was envious of his ability to escape.

"Your secretary mentioned you'd be arriving today so I wanted to get a jump start on the interview."

Laura's smile tightened. "I'll have to – thank Mildred for her attention to detail."

"What interview?" Steele asked as Laura guided him inside to the couch.

"Perhaps your secretary didn't tell you that I've been trying to set up an appointment for weeks. But you'd - mysteriously disappeared."

She checked him over but he waved her off with a very unsteady hand. "My husband was shot while on our honeymoon. Answering a summons from the INS was the last thing on my mind."

"Clearly."

Laura's ire grew. "If you'd like to look around, you'll find the place unchanged from the last time you were here. We haven't been home in weeks."

"But we have all kinds of additions to make to the place," Steele said quickly, his jovial smile not reaching his eyes when he looked at her for confirmation. "There's plenty of room for those little crystals you like so much, darling, and that foamy bubble bath." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "There's even space for your razor in the soap dish."

"Sounds like the makings of a perfectly manufactured picture of domestic bliss."

Laura settled so close to him on the couch that their thighs touched. And when she clasped their joined hands in her lap, she wasn't surprised to feel his grip weaker than normal.

Through gritted teeth, Laura asked, "What can we do for you today, Ms. Lynch? We've just come off a very long flight and as you can see my husband is exhausted." She silenced his attempted protest with a firm look.

Lynch barreled on, uncaring. "The investigation of your questionable marriage is ongoing and as such you will be required to meet with me on a regular basis before a resolution to your case can be determined."

"Of course. Of course." Steele said a bit too quickly for Laura's comfort. "We pride ourselves in working splendidly with all government agencies."

"I understand you had three honeymoons?" Lynch asked, an air of disbelief in her tone. "Mexico, London and - Ireland?"

"Our original intent was to honeymoon in Mexico but we got caught up in a case, solved it and then came straight home." Laura answered as succinctly as possible.

"And you took one photo." Lynch held it up by the dog-eared corner.

"The case interrupted our honeymoon bliss," Steele said as his grip on Laura's hand tightened.

"And London?"

"Another case. Treason. Spies. The CIA. Scotland Yard. KGB. All very hush hush."

"And still no photos."

The woman was like a pit bull with a bone.

"And then Ireland."

"I inherited a castle, you see." His exhausted smile was genuine, proud. "And we trotted off to tour my new holdings."

Laura picked up from where he left off. "From London we traveled to Ireland - to continue our interrupted honeymoon."

"And the case followed us," he added with a forced smile.

"Not a single photo."

"Mr. S - Remington was shot before we had a chance to enjoy what remained of our honeymoon."

"Yes I have that in the report I received from your secretary when you were - unreachable." She held up a disconcertingly thick file. "And do you intend on a fourth honeymoon?"

Steele's grip on her hand tightened again and she could feel his tightly controlled temper begin to fray. "We plan to honeymoon right here. Safer, you see."

Laura turned her nose up, a defiant look in her eyes. "And those are photos not appropriate to share."

With as exhausted as he appeared, she was impressed that he managed to affect a lascivious smirk.

"I see."

The way his fingers loosened to caress the skin on the back of her hand was positively indecent. "We've had a round of nasty luck, 'ol girl but we intend to make up for it, don't we?" His lips skimmed across her cheek. He was wiped and she knew it. Knew by his weak grip on her hands and the way his mouth lingered unmoving a bit too long against her cheek.

Lynch's mouth flattened into a firm line and she clasped her hands atop the closed folder. "Your marriage is a fake. All evidence I have points to that fact. And yet you still insist on perpetrating this farce?"

Laura's posture changed and her eyes hardened. Forget his temper. Hers had reached the boiling point. How dare this woman ambush them the moment they landed on US soil? She was a citizen of the United States and didn't deserve to be treated like this. She'd file a complaint when she'd had a chance to clear her head. But first, the bulldog needed to be silenced, once and for all.

"Ms. Lynch, I love my husband. And he loves me. We may not have exactly had a conventional wedding - or honeymoon, but it doesn't make those facts any less true."

Stony silence descended and Laura narrowed her eyes; a dare that Ms. Lynch decided was wise to ignore. She stood suddenly, gathered her paperwork, and glared at the couple. "I will set up another interview in a month's time. Please take great care to attend."

"We'll be sure to do that." Laura leapt off the couch and swung open the door so the woman could exit. It was all she could do not to slam it behind her.

When Laura returned, she noticed her husband's entire body had relaxed into the cushions and his head lay against the backrest. Her heart ached for him so she fetched a glass of water and returned with some pills. When she dropped them into his hand, his head lolled toward her. He didn't even attempt to smile.

"Are you sure we can't just retire to a remote island in the middle of no where?" He took her hand, brushed a kiss across it. "Live out an uninterruptible honeymoon. You. Me. Clear blue skies. Exclusive beach." His eyes turned intense for a split second. "And nothing else."

Laura sat down beside him. "Other than an occasional wire where we send the indomitable Gladys Lynch her damned pictures."

He twined his fingers through her hair and drew her around to face him. He nipped gently at her lips, cheek, jaw, neck, before hovering once more over her mouth. "Those pictures are for my eyes only, luv."

She returned his teasing grin with one of her own. "They better be."

He leaned back against the couch with a wince and drew her back against him. "So what is this about a new case?"

"We'll talk about it later." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"I only wish I had the energy to take advantage of your eagerness."

Steele lay propped up in the king size bed, forlornly staring at the empty space beside him. If he hadn't been so knackered by the long flight from Ireland and Gladys Lynch's ill timed visit, they might have had a memorable first night in this bed.

Instead, he'd fallen asleep before his head hit the pillow. And when he'd woken, his always dutiful wife had already risen for the day.

"Laura?!"

She popped her head out of the bathroom, tendrils of damp hair framing her face. "What is it?"

He scowled at the robe that covered nearly every inch of her freshly scrubbed skin. That it was his robe mollified him a bit. "I'm going in with you."

She rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the bathroom. He tried to get out of bed but winced when stitches and underused muscles pulled uncomfortably. When he finally dragged himself up he rolled his eyes and started shedding clothes, letting them fall wherever he dropped them. Clad in just his underwear, he slid open the closet and selected his wardrobe for the day.

Fresh steam rolled out of the bathroom as Laura exited, fully dressed, and gave him a surprised once over. "You need to rest."

He defensively crossed his arms. "I've never been so eager to get out of bed in my life."

"I'll leave some paperwork on the table if you're that determined to-"

He pinned her with a look. "I'm not an invalid."

"I didn't say you were."

"So then you can wait while I wash up and join you." He walked as steadily into the bathroom as he could manage.

It took far longer than he anticipated to bathe and he fully expected to find her gone when he exited the bathroom buttoning a deep blue dress shirt.

She was gone but so was the trail of clothing he'd left on the floor in his haste to get to the shower. With a raised eyebrow, he exited the bedroom to find her sitting at the dining room table, a freshly delivered breakfast of bagels, donuts and tea waiting for him while she read the morning paper.

He left his shirt unbuttoned, slid his fingers around her neck and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. "I'm much better, you know."

She brushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead and shifted so that his mouth met hers. After a few slow, languid kisses, she pulled away. "Doctor's orders, Mr. Steele."

The woman was torturing him. Plain and simple. "You really insist on me getting a doctor's note to make love to my wife?"

Her eyes turned somber. "You almost died."

He shifted restlessly. His chest wasn't the only thing that ached. "I'm most definitely not dead."

She stood, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm probably the only man in the world who has been married for a month and still hasn't-"

Her mouth on his neck silenced his protest.

"If you're very good today, maybe we'll – experiment tonight."

His mouth went dry as she smiled at him in a delightfully rebellious way.

With two eyes on this new case instead of one, he was confident it would be resolved before nightfall. Then he could spend all night eagerly exploring his wife's newly uninhibited side.

TBC

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