A/N: another apology for the delay, but at least I got something written. The quality is another matter.

Part 26

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"You went on and on about how you love me so much you'd go to the ends of the Earth and back again," Donna lied.

Roderick raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you sure it was me, and not perhaps John?" he smoothly disagreed. "That really isn't my style."

"It is when you're drunk," she countered. "And by the sound of it I'm the only one that hasn't been added to your list of women you've slept with." She pretended to think for a few seconds, making a show of it. "I'm amazingly okay about that, by the way. Relieved, almost."

"Ha bloody ha," he griped. "You're over me; I get the picture, Donna."

"Finally!" she praised. "Hallelujah! Talking of pictures, it's a terrible shame I didn't take a picture of you as you laid comatose on the sofa. But I did find a hunky man to help you up the stairs at 4am."

"Who…?" His face was a study in confusion, his lips moving as each question occurred to him. "A man? What man? I don't remember that."

Should she tell, or should she keep him guessing? Donna couldn't keep the smirk from her face.

"Did this same man remove my clothing?" Roderick wondered; half hoping it was true. As it was, he couldn't fail to notice that John's jeans and his jacket, plus of course his socks, had been removed. "I'm terribly sorry for turfing you out of your bed."

"No problem," she trilled. "It's not my bed; it's Jocasta's. That's another old fantasy of yours to tick off the list."

Inevitably he scowled. "You are enjoying my predicament far too much."

"Oh I'm sure I could try harder," she retorted. "Just give me a minute or two." Slowly backing away from the bed, she informed him, "William will be here soon to pick you up, so you'd better get your arse in gear pronto. There's tea and toast waiting in the kitchen for you. And while I'm throwing advice in your direction, I think you'd better replace John's stuff with completely new bits when you get home to London."

Why did she amuse him so? He wished he knew, but he loved her for it. "I'll be down shortly. Unless you had a particular need to see me get dressed?" he teased as she disappeared through the doorway.

"Nah mate! I had the joy of seeing you stripped so I've had my quota of excitement for the day."

Hearing her descend the staircase, he allowed himself to chuckle before regret hit him. Why had he been so mean to her? All she'd done was support and entertain him, even now. Pulling on the nearby jeans, he quietly resolved to try his hardest to make it up to her for every slight he had ever thrown her way. He would be the best potential brother-in-law ever.

William had turned up on the doorstep ten minutes later, suggesting that Mr Roderick hurry up as they had a long journey back. Roderick gulped down his slice of toast and cup of tea before turning his grateful attention to both Jocasta and Donna. Giving them each a brief hug, he proclaimed, "I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality and kindness. It has been a delightful experience."

Donna saw him to the door. "Have a safe journey, Roddy," she said, giving the rear seat of his car a sympathetic glance. Mr Peterson glared out of the window, looking most displeased.

He followed her gaze. "Fortunately I have some paperwork that needs re-reading," he whispered conspiratorially. "It is going to be a long journey."

"Bye then! Have fun," she went to call out, only to find herself being engulfed by a sincere hug and a kiss planted on her cheek. It shook her quite a bit, to be honest.

"Until next time," he concluded as he released his hold and strode confidently towards the waiting car.

With a small wave he was gone, and Donna could breathe a sigh of relief. Turning in the entranceway, she headed back towards normality and work, whilst wondering what the aftermath of the long weekend would be.

It was with excitement that Donna sat down at her computer terminal. Today was the start of a completely new Jocasta Newberry book, and she could hardly wait to get started. Flexing her fingers, she donned the audio headset and began to type the first draft of the first page.

"Clouds of the West Wind," she heard Jocasta's voice clearly say. "Chapter one. The darkness of the sky seemed to thin itself out as she sat," Jocasta continued the opening of her tale.

All was going well as Donna typed, happily anticipating the next section, right up to the point that the heroine was described. It was then that she flinched and went in search of Jocasta herself.

"What is it, dear?" Jocasta asked from her comfy seat in her armchair, her reading glasses held halfway to her eyes. "You look perplexed."

"Don't try and tell me that Dora having long, wavy, ginger hair is a pure coincidence, because I won't believe you."

"Ah," Jocasta muttered in understanding. "Well, you did say I could use you as a source. Whereabouts have you got up to?"

"I may have done, since I couldn't stop you, but this is a whole alternate universe of my life," Donna complained. "So far Dora the Explorer has looked at the sky, moped about for a bit, gone on about her village and then ridden in a horse drawn carriage to her new employment at the big house, leaving behind her poor widowed mother. No doubt any moment now she will get to meet the love interest." She waited for a faint confirming nod. "Come on then, what's John's name in this romantic tale and who is he exactly?"

"George Armstrong-Jones, gentleman farmer," Jocasta defiantly supplied, "son of Sir Stanley Armstrong-Jones, and younger brother to the scoundrel Richard Armstrong-Jones who jilted Dora at the altar."

Donna raised an eyebrow in interest. "Hmm. I must admit that I'm intrigued now and want to find out how else you've nicked my life."

"It is merely artistic licence," Jocasta defended herself. "All writers do it to some degree."

"I'm sure they do," Donna agreed. "And is it likely to be another bodice ripper, like the one we've just delivered? Because I'm expecting it to be."

Jocasta smiled with pleasure. "It is my trademark genre. Do you want to see the costume I envisage you in?"

"Oooh, yes please!" Donna squealed with excitement. "Just don't make it pink. It'd clash with my hair something chronic."

She was led to Jocasta's reference folder, where several sheets of paper were pulled. "This is you, dear," Jocasta informed her, pointing to a low cut mid brown empress line dress with an inset white bodice.

"It's very... revealing," Donna remarked as she viewed it with some admiration, and envy. It wasn't as if she felt she could get away with such an outfit. "What about this George? What does he wear?"

There was more fumbling in the folder, then Jocasta produced another set of photos. "I was thinking of this."

A few pictures of Robin Ellis as Ross Poldark were handed over for Donna to peruse. "Now that I like!" she exclaimed. "The high winged collar and cravat are a good look together. Very handsome."

"I thought so." Jocasta visibly preened. "Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

"No, I don't think so; so I'll get back to my typing right away. We can't delay Dora meeting gorgeous George, can we?" Using a happy skip, Donna made her way back to her desk and returned to work, hungry to know how her personal story had been changed.

When her phone rang lunchtime she was in a good mood.

"Hello John. How's your day going? Did you manage to grab any sleep?"

"I'm er having a few problems, to be honest," he admitted in a despondent tone.

"Why's that? I don't like the sound of that. Won't I see you later?"

"Probably not. I clean forgot that I've been invited for Christmas drinks with the faculty tonight."

"Oh dear! Will it be that bad for you?"

"No, that isn't it. I... I came back to see you this morning"

"Why didn't you come in?"

"I saw you, with our Ricky, on the doorstep..."

"And?"

"You looked rather friendly. Too friendly"

"Don't talk wet!" she protested. "He was just trying to be sweet, that's all."

"Donna, I know what I saw!"

"Where's all this coming from? I told you, I'm over him. There really is nothing to worry about. Why would I want him when I can have you?" she argued.

"Because..." The hurt words stuck in his throat.

"John," she began to reassure him, speaking softly, "I am not some little girl who wants to manipulate you. If I still felt that way about him I would have told you long before now. Instead, there's this sexy farmer that has caught my eye, who visits me to hold me in the night and is really good in bed. Why on Earth would I give him up?"

She could almost hear the blush creep over his face.

"I'm being daft. Sorry. But after all that business with Ricky before…"

"I know, I understand; but we're adults who are capable of talking these things through. It's you I want, you silly sausage," she said affectionately. "Come and have lunch with me tomorrow, and tell me all about your evening of debauchery."

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. "Okay, but I'll miss you tonight."

"And I'll miss you, but you need a night off from me."

"If you say so; although I could do with a full night's sleep."

"That's what I meant," she maintained. "No doubt you were thinking of something else."

"You mean the sex? No, that hadn't entered my mind at all," he countered.

"Liar! But I love you for it." With that she blew a kiss down the phone. "See you tomorrow lunchtime."

"Love you too, gorgeous! See you then." John ended the phone call feeling much better, and only a modicum of jealousy. He knew she wouldn't lie to him, and that was all that mattered despite his new found possessiveness.

The later drunken call was quite a surprise; Donna had been expecting a late night call from John but this exceeded expectation for a number reasons. Cautiously, she answered it.

"Hello, babe!" John trilled down the phone.

Babe? Since when was that a name to use? "Are you okay?" she hesitantly asked him.

"Nnn-I'm fine. Just thought I'd give my woman a little late night call."

"John, you're drunk," she then accused him. "I thought you didn't normally indulge during the week."

"I don't," he readily agreed, "but some arse laced my cranberry juice with some vodka; and I drank a load before I realised."

That meant he hadn't been safe to drive. "Then how did you get home?"

He tenderly crooned, "Aw, you're worried about your poochy woochy."

She held the phone away from her ear at this point to wonder where the heck that one had come from! Obviously he was just as gushy in drink as Roderick was.

"I got a lift from Martha," he continued. "So I'm alright."

In surprise, she asked, "Martha? You never said she'd be there."

"Yep," he declared, carefully popping the 'p'. "She was there. Couldn't wait to get me on her own."

"Good to hear you being so modest," Donna mocked. "I bet your mum loved you rolling up on her doorstep drunk."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." He giggled with glee. "Mum won't see me until tomorrow night. I texted her to say I'm sleeping here."

"And where exactly is here?" she testily queried.

"Martha's, of course! Keep up, love," he grumbled. "So I thought of you," he then purred, "in your bed, all alone without me… Oh Donna! I want to be with you, right now, right this second."

"You'll see me tomorrow," she promised.

"Yes, but it's not enough," he groused. "We should be together every night, in our own bed. I know; when all this farm business is sorted out, marry me, babe!"

"No" she instantly answered.