Author's note: I know, it's been forever since I updated! I'm sorry for the delay, but I've had a very busy time at work, and honestly, I was quite out of inspiration.

So a HUGE thank you to Izzyandlouie for giving me the idea for this story! I hope you like it :)

Enjoy! And please review! :)

Something was going on, she could just feel it. Jack had been very secretive the last few days, about the case he'd been working on. It wasn't a murder, she knew, because she would have heard of it somehow and found a way to insinuate herself into the investigation. It was something else entirely, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him to talk. And, honestly, that annoyed her to no end. She was usually able to sway him in some way or other. But not this time, which told her that this was a big case, and made her all the more eager to be in on the action.
But Jack remained stubbornly silent under her questioning. She had tried to work on Hugh, but though he became very red and stuttering every time she tried, he stayed staunchly, and irritatingly, loyal to his Inspector's cause. And then the moment came when Jack told her he'd be gone for a while.
She frowned at him. 'How long is a while?'
'I don't know.'
'Can you give me an estimate? Three days? A week? Longer?'
'I honestly can't say. Several days at least.'
'Will it be dangerous? Because then you should at least take me with you.'
He smiled. 'No, not very dangerous. But it's an incredibly delicate matter.'
She ran her finger up his arm in her sweetest manner. 'I can be delicate.'
'I have no doubt about that,' he said, as he took her hand and kissed it. 'But I can't take you with me.'
She looked at him speculatively. 'Are you going undercover again?'
'I can't tell you that,' he replied, but the way he suddenly looked uncomfortable told her plainly enough. She tried to persuade him one last time.
'Come on, Jack, you know I can work any undercover persona! You've seen me work at the circus, and the gentleman's club…' She grinned as he colored at the memory. 'Just… let me help.'
He sighed, but did not give in. 'You can't help me this time.'
'Why not?'
'You can't go undercover on this one.'
She gave him a piercing look. 'Someone I know is involved, aren't they? Someone who would recognize me?'
His face was suddenly a blank mask, his expression unreadable. 'I didn't say that. You simply can't help me here, end of discussion.'
There was a long pause as they sized each other up, and she could see him steel himself for the battle. But then she sighed, relenting. 'Fine. I'll trust your judgment on this. But don't be gone too long, or I'll be obliged to come and look for you.'
He smiled, relieved, and leaned in to kiss her. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

One week later, with no word from Jack, Phryne walked through a big, oaken front door into a spotless marble hallway, Bert and Cec following right behind her, staggering slightly under the weight of several suitcases, hat boxes, and portmanteaus. A tall woman emerged from the parlor to greet her. She was in her late thirties, and beautiful in a sophisticated kind of way. Advancing towards Phryne, she embraced her gently, and Phryne returned the embrace with a fond smile.
'Mary! It's been so long.'
'Too long, dear Phryne. I was so glad when you called.'
'Well, it's really very kind of you to let me stay here for a while.'
'Oh, that's no trouble dear, no trouble at all. The refurnishing of one's dining room is such a tedious business. Workmen traipsing in and out at all hours of the day, dust everywhere, and the noise…' She shuddered slightly. 'No, no, you did the right thing when you called me. One can't be expected to bear such things. And you are welcome for as long as you would like to stay.'
Phryne smiled. 'Well, I'm very grateful.'
Mary looked around vaguely. 'You must come into the parlor and have a drink, it must have been exhausting to pack everything and move…'
Phryne suppressed a smile. 'I only had to move across town, it wasn't a very long journey. Though I wouldn't say no to a drink, of course.'
She followed her hostess through to the parlor, where the butler poured them drinks.
'Hasn't your maid come with you?' Mary asked, apparently having just noted the absence of Dot and seeming mildly surprised by it.
'She's my companion, and no, I felt it would be better to leave her at home.'
'Very wise, I'm sure. She'll be able to keep an eye on things. And not to worry, Jenny can assist you with your toilette.'
'Oh, that's very kind, but I can usually manage without help,' Phryne smiled, running a hand over her smooth hair. 'The advantage of not having to do one's hair, you know.'
'Yes…' Mary answered, eyeing Phryne's short hair with a slightly uncomfortable look, as if suspecting it of having an altogether too modern and provocative agenda. Her own long hair had been pinned up with great care, creating an elegant effect that could not possibly be attained without the help of an experienced ladies' maid.
'Well…' Mary said, taking a glass and offering a second one to Phryne. 'It's a lovely evening. Would you like to sit out on the terrace and enjoy the breeze? It's been so frightfully hot lately.'
'Yes,' Phryne smiled, 'that sounds delightful.'

When they walked out, the sun was just above the treetops, bathing the terrace in a soft golden glow. It was a raised terrace, lined with pillars, with sweeping steps down to the lawn. They sat down in two comfortable chairs and looked out over the large, beautifully kept garden while they chatted gaily over their drinks. A man appeared around the corner of the house, wearing a casual suit and a hat, deeply absorbed in a notebook as he walked.
'That's not someone of your usual staff, is it?' Phryne asked Mary curiously.
'No, that's Mr. Johnson, he's here to redo our garden. He's an architect, you see.' When the man came nearer, still busily writing in his notebook, Mary called out to him. 'Mr. Johnson, let me introduce my friend, Miss Fisher.'
The man stopped and looked up, revealing a handsome face with high cheekbones. His blue eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Phryne, and his expression turned to alarm when Mary continued: 'Miss Fisher will be staying with us for a couple of days while her dining room is being refurnished.'
Phryne flashed him a bright smile and inclined her head. 'Nice to meet you… Mr. Johnson.'
He tipped his hat to her in return and replied in a deep, warm voice: 'And you, Miss Fisher.' He gave her a quick reproachful look before hurrying off, leaving Phryne to conceal a grin behind her hand.
Mary watched him go with a look of mild surprise. 'Well, he's usually quite polite, really. He's staying here, too, you know. We had to let him come all the way from Sydney, but he came so highly recommended, and we didn't want him to be uncomfortable in a hotel. He'll be dining with us, I hope you don't mind…'
'Oh, not at all!'
'Good. He's really a gentleman, you know, so we couldn't let him dine with the servants in the kitchen. Very educated, too. You should hear him quote Shakespeare.'
Phryne again suppressed a smile. 'Well, he seems like a very pleasant guest.'
'Yes…' said Mary vaguely. 'Yes, quite. And I'm sure he's very skilled at his job. Though he mostly seems to be writing in that notebook. I haven't really seen him do much yet…'
'Well,' Phryne said, 'I'm sure he'll need to work out a design for the garden before he can begin to execute it.'
'Yes, I suppose that must be it…'
After that, Mary changed the subject and they talked of mutual acquaintances until it was time to go in and dress for dinner. Phryne was shown to her room by the butler, and found to her satisfaction that everything had been unpacked for her. She dressed quickly and went down again. When she was walking along the corridor to the dining room, she nearly bumped into him coming around a corner. He immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side.
'What are you doing here?' he demanded in a fierce whisper.
'And hello to you too, Jack,' she grinned.
'This isn't funny!' he growled. 'It's of the utmost importance that I keep my cover.'
'Don't worry, I won't give you away.'
'How did you even know I was here?' he said, looking around furtively to check that nobody was near.
'I have my sources,' she replied mysteriously.
'Hugh?'
'Of course.'
He looked at her suspiciously. 'What did you do to him?'
'Nothing!' she exclaimed innocently. 'Honestly Jack, I didn't do anything!'
'Are you saying he volunteered the information to you?' he asked, one eyebrow raised.
'Well… not to me, exactly. To Dot. And I do admit that there were biscuits involved.'
He sighed. 'Bribing my constable with female charms and biscuits. You should be ashamed of yourself.'
She laughed. 'I'm afraid that particular emotion is quite foreign to me, Inspector.'
'Sadly enough. And you can't call me that in here.'
'Fine then, Mr. Johnson,' she teased. 'Now, tell me why you are here.'
'No.' he stated bluntly. 'You tell me why you are here.'
'Well, isn't it obvious? Mary's a dear old friend of mine. When I heard you were going undercover at her house, I really had to find out why. So I got myself invited.'
He looked at her impassively. 'Is your dining room really getting refurnished?'
'Of course it is!' she exclaimed, 'I never lie if I can help it.'
'Did it need refurnishing?' he asked her slyly.
'Well,' she avoided his eye. 'I'm sure it can't hurt to have a change of scenery every now and then.'
He snorted and she quickly changed the subject.
'Jack, just tell my why you are here. I can help you. Why are you undercover in Mary's house? It's her husband, isn't it? I never liked him.'
'I can't tell you,' he said stubbornly.
'Come on Jack, I'm here now anyway! You may as well confide in me and accept my help.'
He gave her a long, calculating look. 'You're an absolute nuisance sometimes, do you know that?'
She lifted a shoulder and an eyebrow, with a small smile on her lips, looking rather like he'd complimented her. 'I try.'
He sighed. 'Fine. I'll tell you. But not here, someone might pass by any moment. After dinner.'
She beamed at him, but he just threw her another exasperated look before moving upstairs to dress. With a look of great satisfaction, Phryne went into the dining room and asked the butler for a drink.

Dinner was an awkward affair that night. At least, it seemed very awkward for Jack. Phryne was rather enjoying herself, asking him questions to see how well his background story would hold up, though when he threw her a look that plainly told her she was on thin ice, she decided it might be wiser to stop. Afterwards, the meal proceeded fairly tediously. Mary's husband John had joined them, and dominated most of the conversation in a loud and overly jovial voice that Phryne found rather irritating. She was glad when the meal ended, and John excused himself, saying he needed to finish some paperwork in his study.
Mary turned to her guest. 'Phryne, dear, I'm so sorry, but I have a dreadful headache. Would you mind terribly if I went to bed early?'
'Not at all, Mary! I do hope you'll feel better tomorrow.'
After a round of 'goodnights', Mary left the dining room, and Jack and Phryne were alone.
'I think I'll take a breath of fresh air,' Phryne said. 'Care to join me, Mr. Johnson?'
Jack nodded, and followed Phryne out on the terrace, where they would not be overheard.
The moment they were out of earshot, he turned to her with a thunderous expression.
'Would you mind not trying to expose me, Miss Fisher?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't be so melodramatic, Jack. I never asked you anything you shouldn't have an answer to anyway.'
'Still, I don't think –'
She interrupted him. 'You said you'd tell me what John is up to.'
'I never said John was up to anything.'
'Oh come on Jack, I'm not stupid. It must be someone in the house, and I don't suppose you're here to investigate the butler. And Mary is a dear, but she's much too absentminded to be planning anything nefarious. So it must be John.'
He sighed and gave her another calculating look. 'You can't repeat anything I tell you.'
'My lips are sealed.'
'Well… do you remember the case where we arrested your friend, Lydia Andrews, for smuggling cocaine?'
'The first case we worked together,' Phryne smiled at the memory, placing a soft hand on Jack's arm.
He brushed it away absentmindedly. 'Don't do that, it's not proper. Anyway, it seems that Mrs. Andrews left something of a power vacuum in the cocaine business, one that we suspect has recently been filled by your friend Mr. John Shaw.' He lifted an eyebrow. 'Some friends you have, by the way.'
'John's not my friend,' Phryne stated indignantly. 'So you think he's smuggling cocaine?'
'We're sure of it.'
'Then why not just arrest him?'
'First of all: we don't have enough evidence yet. Secondly, we don't just want to arrest him. Someone else would simply take his place. We need to know who his associates are, so we can take down the entire operation in one stroke. So when word got out that the Shaws were looking for an architect to redo their garden for them, that was the perfect chance to get someone inside.'
'Good,' she said. 'Though you should be careful not to just loiter about. Even Mary's noticed that you don't seem to be doing much, and she's not exactly the observant type.'
'Oh. Yes. Thank you for the warning. I'll try to be more active tomorrow.'
'And what about gathering evidence?'
'The day after tomorrow, Mr. Shaw will be away on business. Mrs. Shaw will be at a spa during the afternoon. It's the butler's day off. That will be the perfect opportunity to break into Mr. Shaw's study and have a look around.'
Phryne's eyes sparkled. 'Excellent plan! Shall I help you pick the lock?'
'No, I'll need you somewhere else.'
'Where?'
'At the spa with Mrs. Shaw.'
'Come on Jack! Let me assist you. What can I do to help?'
'Do you really want to help?'
'Yes!'
'Then go home,' he stated bluntly.
'I'm going to ignore that, because I know you didn't mean it,' she replied in a dignified tone. 'Besides, my dining room is being refurnished.'
He rolled his eyes. She moved closer to him, trying to dispel his angry mood by softly placing a hand on his chest and looking up at him with her sweetest look. 'Jack,' she whispered, 'I won't get in your way, I promise. I'll behave.' She leaned in, and for a moment it seemed to work: she saw his anger melt away, to be replaced by a softer look as he unthinkingly responded by pulling her closer. Then he seemed to come to his senses again, and he pushed her away hastily, looking around to see if they were still alone.
'Don't do that,' he said, but Phryne was relieved to hear that his voice was much gentler than before. For a moment, he seemed himself again as he said with a half-smile: 'You know I can't resist you when you do that.'
Then he was serious again, and he inclined his head unsmilingly. 'Well, goodnight Miss Fisher.'
She nodded back at him. 'Goodnight Mr. Johnson.'
He walked past her to the door into the house, and she looked after him wistfully. Then she smiled.

The house was dark and quiet as she tiptoed along the hall in her dressing gown, counting the doors on her left. She stopped, and saw that there was a strip of light coming from underneath the door. She knocked softly, and the door opened to reveal Jack, wearing a dressing gown and a frown.
'Is everything all right?' he asked in a low voice, looking worried.
'Of course,' she answered lightly. 'Let me in.'
'What? Why?'
She raised an eyebrow at him.
He gave her a very stern look in return. 'Do you call that behaving yourself?'
She responded with a wicked smile. 'I'll behave tomorrow.' She tried to slip past him, but he caught her and pushed her out again with a firm hand.
'Don't even think about it. If anyone saw, it would be much too suspicious.'
She shrugged. 'Honestly, it would be suspicious if I didn't try to get into your bed. Everyone knows that I have affairs all the time. Used to,' she corrected quickly when she saw the look on his face. 'Used to have affairs.'
'Well, I don't. I'd like to keep my reputation intact, thank you very much. I have a wife and three kids back in Sydney.'
She stared at him for a moment before remembering that he was talking about his undercover persona. 'Jack!' she exclaimed, disappointed. 'Such a dull background story! That doesn't leave any room for romance.'
'Well, I didn't exactly know you were going to be here, did I?' he stated drily. 'Now go back to your room, before anyone sees us.'
'Fine.' She shook her head. 'Married with three children, honestly…'
'Go,' he said urgently, but instead she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, ever so softly, on a cheek.
'Sweet dreams,' she whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, before turning and walking away. He watched her go, suddenly regretting his decision. For a moment he considered going after her, and never mind the consequences. She always seemed to get away with it, why shouldn't he? The thought of Phryne's warmth and company after so many lonely and stressful days was very tempting. Nevertheless, his sense of duty overcame his longing, and with a sigh of regret, he closed the door and climbed into his cold and empty bed.

They got a surprise the next morning at breakfast, when Mary announced that her cousin Frederick was moving back to town, and would be staying with them for an indeterminate period of time while he got settled. Jack frowned. More people in the house would only hamper his plans
Phryne asked the question that he wasn't really in a position to ask. 'When will he arrive, exactly?'
'I'm not sure, dear. Probably around midmorning.'
Jack's scowl deepened as he returned to his plate. This meant he would have another person to get out of the way tomorrow, when he had planned to break into Mr. Shaw's study. He was still mulling it over when he went out to the garden a little while later, this time armed with a measuring stick as well as his notebook. He had decided to take Phryne's advice and play a more active part in his pretend redesigning of the garden.

Mr. Frederick Weston did indeed arrive around midmorning, and the entire house knew at once. He brought with him a great amount of luggage, a great number of servants, and a great deal of noise. For a while, the whole household was bustling with trying to find rooms for everyone and clearing away the luggage. Through it all, Mr. Weston stood in the thick of it, commanding everyone with a great deal of good humor and charm, joking with the maids and confidently steering the footmen in the right direction. He was a tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties, with a thin mustache and a perpetual twinkle in his eye. When everything was finally cleared away, he allowed himself to be led into the parlor by Mary, where she introduced him to Phryne.
'Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weston,' Phryne said, extending her hand to him.
His eyes sparkled as they swept over her appreciatively, and instead of shaking her hand, he gently took it and kissed it. 'The pleasure is all mine, Miss Fisher,' he replied with a smile, looking deep into her eyes. Phryne smiled in return, though not because she was charmed by his winning ways. Rather, she was thinking amusedly of her Inspector. Oh, Jack is going to hate him. He was much too charming, much too slick, for her straightforward detective inspector. She was curious to see how things would play out between them.

Her first impression turned out to be correct: the moment Jack walked through the door of the dining room for lunch, the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval at the sight of the newcomer, who was sitting at the table perfectly at ease, making casual conversation with Mary and Phryne. All through the meal, Phryne kept an eye on Jack, and she saw his disapproval deepen to dislike while he listened to the man's inane chatter, which poured forth so smoothly and kept everyone amused, from Phryne to the serving girls. She tried not to laugh at his jokes, feeling that it would be unwise to annoy Jack further at a moment when his patience with her was already worn thin. It was almost a relief when lunch was over and Jack returned to the gardens. Mary excused herself, saying that she had a headache again and would go up to rest for a while. Phryne and Mr. Weston wandered out onto the terrace, where the butler brought them drinks, and they chatted together amiably as they looked out over the garden, which lay before them shimmering slightly in the heat of the afternoon.

Jack, meanwhile, was measuring a patch of grass in a back corner of the lawn. If he was going to have to be active, he might as well do something useful, and some of the rose bushes needed replanting. He had sent the lad who usually did the gardening for the Shaws to dig them up while he selected a likely spot for them in the existing rose garden, which would benefit from some extra flowers. After a while, the gardener came with the bushes, and Jack went to get a second spade from beside the house. As he passed the terrace, he could hear Phryne talking and laughing with Frederick Weston, and he frowned. He definitely didn't like that man. As he returned, he had a clear view of them, and he saw Phryne give Mr. Weston her most flirtatious look, laying a light hand on his arm and leaning towards him, smiling. Much to his own surprise, he felt a sudden pang of jealousy. For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, then he hastily returned to the rose garden, and tried to reason with himself while he worked, digging fiercely to work off his emotion. After all, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She had a perfect right to talk and laugh with whomever she wanted, especially since he wasn't exactly entertaining company right now. He suddenly regretted how blunt he'd been with her yesterday. She had caught him off guard, which had annoyed him, but he felt that he could have handled the situation with more tact. He was a little worried that she might actually like this Mr. Weston, whose manners were very smooth when compared to his own.

When he went in to take a slight refreshment around 4 o'clock, his worst fears seemed to be realized. Phryne fairly ignored him, standing very close to Frederick Weston while they talked in low voices and laughed together. Jack was alarmed to see that Mr. Weston was clearly smitten (not that he blamed him), and was making every effort to charm Phryne. With a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, he marched out again, and resumed his work, even though the gardener had already gone home for the day. Though it was late in the afternoon, the sun still burned, and since he was alone now, he decided to take off his shirt, and continued work in his singlet. He kept on digging in silence, frowning down at the earth and trying to push away the thoughts that kept worrying him. Was she angry with him? Did she really like that arrogant dandy? He flushed as he thought how he must look next to the impeccably groomed Mr. Weston: he had gone in sweaty, dirty and in his shirt sleeves. He could hardly blame her if she preferred an actual gentleman.

'Well Inspector, you've certainly got me convinced of your gardening skills,' came an amused voice from behind him. He had been so deep in thought he hadn't heard her coming around the hedge that secluded the rose garden from the rest of the garden. He turned around in alarm, but she was alone, and smiling. A feeling of relief swept through him at the sight of that smile.
'I thought I'd see how you were getting on and… oh!' she exclaimed, as he suddenly swept her into his arms and kissed her so passionately they nearly fell into the hedge.
'Jack!' she said, a little breathlessly, when he released her. 'What's gotten into you? This is a bit of a change in attitude from last night, when you said that…' She suddenly stopped and gave him a sly look from underneath her eyelashes. 'Hmm. Marking off our territory, are we?'
He felt himself go red, and quickly busied himself with the spade. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Oh yes you do!' She sounded highly amused. 'You don't like me talking to Frederick Weston.'
He dropped the spade again and turned to her, arms crossed over his chest. 'Well, you were talking to him rather cozily.'
She remained perfectly calm, a small smile still playing around her lips. 'Jack, I always talk to men that way. I thought you would want me to act as normal as possible.'
He frowned. 'I've never seen you behave like that, so… obvious.'
'That's because I tone it down when I'm around you. I always have.'
'Why?'
'I knew you wouldn't like it.'
He looked startled at the thought of so much consideration. Something still bothered him, though. 'Then why did you ignore me when I came in earlier?'
She seemed surprised. 'I was trying not to draw attention to us, of course.'
He suddenly felt a little ashamed of his suspicions. 'Oh.'
'You thought I liked him!' she exclaimed, a look of surprise on her face. 'Jack! Did you really think I would fall for a man like that?'
He raised an eyebrow. She grinned. 'All right, fine, he might have been my type before, but I would never fall for him now. Why would you even think that, when I have a man like you?'
'Yes, quite a man I am right now', he grunted, taking up the spade again to avoid her eye. 'Covered in mud and working in someone else's garden.'
'Don't be silly, Jack. I actually like you better like this than in your suit.' He looked at her questioningly, and she winked. 'Less layers for me to take off, you know.'
He couldn't help but smile as he turned and started digging again. She sat down on a garden bench nearby and watched him work, silently admiring his strong bare arms and shoulders. When he straightened and ran a hand through his tousled hair, she felt herself flush a little. What she wouldn't give to be able to ravish him right then and there… He seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned around.
'What?' he asked, and the way he was slightly out of breath sent a tingle through her stomach. She merely smiled at him and shrugged, and he was suddenly struck by how lovely she looked, sitting in the bright sunlight in her light dress between the roses, like a fairytale picture. His voice was slightly husky when he spoke.
'You look… I wish I could kiss you.'
She leaned back invitingly. 'Why don't you?'
'Because we might be seen.'
She grinned. 'That didn't stop you ten minutes ago, when you nearly pushed me into the hedge.'
He flushed. 'I shouldn't have done that. I got… a bit carried away. But it was very unprofessional. We can't risk getting caught.'
She got up and slowly walked toward him. 'Let me tell you a secret,' she smiled. 'We're all alone here. Mary's resting. John's not home. Mr. Weston has gone up to bathe and dress before dinner.' She stood very close to him now, without touching him, and looked up at him with those eyes…
'This is a very secluded corner of the garden,' she continued softly. 'Nobody would see…' Still not touching him, she stood on tiptoe, her face uplifted, her mouth tantalizingly close. The smell of her perfume mingled with the heavy scent of the roses until he felt quite intoxicated. He gently took her in his arms and brushed her lips with his. He meant to stop there, but somehow, he found himself laying her down on the warm grass and kissing her deeply, reveling in the feeling of her body pressed to his, her lips parting to let him in, her hands on his back, drawing him closer. He let his hand slide down her side, past the soft curve of a breast, over her hips, to find the hem of her dress and slip underneath, running up again to feel the smooth skin of her thigh. She sighed and pushed herself against him in a way that quite took his breath away. Suddenly, though, the sound of footsteps on the other side of the hedge made them both stiffen. They looked at each other in silence for a split second, then Jack was on his feet and held out his hand to hurriedly help her up. When Mr. Weston rounded the hedge a moment later, Phryne was sitting on the bench, perfectly composed, chatting airily to Jack, who was busily digging between the rose bushes.
'There you are,' said Frederick Weston when he saw her. He was already dressed. 'I was looking for you. Dinner will be ready soon.'
She flashed him her brightest smile. 'Oh, I must have lost track of the time. Thank you for alerting me, Mr. Weston.'
He smiled back. 'Will you let me accompany you to the house?'
He offered her his arm, and she took it, walking away without a backward glance. Jack watched them go. The moment they were out of sight, he dropped onto the bench with a sigh of relief, passing a hand over his eyes. One day, he thought, she would drive him mad. He should not have let himself go like that. But no matter how often he kept telling himself that, the voice of reason in his head was quite drowned out by a much stronger feeling of frustration and disappointment at the interruption.

When she came to his room that night, he did not turn her away.
He had been waiting for her soft knock, knowing that it would come. He opened the door and tried to reason with her.
'Please go back to bed. It's too much of a risk, we were nearly caught before.'
'We were in a garden!' she argued back. 'How many people do you expect to wander into your bedroom tonight?'
That was perfectly reasonable, of course, and to be honest, he didn't need much persuading. He drew her in, and quickly shut the door behind her, then pushed her against it to kiss her.
She sighed softly in satisfaction. 'Thank goodness. I was frustrated to no end when we were interrupted this afternoon.'
'You weren't the only one,' he murmured against the soft skin of her throat. A moment later, he had picked her up and was carrying her to the bed. It was a big four-poster, full of soft pillows and blankets, and when he put her down, he reflected that he actually preferred it this way, when he did not have to worry about being discovered. He took his time untying her dressing gown, while she looked up at him with soft dark eyes. When he leaned in and took a nipple in his mouth, she closed her eyes and moaned softly. He immediately stopped, and his voice was a low, warning rumble.
'You're going to have to be quiet.'
She looked a little displeased, but reluctantly nodded understanding. When he returned his attention to her nipple, she sharply drew in her breath and bit her lip, leaning her head back into the pillow. He explored her body with his hands and tongue, stopping every time she made a sound, until she remained quiet, and he had to read her pleasure in the movements of her body and the sound of her breath.
When he entered her, a soft, involuntary cry escaped from her lips, and he quickly covered her mouth with a kiss.
'Shh…' he whispered in her ear, and when he started moving inside her, she buried her head against his shoulder. He held her close, almost overwhelmed by a sudden rush of emotion, but when she wrapped one leg around him and lifted her hips, he was firmly pulled back into the physical reality of the situation as he lost himself in the rhythm, the synchronicity of movement they always found so easily, their bodies perfectly attuned to each other. Soon he began to feel the effect of not having seen her all week, and he had to make a real effort to maintain self-control as he held off stroke after stroke. When he felt her tense underneath him, he thrust in deep, and she bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. That firmly pushed him over the edge, and he whispered her name as he finally let go.

Several long moments later, they both fell back into the cushions, gasping slightly. When he had regained his breath, Jack gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. She nestled her head onto his chest with a contented sigh, and seemed ready to go to sleep. He gently kissed her to keep her awake.
'You do know you're going to have to go back to your own room soon?'
She made a plaintive little sound. 'But I want to stay with you. I've missed you.'
'I want you to stay, too, but you know we can't do that. Just one more night… If everything goes well, I'll have my evidence tomorrow, and then we can both go home.'
She opened her eyes. 'Speaking of getting evidence… What are you going to do about Frederick Weston hanging about the house?'
He frowned. 'I'm not sure, really.'
'If you want, I can tell Mary I'm not feeling up to the spa tomorrow, and then I can stay home and distract him for you.'
He gave her a suspicious look. 'Distract him how, exactly?'
She raised a suggestive eyebrow, but when he looked genuinely alarmed, she laughed. 'Come on Jack, by talking to him of course. I'll ask him to take a stroll around the garden with me.'
'As long as you stay away from the rose garden,' he mumbled, and she grinned.
'I knew you would need my help sooner or later,' she said smugly, playfully tracing a finger over his chest.
He grunted. 'Well, the moment I have my evidence I'm taking you home.'
'Far away from Mr. Weston you mean,' she smiled slyly. He chose to reply with dignified silence, but she laughed all the same and reached up to kiss his cheek. Then she moved her lips to his ear.
'It's still early,' she whispered, and when she bit his earlobe she immediately had his full attention. 'Do you think we still have some time before I have to go back to my room?'
He didn't answer, but turned to her and kissed her, pushing her back into the pillows.