Chapter 3

Jessica woke up a couple of hours later on her side in someone's arms. Correction, a man's arms. George's arms. Startled at the realization, she tried to stay still while she recalled what had led her to this situation. It all flooded back as she remembered his sudden arrival in Wick, him seeing her in the bathtub, and their conversation before the fire. She had given him permission to carry her to his bed and they had made love, before falling asleep beside each other, his arm wrapped around her waist.

She heard his slight snore and felt his warm breath on her neck. She smiled as she recounted how he had removed her robe slowly, kissing her from head to toe as every inch of her smooth skin was uncovered as the fabric was pulled away, making sure that she was aroused and craving his body, before making her climax with his touch. Entering her as her cries calmed down, he revved her body back up to a feverish level before she crashed once again, this time in his arms with her long silky legs wrapped around his waist, as she gripped his back such that her nails left imprints in his skin for long after, causing his own climax to quickly follow hers.

It was magical.

Far better than she had ever hoped to experience again.

In the quiet, she waited to see if Frank's ghost would visit her. She did not really believe in ghosts, yet there were times over the years that she thought she had felt his presence. Would she now as this was the first time she had slept with a man since he died?

Nothing. She felt nothing.

She had not done anything wrong. Nor would Frank think she had either if he was here in a ghostly sense. She had been a faithful wife to him for their entire marriage and he had been gone for many years now.

So, why was she sad?

Was it another form of grief? Or maybe a final piece of evidence after his death to show that life moves on? Even if it takes years?

Perhaps.

George began to stir behind her. She felt him kiss her neck, just below her ear.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Yes. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, lass. I thought I was having the most amazing dream though and then woke up to find out it wasn't a dream. Jessica Fletcher is really in bed with me and would you believe it, but she is naked in my arms?"

Giggling, she turned over and slapped his arm in jest.

"Oh, George!"

Grabbing her hand, he held her down and began to tickle her sides, hearing her shriek.

"Oh, and she's ticklish!"

"George, please, stop!"

"It will cost you."

"What will it cost?" she asked, trying to gulp for air.

George pretended to think, before answering, "Five kisses at the time and place of my choosing."

"Alright."

She was in no position to argue.

"I'm collecting the first one now," he murmured as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her mouth deeply and sensually, causing her to moan in reply.

When he pulled away, her eyes remained closed and her breathing labored. His mouth moved to her breast. She jolted in surprise, as George murmured against her soft skin, "Lass, this is kiss two."

Moving slowly to her other breast, he took her nipple fully in his mouth and sucked, hearing her groan and feeling her back arch beneath him, before whispering, "Kiss three."

Jessica lost count after that. She let him have far more than five kisses.

G/J

Later that evening, they resurfaced and decided to venture to the kitchen to scrounge up dinner. Even though Jessica had been eating regularly, she never ate large meals, so there was plenty left over from the food that the cook had made for her every day. Truthfully, they had enough food to feed four to six people from the week of meals already prepared.

Setting out several options on the weathered kitchen table, Jessica began reheating soup and put the kettle on for another pot of tea.

Neither of them had bothered to dress to leave his suite, being the only ones in the castle, both of them wearing thick terry cloth robes. Even so, George did insist that they put some warm pajamas on under the robes, with socks and slippers, as he did not need to remind Jessica that there was no central heating in a place that no one short of royalty could afford to pay for even if there had been. It had been so cold through the hallways with no one else there that they could see their breath, causing them both to hurry to the warmth of the kitchen.

The Aga in the kitchen always kept the room warm, and it was immediately soothing to enter it. Jessica had become comfortable moving around the kitchen that week, despite spending brief amounts of time there. She was usually there only long enough to heat up the meals the cook had already prepared for her or to brew a fresh pot of tea, yet she had learned where everything was and it had felt quite cozy. George poured scotch for himself, before getting bowls and spoons out for the soup that Jessica was heating.

By the time they sat next to each other at the kitchen table, Jessica and George settled in to eat their soup. Neither had realized how hungry they were until they began to eat.

Gazing at the man next to her, she felt a warmth flood her body that did not have anything to do with the soup or hot tea or heat of the room. Instead, it had everything to do with the man beside her. Watching his hands move as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, wiping his mouth with a napkin in the other one, she blushed thinking about where else his hands had been an hour earlier.

"You're thinking rather loudly, lass," he said, his eyes catching her stare.

Ducking her head, she felt shy, not sure what to say.

Understanding her hesitancy, he did not press, instead asking, "How is your research going, Jess?"

Startled, she made the shift. "Oh. Actually, it's been good. I have taken the bus and hired a driver a few times, traveling through the Highlands several days, taking a lot of photos and talking to people. I have done a bit of writing and outlining as well. It's been exactly what I hoped for so far."

"Aye, is that so?" He asked, the question heavy with double meaning.

Her mouth went dry. Trying to move her tongue to create some moisture, she nodded, before saying, "Yes, in more ways than one."

Smirking, he said, "Touché."

Reaching for her hand that was resting on the table, he rubbed the knuckles with his thumb. "Jess, I do have a question for you. But you don't have to answer it."

Nodding, she waited.

"It's only…this afternoon when I arrived and you said what you did about Frank. After... were you alright?" His green eyes that were the color of Granny Smith apples pierced hers, concerned for her well-being evident in his gaze. He was not trying to be nosy or needy of reassurance. But he did need to verify that her heart was still whole.

Jessica gathered her thoughts. She wanted to tell him, but she wanted to order her thinking so she did not say anything out of turn that might bother or worry him. She also appreciated that he had waited to ask her until they were clothed, even if it was only in pajamas and robes, and not while nude in bed, minimizing further vulnerability on both their parts that this conversation would require.

"When I woke up afterwards…I felt so happy at what we had experienced together. Then, I waited for a bit to see if I would feel his ghost. I know that sounds silly and foolish."

"No, it's not." It was said with kindness, but firmness, too.

Smiling, she continued, "When I didn't feel his ghost, I realized I felt nothing. He wasn't there at all. And I know that was good, because he is there at times and it would have been rather uncomfortable to feel his presence then."

"But?"

"But…when I felt nothing…I realized that made me sad."

His eyes crinkled in the corners watching her, taking in her form and grace, the way she moved and carried herself. She had been the woman of his dreams for so long that he wanted to pinch himself now that she was here in reality. But he understood her grief and the sadness she felt, even as he hoped selfishly it did not linger and cloud their time together.

Interpreting his silence for discomfort, she began to apologize.

"No, lass. Don't ever apologize for what you feel. And I know and understand what you said, as I experienced something similar the first time I went to bed with someone after my wife died. It's okay to feel sadness. This was a big step for you today. How are you feeling now?"

Continuing to rub her knuckles with his thumb, she looked at their clasped hands, smiling. "I feel wonderful, George. I tried not to dwell on it in recent years, but Frank would have worried knowing that I was alone for as long as I have been. If the role had been reversed, I would have been sad to think of him being alone for over a decade. He was such a loving man. I suppose thinking about that, after you and I were closer last summer, made me consider what he would say to me after so long. I became convinced he would not have been happy with me and would have urged me to get a move on before I lost you."

"And now?"

Smiling softly, "Well, I doubt he would be thrilled to know details, but I do believe he would be happy to know I am happy."

His eyes seemed to sparkle at her words, before he asked in disbelief, "You're happy?"

"Oh yes, my dear, I am. Aren't you?"

"Ach, of course I am, Jess. It's just…"

"Just what?"

Raking his hand through his brownish-red hair that had more flecks of gray in it now that she noticed since he arrived earlier, he said, "I can't believe I'm already asking this. But, now what?"

Sitting up straighter, she arched her brow, "Now what? We are lovers, are we not? What did you have in mind?"

"Of course, we are lovers. Lass, there is no one else for me."

"I should think not. There better not be now at least."

Exasperated, he said, "Jess. Lass, that's not what I mean. I mean…now what is in store for our futures?"

"Do you think I can foresee that?" At his frustrated look now though, she took pity on him. Placing her free hand on top of their clasped ones she said, "George, listen to me. I love you. Trust that if it took me more than a decade to be with a man again, that makes you exceedingly special. And if you are in any doubt how much I enjoyed going to bed with you, I could perhaps be convinced to show you again now."

His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at that. Smiling now, "Well, as much as I would not say no to that, my dear, we will be far more comfortable if we go back to the bedroom first. But…you do want some type of future together? This isn't just sex?"

Now frustrated in return with him, she answered, "If it was just sex, I would have seduced you years ago, George Sutherland. I can't believe you would suggest such a thing." She moved to stand from the table, starting to feel her frustration turn to anger.

Grasping her wrist, before she could leave, he whispered, "Please sit back down." Slowly, she did so, but stayed perched on the edge of the bench seat, ready to spring from it again if needed. "I'm sorry…no man wants to admit when he has fallen for a woman out of his league, and few probably have to, because I just happen to be one of the few lucky bastards who has their dream become reality. But, now? If I didn't think you already had the power to break my heart, I am certain you do now, Jess. I love you and I want you to know that whatever it takes, I want a future with you, where more often than not, we are in each other's presence."

He was holding her hand and she squeezed his tightly, feeling him reciprocate. Reaching her other hand to cup the side of his face, she could feel the hint of stubble rub against her skin. He turned his face slightly to nuzzle her palm, placing a warm kiss in the center, before looking at her again.

"George, don't shortchange yourself. You are an amazing man and you have been so patient with me. I'm sorry that my fears have caused you to feel insecure. If you are willing to compromise and live in Maine some of the time and I will compromise and live in London and here in Wick, I will promise you right now that we will figure out a way to be together from now on."

"Aye, I can compromise and I promise to find a way to be with you."

"Good," she replied simply. But then her face changed, becoming rather coy, as she reached across and traced a long pale finger down his throat, watching him swallow. Her own voice lowered, as she said, sounding rather sultry, "Now, I think it's time, Inspector Sutherland, that you take me to your bed again."

The joke was on her though, as he stood in one smooth motion, leaned over, lifting her in his arms, and carried her across his shoulder, with her shrieks of first disbelief and then giddy laughter filling the halls as he carried her to his bed.