((Contains reference to adult situations.))

Moving forward with the times when you were a part of Tirisano's elite nobility should have been harder than this. Yet somehow, between the fairytale romance and wedding of the heir to the throne, and the surprisingly liberal views of the Duke of Roslae, not even the conservative press had blinked an eye when Lady Keira Talbot had moved into the Stuart townhouse in the capital of Itana following the announcement of her engagement to Tirisano's most eligible bachelor. Indeed, she had been such a fixture there for such a while now that she no longer needed to fight her way through hordes of camera-wielding freelancers. Oh, there were still one or two, but they'd given up on hounding her to and from the museum. Thus she was able to drive comfortably through the gates and to the house without feeling as though she wanted to hurt someone permanently these days.

She was late home today, having been caught up in cataloging the Stuart family portraits that had finally been loaned to the museum. The task had taken her far longer than she had expected, snow falling to lie atop the crisp blanket already covering the ground by the time she pulled up to the house. Shivering in her coat, she ran up the steps and in through the door, thanking the doorman with a warm smile for his perfect timing.

And yet, the gossip papers were always trying to connect Tirisano's most eligible bachelor to some woman or other, almost as if they were either expecting him to fail at his engagement or were secretly hoping for it. If the Earl of Roslae had one flaw - besides his attraction to women - it was his temper, which was presently making itself known in his pacing of the study and grumbling quietly to himself under his breath.

Had Duke Oliver been in residence, Keira would have been obliged to rush upstairs and change her clothes for dinner, but she was lucky in her prospective father-in-law - he had left the city for his estate at Roslae the day before, allowing his eldest son a little privacy with the woman he intended to marry. Handing her coat to the first footman who met her eyes, Keira didn't need telling where James was. When the house was this quiet, when the staff seemed this wary' He was in the study. And that was where she was heading, letting herself in without knocking. "Good evening, your lordship."

It was true - the house was a little too quiet, the servants moving around quietly and carefully, like they were walking on eggshells, but though Jamie had a reputation for having a bad temper, all he seemed to be doing was pacing and muttering to himself - the calm before the storm, perhaps. "Lordship, my eye!" he grumbled, now that he had someone to commiserate with. "Have you seen the papers?" he inquired, stopping in mid-pace to turn and face her. It wasn't her he was angry at, though she might not know that yet.

She took all this in with raised brows before moving into the room. "Good evening to you, too, Keira," she said, embracing her sarcasm to make a point. "You're late home, is everything all right' Oh, yes, everything's fine. I was working late, that's all. Well, I'm glad you're home. And so am I, I've been looking forward to my welcome home kiss for the last four hours." She paused by the desk, one hand on her hip as she looked up at him. "That's when you get to blow up at me about whatever horror story the papers have published today."

He grunted in response, knowing she was right but a little too proud to admit it. He was obviously not as easy-going as he let everyone think. "Just look at that!" he said, waggling a finger at the gossip papers that were piled atop his desk. Why he was reading them or how he'd gotten his hands on them was another story, altogether. He wasn't much in the mood for kissing right now, knowing that would quickly deflate his anger. Better to let the storm rage and blow itself out, followed by the calm.

Keira sighed, turning her attention to the pile of papers and magazines. She would much rather have come home to a better mood, but this, too, was a part of being James Stuart's fiancee. She lifted up the one on the top of the pile. "I don't understand why you read these," she said quietly, scanning the words on the page. "They never print anything even halfway accurate."

On the cover of the first paper she happened to choose was a grainy photograph of him in a slightly compromising position with an unidentified blonde and a headline that suggested the Earl of Roslae was cheating on his intended. "That picture was taken years ago. Years ago, mind you! There..." He moved over to tap an index finger against the photograph. "You see" My hair is shorter. It's bloody preposterous!"

"Mmhmm ..." She nodded slowly, absorbing his anger as well as the ludicrous reprinting of a picture that had made gossip headlines years ago in the first place. "They seem to have overlooked something in their eagerness to reprint this, though." She tapped her own finger against the grainy image of a figure in the background of the shot - grainy, but clearly herself, with no engagement ring on her finger, laughing with a friend. "I think it may be time to call your lawyers, sweetheart. They're not only invading your privacy, but they are attacking your personal life with these ridiculous stories. And I will call Lady Alyssa and remind her just who she's dealing with. What was she thinking, to give them a fresh story to print?"

He ignored her cool and logical reaction to dig through the pile for another paper with another photograph of him with yet another woman. "And that..." he pointed out shoving the paper across the desk at her. "That was taken just after we broke up! What are they trying to do, Keira" I have not been seeing anyone since we got engaged!" Before that, even. He hadn't been dating anyone since well before they'd gotten back together.

"They're trying to sell more copies than their competitors, Jamie," she pointed out, refusing to get angry over this. He was angry enough for the both of them, it seemed. "You don't have to tell me. I trust you, Jamie. I love you. And this ..." She sighed, gesturing to the collection of papers on the desk. "This is a result of no scandal for them to play with for the last few months. The princess is married and of age, the city's most eligible bachelor is settled down. There haven't been any arguments between the Prince and the Parliament recently, much less any announcements of births or divorces. When the Season starts again, they'll stop. But since this is causing you so much upset, I think they should be told to stop. Forcefully."

He was at least calm enough to let her speak without erupting further, the voice of reason helping to cool his anger and ease his temper. "It's rubbish, Keira, plain and simple," he replied, but then she had made it clear that she already knew that. "Are they trying to ruin us?" No, she was more than likely right. People loved gossip and the more scandal the papers reported, the more copies they sold, whether the stories were true or false. "I'll call my lawyers in the morning. I will not have it. This has to stop!"

Though he'd made her wait for it, that one kiss to welcome her home was worth at least ten less passionate kisses, leaving them both breathless and wanting more, if only it wasn't for the cook and the dinner that was still waiting for them. "Shall we, My Lady?" he asked, grinning down at her.

Keira leaned into him, sharing his smile for a long moment as she savored the sheer bliss of being able to just be herself once again. "Mmm, we probably should," she conceded reluctantly. "Unless you've discovered a fetish for watching the cook whip me with boiled spaghetti for being a dirty stop-out." She laughed, easing back from him just enough to take his hand. "After you, My Lord."

"Hmm, sounds kinky. Do you think you'd enjoy that?" he teased, wrapping his much larger hand around hers and leading her out of the study toward the dining room where the servants were waiting to serve dinner. He didn't like to keep them waiting as a rule, but there were some days - like today - where it couldn't be helped. Over all, he was well liked among the servants, but it was the Lady Keira who already ruled the roost.

"Sweetheart, if you so much as hint that you're going to ask the cook to whip me with spaghetti, he'll have a heart attack." Keira laughed once again, her cheek fond against Jamie's arm as she tried not to make it obvious that most of her amusement was for the visible relaxation in the staff as they entered the dining room. Between Jamie's temper and the cook's impatience, it had obviously not been a good day for them.

"Not him! Me, silly!" he laughed as he led her into the dining room. He hardly noticed the change in the staff, unworried about their reaction to his anger as it had nothing to do with them. If he ever found out one of them had betrayed him in any way though, there would be hell to pay for it. He took her to her seat and pulled out a chair for her like a perfect gentleman, just as he'd been taught, before claiming a seat for himself. "How did things go at the museum?" he asked, making small talk as he spread a napkin across his lap.

"They're going well," she smiled, laying her own napkin over her knees as the soup tureen made the rounds. It smelled as though the cook had finally given in and made carrot and coriander soup; that was a battle she'd been having since she'd moved in. As wonderful as he was with food, anything that didn't have meat or fish in it was apparently not edible in his view, unless it was a dessert. "Aside from your illustrious ancestors, which are going to need a little more work than I had anticipated -" She threw him an amused glare over her spoon. "Mr Renaldi sounds like a broken record, trying to talk me out of quitting."

"Is that what you want?" he asked, arching a brow as he scooped up a spoonful of soup. He actually preferred something he could chew, but the cook insisted on full courses. If it wasn't for Keira, Jamie might have skipped the soup altogether, but he knew how fond she was of it. Becoming his wife would likely keep her busy enough, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to give up her career just for him.

"I have a lot to learn, about Roslae and about how to be a duchess, even if I won't be one for a very long time yet," she pointed out gently. "I love my job, but it isn't as though I'll be quitting that entire side of my personality. I know about your father's art collection, you know. He isn't going to be able to hide it from me for much longer." Green eyes sparkled teasingly as she drank her soup, taught manners forcing her to leave what was left in the bowl rather than scrape around to catch it. "Jamie, I know you're worried, but if I miss it too much, all I need to do is get in contact with a few people. I can dip my toes into that world without becoming overwhelmed by it, very easily."

"I'm not worried," he countered, as she hit that defensive nerve of his. Concerned, maybe, but he wouldn't call it worried, exactly. "I just want you to be happy here, Keira. That's all. I know your career is important to you, and I don't want you to have to give it all up, just for me." A thought occurred to him and he chuckled. "You know, I think I sound a little like Dru lecturing Josh."

She laughed with him, reaching across to gently curl her fingers about his wrist. "I promise you, Jamie, I thought long and hard before making this decision. I've always known that I wouldn't be able to continue with my career if I married someone of our rank anyway. That was why I chose Art History in the first place. I can be a patron of the museum and still be involved, as well as fulfilling my duties as your wife. Your people are as important to me as they are to you. And comparing yourself to our pint-pot of a princess is not flattering to either of you." She winked at him, leaning back as her soup dish was taken, replaced with a plate that had been loaded with beef wellington and roasted vegetables.

He had barely made a dent in his soup, but at least the cook wouldn't be too insulted, considering how Keira seemed to have enjoyed hers. "That's not what I mean," he pointed out, letting go of her hand and leaning back so that his soup could be replaced with something more to his liking. Once the servants had retreated again, he leaned forward, lowering his voice for her ears alone. "Do you think it would be scandalous if just once we had hamburgers for dinner?" He liked beef wellington just fine, but sometimes he wished for more simple fare. Sighing, he leaned back and took up a fork and knife. "What I meant was that Josh always wanted to be an actor. He never wanted any of this, and now he's the second most powerful man in Tirisano."

Keira choked a little on her laughter at his quiet request, making a mental note to fight to the death over a take-out night when the next week's menus were put in front of her for approval. His next comment, however, made her smile falter. "I do understand, sweetheart," she assured him. "But Josh does have the power to do something that hasn't been done in Tirisano before. He can introduce theater, proper theater, from a position of strength, and with his rank endorse it against Parliament's wishes. I don't think Dru would ever stop him from performing, if he truly wishes to."

She was still missing his point a little. His concern wasn't over Josh. Josh had made his choice, and Jamie was confident he was happy with it. He knew Josh could use his influence to support the theater and he also knew he and Dru had plans to sneak off to Rhy'Din to perform now and then. In fact, there was something about that thought that made him smile momentarily. "I'm not worried about Josh, love. I'm worried about you." But she had already assured him she was perfectly happy with the life she had chosen, just as Josh had. "I was thinking perhaps we'd go to Rhy'Din one day to visit the theater for ourselves." And to specifically see Josh and Dru on stage, though he said nothing about that where the servants might overhear.

"I thought you said you weren't worried," she teased him gently, but her smile was understanding. "Jamie, if I were given a choice between cataloging the rarest and most beautiful art every day for the rest of my life, or spending every day with you, I would always choose you. I've loved you for years. Art doesn't hold a candle to you. And it certainly doesn't hold a candle to the joy of terrifying Miranda Granger with constant hints that I might be pregnant." Lady Keira Talbot, pillar of the nobility, snickered into her wine glass like a naughty schoolgirl. Every time Miranda fitted her, she deliberately stuck her belly out, just to see the fashion designer's expression turn horrified. "I think we should visit Rhy'Din," she agreed with a nod. "I've heard so much about it, but I've never been there."

"What we don't know we can find out. You could ask your friend Miranda. I'm sure she'd have a few suggestions," he said, setting his fork and knife aside as he finished off his dinner. Though he might know a little more about Earth than she did, he didn't want to be responsible for making the decision all on his own.

"I'm sure she would," Keira agreed with a slow nod. "Convincing her to help us make a decision might actually require me to stop playing with her, though." She grinned at James affectionately. "Sure you want me to stop my fun just so we can be grown ups and decide where we're going to make a baby after we get married?"

He shrugged, that smile still in place on his face. "Just because we're planning a honeymoon doesn't mean we're going to wait until after we're married to make a baby, does it?" he asked, not quite realizing that if any of the servants overheard them, they just might take that the wrong way.

"Are we going to disappoint the cook and not have dessert again, love?" she asked him in a sweetly innocent tone, knowing full well that the cook had given up planning dessert in advance unless the Duke was in residence. There was no way to tell whether or not the Earl and his fiancee would make it to coffee on any given day. "And I think I'm going to stay scandal free, if you don't mind. Imagine how much fun it'll be to shock everyone in the country when we walk down the aisle without a baby bump in the way."

"We could always stuff a pillow under your dress," he teased back, though he was hoping for a scandal-free wedding as much as she was and was assuming she was taking steps to make sure it stayed that way. He wasn't so sure about dessert. It wasn't that he didn't like dessert; it was just that by the time they got to dessert, they both had usually already had their fill. "You're all the dessert I need," he replied with a grin.

"Ah, but are we going to make it to the bedroom this time?" she teased him, delicately wiping her lips before laying her napkin down beside her plate. "I don't think the butler is going to have recovered by now from our little sidetrip into the closet last week. The poor man almost lost his dentures, he was so shocked."

"It's about time this house sees a little excitement, don't you think" Things have been too quiet here for too long," Jamie replied, reaching for her hand and linking his fingers with hers. There had been no lady of the house since his mother had died, though things had not been so quiet with two small boys running around. He had a feeling his mother would have been happy with the choice he'd made - she had always liked Keira, after all.

"And we have to behave ourselves when the Duke is in residence," she conceded with a small smile, drawing her fingertips over his palm before they linked with his. She remembered his mother, aware of how great a hole that loss had left behind, a little intimidated by the understanding that she had huge footsteps to follow in. She could only do her best and hope it was enough. "I love you very much, Jamie."

He arched a curious brow at her, wondering what he'd said or done to prompt that. "Are you all right?" he asked, confident that she loved him, but not so sure why she felt it necessary to tell him that right here and now.

"I never could keep anything from you, could I?" Her smile softened, a little awkward despite the warmth between them. "I have some very big shoes to fill, and I'm not sure I can do it. And it's a little frightening, to be following in your mother's footsteps. She was so loved, Jamie. I'm sure people will take against me, purely for not being her."

So, he hadn't imagined it. She wasn't just telling him she loved him for nothing. There was something bothering her, but he hadn't expected it to be about his mother. "Keira, love..." he started, touching an affectionate kiss to her knuckles. "The people are going to love you," he told her, unsure how to make her believe him. "They are going to love you for yourself. My mother has been....She's been gone a long time. Give them a chance to get to know you, and I'm sure they will love you just as much as they loved her."

"I don't want them to," she admitted ruefully. "I don't want to be put on a par with her. She was something very special, and I know I can't compare. But I don't want to let you down, either." She shook her head, smiling gently. "These are just recurring worries, Jamie. They'll go away, in time."

"Why can't you compare" Why are you so worried about being compared to her" Do you think I worry about being compared to my father" I'm not him, anymore than you are her. We are going to do things differently, just because we are different people. That doesn't mean we are any more or any less special than them. We're just different." He leaned forward to touch her cheek. "I love you, Keira. And I know the people are going to love you, too." He wasn't sure how he knew; he just did.

She smiled, her cheek tilting into his touch affectionately. She had a feeling he wasn't being entirely honest with her when it came to his own worries, but that was something they could work on over time. Leading by example was all she could do, for now. "We'll make things work," she nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill the mood by being a worrywart."

He smiled back at her, his fingers brushing gently and affectionately against her cheek. "You're allowed to worry. I worry, too," he admitted, though he didn't divulge what exactly it was that he worried about. "We were born to this, Keira. We'll be fine." His smile widened a little as another thought came to mind. "You know, my mother always hoped it would be you."

Keira couldn't help laughing, a little incredulous of this little nugget of information. "We were children, Jamie," she reminded him, tucking her hair back from her face with one hand. "How could she possibly have known" It isn't as though I was your only friend at the time."

He shrugged. There was a simple enough explanation, though it might be a little painful to hear it. "She always wanted a daughter and she was very fond of you, Keira. Remember how she'd always invite you to go on holiday with us" She thought of you as one of the family."

She winced a little, glancing down at their joined hands. "Jamie, I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, or ..." She sighed, shaking her head. "It's my night for putting my foot in my mouth, isn't it?"

"It's all right. I made peace with my mother's death a long time ago. It would have been nice if she'd lived to see us get married, but I'm sure she's pleased, wherever she is," he assured her gently, rubbing a thumb against the back of her hand. "You need not worry so much with me."

"Patience is over-rated," Jamie replied, having none of it. He'd waited all day for her; wasn't that long enough' He pulled suddenly away from her, just long enough that he could get his pants off, eyes bright with mischief and desire, before surging forward again. Now that his pants were off, his desire was as plain as day, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of her. If she wanted a caveman, a caveman she'd get. He parted her thighs, not wasting any time in taking her dress off, and kissed his way up her legs to savor the delicate sweetness of her womanhood that could only belong to his Keira.

Caveman, gentleman, rake ....it didn't matter which face he showed her. It was his face, his touch, his loving desire. That was all that mattered. Being at Jamie's mercy was more of a lifetime goal than any form of punishment. There was no protest from her as he took advantage of her disadvantage, thrilling her with strong hands and hungry lips until she writhed wildly against the immaculately turned down sheets, shameless in declaring to the entire house exactly who she loved and, indeed, what it was they were on their way to doing together.

Let it not be said that Jamie Stuart was a selfish lover who didn't know how to make love to a woman - quite the opposite, in fact. He didn't do anything to satisfy himself until he was sure her needs and desires were tended to first and that she was ready for him. Only then did he claim her, lips burning kisses against hers while he drove them both to madness with the oldest dance the world knew.

He never let her satisfy him first, no matter how hard she wrestled for that moment, always seeming to need her to let go before he would let it happen to himself. And if she was entirely truthful, Keira loved him all the more for that insistence, that very gentlemanly habit of putting the lady first, even when she wasn't behaving like much of a lady in the first place. He knew exactly what worked on her, exactly how to bring her to breaking point, and only then would he join in and let her bring him with her. Of course, what happened afterward depended entirely on how determined she was to have the first word.

Only then, when she was completely satisfied, and he along with her, would he give up control and allow her to do as she wished. Even then, he insisted on being a loving, active partner. He never wanted her to doubt his love or how much he desired her. There was no one but her, and he took every opportunity to prove it. Only when he was sure she was thoroughly satiated did he bother to finally unzip her dress, his kisses gentler, more tender as he freed her from the confines of her clothes.

Breathless and sated, for now, she eased herself free of dress and everything beneath with his help, hoping each of her own kisses was as devastating to him as his were to her. "You really should let me play first sometimes," she murmured tenderly, shucking his shirt from his shoulders finally. Sod work. She could catch up at the museum tomorrow.

He sighed contentedly as he lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms once they had both been relieved of their clothing. He tugged the blankets up over them both to keep her from catching a chill, content to just hold her close for now. "Why's that?" he asked. "Worried I don't get as good as I give?" he asked, the expression on his face telling her he was only teasing.

"Well ....yes, frankly," she laughed softly, always happy to be wrapped up in his arms. She'd spent a long time resenting her lack of height, but with Jamie, it never seemed to matter. She liked feeling small and vulnerable in his arms, though she wasn't sure she was ever going to admit that to him. He might start taking advantage of it in that playful way he had. "It isn't all about me, love."

That was where she was wrong. Jamie turned to face her, a serious look on his face for perhaps the first time that evening. "Yes, it is, Keira. You are everything to me. You can't imagine how much I've missed you, how grateful I am to have you back. I never want to be without you again." Yes, he knew she meant something else by what she was saying, but he needed her to know this, too. He pressed a kiss against her forehead, soft and tender. "I love you, Keira. Always have and always will."

How he always managed to choke her up when she wasn't expecting it was beyond her. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she pressed tighter into his arms, brushing her own lips over his heart. "You know that's how I feel about you," she murmured tenderly to him, nestling closer into his arms. "Don't you think I want to share that feeling with you, the way you share it with me" I love you, Jamie. That isn't going to change. Ever."

"You do share it with me," he insisted. "I see it in your eyes, in the way you look at me, the way you kiss me, the way you sigh a little when we're lying here in bed." He touched his fingers to her cheek in a gentle caress. "We are going to be married, Keira. We are going to spend the rest of our lives together, and we are going to be happy. No one and nothing is ever going to take this away from us, no matter what. Ever."

"Then there's no reason for you to always reduce me to a purring wreck before letting me touch you, is there?" she countered, using his own loving argument against him as she inched upward to prop herself up, looking down at him with affectionate eyes. "We have a lifetime to spend together. And I can guarantee you are not always going to get your own way," she added teasingly, leaning down to nip the end of his nose. "You already lost the argument for a quickie wedding."

He grinned up at her, chuckling a little at the nip to his nose. He reached for her, weaving his fingers into her hair around to the back of her neck to keep her close. "Who says I always need to get my own way?" he asked, before pressing a kiss to her lips that was in danger of rekindling the fire between them - a flame that really never went out.

Her grin touched his as he kissed her once again, never offering any complaint when he drew her as close as she could be. "If you don't always need to," she murmured against his lips, "why do you always fight with me over things" Admit it, you love winning."

"I admit nothing except that I love you," he replied with a smirk. Him' Admit that he loved winning - or more accurately, hated losing" Never! Even if it was the truth. "Now, that we've had the appetizer, what do you say we have the main course?" he asked, waggling his brows at her as she rolled on top of her. It was clear he was ready for a second go, but whether it was in part to change the subject was uncertain. What did it matter who won and who lost so long as they were having fun"

Keira laughed as he tipped her over onto her back once again, little more than a rag doll compared with his strength and not minding in the least. "One of these days, I am going to win a bet with you, and my stake will be you having to let me tie you down so I can do to you what you do to me so very often, love." Surely that wasn't so awful an idea that he would never allow it"

Of course, he was careful not to crush or smother her, leveraging his weight against those huge arms of his. "Tie me down?" he echoed doubtfully, laughing. "And you expect me to just let you, I suppose."

"You'll have to, if it's a stake in a bet and I happen to win," she pointed out laughingly, drawing her fingers down over the broad expanse of his back. "What's wrong with letting me play sometimes" You never know, I might have learned a thing or two that you're just not getting the chance to enjoy."

He frowned thoughtfully at her, unsure how to answer her question. Why not, indeed? Most men would kill to be in his position, with a woman who was so anxious to please her man. "Because I don't want it to just be about me," he replied. Though he wasn't sure if that was the whole truth, it was at least part of it. "I love you, Keira, and I want you to know it."

Her smile softened, sensing that difficulty in answering the question she had posed. Her hand rose, gently drawing her knuckles against his cheek. "I do know it," she promised him. "I love you, too." But this clearly wasn't something to push right now, knowing when to pick her battles. She arched her neck, kissing his frown away affectionately.

He wasn't really sure what was bothering him about it. He was flattered, of course, but there was something about him that needed to be in control. Maybe it wouldn't always be that way, but it was for now, and he couldn't say exactly why. "I want you, Keira," he whispered against her lips between kisses. He couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't want her, again and again, always and forever, so long as she wanted him in return.

There was nothing in her that could even have pretended to deny him, not even an ounce of resistance against something she wanted as much as he did. "So take me, Jamie," she whispered back to him, her own kisses as needful, as hungry, as loving as his. "Whenever, wherever ..."

He was only too happy to do just that, showing her once again how much he wanted her - how much he needed her. Though he might not have admitted it, it was clear he had missed her, not just that day but during all the years they'd been apart, and it was obvious from the loving affection he showered upon her that he wasn't going to ever let her forget it or doubt him again. In just a few short months, she would be his wife, and he would not be simply mouthing the words at the ceremony. 'Til death do us part, and beyond, was a promise neither one wanted to break.