Dinner was a tense affair but Mildred didn't notice. Or chose not to. She wildly enthused about her day's shopping and purchases whilst the married couple glumly ate their food. Laura resolutely ignored her husband. She'd done so from the minute he'd returned to the hotel and his burning anger soon turned to abject misery. How the bloody hell would he put this right?
Mildred eventually declared fatigue and Laura immediately followed suit. They were all smiles as they adjourned to their separate rooms but as soon as the newly weds entered theirs, she rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door. Hard.
Steele sat on the bed, placed his head in his hands and sighed heavily. It was the worst fight they had ever had - and that was saying something. Worse than Cannes, worse than the altercation over Billie Young, worse even than their highly emotional row at the Freidlich Sensitivity Spa. They had an uncanny ability of igniting each other's ire and whenever that happened, hell breaking loose inevitably followed. In all the years he'd known her, Laura had never been intimidated by his bursts of rage because she matched him step-for-step in that department. At times, she even exceeded him.
A strange clattering sound brought him out of his reverie. He listened intently for a moment then realised that his wife was venting her fury on the toiletries. Relief that bars of soap were bearing the brunt of her formidable wrath was tempered with frustration and helplessness for it in the first place.
The door opened. Laura gave her husband the cold shoulder and strode over to the bed. She got in and pulled the covers over her.
Steele padded into the bathroom, picked up the toiletries she'd thrown to the floor, showered, jerked on his pyjama bottoms then walked over to her side of the bed. Sitting down, he tried to lift the portion of the sheets covering her head but she yanked them back.
"Tell me how to make this right Laura," he pleaded.
There was silence.
He sighed. "I've thanked you but I've never apologised for it. I'm sorry I put you through that. I'm sorry that I nearly wrecked everything you've worked for, that I've worked for, that we've worked for, that we worked for together. I panicked Laura - that's the God's honest truth."
He watched closely for signs of reaction but the figure in the bed remained stubbornly still, so he continued.
"I've been scared before for the exact same reason. I never told you what that maniac Descoine did while he was attempting to frame me, did I? He drew a gun on me Laura and for a brief second, it flashed through my mind that I'd never see you again. Then he pulled the trigger but the gun was empty, intentionally so. That's how twisted the bloody psycho is. He purposely fired an empty gun at me. The rest you know. When the INS first made contact, the very same thought went through my mind - that I'd never see you again. And I just couldn't handle it. Panic Laura, sheer, blind, panic. I couldn't see straight, I couldn't think straight and I certainly couldn't act straight. I'm sure you must have wondered more than once, just who that impostor was working alongside you in the days leading up to the Unidac case, on that case itself and for a couple of days afterwards."
Her legs moved. Heartened, he went on.
"Clarissa seemed the easy way out, or so I thought. A civil marriage - no emotional ties, just something to keep me in the country so that I could stay with you. That's all it was going to be, I swear. I know I should have said something about the INS situation but I just couldn't. Every time I opened my mouth to tell you, something else came out instead. You've saved my skin so many times; I couldn't ask you to do it again. Not with that one - it just seemed too big so I tried to do it myself but look where it got me, look where it got us. It nearly ruined the most precious thing in the world to me - us. Can't we try and get past this? I mean, we're married for real now - doesn't that count for anything? I promise I'll never keep anything from you again. Honestly, I'm sorry. Really sorry. Nothing like that will ever happen again."
After ten minutes, she sat up. "Promise?"
He held up his hand. "Scout's honour."
"You were never in the Scouting movement, Mr Steele."
"Really Laura, will you ever drop your preoccupation with semantics?"
She ran her hands through her hair. "Look, I didn't mean what I said. The names I called you, all that stuff about marrying you. Or rather, not marrying you, I didn't mean that, any of it. I was just angry."
"I know. I'm sorry I drove you to feel that way, that I drove you to say it. I'm also sorry I brought up that slippery agent. That was a bit beneath me."
"I'm not interested in Tony. I never was, not really. I was just furious with you about the INS thing, about Clarissa, about the wedding - the first one that is. I guess I was using him to try and make you jealous. I'm not proud of it but I wanted to hurt you because you really hurt me."
"I'm sorry, I really am. I'll make it up to you, I promise. As for that wife-stealer Roselli, if I catch him sniffing around you again, I'll take him apart. Slowly. Limb by perfidious limb. And that's another promise."
Laura changed the subject. "You looked very handsome yesterday."
He brightened and wistfully mused, "And you looked very beautiful.
Did I remember to tell you? We make a perfect couple don't we?
Y'know, I think I first fell for you when I found out that Remington
Steele was your invention. An ingenious scam, conning an entire
metropolitan city into believing that the great detective existed.
It almost beats anything I've ever done."
"What do you mean 'almost?' It does beat everything you've ever done Mr Steele!"
"Are you going to call me that for the rest of my life?"
She frowned. "What?"
"Mr Steele. Are you going to call me that for the rest of my life?"
"I guess I - I, well." She sighed. "It's so hard to explain. You see, it was meant to be the name of my invisible boss. How was I supposed to know that he'd turn into a man and walk and talk?" Laura reached out and stroked his face.
"You are Remington Steele, you are the persona, the man,
it's your identity, it's you. When I introduce you to people,
it's as Remington Steele because that's who you are. But I've
never thought of you in any other way than as 'Mr Steele' because
that's what I called you when I first got to know you and it's
how I always think of you. For me, your surname is more intimate,
less formal than your Christian name - I've known you and called
you by it for years."
She twisted her wedding ring. "But I'll have to remember
to call you 'Remington' in front of certain people, or on certain
occasions."
"It's okay Laura. I don't mind, really. Call me Mr Steele or call me Remington. It doesn't matter. Speaking of names, I'm very fond of yours."
"My name? Laura?"
"Yes 'Laura,' but also, Mrs Steele too."
She smiled wryly. "I knew there was something I meant to discuss with you."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I wondered why our waiter was fawning all over me.
When you went to the men's room, I asked him about it. He told
me that you tipped him twenty
pounds with the instruction that he was to continuously call me
'Mrs Steele' in your presence."
Steele flashed a nervous grin. "A credit to his profession. Remarkable attitude, wonderful service too."
She crossed her arms. "What did you do that for?"
"Do what?" he queried.
"Why did you pay that waiter twenty pounds to say my name?"
He shrugged then beamed. "I like hearing it. I like hearing you called 'Mrs Steele' by other people. It adds a certain joie de vivre to our connubial felicity."
She rolled her eyes. "You tipped him twenty pounds for that? Do you realise how much that is in dollars?"
"That's what I love about you Laura, your sense of romance!"
She slapped her thighs exasperatedly.
"In fact, I love everything about you. I even love it when you're mad at me. What an affirmation of love, that you love the pain your loved one inflicts because they're the one giving it to you." He shook his head.
Laura looked down at her hands. "We've hurt each other very much at times haven't we? I've hurt you, you've hurt me."
He tipped her chin up and looked deeply into her eyes. "We wouldn't be able to hurt each other if we didn't love each other. And I do love you. Very much Mrs Steele."
The words. At last. She smiled, "Me too."
"What's the matter? Can't you say it?"
"Of course I can!" she sniffed indignantly.
"Go on then. I'm waiting. Otherwise you can sleep on the couch."
Incredulous she gasped, "You're not serious!"
"I am Laura, completely serious. You're the great espouser of equality and yet for all these years, I've been chivalrous and taken the couch. I admit, mainly to gain your approbation. But I don't need to anymore because I now know every inch of your delectable body. Marriage - marvellous institution," he grinned.
"Are you saying that you were only chivalrous so that I'd hop in the sack with you?"
"Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! These diversionary tactics of yours won't wash with me, I know you remember? I want your declaration Laura and I want it now."
"Aping what I said two nights ago isn't going to make me say it any quicker," she announced tersely.
Steele began whistling.
Laura mumbled some words.
Her husband put his hands to his ears. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear."
She muttered a little louder.
"No Laura, no good. I still didn't quite catch that I'm afraid. What did you say?"
"I said, I love you too, you louse!" she snapped.
"There now, was that so hard?" he chided her in the same way she'd admonished him a couple of nights ago.
Irked by his manner, Laura pushed him and he lost his balance dropping to the floor laughing. As she watched him, her irritation lifted and soon, she too joined him in helpless laughter.
"I don't think we've laughed so much since that afternoon in the Hotel Del Amour when you tried to put up that mosquito net."
"Mr Steele, the less said about Mexico the better."
He turned off the lights and pulled back the covers. Reaching for his wife he tenderly kissed her - glad to put that quarrel behind him even if he knew the next one was probably around the corner.
"So, your chivalry hid an ulterior motive. Getting me
into bed."
"It only took four and a half years."
They undressed each other, kissing repeatedly before Steele gently, slowly and lovingly stroked every inch of his wife's skin. As he encircled her in a tight embrace, the force of his desire, of his arousal, became unmistakable. Laura felt him hard against her and anticipation of what would inevitably follow heightened her own passion. She tilted her head back so that the warmth of his mouth met her throat and sighed blissfully as her husband took his time to pleasure her, seemingly determined to awaken every nerve in her body.
Caressing hands, dextrous tongue and eager lips sensuously
travelled downwards at an unhurried, leisurely pace: first to
her breasts then her abdomen and finally between her thighs. At
first she watched him, hands running softly through his hair,
hypnotised by his titillating journey. Then she closed her eyes
as he grasped her thighs and held her firmly between his elbows.
An audible, rapturous sigh escaped her as he struck up a maddening,
relentless rhythm with his tongue - up and down, left to right,
around and around, flicking, lapping, wiggling, slow, quick, quick,
slow - before using it to plunge deeply into her, again and again
and again. Back arched, breathing shallow, senses alive, body
shuddering - she cried out his name and
abandoned herself completely to the feeling.
**********************************************
It had only been just over two weeks since their return to
Los Angeles. Steele stared at his wife as she slept in the bed
of their Rossmore apartment.
It was seven fifteen in the morning. Friday. A work day. He still
found it difficult to comprehend that after all their years together
as adversaries, as friends, as partners - they really were legally
married. She was his wife; he was no longer a bachelor. His impossible
challenge was well and truly conquered. His mouth lifted at the
corners: well, in truth, only one part of her was well and truly
conquered. Laura Steele, née Holt, remained very much her
own woman.
She opened her eyes, stretched and yawned. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he responded with his trademark lopsided grin.
Laura eyed him quizzically. "What's that look on your face for?"
"I came to Los Angeles to steal jewellery and I end up married instead!" he ruefully shook his head. "I'm probably the laughing stock of London's criminal element!"
She pushed him playfully. "I believe the term for your predicament is 'divine retribution' Mr Steele."
"I believe the term for my predicament is 'in the mood' Mrs Steele." He bent his head to kiss her but she placed her hands on his chest, stopping him.
"Good lord! That reminds me -"
"Of an obelisk? A rocket? A -"
"No Mr Steele, that's not what I'm talking about …. a caber we saw tossed at a Highland game maybe." She smiled then said, "We got a letter yesterday from the Thistledown Hotel about -"
"The Thistledown?"
"The hotel in Edinburgh, remember?"
"What about it?"
"The day we had that row?"
"Good grief Laura, I need more than that to place the day."
"Okay, the day we had that row about that woman. Now do you remember?"
"Which woman?"
"That woman you were planning to marry to avoid depor -"
"Ah yes, Wednesday. What about it?"
"Well, the night we made up -"
"No need to thank me Laura. It's my duty as a husband."
"Mr Steele, please. The night we made up - well, admittedly we made up rather vigorously -"
"Laura, our first time together was vigorous. Since then it's been Force 8 on the Richter Scale. Total destruction worldwide: waves on the ground surface, cracks in the Northern and Southern Hemisphere, river courses altered, vision distorted -"
She slapped her forehead. "I'm beginning to learn that it's impossible to talk to you in the mornings."
"Some people reach for a cigarette when they wake up, others require caffeine, I need -"
"Anyway, as I was saying, we made up rather vigorously and we've now been sent the bill for the bed. I'm sorry Mr Steele but we didn't get away with it."
"We woke Mildred and crept out of that hotel to avoid the maid for nothing? You mean I could have had a hot breakfast after all? I missed out on fried eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, mushrooms, hot buttered toast - the works. I'm devastated Laura."
"To the matter at hand Mr Steele."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Pay it. Send them a cheque, a 'Thank You' card and a bunch of roses too while you're at it. What's a damaged bed compared to a night like that, eh? I think we went for a world record."
"We broke it. And the bed too."
"You laughed so hard, I was afraid we were going to have another Cindy Sikes situation."
"Who?"
"The weekend we spent together on the Devil's Island? The good old days? I was on the couch, if I can abuse the word and call it that, you were in the bed and -"
"Oh that Cindy Sikes! Funny how easily you recall the women from our cases Mr Steele."
He gave her a self-deprecating shrug before continuing, "Anyway, laughter can temporarily cut off the air supply to the lungs so -"
"Never mind that now! I told you we were being too - too - too -" she searched desperately for the word.
"Athletic?" he supplied with a grin.
"Something like that," she conceded wryly. "What must they think of us?"
"Oh come now Laura, rock stars trash hotel rooms all the time! Wild parties and -"
"Just how many rock stars do you think have stopped off at The Thistledown in Edinburgh to trash a room? We'll never be able to go back there again!"
"One hotel down, approximately a million more to go. We should get a chart and tick off each bed we wreck as we journey around the world sating our lust, explor -"
"I can see you're taking this with your usual sense of gravity."
He stroked her face and smiled. "We had a good time in Scotland. It was all worth it."
"Yes," she sighed. "Our second wedding was so romantic. The beautiful scenery, the piper blowing the bagpipes, the Scottish accents -"
"Our first had its own unique charm."
Incredulous, she sat up. "What charm? I was a mess, we were married on a smelly boat, fish everywhere, in a language neither of us are completely fluent in and Norman -"
"Ah but it was so us really, eh? Admit it."
"In the sense that it was crazy and bizarre? Yes I suppose that's us." Laura's brow furrowed. "Only one more wedding to go now: I'm beginning to feel like Elizabeth Taylor."
"Your mother insisted."
"Don't remind me."
"Gives her a chance to show off her handsome son-in-law."
"Don't you mean, it gives her a chance to show off her youngest child Mr Steele?"
"No, not really Laura."
She reached behind for a pillow and hit him with it. He laughed and pulled her on top of him.
"Who'd have thought that we'd make such a good pair Mrs Steele?"
"What are you talking about now?"
"Well, us of course. The way we are. We work hard together and we play very hard together … can we play now?" He kissed her nose.
She frowned, pondering his statement. "So far, this marriage thing hasn't been bad. Apart from the INS and Clarissa thing."
"Don't mention that now Laura. I'll lose the mood."
"Hah!"
He rolled her over and covered her with his body. "And just what is that 'hah!' supposed to mean my sweet?"
"I don't think you'd lose the mood if we were stranded in the Arctic naked!"
"Now there's a thought." Steele nuzzled her throat as his hands explored the lithe, toned body he could never get enough of.
"Apart from you-know-what, it's been okay. A few squabbles here and there, a few rows, a few disagreements. No different to when we were single really."
"I beg to differ Mrs Steele. There is one crucial difference."
She smiled up at him. "A big difference. A huge difference."
"You say the nicest things Laura."
"Us. After all these years, after all that time, after all the misunderstandings, you going left - me going right. I was beginning to think we'd never meet in the middle -"
"And now we can't stop meeting in the middle Mrs Steele," he winked.
She groaned then continued. "I was beginning to think we'd never get there, that we'd be frozen forever as not-quite-lovers. What a pair!"
He grinned lasciviously. "My thoughts exactly."
She slapped his hands. "Not that!"
"Those."
"Whatever. I'm talking about us. You and me."
He kissed her shoulders. "What about us?"
"Well, can we do it?"
"I thought you'd never ask. Who's on top?"
"Mr Steele. I'm serious. Can we do it? Can we do this," she gestured helplessly. "Can we make it work? This Mr and Mrs thing?"
Realising that deep apprehension lay behind her question, Steele forced her to look at him. He kissed both of her hands and placed them over his beating heart. "Of course we can Laura," he answered sincerely.
She drew back a little and scanned his countenance. The tenderness, the gentleness of his regard warmed her from head to toe. She felt some of her fearfulness subside.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because we've surmounted the biggest hurdle of all."
"And what's that?"
"Your mother's fury at our first two marriages without her being there!"
"Oh yes!" she beamed. "That's true. Hell hath no fury than my mother ignored! Astute observation Mr Steele, I'm ready for anything now!"
"I believe that's my cue Mrs Steele."
"No, it's mine." She climbed on top of him. "This time, I'm going for Force 9."
He clasped his hands behind his neck and grinned. "That's what I love about you Laura, you're so competitive!"
"Buckle up Mr Steele. It's going to be a bumpy ride."
"If I'd known married life was going to be like this, I'd have made you marry me years ago."
Laura, just about to move her hips, placed her hands on them
instead.
"Excuse me? Aren't you conveniently overlooking the fact
that I made you marry me?"
"On the contrary Mrs Steele, I came up with the suggestion. You were the reluctant participant."
"I beg your pardon? Despite needing me to save your skin, you got cold feet at a crucial moment. I had to drag you on that boat!"
"You're being absurd. I carried you on it!"
"Who tried to jump off?"
"Who needed prompting to say yes, or rather 'si?' "
"Might I remind you that -"
He pulled her to him for a passionate kiss and rolled her over. As usual, she responded fervently and before long, arms and legs were entangled. They smiled at each other and then excruciatingly inflamed, Steele grabbed her wrists, lifted them above her head and pinned them to the bed using his legs to also hold her immobile.
"Quarrels, disagreements, bickering, differences of opinions. Ain't married life grand Mrs Steele?" he murmured before lowering his head to her breasts.
Laura trembled under his mouth, under his body heat, under the awareness of his want for her - throbbing, rigid, pulsating. She tried to move her hands but, taking an evil delight in her excitement, her husband increased his grip, further impeding her arms and legs. It was a thrilling form of torture, sweet captivity - powerless to do anything as his mouth and tongue mercilessly tormented her breasts. Another attempt to shift her hands proved fruitless - she wanted to embrace him, she wanted to touch him, she wanted to feel how hard he was, how big he was, and she wanted him moving inside her. Now. Full stop. And she knew he knew it.
No words were spoken, no rules verbally laid down, but none needed to be. They'd known each other too long and both recognised instantly what this was. A duel, a contest, a competition: like everything else with them, in bed or out of it. Who'd yield first? Who had the stronger will? Who'd pass the test? Who'd come out on top? Who'd play dirtier? Who'd take the spoils?
He looked up and grinned. "This is almost too easy."
"You haven't won yet," she breathed in response, "I haven't asked for it."
"Not yet. But you will," he insisted as he bent his head again.
"Don't bet on it," she murmured.
From the day the terms of their arrangement were first laid down, it set off an intense rivalry: an incessant struggle for the edge, a battle for ultimate power and control. Not only over the agency but for each other too and apart from their profound, all-consuming feelings, fear kept them together. Neither wanted to experience life apart. They were too far-gone for that: in love, in hate, in fright, in neurosis, in war. It was unacknowledged but both understood that it would always be this way. As long as they remained together, sparring for superiority would be a daily occurrence. It came as naturally to them as breathing. The only unresolved matter was who would win the most rounds on any one particular day?
For Laura, events in her own tumultuous past had built insecurity to such an extent, intuition had told her that she'd never function with this man who was now her husband, on any level, unless she was in the driving seat. And if she wanted him - and she had done so from the day he'd presented her with that magnum of champagne - she had to preside over, to command, to have complete charge, to dominate. Underneath it all, she had to be the one wearing the trousers, irrespective of how it looked on the surface - to him or anyone else.
It went a long way towards explaining how and why she'd seen off Felicia and Anna and all the other airheads, bitches and bimbos comprising his coterie of women over the years. She knew how to win - that's why he was hers now, that's why she was Mrs Steele. As for her husband, she was determined to get what she wanted without surrendering. And right now, she wanted release.
Exploiting what little movement she still had, Laura pushed her hips up, circling against him in a teasing motion - clockwise first and then anti-clockwise until she heard him moan but it wasn't enough. She rotated leisurely until she felt his body tense and the grip on her arms slacken but it still wasn't enough. With total deliberation, she stepped up the tempo, moving against him, stimulating him until he groaned her name, until he capitulated aloud, until he parted her legs with his own, until she felt him ease into her.
Game, set and match.
Sighing blissfully, she immediately thrust her pelvis upwards allowing him maximum penetration and locked her legs around his back. It was a movement of hers he was beginning to love as much as the woman herself.
"I won Mr Steele."
"I insist on a rematch Mrs Steele."