Notes: This story begins the morning after the end of "Steeled With A Kiss". Everything's right with Remington's world- but when a rat enters the picture, that world comes crashing down around his ears.
Warning! Angst alert. For those of you who don't like Laura and Steele not being together, beware. But never fear, you know me, hopeless romantic that I am, things will be all right in the end.
Remington Steele lay watching Laura sleep as the sun rose over Ashford Castle, still trying to come to grips with his good fortune. At last they had finally crossed that line- and there was no going back. Perhaps Daniel's death hadn't been totally in vain, if it had led he and Laura to finally lower the barriers that had kept them together- yet apart.
Last night had been wonderful. What Laura had lacked in experience, she had more than made up for in enthusiasm. Remington turned onto his back, his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes as he remembered how they had come together. As he had always suspected, it was though they had been made for each other.
For the first time, Remington understood what the term "making love" *really* meant. Up until last night, he'd simply been going through the motions. Being with someone wasn't the same as giving yourself to another person, all of yourself. Every molecule, every fiber of one's being.
Laura stirred and turned over, away from him. Remington decided that he would risk not being here when she woke and slipped carefully out of bed. Picking up his scattered clothing from the floor beside the bed, Remington put them on quietly as he took another look at Laura.
He'd find Mickeline and ask him to have Cook prepare breakfast in bed for the two of them, and then return to watch Laura wake up. He wanted to see the look in her eyes. To see whether she regretted what they had done- or whether she was as pleased and delighted as he was.
Opening the door, he slipped out into the chilly corridor, hardly noticing in the warm afterglow of the night just passed.
Mikeline O'Flynn was in the front hall when Remington descended the staircase. "Ah, Mickeline, my good man. Top of the morning to you," Remington declared, not a care in the world for once. He'd given the castle to the servants- well, all but the twenty percent they had insisted that he retain for himself- and Laura was upstairs, waiting in his- in *their* bed.
"Ah, good mornin' your Lordship," Mickeline replied. "I trust you and her Ladyship slept well?"
"Like a babe, Mickeline," Remington said. "Like a babe. You're up and about a bit earlier than I thought you would be," he noted.
The other man beamed with pride. "Oh, it takes more than a night of celebration to get an Irishman down, sir."
"So it does," Remington agreed. "So it does." He looked around warily. "Speaking of celebrating, where is Mildred?"
"Oh, still in her bed, I would imagine. Poor woman couldn't hold her liquor very well."
Remington chuckled knowingly, slapping Mickeline on the back. "Ah, yes. Could I ask a favor of you, my good man?"
"Anything, your Lordship, considering what you've done for us, whatever you wish is yours."
"I was thinking," Remington began, glancing back up the stairs, "that Mrs. Steele and myself might like to have breakfast in bed- if it wouldn't be too much trouble, that is."
"Oh, no trouble atall, sir," Mickeline assured him, smiling widely. "I'll have Cook whip up something."
Remington hesitated, recalling the previous meal that Cook had "prepared". "Uh, Mickeline-"
"Have no fear, sir, Cook laid in a supply of foodstuff early this mornin'. You'd be surprised how the locals are willin' t'help out with turnin' Ashford into a hotel."
"Good for the local economy, I'd wager," Remington nodded.
"That it is, sir, that it is. I'll have Cook prepare somethin' grand and bring it right up to you meself."
"Good man, Mickeline," Remington praised. "Good man."
***
Laura felt lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, working their way toward her neck, and then her ear as hands slipped beneath the heavy quilts to slide over her skin in tiny circles. She moaned softly. "What a nice way to wake up," she sighed, her eyes still closed as she turned to meet those lips with her own.
When she heard the bedroom door close with some force, Laura opened her eyes and saw Remington standing there, looking at her. "Remington-" She went totally still, and then pulled back to look at the man who lay beside her in the bed. Laughing brown eyes met hers without remorse. "Tony!" she cried, pushing him away and sitting up, belatedly realizing that the move left her uncovered and open to Tony's appreciative gaze. Grabbing the bedclothes, Laura lifted them over her breasts, feeling as though she was in a B-grade romantic comedy. Only there was nothing funny about the way Remington was looking at her.
Tony barely glanced at Remington as he refused to back down. "I warned you last night that I wasn't going to give up, Laura," he said.
"Last night?" Remington questioned, speaking at last, still standing beside the door.
"Remington-" Laura began, but Tony continued.
"She didn't tell you that I called last night?"
"No. But I do seem to remember the telephone ringing," Remington noted.
"It took me most of the night to get out of Dublin and back here," Tony explained, looking at Laura again. "I just think you need to give me a chance, Laura. You're the one who said that if we'd met five years ago things might have been different-"
Remington frowned. "You said that?"
"Yes," Laura replied honestly. "But I didn't mean-" She saw Remington's hand reach for the doorknob. "Where are you going?"
"Removing myself from the equation. Giving you the chance to decide who you want in your life. Antony- or me."
"But- what about the Agency?" Laura asked, and flinched at the coldness that filled his blue gaze when he turned to look at her.
"That's all it's about, isn't it, Laura?" he said sadly. "That's all it's ever been. The Agency. I'm sure you and Antony and Mildred can handle things without me."
Laura scrambled from the bed, jerking the satin comforter with her, wrapping it loosely around her body as she moved toward him. "Wait. Where will you be?"
"I'll be in touch. Tell Immigration that I decided to deport myself, so they can stop worrying." He opened the door and took a step.
"Remington - You can't just - go like this."
He paused, looking down at her. "Why not? It's what you've always suspected I'd do, isn't it? Leave you in the lurch? I'm just living up to your expectations for me. Good-bye." He turned and continued into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
Laura stood there, staring at the door, not wanting to believe the finality of his last word. She turned to look at Tony, who lifted his hands in a defensive measure. "You!" she said, advancing on his position with blood in her eyes.
"Listen, Laura, I didn't think he'd come back so quick. I thought I'd have some time to convince you that-" he stopped as she stepped past him toward the armoire on the other side of the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching as she dragged out some clothes.
"Getting dressed. I have to stop him."
***
Remington met Mickeline on the stair with the promised breakfast. "I was just on my way up, your Lordship," the little man said, indicating the tray in his hands.
"Take it up, Mickeline. I'm sure Mrs.- her Ladyship will appreciate it," Remington said.
Mickeline frowned, as if he had suddenly sensed something dreadfully wrong. "Is there a problem, your Lordship?"
Remington took a slip of paper from beside the telephone and wrote a quick note on it, then folded it once and put Mildred's name on it. "Give this to Mildred when she wakes up. No one else," he cautioned.
"Won't you be here, sir?"
"No. Important business calls. I'll be in touch, Mickeline. Until then, just send my share of any profits to Mrs.- to her Ladyship in Los Angeles, eh?"
Mickeline nodded, concern written all over his round face. "Good luck, sir."
"Thank you."
Mickeline continued up the stairs, watching all the while as Remington left the castle. Through some of the windows, he could see his Lordship talking to Terrance, the castle chauffer. Another turn, and the view was lost- and he very nearly ran into her Ladyship and Mr. Roselli.
"Ah, your Ladyship. Mr. Roselli. I wasn't aware that you were back at Ashford."
"I got back early this morning, Mickeline," Tony responded as Laura grabbed the little Irishman's jacket.
"Mickeline, have you seen Mr. Steele this morning?"
"Aye, that I have."
"Where?"
"He was just talkin' to Terrance the Chauffer," Mickeline began, intending to tell her that his Lordship seemed quite disturbed about something, but he never got the chance as Laura brushed past him to continue down the stairs.
Tony grabbed a slice of bacon from the tray in Mickeline's hands, and then followed her. "Laura, wait up!"
The vintage limonene had already departed by the time Laura reached the courtyard before the front doors, and she nearly stomped her foot in frustration as Tony joined her. "Laura-" he said, putting a hand on her arm.
But Laura shook him off. "Don't, Tony. I think you've done enough, don't you?"
"He didn't say he'd be gone forever. Just until you make up your mind about which one of us you want."
"I thought I'd already *done* that," Laura pointed out. "But thanks to *you*," she said, stabbing him in the chest with her finger, "*he* doesn't know that."
Laura glanced around and saw the mini sitting nearby. "Maybe I can catch up to him," she said.
"You don't know where he's going," Tony pointed out, following her to the little yellow car, trying to prevent her from getting inside. "Look, wouldn't it be better to go back to LA and search for him from there?"
"You don't know him like I do, Tony. Once he goes to ground, he's almost impossible to track down. The last time it took Mildred three months to locate him."
"Then the sooner she gets started, the better, right?" Tony suggested.
Laura gave him a suspicious glare. "Why should you care whether or not I find him?" she asked, turning to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I want you to be happy."
"Too bad you didn't think of that *before* you climbed into that bed this morning," Laura ground out before she brushed past him to return to the Castle.
***
Mildred came down the stairs in time to see Laura and Tony enter. "What are *you* doing here?" Mildred asked Tony.
"Never mind that, Mildred," Laura said quickly. "Pack. We're going back to Los Angeles."
Mildred was still glaring at Tony, but her expression changed to one of confusion as Laura's words sank in. "But- I thought Mr. Steele said that you and he were going to spend a few days here?" she said. "Finish that honeymoon you two still haven't had?"
"There's been a *slight* change in plans, Mildred," Laura said, giving Tony a dagger filled glance as she spoke. "I'm going to go make the reservations," she said, and disappeared into the study.
"Laura-" Tony began, and started to follow, only to find his escape cut off by Mildred.
"Okay, Roselli. Out with it. What did you do?"
"Nothing," Tony lied. "Just made slight miscalculation, that's all. Excuse me, Mildred, I need to talk to Laura-" he physically moved her aside and continued into the study, leaving Mildred standing there, staring after him.
"Ah, there you are, Mildred," Mickeline said, and Mildred turned to look at him.
"Have you seen Mr. Steele, Mickeline?"
Mickeline frowned sadly. "I'm afraid that I have, Mildred."
"Why? Where is he?"
"He's - gone," Mickeline responded, and held out a slip of paper. "He asked me t'give you this."
"Gone?" Mildred repeated, taking the slip of paper from him. Opening it, she read the handwritten message to herself, her eyes widening. "He didn't say where he was going?"
"That he didn't. I'm sorry, Mildred. When I first saw him this mornin' he seemed like he was on top o'the world. But just a few minutes later, he came down those self-same stairs looking as though he'd lost his best friend. Twas a pitiful sight, it was."
"Does Mrs. Steele know this?"
"I should think so. She and Mr. Roselli went out to try and catch him before he left."
"Thank you, Mickeline," Mildred said, moving toward the study doorway as she read the note again.
"Have to get away for awhile, Mildred. Will be in touch. Take care of Laura for me. RS"
Laura was just hanging up the telephone as Mildred entered the study. Laura looked at her. "We're leaving in two hours, Mildred," she said. "If we can get a ride to the airport, that is."
"I hired a car in Dublin," Tony said. "I can drive us in."
"You've done enough," Laura said again. "Besides, I only made two reservations."
"I want to help make it right," Tony pointed out. "And I can make my own reservation," he said.
"If you're being honest about wanting to help, then go find *him*," Laura ground out.
"I would," Tony said, "but right now, he'd probably kill me before I had a chance to say anything."
Laura's eyes were cold as she looked at him. "And that would be a bad thing?"
Tony sighed. "You don't mean that, Laura."
"Try me," she challenged.
Pretending ignorance, Mildred asked, "Two reservations, Mrs. Steele?"
Laura's eyes were still locked with Tony's. "Would you excuse us, please, Tony?"
He picked up the telephone, his smile grim. "Don't mind me. I just have to call the airport-"
Laura exhaled and pulled Mildred out of the room behind her, talking as they climbed the stairs. "Mr. Steele isn't going back to Los Angeles with us, Mildred."
"He's not?"
"There was a - slight problem this morning, Mildred-"
"Tony, right?" Mildred asked as they paused beside the door that led into the wing where Mildred's room was located.
Laura knew that Mildred wouldn't stop until she heard the whole story. "Remington found Tony and me in a- compromising situation and - well, he left. Took off. Flew the coop."
"Where'd he go?"
"I don't know. But I think we'll have more luck tracing him from Los Angeles than from Ashford."
"What about Immigration?" Mildred wanted to know.
"He said to tell them that he'd decided to deport himself," Laura responded.
"You really gonna let that rat go back to Los Angeles with us?"
Laura shrugged. "It's none of my concern where Tony Roselli goes," she said. "But right now, we *do* need a ride to the airport to catch that flight."
***
Laura let Mildred have the window seat, thinking that she'd just sleep on the flight back to Los Angeles. The more she thought about what had happened, the more her emotions changed from fear to anger.
"You know," Mildred told her once the 747 was airborne, "I bet he went to London. That's where he wound up last time, remember? I'll do a check for Richard Blaine-"
"I don't think he'll be using those names this time, Mildred," Laura said. "You know, why are we even bothering to look for him?"
"I beg your pardon?" Mildred asked, looking alarmed.
"It was his decision to leave, wasn't it? He could have stayed, faced this. But no at the first sign of trouble, he's gone. I really thought he'd changed, Mildred."
"Oh, he has," Mildred insisted.
"No. He's still running away when things get too rough or unpleasant. Maybe Tony did me a favor. Maybe I'm better off without him."
"You don't mean that, Mrs. Steele," Mildred said gently. "you're just upset right now. Why don't you get some sleep?" the older woman suggested. "I'm sure you'll feel a lot better once you do." Mildred stood up. "I have to visit the powder room," she explained. "I'll be right back."
Laura nodded and let the woman slip past, then sat back and closed her eyes. Maybe Mildred was right. She just needed some rest. Heaven knew that she hadn't gotten much the night before. Laura felt her cheeks getting hot as she remembered those hours in that big bed with Remington.
She felt someone sit down in the empty seat on the aisle and opened her eyes to find a pair or brown ones watching her. "Tony," she sighed. "Hadn't you better get back to Tourist before the stewardess finds out you're up here in First Class?"
He grinned. "The guy who was going to take this seat didn't show up," he explained. "So I - convinced the stewardess to let me have the seat."
"How much?" Laura asked.
"How much what?"
"Did you pay her to let you have it?"
"Oh, I simply turned on the charm," he replied, the dimple in his chin deepening.
"That and a quarter will get you a cup of coffee," Laura commented.
"Look, Laura, until you find Steele, you're going to need some help. I'm offering my services."
Mildred cleared her throat, causing them both to look up. "She doesn't need *your* help, Roselli," Mildred declared, slipping past them both to return to her seat.
"I think you're wrong. Steele's gone, you'll need some muscle- although I can't quit see Steele having been that. But anyway, since it's partly my fault that he's gone-"
Laura's brows lifted. "Partly?"
"You're the one who told me that you were confused, remember? Led me on?"
"I never-!"
"Anyway, I figure I should stick around and do what I can to help."
"You can help by staying out of my way," Laura told him, sitting back and closing her eyes again.
***
Remington unlocked the door to Daniel's flat by picking the lock - as he'd always done. The three room first floor walk up was much smaller and far less grand than the villa that Daniel had always bragged about- but it had been home to the two of them on and off for years. Daniel had always insisted on keeping the rent paid to give them a place to come back to if it was needed.
And right now, Remington needed a place to hide out, to lick his wounds and give Laura the space she needed to make up her mind. He dropped onto the sofa, not really noticing the artwork and statuary that Daniel had collected over a lifetime of pilfering and conning people as his thoughts turned back to that terrible moment when he'd first entered the bedroom.
Remington's first thought when he had entered the bedroom at Ashford and saw Tony in that bed with Laura had been to grab the man and finish what he'd started in the village. But he hadn't been able to move as he'd realized that Laura hadn't been fighting Tony off. She'd been enjoying what they'd been doing, if her moans of pleasure were any indication. Laura's admission that she was attracted to Tony had sent Remington into a tailspin. All he'd been able to think about was running away, giving Laura space again- and himself.
He'd taken one giant step backward, it seemed. They both had. And Remington wasn't sure they could step forward again easily. Burying his head in his hands, Remington sighed.
"Oh, Daniel," he said aloud. "I wish you were here to talk to, mate. Even though I know what you'd say. 'Give her up, Harry. She's not worth it. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, just waiting for you to reach out and grab them up.'" Remington shook his head, and then froze at the sound of someone trying to open the door.
He rose and went to the door, then counted to three before he grasped the doorknob and yanked it open. His accusing gaze was met by a familiar pair of eyes the color of London fog…
"Michael, darling!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "What a happy surprise!"
Remington pried her red tipped fingers loose from his neck and stepped back, keeping her hands in his. "Hello, Felicia. Why were you trying to break into Daniel's flat?"