The Embassy   by Kathryn Charles Author's warning: Adult content. Washington was having one of those gorgeous fall evenings that belies the reality of fall. Indian Summer had made the last few days feel more like July. The colder weather that had arrived early in the afternoon signaled the final return to crisp autumn days. The leaves that had been starting to change color seemed to sense the end as the evening hues seemed quite different from their early morning color. The day spoke of a hint of winter and promised even cooler weather ahead. The sky was dark blue, with thousands of twinkling stars. The evening was perfect except for the mood in the expansive hotel suite serving as a temporary headquarters for Knight Industry. The mood was as cold, as dark and threatening as the sky would have been without the stars. The elder of its two occupants was pacing in front of the door to the balcony muttering under his breath while the target of his ire sat calmly, with an air of bemused indifference staring into the night sky. Daniel Sheldon was in his early sixties. Tall, thin to the point of emaciation, with what most people viewed as a studious air, he had just the hint of a limp when he walked. A valued employee of Knight Industry since it was founded, he and John Knight had been lifelong friends, closer than most brothers. When World War Two broke out, Daniel had not hesitated to follow his trusted ally into combat. His belief in Knight and desire to live up to what he thought were expectations had cost him the lower half of his right leg and many months of starvation in a German POW camp. When the hostilities ceased, he had returned to help John Knight build their fledgling company into a powerful empire. Through it all, Daniel had understood Knight, the man had been a brilliant business man, loyal to his friends, ruthless when it came to getting his way, with an uncanny ability to select the right opportunities. Despite their differences, Daniel had always been able to reason with him. His heir was altogether another story. When Sir John died Daniel had been named head of a three man management team with responsibility for day to day operations. John Knight's heir however, directed research and strategic planning for the company. Since Knight's death seven years ago, despite knocks from stockholders every year about the amount of money spent on research, the company had become even more successful. Pure research had fueled their additional success. As Daniel looked across the room at the tall, unruffled Knight who was now at the helm, he had to mentally admit that Knight Industry had been left in good hands. But this project…… and her attitude…. At this moment, he was having a hard time imagining E.K. as anything but a child. A stubborn and willful child who had directed this project, no, demanded this project be funded despite Daniel's misgivings. Now, on the edge of her greatest triumph, E.K. had turned inflexible with the negotiations that would make it profitable. He didn't believe that he had ever been this angry with her. "E.K., we need this contract. It's the key to market dominance. With the United States signed up, ELF will become the gold standard for all transportation services. You're throwing it away and for what?" His companion's continued silence and air irritated Daniel further. "Do you want to face the stockholders next month and explain why we spent a quarter of a million pounds on this project and have nothing, but a demonstration unit and one piddling contract to show for it?" The young woman that Daniel had always referred to as E. K. gazed placidly across the room at Daniel. This man who had been at different times, a surrogate father, a taskmaster, and a trusted ally, but who had never really understood her. Not when she was ten and braved rough seas with her father, not when she ran with the locals in Jamaica, not when she fell in love with the man who's death eventually broke her heart…. And definitely not now. She really couldn't blame him, she wasn't sure she understood herself sometimes. "Daniel," his boss started evenly " if this falls through it will be me on the podium, not you. They can burn me at the preverbal stake. After all, you advised against the project. It was my decision to move forward, I'll see no one takes the heat except me." Daniel was struck by her calm demeanor. Her calmness, the ease with which she was approaching the subject didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse. It was out of place. It didn't fit with either her personality or history. This project was too emotionally charged, too close to her loss. There were too many ghosts associated with it. It didn't matter that it was a huge leap for the company. They, no, she had no business involving herself. She should never have started it and now to insist on heading the final negotiations. What was going on in that beautiful, but perplexing head of hers? Although Daniel had known her since the day she was born, she had never been more of an enigma. A mystery, wrapped in a puzzle, surrounded by uncertainty. "Besides Daniel," she continued totally unaware of Daniel's personal rather than business concerns, "the Americans are stonewalling. They want ELF. Remember they came to us. They have already chosen subcontractors and designated project management teams. They're jerking us around, expecting us to fold. The renowned General Brown just doesn't trust anyone who came to America after the Civil War, or maybe after the Mayflower. He believes that because this project is out of our usual expertise that we aren't serious. That we won't go to the wall. These transponders are worth every cent that we are asking for them. We, no, I have compromised as much as I am going to. The rest of NATO has signed. The U.S. will sign the contract as is or we will walk." And risk the rest of NATO walking, thought Daniel, although he didn't voice it. He needed to choose his words carefully. "Emma," Daniel called her by her Christian name to make sure he had her attention, "logically, name one reason we should be taking this hard line on the price?" When Emma didn't respond, just scowled, Daniel continued, "The additional units through the factory and the maintenance contracts on the control units will make up the difference in the bid price with reduced costs and additional revenue inside of ninety days. This project becomes profitable within the first twenty days of full production. We can walk out of here with a major success story to tell the stockholders next month. If this contract is delayed, there will be a rebellion. Every stockholder there is going to question your motives." Daniel stopped speaking, he had seen what happened when Emma's eyes began to flash the way they were now. "Even you Daniel?" The words were soft, but there was steel in the set of her jaw and frost in her tone. "Yes, Emma, even me." Daniel saw the anguish in her eyes and regretted the pain these words caused as soon as he said them, but knew that nothing less than the truth would do. "You're father would never have allowed his personal feelings to cloud his judgement. I think you are. If Aero-Tech wasn't the American's choice for a subcontractor…." His voice trailed off. Her reaction was as swift as it was unexpected. She quite simply walked out. No comment, no anger, and no sign that she would be back. Stunned, it took Daniel a few minutes to comprehend what had happened. He walked onto the balcony just in time to see Emma striding across the street towards the Washington Monument. Emma had never walked away from a fight in her life, so it had be something else. Her face was composed, but she had put on dark glasses and she appeared to have a bottle in one hand. Daniel instinctively knew that she was close to or in tears. He had seen her hide her eyes many times over the years so that people couldn't read her emotions. Why else would she be wearing dark glasses at midnight? Daniel thought about following her, but stopped short. E.K. had always been able to take care of herself. Until Peter's death anyhow. Daniel sighed. He couldn't help her with those demons. God knows he, his wife, her family and friends had tried, but she had distanced herself from them, refusing to allow them to view much less assuage her grief. She had remained charming, but laughed little herself. In the last eight months or so she had seemed better, more of her old self. That was before ELF became a reality. Daniel thought, No, it was best to let her work this out herself and heaven help any mugger that might cross her path tonight. As she strode across Pennsylvania Avenue, Emma Peel couldn't decide what had shocked her more. Daniel insinuation that she was attempting to sabotage the deal because of Aero-Tech or the fact that he had called her by her given name. In almost twenty-eight years, Daniel had only called her Emma twice, when her father had died and when he had found out that she was sleeping with Peter. Neither time brought back pleasant memories. The negotiations had turned quite nasty, something she hadn't needed on top of the project's inherent stresses. What she needed was some solitude and peace. Peace, funny she hadn't felt much of that in the last twenty-two months. The only time she felt truly peaceful was when she was with Steed, after they made love, when he held her, sated and…. Damn, this train of thought wasn't helping. Now, she was not only upset, but she could feel physical desire, a determined ache beginning to well up within her. Steed was several thousand miles away and most probably with Christina. Maybe she would pick up a sailor to satisfy her more urgent physical needs. It seemed to work for others. Even as she thought it Emma knew she wouldn't. Morality was such a pain at times like this. Maybe she'd just get drunk. In London, Steed was indeed with Christina, but not in the way that Emma was imagining. He took her to breakfast to break it off. It hadn't gone well. Steed couldn't for the life of him imagine why Christina Baker had felt it necessary to make their physical relationship public knowledge. Steed prided himself on his discretion and expected the ladies he was intimate with to practice the same discretion. Prior to Christina's public declarations on the affair the relationship had been enjoyable, from both a social and physical perspective. Now, it wasn't worth the problems it was causing in his friendship with Mrs. Peel. Mrs. Peel hadn't said anything about Christina but there was a definite chill in the air. Steed had expected a strong reaction, preferring to have the conversation in private, but Christina had insisted they go to breakfast at Halberton's restaurant in Soho. From the moment they arrived, Christina had taken offense at practically everything he'd said. The morning had ended with Christina making a scene, throwing a glass of champagne in his face. Her reaction had been anything but normal. Driving back to his flat, it seemed to Steed as if all the women in his life were just a little bit off lately. In the past, Mrs. Peel had laughed and teased him about his "cover women." Emma had made it clear that she understood that flirting was a part of his nature and was sure enough of her own position with him to not feel threatened or jealous by Steed's need for casual female companionship. When Mrs. Peel got back from this darned trip to America, Steed intended to find out what had caused her to react so differently. He promised himself that as soon as he arrived home he'd ring her up to find out if she were going to be delayed much longer. Normally she didn't devote quite this much time to Knight Industry business. Joshua Hardaway had recently been promoted to Rear Admiral and assigned to Washington. He was still adjusting to his new surroundings as they were a major change from sea duty. He had just spent the evening dining with the senior members of the United States negotiating team and the proposed sub-contractor for the Air Force. The conversation had centered on the strange turn the negotiations had taken over the last 24 hours. Knight Industry's insistence on a firm base price regardless of units and General Brown's increasingly negative comments about their reliability had thrown the whole process off track. Josh thought somewhat bitterly that dining with contractors and negotiating deals were not the reason he had attended the Naval Academy. The inaction was already driving him mad. After leaving the restaurant, he had stopped to light a cigar when he saw the President of Knight Industry go into the park. A junior member of the USN negotiating team, he had been watching her for three days during what had been prolonged and most recently heated negotiations. She had been calm, composed, and very professional. She knew her business and she knew how to negotiate. He had seen two things that didn't fit with his perception of her. The blatantly hostile attitude she had displayed when introduced to the Air Force Subcontractors who would be responsible for installing the ELF in USAF airplanes and that now, close to midnight, she didn't seem aware of where she was headed as she crossed the street. The Capital Mall at this time of night was no place for anyone, much less a lady to be walking alone. Josh followed her, hoping to catch up with her before she got into trouble. He lost her as she entered the park. It took him almost an hour to search the mall. When he reached the steps of the Lincoln Memorial he was ready to give up and check the hotel. "Are we boring you Admiral?" The voice came from his left, sounding slightly amused, and definitely British. "I was tempted to toss a mint at you around 1500 hours this afternoon. You looked as if you were about to fall off your chair." Intrigued, the Admiral replied, "I'm not used to sitting. I'm new to flying a desk." "Yes, I know. United States Naval Academy, then almost thirty years of action, first as a SEAL, then leading a battle carrier group as commander. Quite a distinguished career." Josh knew that she had to be close. Her voice wasn't loud, but he couldn't get a fix on her location. He felt flattered, but somewhat puzzled that she knew so much about him. "How and why do you know so much about me? And while were at it where in the blue blazes are you?" As the sound of her laughter filled the air Josh finally got a fix on her location. The sight was disconcerting, stirring a response that Josh would later describe as sensual and definably not honorable. Barefooted, holding a half-full glass of champagne, this tawny haired nymph bore little resemble to the cool detached businesswoman he had spent the last three days observing. She was sitting in the Lincoln Memorial, in Lincoln's lap! Lounging there as if in the arms of a lover, with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Leaning down slightly she offered the Admiral the second glass. "Aren't you concerned the Capitol Police may object to your accommodations?" Josh asked taking the champagne. "My, my so many questions." Emma ran her free hand through her mane of long auburn hair and gave the Admiral a look that was inviting. "I tell you what. I'll answer one question at a time and then you can answer one for me. First, I studied the members of each countries' negotiating teams before we met. Second, my father taught me that it is vital that one know your opponent before beginning an engagement. And third, I'm having drinks with one of your presidents. I must say he's not much of a talker. He does seem to be a good listener though. As for the police….", she shrugged good naturally, "never seems to be one around when you need one, eh Admiral." In the half light Josh could see that the woman had been crying and she seemed more than a little tipsy. "Miss Knight," he started. "Peel, Mrs. Emma Peel," she cut him off curtly. There was no laughter in her voice now and the Admiral felt the brunt of the same reaction she had exhibited when Aero-Tech's executives were introduced to the negotiations. He knew the two issues had to be related, although he had no earthly idea how. "Didn't anyone on your team do their homework?", she sighed. Her manner was definitely becoming unfriendly. There was no way that Josh was going to apologize, although she was right, they should have known she was married. "Mrs. Peel, I saw you enter the park, I thought I'd make sure you were okay. The Capital Mall is not the safest place for a woman at night. If you would prefer to be alone, just say the word." "Alone?" With one word she conveyed the scorn she felt for the process that brought her here and the idiot that was heading the American team. "Admiral I haven't been alone one moment since we landed in Washington. There is a very tired, very bored twenty-year old airman who has been trying to keep up with me for almost sixteen hours a day for the last three days. I thought he'd have a heart attack this morning when I brought him coffee. Turns out he doesn't drink coffee, champagne either. If he did you wouldn't be drinking it now." Sarcasm crept into her voice as she continued, "Your esteemed General Brown never considers that the people he is dealing with might actually be bright enough to spot a tail or to check whether their rooms are bugged. I must say it hardly makes one eager to do business with the Air Force. Maybe we'll only sell to the Navy. Your naval officers at least seem to have manners." Admiral Hardaway had heard rumors about General Brown's distrust of all foreigners, and some of the tactics he used to gain an upper hand, but had never seen any hard evidence. The look on her face told Josh that in no way did she consider General Brown esteemed nor did she find this type behavior acceptable. Such behavior, if true would be a major breach of protocol, not to mention very damaging to a cordial working relationship. Josh's return look challenged her statement. He wasn't going to fall for an invisible tail. Almost as if she could read his mind, she glared at him. He imagined that this look had made many men quake. Emma debated whether or not to respond, but after a few moments she replied coldly, "Call him if don't believe me." "Call him? How? I don't know his name." As suddenly as she had turned icy, she warmed. "Michael, would you please be a darling and step into the light for the Admiral." Her voice was almost seductive, definitely inviting. Josh found these mood swings of hers very unsettling. "Yes ma'am," a young airman stepped into the light from behind a tree 25 feet from Lincoln's statue. His crisp salute belied the redness of his face. He was embarrassed and more than a little scared. The Admiral didn't look very happy. Josh felt as if he was Alice and had fallen down the rabbit hole. This night was getting weirder and weirder. Feeling embarrassed that the rumors were true, the Admiral returned the salute and barked, "Go home, I will accompany Mrs. Peel back to her hotel." "Sir," the young airman was scared, but determined to do his duty, "my orders are to stay with the lady until I am sure she is in bed." The woman in Lincoln's arms smirked, her voice as she spoke had a smoky, somewhat acerbic tone; "I wonder just how he's supposed to make sure of that?" Not liking the turn this encounter was taking the Admiral took command. "Son," the Admiral spoke firmly, "I believe that I can make sure the lady gets home safely and if there is any other reason that you were assigned except to protect her, you can't achieve your objective if she knows your there. Now can you?" The Admiral's voice left little room for argument, so Emma's shadow turned to leave. Emma regretted having identified him. She wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be in trouble because of her bad mood. "Michael," she called after the airman, "I'll be leaving the hotel around 6:00 AM. See you then." Josh looked at her in amazement. He had known a lot of women in his time. This one was either one of the most fascinating or the craziest he had ever met. Right now he wasn't sure which. "Why would you think that," Hardaway stopped, realizing that he hadn't got the airman's last name, "Michael or anyone else will be tailing you tomorrow?" "Because, Admiral neither you or I are going to tell General Brown that I know I'm being followed. Its not the airman's fault that he's been pulled into a game he's is not prepared for. General Brown did the same thing to my father in Japan after the war, in South Africa in 1954, and in Sweden in 1958. We Knight's have played in this arena for a long time. That boy didn't have a chance. Now are you going to help me down or shall I jump?" Silently, without discussion, Josh knew that she was right, neither of them would make things difficult for the airman. Hardaway stepped forward, first taking the champagne bottle and glasses, then reaching up to help her down. Josh was shocked as she slid off Lincoln into his outstretched arms. Her skin was soft, yet she felt firm, more solid to his touch than he expected, and her face was warm as it almost touched his as she came to ground level. He felt a surge of pure animalistic desire, desire that he hadn't felt since his wife died eight months earlier. He hoped she wouldn't notice the sudden bulge in his trousers, but it seemed unlikely as they were not more than an inch apart. If Mrs. Peel noticed, she made no mention of it. "Admiral, are you going to let go?" There was no malice rather an amused lilt in her voice as she attempted to lean down to put her shoes back on. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking." They walked back across the mall quietly, neither feeling much like conversation. Emma was surprised when pure physical lust reared its head. Ladies or at least British ones weren't supposed to have such feelings. Noting the Admiral's physical reaction, she had been sorely tempted to kiss him, to let nature take its course. It didn't happen, never had. She had learned early not to behave in a manner that could embarrass the family, not in public and not with strangers anyhow. As he said goodnight to Mrs. Peel at her door, Josh realized that she hadn't asked him the question she referred to before answering his. He wondered what it would have been. After leaving Mrs. Peel at her hotel, Admiral Hardaway didn't go home. He hated being caught unprepared. It felt like he'd been caught with his pants down. Neither the pre-negotiation packets nor briefings had mentioned anything about either E.K. Knight or Emma Peel. General Brown had told them after the first day not to worry about it. The owner was just there for window dressing. Hardaway hadn't liked General Brown when they met. The man was pompous, full of self-importance. Now Josh found out that he was arrogant to the point of stupidity. That made him dangerous. At three A.M. the Admiral entered Naval Intelligence, Knight Industry built ships, someone must know something about the owner. The three seamen and the Chief Petty Officer on duty knew that something had hit the fan from the way the Admiral slammed the door. "Admiral on deck," barked the CPOIC. The seamen sprang, or at least tried to spring to attention. Three O'clock in the morning is normally the mellowest time in any military assignment. The Admiral's voice was crisp, but not unfriendly as he ordered them about. "As you were. I want everything that we have on Knight Industry, E.K. Knight and Emma Peel. Now!" The packet was relatively thin but supplied Josh with several clues as to why no one thought to build a dossier on the owner. Until three weeks ago, Knight Industry did not, nor had they ever expressed any interest in doing business with the US government. They had holdings in over thirty nations, were know internationally as a reliable and progressive company, but had never according to the documents ever attempted to break into the US market. Indeed, their approach on ELF had been to NATO. It was the US who had initiated these meetings. There were only a few articles that mentioned Emma by name. There was one piece about the very public sacking of a Professor Keller from the Knight board shortly after Emma had taken over. He also found a couple of longer articles which raved over the success the twenty-one year old daughter of John Knight was having after taking over her father's business after his death. The British Press raved over her success, her intelligence, and the new directions that she was taking the company. Then, five years ago, all stories mentioning Emma Knight stopped. Frustration was not a feeling that Josh dealt with well. He had learned to cope during Denise's fatal illness, but still became angry when faced with the prospect of losing. He had a bad feeling. He didn't know why, but he knew the US was at risk on this deal. The key was there, but he needed to find out about Emma Peel before negotiations resumed at 0900 Hours. "Sir," his aide had appeared from nowhere, "its 0500 Hours. Is there something that I can assist you with?" "Banks, do you have a tail or ELF on me?" "Sir? No Sir! When you weren't home I checked with central operations and the duty officer reported your presence here." "Oh," the Admiral was thoughtful for a moment. "Banks, if you wanted information on someone that naval intelligence had nothing on where would you go?" "Sir, would it be E.K. Knight that you need information on? Seeing the startled look on the Admiral's face Banks hurriedly continued. "She is an enigma, the key, and the wild card in all this ELF business isn't she?" "Yes," Hardaway was impressed by Banks astute evaluation of the situation. "Oh, and she's married. Name is Peel, Emma Peel. Don't know the husband's name." In the three years that Jerry Banks had served under Hardaway, the Admiral had never seen him surprised. Now he looked positively shocked. "Sir, I think you should call Mark Stone at the London Times. He can tell you all about Mrs. Peel." Banks stood back looking very thoughtful. He'd thought she'd looked familiar. As the Admiral reached to dial a number that he knew by heart, he silently blasted himself for not thinking of it himself. Mark Stone had been a close friend since his last days at the Academy. Their ties had been cemented during Korea. Stone was a world-renowned journalist. If he didn't know, he could find out. Josh calculated that it was shortly after one in the afternoon in London. Hopefully Mark wasn't out on a story or a bender. Josh prayed he'd answer. "Mark Stone here, whatcha want?" the newspaperman's growling greeting had never varied in the thirty years that Josh had know him. No need for useless pleasantries. "Mark, its Jay. I need help and Banks says you're the man. Do you know anything about Emma Peel?" "Tall, redheaded, with brown eyes that go so deep you could get lost and legs that make a man wish he was silk hose. Would that be the lady you're referring to?" "Yes." Josh wasn't at all surprised that Mark answered his question with a physical description. Mark had always had an eye for the ladies. "Jay, is this business or personal?" Mark sounded concerned, Josh missed Denise terribly and Mark was afraid he was vulnerable. Emma Peel was definitely not the woman that Mark would choose to introduce Josh to dating in the sixties. "Jay, be careful! I know her and she's not one to mess with. God made her a redhead to warn men and fools!" When Josh didn't respond, sounding slightly embarrassed Mark continued, "I learned my lesson the hard way. I was drinking one night and said something rude to her. She threw me out a second story window. I still don't know if she knew there was a pool below." "Mark relax, its business," Josh appreciated Mark's concern, but couldn't quite picture Mrs. Peel tossing Stone out a window. She was so slim and Mark weighed at least 200 lbs. "What in God's name could you have said to cause that reaction?" Mark Stone laughed ruefully, he knew he often made an ass out of himself while drinking. Josh knew him well enough to understand that. "It wasn't my finest moment. I made a rather crude pass. When she didn't react, I called her an "Ice Queen." Then just to make matters worse, I compounded my error by making a crack about her husband not having the sense God gave a goose and suggested he'd died to get away from her. Since he'd only been missing a few months I expect I got what I deserved." Dead! Josh hadn't expected that. She was awfully young to be a widow. "Mark, I can't explain, but this is important, tell me everything you know." Twenty minutes later, Josh had heard all about shipping magnate's daughter, the dashing test pilot, and the love that was doomed to a tragic end. Listening to Mark weave a tale that most would have described as the script for a good tearjerker, Josh thought he understood why Emma Peel had become involved in the negotiations and why she had reacted so strongly to Aero-Tech's presence. He had to admire her spunk, but he seriously doubted her sanity. ELF had little or nothing to do with Knight Industry business. It was personal. What he didn't understand was why the hell she had started the project to start with. It had to be like pouring salt on open wounds better left to heal. Banks, who knew part of the story, having been at the party that Mark Stone described, phoned the Project Director and scheduled a meeting for 0800 at the site where negotiations were to resume. He knew that the Admiral would need to brief Admiral Jones as soon as possible. Admiral Jones would know how to handle this. Diplomacy and tact were his expertise. By the time Admirals' Hardaway and Jones entered the conference hall at 0845 a fracas had broken out in the hall leading to the conference room. General Brown was in Daniel Sheldon's face screaming as if Sheldon were a first year plebe. "What the hell are you limeys trying to pull? Your boss is having breakfast with the KGB and you sit here as if there is nothing going on. I'll have her deported so fast she won't have time to spit." Daniel Sheldon was confused to say the least. E.K. hadn't been in her room. She had left him a message telling him she'd meet him at the conference hall, but dealing with the KGB, that didn't sound like Emma. Where the hell was she? "I think that you'll find I'm a very fast spitter General." Emma entered from the rear of the hall. Dressed in a dark blue pantsuit, with a cream colored silk blouse, she seemed older than her years. She was not at all intimidated by the General's bluster. "Shall we resume discussions or shall Daniel and I head for the airport?" There was a slight smirk, maybe the start of a smile on her face as she sauntered into the negotiation room and sat at the table. Daniel followed. "What on earth is going on?" he whispered as he sat down. Emma raised an eyebrow slightly and put one hand up as a stop sign. Something in her manner told Daniel that this was going to be one bumpy ride. Suddenly Daniel felt very old. He was no happier than he'd been when she had left last night. Last night he had been angry, now he was seriously concerned that this new attitude of hers was going to effect more than just ELF. After the negotiators sat down, General Brown thundered, "damn it, you have no right to deal with the Russians!" Mrs. Peel smiled sweetly. "General, we're British. We have the right to deal with anyone we please. Britain doesn't have an embargo against Russia. Knight Industry will deal with them if we wish. In fact, we will deal with Red China, or East Germany, even Japan if we choose to. You came to us on this project. Now, there has been another offer placed on the table this morning. Do you wish to continue negotiations or shall we leave?" The statement was made in a voice that was calm unconcerned but her body language left no doubt that she was serious about walking out. Admiral Jones, who was ultimately responsible for the men this project was meant to benefit took the ensuing silence that resulted as an opportunity to take the bull by the horns. He'd deal with Brown later. "Mrs. Peel," he began. Emma smiled inwardly at the recognition of her name. It looked as if Josh Hardaway had been busy. Jones had not attended any other sessions. "The Navy, Marines, and," he paused briefly to glance at Major General Peterson who nodded his agreement, "the Army are ready to integrate ELF into our systems. The Air Force will have to speak for themselves. What would it take to finalize this deal, with the proviso that you don't sell this technology to any of the countries that you have just named and maybe a few others?" General Phil Brown, never one of the calmest of men looked as if he was ready to kill. If the rest signed, he'd have to too. "Blast Jones, I had this under control" he thought, "why was a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff interfering now?" Josh Hardaway held his breath, wondering who would respond, the calm assured businesswoman or the widow who didn't seem quite rational when it came to certain issues, such as Aero-Tech. Daniel tapped E.K. on the shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. Mrs. Peel folded her hands under her chin, looking thoughtful. Josh thought that he saw the hint of a twinkle in her brown eyes, before she resumed an appearance of calm indifference. "I expect that our offer from yesterday is fair. We would be willing to settle for our bid price, plus we would expect a one time payment equal to 20% of the first year estimated value of the contract in return for the exclusionary clause you are asking for." Admiral Jones wasn't certain, but after what Josh had told him about this woman he had the feeling that they were being had. The negotiating team had missed something. Something that meant extra costs to them in the long run. This solution was too easy. The price was fair, the system a breakthrough, and the exclusionary payment that Mrs. Peel was asking for was high, but far less than he would have expected. She hadn't mentioned excluding Aero-Tech either. Damn General Brown. If he'd done his job correctly, Jones would know whether or not she was bluffing. They'd have to settle now, rather than risk her selling to the United States' enemies. Brown, however was going to pay for this. Admiral Jones reached out to shake her hand and said, "Mrs. Peel, We have a deal. Shall we leave Mr. Sheldon and the lawyers to the paperwork?' Everyone in the room was stunned. It had all happened so quickly that no one knew how to react. Only Admiral Jones and Mrs. Peel behaved as if this was the normal course of business. They seemed unconcerned by the pandemonium that broke out around them. Mrs. Peel stood, smiled brightly at the assembled brass and swept out with Daniel following. He stopped at the door. "I'll be right back." Daniel could see Emma's shoulders shaking as she moved briskly down the exit corridor. Emma barely made it outside the building before laughter overcame her and she had to sit down. Daniel stared at her as if she had truly snapped. He hadn't heard her laugh like this in almost two years and he did miss it, but somehow he knew without a doubt that there were going to be future repercussions. He couldn't decide whether he should hug or strangle her. He was leaning towards hugging. "What in St. Christopher's name was all that and what is this about you selling to the Russians?" "Daniel," her eyes were twinkling, no more like dancing with mischief. He'd seen the look often when Emma was small. When she had gotten away with something. "I may not be my father, but I am my father's daughter. Brown is both paranoid and stupid. That's a dangerous combination. He has been having us followed since we arrived. Yesterday I decided to turn his paranoia against him. I made arrangements to have breakfast with Yuri Gramiko this morning. He's probably the only Russian cultural attaché in the world who actually is a cultural attaché. He's a dear sweet man. He tutored me in Russian when I was at school." Emma half shrugged and tilted her head ever so slightly before continuing. "Anyhow, Michov Anatoli is the KGB officer here in Washington. You must remember him, you and my father served with his father in the Mediterranean during the war." Daniel nodded slightly, he remembered both Michov and his father. Emma's grin dimmed slightly as she continued, "Michov's been trying to seduce me since I was sixteen. When he found out I was having breakfast with Yuri he came along. My shadow, a very nice, very naive airman named Michael reported the meeting to Brown. Presto, General Brown assuming the worst decided that we were going to sell to the Russians, I told them there was another offer on the table, Admiral Jones had to intercede and we have our deal. I told them the truth, there was another offer placed on the table. I just didn't tell them the offer involved a long weekend and very few clothes" She paused, looking at Daniel fondly, "You taught me, it's called a bluff. You do remember don't you?" As Emma leaned over and lightly kissed Daniel on the check she whispered, "you were partially right. Make sure we keep Clause 19." Then louder, "Go make us some money. I'm going home. I'll see you at the hunt." Daniel, feeling much better, but still unsure of what really occurred, turned to return to the meeting. Standing at the top of the stairs with a look of absolute amazement on his face was Josh Hardaway. He wasn't sure how much the Admiral had heard, but Daniel couldn't help but notice that the Admiral didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off Emma's retreating figure. Daniel had noticed Emma's frequent glances in the Admiral's direction during the last three days. Hardaway seemed a very decent chap, and as a widower, he was available. Maybe there could be something more to this deal. Daniel had never been accused of being a matchmaker, but a plan was beginning to form in his mind. "Admiral, you said that you had to be in England next week. Do you have any plans for the weekend." Dazed, the Admiral replied, "No." "Do you ride?" "Yes" "Well enough for a fox hunt?" "Yes, I'm from Virginia. I've ridden to the hounds more than a few times in my life." Daniel smiled his friendliest and most innocent smile. "Good, good. Some friends of ours are holding their annual 'Children's Benefit Hunt'. Perhaps you would join my wife and I as our guest. As you're the designated Naval contact for this project it will give us a chance to get to know one another and we can deal with any issues that remain unfinished here." Daniel turned towards Emma as he made the last statement. Josh followed his gaze and a broad smile slowly crossed his face. Risking embarrassment, he asked as casually as he could. "Any chance that Mrs. Peel might be there?" "She'd better be. Failure to appear at the annual hunt is grounds for being horsewhipped in the Whitelaw family. Besides, she is co-hosting it this year with her grandparents." As the Admiral continued to watch Emma's retreating figure, Daniel assumed that the Admiral's reply indicated his ascent. "I'll give Banks all the details and make the arrangements with the Whitelaws." Whistling to himself, he then headed back into the building to make some money. Chapter Break Heathrow Airport at 3:00 AM reminded Emma of the Night before Christmas. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Emma silently blasted herself for being so careless. If only she hadn't been in such a hurry to get out of America, to get away from the ELF project. First, the delay, then the realization that she hadn't arranged a car. Now it would take hours to get her bags and a taxi to Primrose Hill. As she rounded the corner after clearing Customs she got what was a decidedly pleasant surprise. Lounging at a closed bar, drinking a large brandy and twirling a furled umbrella was the last person she had expected to run into. "Mrs. Peel, I say this is an unexpected pleasure. Could you use a lift?" Emma could see a twinkle in his light grey eyes. Suspiciously, she responded, "Unexpected? Steed, since when do you hang around Heathrow at 3:00 AM? Is this business or pleasure?" "Why, pleasure of course." Steed had not seen Mrs. Peel look so tired and drawn since shortly after the first time they met. "I phoned your hotel in Washington. They said you were on the way to the airport. I took the liberty of phoning your office to let them know you didn't need a ride. Thought we might catch a late supper, but now I'd guess that an early breakfast or perhaps a simple ride home, then off to bed might be a better bet." Emma was quite pleased that he had taken the trouble to meet her, but not sure that she had the energy to deal with him right this moment. The initial euphoria of actually completing the deal had rapidly given way to runaway memories that she had been unable to control. Days that she didn't want to relive and certainly didn't wish to discuss. "A simple ride home would be appreciated." Taking her luggage, Steed smiled, "Then a simple ride home it shall be." During the thirty minute that it took to get to Mrs. Peel's apartment, Steed studied her. She was tired, understandably, but there was more to it. She seemed to be miles away, submersed under only God knew what. He wanted to ask, wanted to take her into his arms and take away whatever was weighing her down, but he felt an invisible barrier between them. His banter was being met with polite, but distracted responses. When they arrived at Primrose Hill Steed stopped and waited for her next move. "Thanks for coming to get me," she said sounding somewhat self-conscious. "I'm afraid that I'd actually forgot to tell the office I was coming home. We finished rather suddenly." "Mrs. Peel, are you all right? Can I help?" Steed said it softly, hoping she wouldn't take offense, but needing to let her know he was there for her. Her eyes as she looked at him were troubled and her smile weak. She wore the look he had seen often in the first few months of their friendship. It said, help me and at the same time, no you can't help me. It was not a look Steed was comfortable with and one that he had hoped to never see again. What was going on? "No Steed I don't believe I am." Her voice was barely audible as she continued. "There is nothing you or anyone else can say or do. I have to work this one out myself. I thought I had more strength than I do. I faced the enemy and it is I. Give me a couple of days, please? Okay? Steed nodded solemnly and Emma rewarded him by leaning over and kissing him lightly on the lips before going upstairs alone. Steed sat watching until the light in her flat came on, then remained contemplating this rather strange turn of events until the lights went back off. Something was going on that went far beyond a temporary annoyance about Christina. He'd put a call into an old friend who had contacts in the Knight organization in the morning. Maybe he could find out what this was all about without Mrs. Peel telling him. Steed felt as if she were slipping away from him. He was losing Mrs. Peel and that was not something that he could sit by idly and let happen. Chapter Break Admiral Anthony Jones was in a foul mood. That idiot Brown had fouled up the entire ELF program. By the time the US had realized what Clause 19 meant, there was nothing that they could do about it. Not during the next five years anyhow. Knight Industry had effectively prevented them from researching ELF as an offensive weapon by restricting the information that the installers would have and by making themselves the exclusive maintenance contractor. Brown had not done his homework, had failed to evaluate the contract properly, signing off on Clause 19 before negotiations had begun as routine. Then he had allowed his personal prejudices and unorthodox behavior to give Emma Peel the ammunition she needed to bluff them. Now, Brown stood in front of him behaving as if he were the injured party. Jones was having none of it. "General Brown, per the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Judge Advocate General you will be subject to an Article 32 hearing at the government's earliest convenience to determine your suitability to command and to remain in the service of the United States Army." General Brown sagged a bit upon hearing these words. Even if he were found innocent, his career was over. Jones continued, "You are specifically charged with dereliction of duty, failure to maintain order and discipline, and the unauthorized use of intelligence assets during the period of September 15-18 of this year. Dismissed." Brown started to object, to argue. He was a Brigadier General. His name was on the short list for Major General. It couldn't end this way. Jones however, no longer acknowledged his presence so Brown picked up his hat and stalked out of the room. He didn't even salute. After Brown left, Jones stood at his window overlooking the Lincoln Memorial contemplating the events of the last five days. This had been the last straw. Brown had been an embarrassment for way too long. His political contacts would not be able to help him out this time. The thought gave Jones more than a little satisfaction. On the plus side, ELF would eliminate a very practical and sometimes very demoralizing problem. Plus, the remaining Joint Chiefs had been impressed by Josh Hardaway's actions. Josh was an old friend and one of the few highlights to the ELF fiasco. He had identified the potential issues, taken action to warn Jones, and almost kept the fiasco from occurring. Initiative and instincts like Josh's were what the Joint Chiefs were looking for in the upper echelons of the command structure. Now Hardaway's very life was at serious risk. Admiral Hardaway was scheduled to testify at a trial in England in five days. The case was one that was very sensitive and indeed the witnesses had never been identified publicly for fear that the East German government might attempt to prevent their testimony. For more than two years they had successfully maintained security. In the last 24 hours, news of Josh's identity had leaked. Jones didn't like the timing. Jones also knew that Josh wouldn't accept a bodyguard. Wouldn't do for an Ex-SEAL to have any baby-sitters, at least not if he knew about them. Since Josh knew most of the American intelligence agents they couldn't slip one by him. Maybe the British could help. They were as invested in the outcome of this trial as the Americans were. Jones called a friend in the British Admiralty to see if the British government could help out. His friend immediately forwarded him on to Lord Stanton at something that he referred to as the ministry. Jones was vaguely familiar with Lord Stanton. They had served in the same theater of operations during the later stages of World War II. Lord Stanton listened to Jone's story and asked only one or two questions before suggesting that perhaps there was something that Great Britain could do. Albeit in an unofficial capacity. "Admiral Jones, I don't envy you your problem. I know the espionage case you are referring to. It wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all to have your Hardaway popped off before he can testify. Tell me, does he like women?" Puzzled Admiral Jones questioned, "Yes, but what does that have to do with protecting him?" "He is available then?" "I don't see what all this has to do with….?" "Admiral, the only way to protect Hardaway without his knowing it is to put a close quarter bodyguard on him. But if we can't tell him, how do you suppose we do that?" "Oh, I begin to see your point." "We have a man, John Steed. Very good at his job. One of the best. He doesn't normally do protection and his partner isn't actually a member of our service, but they could pull this off. They are quite discreet so if nothing untoward occurs your Admiral need never know you intervened. Introductions can be made and I don't think that Mrs. Peel has ever had a problem getting and keeping a man's attention." The phone line went so quiet that Stanton thought that perhaps they had been disconnected. "Admiral?" "Did you say Mrs. Peel, as in Emma Peel?" "Yes, quite a delightful if somewhat odd lady. She assists Steed on occasion. Sort of a hobby you might say. Why, is that a problem?" Lord Stanton thought that the American had totally lost it as the sound of laughter filled his ear. "No, Lord Stanton I don't think that getting Josh to notice Mrs. Peel will be a problem at all. They met here a few days ago. Josh is I believe, already smitten. I am curious however, she's the President and owner of one of Britain's top business concerns. Why should she agree to help us?" "Admiral, if I understood the lady I would have already attempted to make her my mistress, or at least my wife. She and Steed have been working together for about a year. Steed prefers to select his own partners. He can be quite persuasive, but frankly I think she enjoys the game. She had a rather unusual upbringing and after her husband's death…. No one seems to know why she does the things she does." A brief pause, "Shall I set it up?" "Yes." The two men spent the next five minutes going over the details of the arrangements. Admiral Jones hung up at the end of the conversation feeling much better about having been bested by Mrs. Peel. Apparently, there was a lot more to her than the physical package. He'd love to see Josh's face if he ever found out that Mrs. Peel was in intelligence. As a Hobby to boot. What a hobby! Josh would flip if he knew. Chapter Break Lord Stanton had rung Steed up immediately following his conversation with Admiral Jones. After outlining the issues, he asked Steed if he thought that Mrs. Peel would help. Steed didn't like this kind of assignment. There were too many unknowns. Too many risks that one couldn't anticipate. Normally Steed would have declined. Steed thought about it for a few moments, putting his reservations aside. It might be just the thing to get Mrs. Peel's mind off whatever was bothering her. When he approached her, Emma had been eager to assist, showing not even a hint of even feigned irritation at the disturbance of her normal routine. All she had said was she was familiar with the Admiral, having met him while on Knight company business. She didn't explain the business and Steed's contact had not been able to help. The ELF project had been directed from Mrs. Peel and Daniel Sheldon's offices. Now, five days later Steed was regretting the decision to involve Mrs. Peel. Steed regretted his decision for two reasons. He didn't like exposing Mrs. Peel to a level of danger that he normally would have found unacceptable. More importantly, though he would never admit it to anyone but himself, things had been quite tense between he and the lady lately and quite frankly he was concerned that she might do something about the fact that she found the admiral attractive. Steed, attired in his best tuxedo was mingling with the guests at the American Embassy less that twelve hours before Hardaway was due to testify. Marine Guards and metal detectors would ensure that a large armed force or a single man with a gun wouldn't enter the American Embassy, but did nothing to ensure that a one man suicide squad wouldn't attack the Admiral. The last three days had been quiet, with no sign that anyone wanted to execute the Admiral. Although after observing Emma and Josh for those three days, Steed was beginning to consider the idea himself. Steed never had to see her to know when she arrived. The stuffy atmosphere of these functions became electric when she entered on the arm of a dignitary. Strikingly tall and slender, she had red hair and expressive brown eyes that sparked when she was angry and sparkled when she was amused. Her physical beauty alone couldn't explain people's reactions to her presence. Steed knew that what really drew people's attention was the way she moved. The best description Steed had heard was from an elderly Duke who once compared her to a jungle cat, beautiful to watch, a fantasy to bag, but dangerous to both a man's life and ego. She combined an athlete's body and grace with an attitude that was both sensual and aloof. It made her seem practically untouchable. Strangely enough men found that paradox a most potent combination. Mrs. Peel, by birth and social position was one of the elite that populated these affairs. Most of the people attending the function would never imagine and frankly wouldn't believe it if it became public knowledge that Mrs. Peel was there, not looking for a second husband, but to protect the Admiral. In public Steed and Emma were very good friends, but asexual. People speculated that Steed had stepped in after the death of her husband to look after Emma out of respect for her deceased father, Sir John Knight. Steed and Emma never discussed their feelings for each other. In fact, they never spoke of being lovers, not even in private. It was just something that was. Although he had satisfied her "every" desire on occasions too frequent to count and to the point of mutual exhaustion, Steed had not once called her Emma in public. While polite society might not recognize Mrs. Peel's unique talents, John Steed did. The other advantage of Mrs. Peel's high public profile and their public image was that even her escort was ignorant of Steed and Mrs. Peel's true purpose this evening. Society and the press buzzed with speculation whenever Emma appeared in public more than once with the same man. For the third time in less than a week that man was Rear Admiral Josh Hardaway. A former SEAL, the Admiral was in his early 50's , a shade over 6' 2" with bright blue eyes, steely grey hair, and the body of a warrior, muscular, but not bulky. His dress whites contrasted with a dark tan that set off his hair and eyes. Physical specimens such as he were rare among the Embassy set and everyone took note. The society matrons standing next to Steed, knowing that Steed would have a better idea than they, opined that Josh and Emma made a very attractive couple and wondered aloud whether Admiral Hardaway would be the man to melt the "Ice Queen" or if she would continue to remain unreachable. When asked his opinion, Steed politely demurred, "Mrs. Peel and I never discuss such thing." Since Mrs. Peel's early widowhood the female half of British high society had partially forgiven her for being too beautiful, too intelligent, and too rich. The matrons that regularly attended these affairs decided that the tragedy had left her unspeakably sad, though she bore it well. For the moment, they had forgotten their normal jealousy of the woman who made their husband's face flush by merely smiling politely to acknowledge their presence. They did however, wish she would become reattached and as quickly as possible. That there was no evidence of a lover or any serious involvement with any man since her husband's unfortunate crash seemed to have heightened her appeal among the male population. Steed quietly observed the couple as they entered the dance floor. He felt more than a little jealous. Mrs. Peel was having a very good time. Steed silently swore that he would make more of an effort to insure that he didn't neglect Mrs. Peel during those periods when he didn't need her, or more accurately didn't need her help with an assignment. He had long ago realized that he needed her. He'd also be more discreet about reinforcing his man about town reputation. Short affairs and causal flirting were okay, but in the future he would make certain Emma didn't have to hear the gory details. Emma could feel Steed's attention and watched him out of the corner of her eye as she and the Admiral danced. He wore that look of slight aggravation he often had when another man was paying attention to her. Emma never apologized for her attraction to physically superior men. The Admiral was in fact, the kind of man that Emma found attractive, powerful not because of his position, but because of his person. Combat had hardened him, both physically and towards death. Living under a death threat seeking to prevent his testimony at a spymaster's trial, he was cautious, not afraid. The last few days made it clear to Emma that what had happened between them in Washington hadn't been the result of her slightly inebriated state. There was a definite physical attraction. Josh's animal magnetism was not diminished by either his age or his being recently widowed after a thirty-year marriage. In fact, Emma had come to believe that he had that unique combination of experience, imagination, and stamina that she required in a lover. Casual sex wasn't her style, at almost twenty-eight she could count her lovers on one hand with room to spare, but staying the night with him would make protecting him much easier. That Steed would know made it more attractive and at the same time complicated the situation. If she were honest with herself Emma would have to admit that Steed's recent behavior was the main reason she was strongly considering getting to know the Admiral better. Steed's dalliance with Christina had been public knowledge for the last month. She knew he had broken it off. Her cousin Charlotte had called to tell her, to warn her that Christina was in a perfectly foul mood. Although his relations with other woman reinforced the image that they were just friends and though she had no claim on him, this last foray hurt more than she would admit, even to herself. Josh ever the gentleman, put his arm gently around her shoulder and whispered to her as they left the dance floor. Steed was in front of them, slightly to their left. Emma remembered her father teaching her that it is more important to listen to what people are saying when they aren't talking than to believe everything that you hear. Steed's body language was speaking volumes. Maybe spending the night with Josh wouldn't be such a good idea. Making Steed jealous was one thing, but actually hurting him would be going to far. The look on his face as Josh had put his arm around her shoulder made it clear that an affair with the Admiral would hurt more than just Steed's pride. As the evening wore down, Steed needed to discuss their next move, protecting the Admiral after the party ended. Everyone knew that he and Mrs. Peel were good friends so cutting in on a dance seemed a natural next step. Steed approached Josh and Emma before the next song began. He bowed slightly to Mrs. Peel, then turned to the Admiral. "Admiral, excuse me, but may I borrow the lady for a dance?" Josh looked at Emma to get her reaction and when he saw her smiling, gallantly bowed. "Please be my guest." Emma reached out, taking Steed's right hand, allowing herself to be led to the dance floor. The next song was a waltz. "Good timing Steed, it could have been a conga." Steed loved dancing with Mrs. Peel. It gave them a chance to talk without being overheard and allowed them to connect physically. During their association, dancing often turned into foreplay as close physical proximity in public without allowing his hands, lips, and tongue to roam freely to all the places he desired led to certain pressures building up. He could feel it, Emma could too, and Steed could feel the subtle changes which occurred when Emma was aroused. Her building desire as they danced improved his mood considerably. There was still the issue of the remainder of the night to consider however. Steed cautioned with much more levity than he felt, "Mrs. Peel, careful you don't lose your objectivity. We want the Admiral alive and in court tomorrow, not exhausted, in bed with you." "Oh no!" Emma half grinned and threw her head back in soft laughter. "Sounds like you're a little jealous. If you remember, this charade was your idea. I'd strongly suggest that you quit worrying about my virtue and concentrate on the rest of the evening. You had better watch your hands as well. People are never going to buy this "Grand Romance" between the admiral and I if you and I get caught in a compromising position." "My hands?" Steed's eyes widened as he realized that her building desire was due at least in part to the fact that he had begun stroking a particularly sensitive spot on the small of her back as they danced. "Mrs. Peel, I can't imagine you could think me jealous. I simply don't want to have to explain the Admiral getting killed while making love to his bodyguard. I know you find danger exciting, but I do believe that protecting the Admiral from a distance may be the way to go. You do tend to have a rather narrow focus whilst being intimate. That could get the Admiral killed tonight." The flash in Emma's eyes told Steed that this tact was not going well. It might be better to take her suggestion and concentrate on the reason they were there. "There are six hours to go until the Admiral is scheduled to testify. What would you suggest?" Emma gave Steed a half smile, raised her right eyebrow slightly and whispered softly, "well if you hadn't gotten us involved in this situation, I'd say we should find a very private room and " ……. The sentence remained unfinished as Steed caught her both her drift and sight of the Admiral coming to regain his date. Emma continued quickly, "I'd suggest that you invite the Admiral and myself to breakfast, that way we can keep an eye on him and you won't have to worry about what I'm up to." John Steed had an uncanny knack for being charming, getting his way even when others were not inclined to have the same idea. Breakfast with Steed was definitely not on Josh's list of thing to do while in London. Breakfast, preferably in bed, with Emma was more in line with his plans. He was more than somewhat surprised to hear himself agreeing to join Steed at a small, quaint place that Steed swore came highly recommended. The restaurant was indeed quaint. There was room for less than twenty diners. The owner, a quite attractive woman in her fifties who appeared to be Greek greeted Emma as if she were her oldest and dearest friend. Josh listened as Emma and the owner chatted in Greek. The conversation moving rapidly enough that it was clear that Emma not only spoke Greek but was fluent. Steed leaned back in a large unusual chair, smiling contentedly as he watched the ladies. "Don't worry Admiral, Mrs. Peel will rejoin us momentarily. She and Adrienna don't usually take more than a few moments to catch up." Seeing the questioning look on Josh's face Steed continued, "Oh, did I forget to mention that it was Mrs. Peel who originally recommended this restaurant. This place and I think Adrienna herself seem to have been among Sir John's favorites. Ah Mrs. Peel, nice of you to join us." Steed's voice had a teasing tone to it as Emma came to sit beside the two men. "What is Adrienna up to these days?" "I don't think we should bore Josh with all that." The smile that Emma turned to Josh with made his heart leap. "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering for all of us. Steed doesn't normally eat breakfast so he has no sense when it comes to ordering." A pang hit Josh as he wondered how on earth Emma would know Steed's breakfast habits. Perhaps they were closer than it seemed at first glance. "I'm sure it will be most delightful. Do tell me about this place, about Adrienna." "My parent lived in Greece for about a year after their marriage. Adrienna and her husband owned a restaurant about a mile from their villa. Over time they became close friends. Particularly my mother and Adrienna. When Stavros was killed during World War II Adrienna was left alone with four small children. My parents; well actually my mother arranged to bring them to London. She invested in this place with Adrienna. According to my father the Whitelaws used their social connections to get people to try this place. Adrienna's personality and the cuisine did the rest. My mother left her share to Adrienna in her will. My father and I ate here every chance we got when we were in London. I think my father continued to come here because it reminded him of my mother. Most of the artwork on the wall are her paintings." Josh turned looking closely at the paintings that lined the walls. They were a combination of landscapes and people. They were quite good. One particular piece caught his attention. It was of a small child about five years old sitting behind an oversized desk, happily engrossed in what appeared to be paperwork. The chair emphasized the smallness of the child. Getting up to cross the room to take a better look, Josh realized that the child was Emma herself. Adrienna seeing the Admiral's interest as well as the look that passed between Emma and John, came up beside him. "It was I think Elizabeth's favorite picture." Josh turned. He could still read even now after so many years the bond that must have existed between the two women. "Come, sit. Breakfast is ready." Steed had been right, the food was excellent. Josh found himself enjoying this meal more than he would ever have believed. He also found himself thankful that he hadn't tried to seduce Emma tonight. If he had he would have had to leave way too soon to testify in the morning. Emma had warned Adrienna during their conversation that there might be trouble. The owner hadn't asked for details, she had simply placed her staff on alert to look out for unusual activity. It was due to her actions that Steed and Mrs. Peel received advance warning of the attack that was to come. When her chef told her about the car that had been sitting outside for the last ten minutes with three men inside she knew the trouble Emma had warned of had arrived. Her signal to Steed was subtle. He read her concern as she raised three fingers. Emma read the look on Steed's face and followed his lead. He really did know best at times like this. The Wembly that she had in her purse was laid beside her where Josh couldn't see. By the time that the three gunmen burst into the restaurant Steed had moved into position. He grabbed the first as he came through the swinging him into the wall. Emma pushed Josh's chair over dumping him behind the table then she took the second out with one shot. After that things moved rapidly. Josh didn't even have a chance to raise himself from the floor before it was all over. Steed was helping Mrs. Peel up from the floor when Josh regained his feet. "What the hell is going on?" Josh was in a blind rage. It was obvious that these two were more than friends and that this breakfast was a part of some scenario that no one had bothered to clue him in on. Steed's face, which had seemed so unremarkable to Josh, now reflected Steed's true nature. The man had the look of a warrior. Quickly though, it resumed its courteous benign mask. "Sorry old chap. Your government didn't agree with your courageous if somewhat foolhardy stand in relation to the threats against you." Steed excused himself to make sure that the remaining gunmen were secure and that security would minimize any notice of the disturbance. Admiral Hardaway was not an experienced man, at least not when it came to the number of women he had slept with, but he was no fool. He knew love and respect when he saw them. Looking into Steed's face as Steed was helping Mrs. Peel up after the fight he thought he detected both. He couldn't see what was on Emma's face. Physically, Josh wanted this woman wanted to explore her exciting body to find out if she brought the same passionate nature that she had exhibited over the last ten days to bed. Yet now he hesitated to make a move. He wasn't sure he knew who or what she was. Was there more to her relationship with Steed than he'd surmised. Josh took her hand, "Are there any other talents that I should know about? Do you juggle, or perhaps write steamy novels? Any other identities?" More sharply than he intended, he continued, "has everything about this week been staged?" "Staged?" Mrs. Peel didn't seem to understand his implication, although she definitely had noted his tone. Her eyes betrayed a certain amount of irritation. "What do you mean by staged?" Josh hadn't been on a date in over thirty years. He wasn't used to dealing with uncertainty, the unknown. He and Denise had been childhood sweethearts, they had known from the time they were ten that they were meant for each other. Used to command, he didn't know how to proceed except with a direct frontal assault. "I thought that we were having a good time, that there was an attraction…… I, do you want to sleep with me?" Josh suddenly felt like a schoolboy, Emma's gaze was intense, he felt she was looking straight through him. He was no longer angry, but embarrassed. Knowing that she couldn't honestly answer that particular question and not sure how she should answer if she were to avoid the whole truth, Emma switched the subject. "You miss her very much don't you? Your wife, I mean." Emma's gaze softened as she spoke. "Yes," Josh realized that he did. More than he wanted to admit. "I miss her, but why bring her up now?" "Josh," Emma put one hand on his chest, "the attraction you spoke of, its real. Quite intensely real. In Washington, when you so gallantly helped me off the Lincoln Memorial I very much wanted to kiss you, to do things that most people only read about in books. Probably if I were more honest I would have. None of what has been happening between us was staged." As Josh started to reach for her, Emma backed up slightly. "None of it was staged, but it is physical, not romantic. We're not children, nor young lovers. We both have pasts, have memories that come unbidden. How often when we danced or laughed, or when we walked along the park did you think of Denise? How often did you compare me to her, wish she were there?" Slowly, Josh understood that Emma too had thoughts of another while they danced, while they laughed. He wondered whether the one she thought of was spectral or perhaps more corporeal. There might be a future here, but it wasn't going to be easily or so quickly won. He leaned down, kissing her on the cheek. "Would you see me again?" A slight pause, "If I called?" "Yes, I believe I'd like that." Emma smiled thankful he hadn't pressed her for an answer on whether she wanted him. Part of her most definitely did. "Emma," he said softly as she turned to leave, "how would you describe your relationship with Steed?" The Admiral had seen many looks on a woman's face in his fifty plus years, but he had never seen a look like the one on Emma's as she turned her head back. "Complicated!" Josh looked over to where Steed had been standing, but the man was gone. When he turned back, so was Emma. Chapter Break The night had been a success, but Steed felt like it had been a disaster. The last sight he saw before leaving to come home had been Josh holding Emma's hand. He took the long route home not wanting to return to his empty apartment. The drive home had been unpleasantly quiet images of Emma laughing with Josh kept leaping to his mind's eye. These images mixing with disquieting images about what his imagination feared Emma was doing now had plagued his thoughts, depressing him to no end. Steed entered his apartment, started to turn on the light then he realized that he wasn't alone. Mrs. Peel had beaten him back here. Pleasantly shocked, he could see her standing next to his red leather couch holding a brandy, wearing only her garter belt, silk hose and the enigmatic smile he had grown to love. She took a sip of the brandy, walked over to Steed and kissed him letting a small amount of the brandy pass from her lips to his. When their lips parted, Emma stood back, her half-naked body shimmering in the early morning sun. Tonight Emma knew there would be no games, no thought of delay. She needed him too much. As much as she ever had. She wanted the anger and pain of the last few weeks to be washed away by the feel of his body in hers, to be fulfilled in the way that only Steed had ever fulfilled her. She wanted to arouse him, to feel his desire match what she was feeling. She wanted to lead him into bliss and to follow him wherever he wished to take her. "Steed, you made a promise while we were dancing," she stated confidently. "I've come to collect". When Steed didn't immediately respond to her comment she pressed the issue. "Steed, please," she whispered urgently as she wrapped herself around him, stroking his inner thigh. Emma was impatient. It wasn't just sexual excitement, but something more. Steed knew he wasn't going to make her wait. Watching her with the Admiral all evening had crystallized his feelings. He didn't want her considering, much less bedding another man. He knew only part of the emotional forces driving Emma. Knew that she was almost as frantic as he to reconnect. Part of him wanted to apologize for whatever he had done to upset her, but knew that he couldn't without opening issues that neither of them cared to deal with. He felt desperate to be inside her. Steed wasn't sure how he got undressed, but soon found himself guiding himself into the moistness and heat between her hips. Laying Emma back on the sofa, he lowered himself both into her and onto her body, wanting as much physical contact between them as possible. He was acutely aware of the heat their bodies were generating, of the rhythm that made their bodies move as one. This was the dance he enjoyed most. Leading Emma into more intense, faster movements, making sure that they were building toward one final crescendo of desire and then release. Emma felt her anger washing away replaced by pure desire and the beginning of a conviction that Steed was the man she was meant to be with, even if they could never acknowledge more than the moment. She knew that if they didn't slow down, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from telling Steed how she felt. That would be a disaster. Steed sensed, then felt the change in Emma's breathing. He felt her attempt to regain control as she hurtled toward orgasm. He knew that she was in that state of pleasure and torment that precedes total release. Steed thought she was attempting to prolong this state, needing the intensity, not yet willing to give up the feeling. Wanting to meet her needs, Steed slowly backed off, matching his breathing to his lover's. His strokes were deep, but slower. Steed realized he wouldn't be able to maintain this control for long, his desire was too strong. His own need to re-establish the connection between them too great. Steed stared into Emma's eyes, concentrating on her needs, reading her pleasure and the pain that often accompanied their mating dance. Her dark eyes were never more expressive than in the moment right before she surrendered all control and allowed her sensual nature to rule. These were eyes that a man could lose himself in. Eyes that mirrored her soul so clearly that even though she had regained enough control to not verbalize it Steed didn't need to hear her say she loved him. He read it in her eyes. Tonight they glowed with an uncontrollable inner fire. "Ice Queen," hardly, more like a volcano waiting to explode. As Steed gazed into those eyes, lost to his thoughts, a deep moan escaped her lips. That moan cost Steed almost all the self-control he had left. It felt as though he needed to explode. He moved his face as closely as he could to hers and whispered softly, "I've missed you, I want to…. I don't know how much longer I can .… on the edge…I can't hold …..." "Wait, please" she pleaded, but Steed could barely hear her as she struggled to maintain her own control, "just a little longer." A moment later neither of them could resist the pull of their physical responses any more. Steed felt Emma's body take control from Emma's practical, sensible mind. Her responses became purely physical as contractions began pressing against his staff. Steed felt as if Emma was attempting to milk him, to take the seed that he so wanted to release. His strokes became harder, faster, her body matching him in rhythm and intensity. It only took a few more well orchestrated strokes to plunge them both over the edge. The release was all the sweeter for the delay as waves of pleasure washed over both their bodies. They lay quietly on the couch for a few moments, basking in the heat from their encounter and the early morning sunlight streaming through the front window. Emma, no longer angry, estimated that she had about five minutes before Steed would recover. She was feeling playful. As she lay there listening to his breathing she was planning a long and intimate morning. Steed roused himself, looking into her dark brown eyes, noting both their shimmer and that she had the look of a cat about to eat the canary. Steed was curious about what she was planning, but had some ideas of his own about how the morning should proceed. He decided to take the initiative. Mrs. Peel had a very good memory and he was quite sure she wouldn't forget her plans if he put his into place first. Emma realized that she had miscalculated as Steed stood up. Clothed, he was an attractive, if not obviously physical man. Naked, he was an impressive sight, muscular with narrow hips. The hair on his chest was curly, well defined while the hair on his abdomen had the appearance of a path to ease a woman's search for his most sensitive spots. The scars that his body wore only served to emphasize his masculinity. As his staff came to life Emma mentally thanked her lucky stars for the odd fact that Steed, unlike most men, was physically larger the second and third go around. What was a sturdy rod the first time they made love became a potent staff the second and third. She couldn't read his mood as he picked her up, but she knew that she trusted him enough to let him do exactly as he wanted. It was now his dance and she would follow his lead. "Let the games begin." She hadn't realized that she said it out loud until Steed roared with laughter and replied, "Indeed!" Emma was physically tired from the long night. She was also emotionally tired from the strain of the last six weeks. She found herself thinking of the old saying; 'if peace of mind won't come to you, go to it.' With Steed, she was mostly at peace, as close as she had come in years. She allowed her head to rest on Steed's shoulder as he carried her up the stairs. Funny, he was so strong, yet so gentle. She had seen his ruthless streak on more than one occasion, she knew the violence he was capable of and yet she trusted him like she had no other man. Steed could feel the heat of Emma's breath against his neck, her long hair gently brushing against his back as he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. Steed examined his options; what he had planned would require more than a little self control and the feel of Emma's half naked body had caused a resurgence of his own desire. He could continue as planned or they could start with a quick, soapy, very hot shower. The thought of Emma's slick, soapy body and her tendency to get very oral in the shower made up his mind. A shower and then …….. Steed started the shower and then completed undressing Mrs. Peel. He enjoyed removing her silk stocking, her legs were deceptively strong from years of self-defense training, yet so soft to the touch that had he not known better, Steed would never have been able to imagine the power they contained. Steed had had the shower remodeled so that two could shower quite comfortably together and in no time they were wet, soapy, and exploring every inch of each other's bodies. Steed lifted Emma slightly so that they could join and Emma wrapped her legs around Steed's waist then lowered herself on to him. It took only a few minutes for them both to come as they enjoyed what is commonly know as a quickie. They both collapsed in laughter as they almost fell when Steed's knees buckled a bit at the end. Emma chirped, "Times headline: Master Spy dies in shower slip - conspiracy suspected. Emma turned, looking down and grinned at him, water was cascading down his tall, muscular body outlining every muscular curve. "I see our little encounter had left you with energy to spare," she commented as she leaned down to take him into her mouth. Steed closed his eyes, resisting the temptation to lean back, but rather leaning into the water stream so that he could run his hands along the parts of her body that he could still reach. Her tongue slid up and around his half erect member. He knew what was coming. He had spent ten minutes during their second meeting watching her eat an ice cream cone. She had slowly licked around the edges, while every so often flicking the top of the cone with the tip of her tongue. Not a drop of ice cream had escaped as she melted it into her mouth. By the time she had covered the top of the cone with her mouth to suck the ice cream from it, half the men in the room had been ready to leave their wives. She had seemed oblivious to the reaction from the males present. Steed had felt a profound envy of the ice cream cone. One of his greatest pleasures had been learning for himself what the ice cream cone must have felt. He could anticipate, could already feel her teasing him, taking him to the edge, then distracting him to prolong his pleasure. This was one woman who believed that anything worth doing was worth doing right. He hoped she was truly no longer angry, those nips that she took to distract him could be very painful if she decided to make her displeasure know. When she finished fifteen minutes later, more than Steed's knees had buckled, the water was getting cold and Steed knew that he would be able to practice the self control he needed for the next part of his plan. "Damn," he only hoped he would be able to rise to the occasion again in the next few hours. Steed turned off the water and reached for the large heated towels that hung outside the shower. He wrapped Mrs. Peel in one, then used a second to dry her thick auburn hair. Steed took her hand leading her towards his large, four poster bed, his gray eyes bright with anticipation. Emma didn't speak, didn't hesitate for a moment. The sly smile on her face, along with the anticipation Steed saw in her eyes told him she had some idea of what was to come and was looking forward to it immensely. Emma instinctively knew that Steed planned to pamper, tease, and then devour her. She wasn't sure how he would start, but she knew he intended to take a great deal of time and effort. She only hoped she wouldn't fall asleep before he got started. "Steed?" she asked. Steed put his finger to his lips, "Shh… I want you to close your eyes, keep them closed, relax, and enjoy the show. Don't worry, I won't let you fall asleep." She looked at him with surprise, "How did you know I was worried about …." "Shh, relax, and enjoy the show." She had no desire to argue as this was exactly what she wanted, so she did as told. He walked away for a moment. When he returned, she felt rather than saw him approach. He could feel the heat rising from her body as he contrasted her tanned arms, legs, and stomach, with her alabaster skin where the sun had never touched. Maybe they'd go to a nude beach on their next long weekend. He stopped when he knew she could feel the heat of his breath. First, a massage with warm oil. Not a relaxing massage, but one designed to stimulate much more than blood flow. The principal was simple. While massaging her tired muscles, he also began to explore her body with his lips and tongue. He started at the base of her neck. It began with soft butterfly kisses, so light that she couldn't be sure that they were real. He then proceeded to kiss every hidden pleasure point on her body. First softly, then with passion. The combination of his hands, strong and sure, and his tongue, soft and then demanding drove her wild. Steed marveled at how one woman could have so many erogenous zones. Emma counted her blessings as Steed searched out and found all of them, even the ones most men never think of. By the time Steed gently parted her lips with his tongue, Emma was ready to go into orbit. Her eyes were moist, her breathing uneven, and her body arching to meet Steed's every move. Emma started to open her eyes, but felt Steed's hand cover them. She wanted to cry out, to beg him to enter her, but he put his fingers to her lips and silenced her. As his tongue continued to explore the most private of pleasure zones Emma lost her self totally in the feelings and emotions that Steed's actions were generating. He didn't enter her. He wouldn't until she was in the grips of orgasm. When each stroke would send her far beyond what most people think of as orgasm. He could feel the spasms start, could feel her hands on his shoulders, alternately attempting to pull him tighter and push him away. Normally, Steed would have moved to lay on his back, allowing Emma to ride him, to control how fast, how deep, how far beyond this first orgasm she went, but tonight Steed wanted to possess her, to rid all doubt from her mind. Doubt, indeed all rational thought had left Emma's mind the moment Steed had started. Her entire being was being driven by pure physical pleasure. Steed had turned her entire body into one large orgasmic experience. Steed slid up her body kissing her, first on her eyelids, then moving to lips that kissed back as Emma responded fervently to his kisses. Steed whispered softly into her ear. Emma rolled over, raising her hips so that she was on her knees, with her head on the pillow. "Her stallion," Emma thought, she knew that Steed would mount her as a stallion mounts his mare. Would ride her until both of them were exhausted. As he entered her, she could feel his strength, his desire to possess her and with each stroke his balls smacked against that part of her body that Steed had so recently nibbled, sucked, and licked to bring her to her present state. Emma's moans escalated until she gasped "Dear God" as Steed exploded, and they both collapsed. Steed held her and stroked her soft thick auburn hair, watching the spasm slowly subside, his eyes riveted to her heaving breasts. Unable to fully catch her breath, Emma tried to focus on Steed's eyes. When she couldn't focus she closed her eyes and instead snuggled into Steed's arms. "Just give me a few minutes," she gasped, barely able to speak. It took a good twenty minutes for Emma's breathing to return to normal. By the time it had she was fast asleep curled up with her head on Steed's chest and her hand over his heart. It was the first completely peaceful sleep she'd had in almost two months. Steed made it a habit to never sleep with the women that he was intimate with. The morning after always seemed forced to him and he enjoyed being able to stretch out when he slept. More and more lately, he found himself hoping that Emma would fall asleep in his arms as opposed to leaving. Tonight, he was doubly thankful that she was staying. It meant that the crisis, whatever had caused it was over. It allowed him to watch her as she slept. So serene, so inviting. Steed wondered how he had been so lucky to capture this goddess who made his days lighter, shared his very unusual life, and never questioned where their relationship was going. He knew that she would eventually want more, a family, a home, marriage, but for now she was his. He longed to be able to tell her how he felt, but knew he would never express it. He was confident she knew. Finally, exhausted Steed fell into an easy slumber. The sun was almost directly overhead, when Steed was roused by the sound of someone rummaging around in his living room. Reacting, rather than thinking about what was happening, he started to leap from the bed but stopped when he heard Mrs. Carver singing to herself. His abrupt movement caused the woman beside him to stir slightly. Her arm encircled his waist as she curled up against his back. Molding her body to his. It was then that the full horror of the situation hit Steed. Earlier, he hadn't given a thought to what day it was. Mrs. Carver cleaned every Wednesday. Somehow Steed couldn't see either Mrs.'s Peel or Carver responding very well to an unexpected meeting. Steed knew that he was somewhat Victorian in his attitude about a lady's honor, but having Mrs. Peel be the object of gossip didn't appeal to him at all. Emma was still half asleep, but when Steed didn't respond to her hug, didn't turn over and take her into his arms she realized that something was wrong. Generally that meant real danger. "Steed?" she whispered so no one would hear, "What's wrong? Enemy Agent?" "Cleaning Lady!" Steed sounded worried.