Steeling a
Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele
Holting On
Chapter 3 Old
Business
In an unusual turn of events, Remington D. H. Steele insisted that his new bride take the wheel of the car. She found out why fifteen minutes later. During the drive home, the groom found it absolutely delightful to annoy that same bride by nibbling on her fingertips and tracing his tongue across the lines in her hand. She was so distracted she nearly forgot which side of the road she was to drive on. When he took her middle finger and warmed it in his mouth, she barely avoided a flock of sheep lounging in the road. Only by the dint of much honking at the last minute did the ewes scramble out of the way.
By the time they neared the castle, Laura was breathing hard, and Remington had loosened his own collar, making a complete mess of the knot the valet had tied.
When they arrived though, they found the servants assembled in the courtyard, and that they had draped white bunting across the great doors. The happy crowd sprinkled flower petals over the couple’s heads as they dashed inside the castle. To many good wishes, winks, nudges and sage advice for the bedroom, they hastened up the stairs and slammed the door.
“I imagine we’ve provided an excuse for a great ceili for the staff, as it’s not every day the lord and lady get hitched.” Remington grinned. “They’ll be down below tapping kegs and toasting our good health until the wee hours of the morning.
Laura drew a hand down his lean stomach. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Remington brushed a hand through her hair and cupped the back of her neck.
“That we do a bit of celebrating on our own.” Her body was vibrating after the past three-quarters of an hour of steady stroking, hints and insinuations.
“My sentiments exactly.” His lips met hers in a scorching, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues seeking and heating and finding. His fingers drifted down her shoulders, leaving sparks in their trail.
Impatient, Laura jerked his tie, the waistcoat and his shirt off in short order, scattering cuff links here and there. Her dress puddled on the floor, the zippers and buttons released by Remington’s clever fingers. She heard the quick intake of his breath and smiled.
“See something you like?” Clad in an ivory bodice that skimmed her slim body in a deep vee in front and left her back bare, with only an excuse of a triangle for panties, Laura lavished kisses on his neck and chest as Remington struggled to be suave and coherent. But what made him pause in appreciation were the ivory stockings stopping at mid-thigh. The idea of rolling those stockings down a long, sexy limb almost stopped his heart. When that same leg was clad in the aforementioned outfit, a slim stiletto heel and attached to Laura, well, that was quite enough to put a halt to any plans he might have had for a long, slow seduction on his wedding night.
So distracted from the sight, he failed to notice when Laura slipped off his belt, loosening his slacks so she could slide her small, delicate hand inside. She teased and fondled lightly, then drew him up in a solid, firm stroke that made his knees weak. He sagged against the door when his pants and briefs dropped, and she began nipping along his thighs. When her hot mouth closed over him, he clutched the door frame with one hand, her hair with the other.
Watching Remington fascinated Laura. To have him at her mercy filled her with incredible pleasure. To see him gasping for breath made her ache to be filled, to have his hands on her. But she was very patient and enjoying the task at hand, sucking and licking as if he were dipped in the most luscious of chocolate.
Moments, or maybe hours later, he'd had enough, dragging her upwards to bring her very talented mouth to his. He spun around, kicking the last of his shoes and socks away and forcing Laura against the same door that proved such a handy support during her ministrations. Somewhere in the exchange, her panties vanished, and Remington wrapped her stocking-covered legs around his hips, thrusting deep inside in one smooth motion. Laura started with a gasp and ended with a shriek.
With her back to the door and Remington’s hard body plunging into hers, Laura was caught in a raging inferno, every part of her hungering for more. He pushed her harder and higher. When she arched her body and screamed his name, he convulsed, flooding her with his liquid heat and sending her soaring. He buried his face in her neck as they shuddered in each other’s embrace.
Without releasing her, Remington staggered back from the door and carried a still-shaking Laura to the nearest horizontal surface that wasn’t the floor--which happened to be the couch in front of the fire. He mentally blessed the thoughtful servant who had stoked it to a warm blaze before their homecoming and left a pile of pillows and blankets nearby. He collapsed backward onto the sofa, keeping his wife close.
They dozed in the heat for a while before he began toying with the strap of her teddy. She roused to play with the tips of his hair and to press light kisses along his collarbone. She felt his feather light touches along her waist, gathering the sheer lingerie so that he could slide it up and over her head. When her arms came down around him, he pressed her body up and over him to taste those amazing small breasts. Laura quivered at his touch.
She shifted, straddling him more firmly, and when she sat up, she discovered him hardening once more. She took advantage by rocking softly as he continued to titillate her body.
“Mmm, Laura, you have no idea how completely you are fulfilling my fantasies of you. Naked, but for a sheer bit of hosiery.” He stroked her leg along the top edge of the lace, sending shivers into her. He skimmed his fingers along the insides of her thighs before dipping into her wet folds, stroking and circling her nub.
Once, twice, three times, he took her to the very edge before retreating to stroke those stocking-covered legs. Each time, he grew harder underneath her. When he started to trail his fingers across again, Laura abruptly shifted to take him inside. In moments, they were panting and moving together, with Laura taking Remington up to the pinnacle with her. As they balanced on the precipice, she captured his lips for a hot, breathy kiss that rocked him to the core. They fell together, calling each other’s names.
*****
With their initial lust satiated, the couple found a picnic basket full of finger foods warming on the side of the hearth, another gift from the servants enjoying their ale below. With a bottle of French champagne, a selection of cheese and a bowl of fruit that Remington extracted from a niche in the wine safe, the bride and groom shared a meal in the firelight. They nestled in the blankets as they nibbled through their largesse and drank toasts to their present and their future.
As she held up her goblet, the flickering light caught on the wedding ring Laura wore. Sliding it off, she examined it in detail. Tilting it this way and that, she noticed the engraving inside. Astonished, she looked up at Remington. “Fan dance?”
“It’s as you said, my dear, if you had performed a fan dance for me, you wouldn’t have seen daylight for a week. I love all those things about you--your brain, your courage, your passion, your impulsiveness.” He snorted, “Although I don’t miss your restraint one bit at all.”
Laura punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Those words are to remind you of who you are and that I love you for all of that.”
She dropped her eyes and smiled at that last. “I should have ‘Remington Steele’ engraved inside yours, so you won’t forget who you are.”
Silently, he tugged off the ring and handed it to her. Inside, in the same script, was inscribed Remington D. H. Steele. Her eyes watered for a moment as she took it in. Then, still holding her own ring, Laura replaced his on his third finger, just as she had earlier that day.
“So tell me; I’m quite certain there’s more to this ring than just words. Why diamonds and rubies?” she asked as she turned the band over. The channel held five small stones, three white and two red.
“Ah, no, they aren’t rubies. These rings, ah, I've had lying around. Mildred couriered them to me.”
“Just how did you happen to have them lying around? And if they aren’t rubies, what are they?
“A private investigator to the core, aren’t you, Laura?” He planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Just answer the questions, Mr. Steele,” she teased in return.
“Well, Mrs. Steele, the stones are pure red diamonds and white diamonds of the first water. Just a little bonus for a job I did, you see. I’ve been saving them for something, mmm, special.”
“Red diamonds? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she mused, still turning the ring in her fingers.
“That, my darling, is because there aren’t very many of them. Like pink diamonds and canary diamonds, a true red diamond is in a class all its own. A matched set such as these? Well, let’s just say, I didn’t come across them too often even in my line of business.” Remington plucked the ring from Laura’s hand and slid it back on her finger.
She admired it for a moment. “I imagine I don’t want to know how much these are worth.”
“No, I don’t think so. Just don’t lose it. Our insurance company will have a heart attack or go bankrupt.”
“Care to explain about the setting? I don’t imagine you let just anyone play around with these little rocks.” She picked up her glass of champagne and sipped, letting the bubbles play in her mouth.
“There’s a friend I have in the States with a fine hand for such a thing. I didn’t have a chance to retrieve them before we came here, but given the circumstances, I thought they were quite appropriate for today.”
“Retrieve them? How long have you had them?”
“A while. I won’t admit to more than that. It might give you the upper hand.”
She bit her lip while she flashed him a smile. She’d get it out of him one of these days. “I think they’re perfect.” Laura set aside her glass to draw Remington into her arms. “Now, about this stocking fetish of yours.”
They arrived at the airport two rainy days later, only to find their flight delayed due to storms in the area until the following morning. Annoyed at the situation, but determined not to ruin the tail-end of their honeymoon, Laura pasted a smile on her face. “What shall we do now, Mr. Steele?”
Not surprisingly, Remington didn't seem thrilled either. “Ah, well, I’ll find us a nice hotel and a good place for dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call Mildred and let her know we'll be another day.”
After a flurry of phone calls, the couple huddled under the airport canopy until they found a taxi to carry them to the Clarence Hotel where they would stay for the night. As they settled in the car, Laura asked, “You spent quite a bit of time in Dublin, right?”
“Aye.”
“After we check in, why don’t you show me around?”
“Ah, certainly.” Remington stared out the windows as water streamed down. “Of course, love.” He patted her on the leg. “We can do that.” Catching himself, he began pointing out various sights and telling silly stories of himself and his mates from years past. Laura was laughing as they arrived at the hotel, but his suddenly somber mood hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Later that evening, after a quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant, Laura again urged Remington to take her about town. “We’ll find a bar and, how do you say, lift a pint for Daniel before we go,” she teased.
“Certainly,” Remington gave her a half-smile, “but are you sure you want to dash about in this weather?”
“It’s my only chance to see some of it, so of course.”
“Mmm, then I’ll call downstairs for a taxi.”
Remington directed the cab around the city, pointing out historic sites and a few memorable places to Laura’s delight. Suddenly, she asked the taxi driver, “Do you know where Gallagher’s Pub is, or used to be?”
“Aye, I do, me lady. ‘Twas closed for some time, but reopened some fifteen years back as ‘Cleary’s.’ It’s a bit out of the way, but I can take ye there if ye like.” Not seeing Remington’s pole-axed face, Laura assured the driver.
“Ah, Laura, we really don’t need to do this.” His voice was hesitant.
“Oh, it will be fun. I don’t expect you to find anything important, but don’t you think you’d like
knowing where your mother and father met at least?” she cajoled.
Remington brooded for several minutes as the car splashed through the rain. “I’ve been to Cleary’s. Many times. It was Daniel’s favorite place to meet. And now I know why.” Open-mouthed, Laura started to reply when the taxi pulled in front of the building. Remington paid off the driver.
“Here’s me card if ye want to call for a pick up.”
“Appreciate it, mate. Tell you what, come back in an hour. I’ll tip you to make it worth your while.” Remington slipped him a twenty-pound note.
“Aye, I’ll do that.” The man was whistling as he shut the door.
They ducked into an extremely dark bar, heavy with yeast and years of smoke embedded in the wood floors and paneling. The bartender wiping down the counter glanced up. “Well, bugger me blind, ‘tis Michael O’Leary come in for a pint. I see ye have a new ladyfriend too. Ah, Mick, it’s good to be seeing ye.”
Laura watched her husband as he shifted his body language and the cadence of his speech. His ability to blend into his surroundings never ceased to astonish her. He ran fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly. “Aye, mate, ‘tis been too long since you’ve built me a Guinness. I’ll have one and a Harp for me lass.” He sounded cheery and flashed a charming grin.
“It’ll be on me, mate. Give me a bit an’ I’ll join ye.” The bartender winked and waved them to the back of the pub.
Taking Laura’s left hand, Remington pulled her into a darkened booth and tucked her inside. After she scooted in, she looked down to her now-naked fingers. Using the expert skills he'd honed as a thief on the streets so many years ago, her husband had plucked her wedding ring from her hand and pocketed it away with his own. Too smart to give him away, Laura simply took his hand and held it, running her thumb along the base of his third finger to acknowledge the deception. On full alert now, she watched the bar, wondering what put him on edge.
The slightly-built bartender slid into the booth, shoving their drinks at them. “What’s it been, mate, five years since ye been here?”
“Aye, a bit more than that.”
“And who’s the beautiful lass ye brought here?”
“’Tis Mary Kate, Miss Mary Kate to you, if you know how to treat a lady.”
The other man roared with laughter and waggled a finger at Remington. “Ah, that’s a funny. Miss Mary Kate, you’ll not be believin’ a word from him. He’s a lady’s man and they’ll all fall for that devilish charm of his. Don’t be taken in by his wily ways.” The barman told story after story of O’Leary’s tricks and deeds from years past, making “Mary Kate” blush and “Michael” laugh.
Careful to keep her mouth shut so as not to give away her American accent, Laura smiled a great deal and nodded often.
When Remington drained his pint and rose to leave, the bartender suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to tell him in a harsh whisper, “O’Leary, I like ye. Ye can’t stay. There’s been word out time and again that there are those that are looking for ye, wanting your services. An’ ye don’t want to be mixed up with these. Go back to wherever you’ve been with your lass.”
The man slapped Remington on the back and kissed the back of Laura’s hand before all but shoving them out the front door. A snap of the bartender’s fingers brought the taxi around from wherever it had been hiding. The couple slid in and let the driver take them to the hotel. With silent agreement, they kept the conversation soft and light during the short ride.
“Every time I get a peek at your mysterious past, I am more and more impressed with what you’ve accomplished over the years,” Laura commented as she slid out of her wrap and tossed it on a chair in their hotel suite.
Laying aside his own coat, Remington pulled the rings out of his pocket and took her hand to replace hers. “Sorry about that, Laura. When I realized I had been recognized, I didn’t want to put you in any danger.”
She took his ring from him and slid it back into place. “I shouldn’t have said anything about that pub. I ought to be smart enough to realize that there are things from your past that could come back to haunt you if you aren’t careful.”
“Aye, but we’re going home tomorrow and leaving the past behind.”
“What did the bartender say to you?”
He knew she wouldn’t have missed the exchange. He smiled and lied through his teeth. “Just telling me that you were the most beautiful lass he had seen with me yet, and you were the smartest for you didn’t say a word the whole time.”
Laura smiled at his cheeky grin but let the falsehood stand. He would share it when the time was right.
You’re sure it was O’Leary?
Yes, sir.
Did you follow him?
I did. He stayed at the Clarence. Bloke must be loaded.
What name is he using now?
Steele. Remington Steele. He caught a plane to the U.S. this morning. He’s got a girl. A wife, maybe.
What’s her name?
Hotel register said Laura Steele.
What do you know about them?
He left his card. He owns a private investigation agency in Los Angeles.
That’s a lark. Putting the fox in the hen house. Keep tabs on them from time to time. They’ll be back.
Aye, sir. I’ll do that.
Chapter 4 -- Home (PG)
In an unusual turn of events, Remington D. H. Steele insisted that his new bride take the wheel of the car. She found out why fifteen minutes later. During the drive home, the groom found it absolutely delightful to annoy that same bride by nibbling on her fingertips and tracing his tongue across the lines in her hand. She was so distracted she nearly forgot which side of the road she was to drive on. When he took her middle finger and warmed it in his mouth, she barely avoided a flock of sheep lounging in the road. Only by the dint of much honking at the last minute did the ewes scramble out of the way.
By the time they neared the castle, Laura was breathing hard, and Remington had loosened his own collar, making a complete mess of the knot the valet had tied.
When they arrived though, they found the servants assembled in the courtyard, and that they had draped white bunting across the great doors. The happy crowd sprinkled flower petals over the couple’s heads as they dashed inside the castle. To many good wishes, winks, nudges and sage advice for the bedroom, they hastened up the stairs and slammed the door.
“I imagine we’ve provided an excuse for a great ceili for the staff, as it’s not every day the lord and lady get hitched.” Remington grinned. “They’ll be down below tapping kegs and toasting our good health until the wee hours of the morning.
Laura drew a hand down his lean stomach. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Remington brushed a hand through her hair and cupped the back of her neck.
“That we do a bit of celebrating on our own.” Her body was vibrating after the past three-quarters of an hour of steady stroking, hints and insinuations.
“My sentiments exactly.” His lips met hers in a scorching, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues seeking and heating and finding. His fingers drifted down her shoulders, leaving sparks in their trail.
Impatient, Laura jerked his tie, the waistcoat and his shirt off in short order, scattering cuff links here and there. Her dress puddled on the floor, the zippers and buttons released by Remington’s clever fingers. She heard the quick intake of his breath and smiled.
“See something you like?” Clad in an ivory bodice that skimmed her slim body in a deep vee in front and left her back bare, with only an excuse of a triangle for panties, Laura lavished kisses on his neck and chest as Remington struggled to be suave and coherent. But what made him pause in appreciation were the ivory stockings stopping at mid-thigh. The idea of rolling those stockings down a long, sexy limb almost stopped his heart. When that same leg was clad in the aforementioned outfit, a slim stiletto heel and attached to Laura, well, that was quite enough to put a halt to any plans he might have had for a long, slow seduction on his wedding night.
So distracted from the sight, he failed to notice when Laura slipped off his belt, loosening his slacks so she could slide her small, delicate hand inside. She teased and fondled lightly, then drew him up in a solid, firm stroke that made his knees weak. He sagged against the door when his pants and briefs dropped, and she began nipping along his thighs. When her hot mouth closed over him, he clutched the door frame with one hand, her hair with the other.
Watching Remington fascinated Laura. To have him at her mercy filled her with incredible pleasure. To see him gasping for breath made her ache to be filled, to have his hands on her. But she was very patient and enjoying the task at hand, sucking and licking as if he were dipped in the most luscious of chocolate.
Moments, or maybe hours later, he'd had enough, dragging her upwards to bring her very talented mouth to his. He spun around, kicking the last of his shoes and socks away and forcing Laura against the same door that proved such a handy support during her ministrations. Somewhere in the exchange, her panties vanished, and Remington wrapped her stocking-covered legs around his hips, thrusting deep inside in one smooth motion. Laura started with a gasp and ended with a shriek.
With her back to the door and Remington’s hard body plunging into hers, Laura was caught in a raging inferno, every part of her hungering for more. He pushed her harder and higher. When she arched her body and screamed his name, he convulsed, flooding her with his liquid heat and sending her soaring. He buried his face in her neck as they shuddered in each other’s embrace.
Without releasing her, Remington staggered back from the door and carried a still-shaking Laura to the nearest horizontal surface that wasn’t the floor--which happened to be the couch in front of the fire. He mentally blessed the thoughtful servant who had stoked it to a warm blaze before their homecoming and left a pile of pillows and blankets nearby. He collapsed backward onto the sofa, keeping his wife close.
They dozed in the heat for a while before he began toying with the strap of her teddy. She roused to play with the tips of his hair and to press light kisses along his collarbone. She felt his feather light touches along her waist, gathering the sheer lingerie so that he could slide it up and over her head. When her arms came down around him, he pressed her body up and over him to taste those amazing small breasts. Laura quivered at his touch.
She shifted, straddling him more firmly, and when she sat up, she discovered him hardening once more. She took advantage by rocking softly as he continued to titillate her body.
“Mmm, Laura, you have no idea how completely you are fulfilling my fantasies of you. Naked, but for a sheer bit of hosiery.” He stroked her leg along the top edge of the lace, sending shivers into her. He skimmed his fingers along the insides of her thighs before dipping into her wet folds, stroking and circling her nub.
Once, twice, three times, he took her to the very edge before retreating to stroke those stocking-covered legs. Each time, he grew harder underneath her. When he started to trail his fingers across again, Laura abruptly shifted to take him inside. In moments, they were panting and moving together, with Laura taking Remington up to the pinnacle with her. As they balanced on the precipice, she captured his lips for a hot, breathy kiss that rocked him to the core. They fell together, calling each other’s names.
*****
With their initial lust satiated, the couple found a picnic basket full of finger foods warming on the side of the hearth, another gift from the servants enjoying their ale below. With a bottle of French champagne, a selection of cheese and a bowl of fruit that Remington extracted from a niche in the wine safe, the bride and groom shared a meal in the firelight. They nestled in the blankets as they nibbled through their largesse and drank toasts to their present and their future.
As she held up her goblet, the flickering light caught on the wedding ring Laura wore. Sliding it off, she examined it in detail. Tilting it this way and that, she noticed the engraving inside. Astonished, she looked up at Remington. “Fan dance?”
“It’s as you said, my dear, if you had performed a fan dance for me, you wouldn’t have seen daylight for a week. I love all those things about you--your brain, your courage, your passion, your impulsiveness.” He snorted, “Although I don’t miss your restraint one bit at all.”
Laura punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Those words are to remind you of who you are and that I love you for all of that.”
She dropped her eyes and smiled at that last. “I should have ‘Remington Steele’ engraved inside yours, so you won’t forget who you are.”
Silently, he tugged off the ring and handed it to her. Inside, in the same script, was inscribed Remington D. H. Steele. Her eyes watered for a moment as she took it in. Then, still holding her own ring, Laura replaced his on his third finger, just as she had earlier that day.
“So tell me; I’m quite certain there’s more to this ring than just words. Why diamonds and rubies?” she asked as she turned the band over. The channel held five small stones, three white and two red.
“Ah, no, they aren’t rubies. These rings, ah, I've had lying around. Mildred couriered them to me.”
“Just how did you happen to have them lying around? And if they aren’t rubies, what are they?
“A private investigator to the core, aren’t you, Laura?” He planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Just answer the questions, Mr. Steele,” she teased in return.
“Well, Mrs. Steele, the stones are pure red diamonds and white diamonds of the first water. Just a little bonus for a job I did, you see. I’ve been saving them for something, mmm, special.”
“Red diamonds? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she mused, still turning the ring in her fingers.
“That, my darling, is because there aren’t very many of them. Like pink diamonds and canary diamonds, a true red diamond is in a class all its own. A matched set such as these? Well, let’s just say, I didn’t come across them too often even in my line of business.” Remington plucked the ring from Laura’s hand and slid it back on her finger.
She admired it for a moment. “I imagine I don’t want to know how much these are worth.”
“No, I don’t think so. Just don’t lose it. Our insurance company will have a heart attack or go bankrupt.”
“Care to explain about the setting? I don’t imagine you let just anyone play around with these little rocks.” She picked up her glass of champagne and sipped, letting the bubbles play in her mouth.
“There’s a friend I have in the States with a fine hand for such a thing. I didn’t have a chance to retrieve them before we came here, but given the circumstances, I thought they were quite appropriate for today.”
“Retrieve them? How long have you had them?”
“A while. I won’t admit to more than that. It might give you the upper hand.”
She bit her lip while she flashed him a smile. She’d get it out of him one of these days. “I think they’re perfect.” Laura set aside her glass to draw Remington into her arms. “Now, about this stocking fetish of yours.”
They arrived at the airport two rainy days later, only to find their flight delayed due to storms in the area until the following morning. Annoyed at the situation, but determined not to ruin the tail-end of their honeymoon, Laura pasted a smile on her face. “What shall we do now, Mr. Steele?”
Not surprisingly, Remington didn't seem thrilled either. “Ah, well, I’ll find us a nice hotel and a good place for dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call Mildred and let her know we'll be another day.”
After a flurry of phone calls, the couple huddled under the airport canopy until they found a taxi to carry them to the Clarence Hotel where they would stay for the night. As they settled in the car, Laura asked, “You spent quite a bit of time in Dublin, right?”
“Aye.”
“After we check in, why don’t you show me around?”
“Ah, certainly.” Remington stared out the windows as water streamed down. “Of course, love.” He patted her on the leg. “We can do that.” Catching himself, he began pointing out various sights and telling silly stories of himself and his mates from years past. Laura was laughing as they arrived at the hotel, but his suddenly somber mood hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Later that evening, after a quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant, Laura again urged Remington to take her about town. “We’ll find a bar and, how do you say, lift a pint for Daniel before we go,” she teased.
“Certainly,” Remington gave her a half-smile, “but are you sure you want to dash about in this weather?”
“It’s my only chance to see some of it, so of course.”
“Mmm, then I’ll call downstairs for a taxi.”
Remington directed the cab around the city, pointing out historic sites and a few memorable places to Laura’s delight. Suddenly, she asked the taxi driver, “Do you know where Gallagher’s Pub is, or used to be?”
“Aye, I do, me lady. ‘Twas closed for some time, but reopened some fifteen years back as ‘Cleary’s.’ It’s a bit out of the way, but I can take ye there if ye like.” Not seeing Remington’s pole-axed face, Laura assured the driver.
“Ah, Laura, we really don’t need to do this.” His voice was hesitant.
“Oh, it will be fun. I don’t expect you to find anything important, but don’t you think you’d like
knowing where your mother and father met at least?” she cajoled.
Remington brooded for several minutes as the car splashed through the rain. “I’ve been to Cleary’s. Many times. It was Daniel’s favorite place to meet. And now I know why.” Open-mouthed, Laura started to reply when the taxi pulled in front of the building. Remington paid off the driver.
“Here’s me card if ye want to call for a pick up.”
“Appreciate it, mate. Tell you what, come back in an hour. I’ll tip you to make it worth your while.” Remington slipped him a twenty-pound note.
“Aye, I’ll do that.” The man was whistling as he shut the door.
They ducked into an extremely dark bar, heavy with yeast and years of smoke embedded in the wood floors and paneling. The bartender wiping down the counter glanced up. “Well, bugger me blind, ‘tis Michael O’Leary come in for a pint. I see ye have a new ladyfriend too. Ah, Mick, it’s good to be seeing ye.”
Laura watched her husband as he shifted his body language and the cadence of his speech. His ability to blend into his surroundings never ceased to astonish her. He ran fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly. “Aye, mate, ‘tis been too long since you’ve built me a Guinness. I’ll have one and a Harp for me lass.” He sounded cheery and flashed a charming grin.
“It’ll be on me, mate. Give me a bit an’ I’ll join ye.” The bartender winked and waved them to the back of the pub.
Taking Laura’s left hand, Remington pulled her into a darkened booth and tucked her inside. After she scooted in, she looked down to her now-naked fingers. Using the expert skills he'd honed as a thief on the streets so many years ago, her husband had plucked her wedding ring from her hand and pocketed it away with his own. Too smart to give him away, Laura simply took his hand and held it, running her thumb along the base of his third finger to acknowledge the deception. On full alert now, she watched the bar, wondering what put him on edge.
The slightly-built bartender slid into the booth, shoving their drinks at them. “What’s it been, mate, five years since ye been here?”
“Aye, a bit more than that.”
“And who’s the beautiful lass ye brought here?”
“’Tis Mary Kate, Miss Mary Kate to you, if you know how to treat a lady.”
The other man roared with laughter and waggled a finger at Remington. “Ah, that’s a funny. Miss Mary Kate, you’ll not be believin’ a word from him. He’s a lady’s man and they’ll all fall for that devilish charm of his. Don’t be taken in by his wily ways.” The barman told story after story of O’Leary’s tricks and deeds from years past, making “Mary Kate” blush and “Michael” laugh.
Careful to keep her mouth shut so as not to give away her American accent, Laura smiled a great deal and nodded often.
When Remington drained his pint and rose to leave, the bartender suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to tell him in a harsh whisper, “O’Leary, I like ye. Ye can’t stay. There’s been word out time and again that there are those that are looking for ye, wanting your services. An’ ye don’t want to be mixed up with these. Go back to wherever you’ve been with your lass.”
The man slapped Remington on the back and kissed the back of Laura’s hand before all but shoving them out the front door. A snap of the bartender’s fingers brought the taxi around from wherever it had been hiding. The couple slid in and let the driver take them to the hotel. With silent agreement, they kept the conversation soft and light during the short ride.
“Every time I get a peek at your mysterious past, I am more and more impressed with what you’ve accomplished over the years,” Laura commented as she slid out of her wrap and tossed it on a chair in their hotel suite.
Laying aside his own coat, Remington pulled the rings out of his pocket and took her hand to replace hers. “Sorry about that, Laura. When I realized I had been recognized, I didn’t want to put you in any danger.”
She took his ring from him and slid it back into place. “I shouldn’t have said anything about that pub. I ought to be smart enough to realize that there are things from your past that could come back to haunt you if you aren’t careful.”
“Aye, but we’re going home tomorrow and leaving the past behind.”
“What did the bartender say to you?”
He knew she wouldn’t have missed the exchange. He smiled and lied through his teeth. “Just telling me that you were the most beautiful lass he had seen with me yet, and you were the smartest for you didn’t say a word the whole time.”
Laura smiled at his cheeky grin but let the falsehood stand. He would share it when the time was right.
You’re sure it was O’Leary?
Yes, sir.
Did you follow him?
I did. He stayed at the Clarence. Bloke must be loaded.
What name is he using now?
Steele. Remington Steele. He caught a plane to the U.S. this morning. He’s got a girl. A wife, maybe.
What’s her name?
Hotel register said Laura Steele.
What do you know about them?
He left his card. He owns a private investigation agency in Los Angeles.
That’s a lark. Putting the fox in the hen house. Keep tabs on them from time to time. They’ll be back.
Aye, sir. I’ll do that.
Chapter 4 -- Home (PG)