Author’s note: Shelagh’s nightgown has caused a bit of confusion in the fandom. Never fear, Nonnatuns, Patrick has the solution.

Patrick closed the door to their bedroom and surreptitiously turned the lock behind him. “Tim’s finally gone off to sleep. He beat me every time at cards tonight.” He slid his robe from his shoulders and looked down at his wife. “That’s a pretty dress. Is that what you bought when you went out shopping today?”

Shelagh turned from the mirror, surprised, and placed her hairbrush on the table. “It’s not a dress, Patrick. It’s a nightgown.”

“That’s for bed?” he puzzled aloud. The nightie looked more like a frock for a formal tea party to him. Covered in a pretty floral pattern that danced across the tucks and darts, this was the most fitted nightgown Patrick had ever seen. So fitted in fact, that it seemed as if Shelagh was sewn into the thing! Patrick most definitely did not approve.

“Of course it is.” She caught his look, and set her mouth in a prim line. “Patrick, not everything can be for…that.”

Patrick sighed heavily as a melodramatic expression crossed his face. “If you say so, my love.”

Shelagh laughed and stood to go to the bed. “You really are a ridiculous man,” she giggled.

Patrick reached out and pulled her towards him. “I’m not ridiculous. I’ll have you know I am a perfectly normal man. It would be ridiculous if I didn’t think everything can be for…that.” There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as his smiled lopsidedly. “Here, let me look.”

Holding her away from him, Patrick let his eyes wander over the light material. He tilted his head, his forehead lined in study. Stepping back, he crossed his arms and continued to look at the dress in consternation.

“Patrick, really,” Shelagh said, embarrassed. “It’s just a nightdress, there’s nothing so interesting about it.”

“Hmm…I’ll be the judge of that, if you don’t mind, Shelagh. Turn around. Let me see it.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Patrick.”

He twirled his finger in the air, quite serious. “Turn around, please. I’m still not convinced this is a nightdress. It looks more like the Gordian Knot.”

Unable to resist the teasing look in his eye, Shelagh slowly revolved before him. He stood, deep in thought, his chin in his hand.

“Alright, then?” she asked as she came to a stop.

“Where is that blue one? You know, the one with the lacy-”

“Patrick, I’m up wandering the flat at all hours with Angela. I can’t go about in that thing. What if Timothy comes out?” Placing her hands against his chest, she leant up and kissed his roughened cheek. “It’s late, dearest. Time for bed.”

Shelagh turned to her side of the bed. “Ah hah!” Patrick crowed in as much of a whisper voice one can use when one crows. He reached out and pulled her back towards him, sure of his path.

“Patrick! If you wake Angela-” Shelagh scowled.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered. “I most definitely do not want to wake the baby tonight.”

The gleam in his eye had gone from mischievous to lascivious, and Shelagh laughed in bemusement. “I thought this nightdress was impenetrable?”

Patrick’s eyebrows danced. “Not for the mighty Alexander, sweetheart.” Pulling her towards him, he lowered his mouth to hers in a long kiss. His hands caressed her neck, fingers in her hair as he felt her give in to her own growing desire. Distracting her with his lips on her neck, his fingers moved to undo the one button holding the bodice together. The close fit of the nightdress remained unchanged, but the clever thinker knew the one remaining step to rend the puzzle asunder.

He slid his arms around his wife’s back, and in one quick motion, pulled at the tie at her lower back. Straight away, the formerly close-fitted gown spread into a loose, accessible tent of fabric.

A low chuckle came up through Shelagh’s chest. “You’ve solved it,” she murmured.

“Mhm-hmm,” he answered. “What’s my prize?”

“Alexander became the King of the world, Patrick,” Shelagh reminded him. Winding her arms about his neck, she pressed against him.

“I’ve got all the world I need right here, my love.”