Frederick stood at the helm of his ship, enjoying the feeling the wind on his face as they skimmed the waves of the sea. He had not realized how much he had missed this feeling while he had been ashore. However, he thought ruefully with a grin, his thoughts while ashore had been preoccupied by a certain lady whose last name was now Wentworth, such that he hadn't had much time for missing the sea.

Now that he was back afloat, however, Frederick reveled in the glory of sailing the high seas once again. It felt to Frederick as if he had returned home. It was good to be among his fellow sailors again, however much they might be teasing him for his change of heart. Frederick found himself ruing the day that he declared he would never have a woman aboard his ship. He had become famous for that declaration, and now he would be infamous for having broken it. Glancing down to where his wife chatted with a new recruit, Frederick laughed at his previous folly. Admiral Croft had been right after all: life at sea was infinitely more pleasant when the love of your life was also on board.

Frederick was pleased to see how quickly Anne had adapted to sea life and how well she got along with everyone on board. When they first set sail, she had been a little unsteady on her feet, but Frederick forbore from teasing her about being a landlubber. In fact, he was secretly pleased that every time she wobbled, he was the one who was there to steady her. Frederick found that he would never tire of being the one whose arm she grasped when she faltered. He took pleasure in every opportunity of offering her his arm or catching her with an arm around her waist when the waves swelled. However, to Frederick's simultaneous pleasure and chagrin, Anne had found her sea legs quite quickly and was soon striding about the ship with the confidence of a seasoned seaman.

As the Captain's wife, Anne was given due deference on board. She was often addressed by the men with a nod and a respectful "Mrs. Wentworth". At first Anne had been unsure how to respond to these overtures, unaccustomed as she was to such notice and deference. Noticing her discomfort, Frederick had taken care to introduce her to everyone on board. As she became more familiar with her husband's naval family, Anne's natural wit and personality came out, and she won over every sailor on board almost as easily as she had won over their Captain.

Seeming to notice his eyes on her from above, Anne broke off her conversation with the young sailor and glanced up to where her husband stood at the helm of the ship. A faint smile tugged at her features when she caught his eye, and Frederick could not help but smile back. Anne made her way over to the stairs that led from the main deck up to the top and stopped when she was at Frederick's side.

Frederick favored her with a grin before turning his focus back to the sea. "How are you liking life at sea, my dear?" he asked her, a touch of lighthearted teasing lighting his voice.

Anne grinned. "I find the sea air refreshing," she said, adding with a laugh, "despite the horrors my father is convinced it does to one's complexion."

Frederick could not help but chuckle at her humor. "I'm glad you are enjoying it," he said. "I hope you've managed to keep yourself entertained?" With a wry grin he added, "I feared the lack of dinner parties and card games might bore you."

Anne laughed, and the sound of her laugh pleased Frederick even more than did the feeling of being at sea again. Anne replied, "I cannot say I miss the insipid dinner parties, and you know I am no card player. However," she quipped, "there are plenty of card games played aboard your ship, Captain."

Frederick shrugged. "The men must amuse themselves I suppose." With an indulgent smile down at Anne, he added, "they do not have their lovely wives aboard to provide them with company."

Anne returned his smile before turning her gaze back to the horizon with a contented sigh.

Later that evening, Anne sat alone in the Captain's cabin while she waited for Frederick to finish charting course with his Commander and retire for the night. She had finished writing a letter to Mrs. Croft which she intended to post at their next port. After but a few days at sea, Anne had begun to see why her sister-in-law had never wished to leave the Admiral's side and had chosen a life afloat instead of waiting for him to return home. Anne had decided to write to Sophia to thank her for her example, which had given Anne the courage she needed to follow her husband to sea.

As Anne stood up to stash the letter in her trunk for safekeeping, the ship lurched suddenly as it hit an adverse wave. A few books tumbled off Frederick's shelf, but Anne barely stumbled. She mentally congratulated herself for becoming more adept to the motion of the ship and went to retrieve the books. Picking them up, Anne brushed off the dust that had accumulated on their covers while they had been sitting on the shelf. She turned the books over in her hand and inspected them. Two of them appeared to be atlases, but the third was a novel.

Anne searched the spine of the book for the title and gasped. She knew it well. It was a book that she had recommended to Frederick many years ago, shortly before their first engagement. A romance. He had never mentioned it, and Anne, assuming he never found a copy, had forgotten all about it. She wondered briefly whether he had gotten it all those years ago and kept it with him, or whether he simply remembered it recently and had found a copy. Either way, Anne was touched. She smiled to herself at this evidence of Frederick's regard.

Unable to repress some curiosity, Anne opened the book to see if she could determine how long Frederick had owned it. The book opened naturally to a page not quite a third of the way in. To Anne's surprise, she found a folded piece of paper tucked in between the pages to which the book had fallen open. In an unconscious reaction to her feeling that she was invading her husband's privacy, she momentarily glanced to the cabin door behind her. Satisfied that she was alone, Anne pulled out the paper and gently unfolded it.

Anne's eyes widened and her pulse quickened when she saw her name on the top of the paper. It was a letter addressed to her, but it had no address and had never been postmarked. Anne instantly recognized her husband's handwriting, and the way the writing jolted more than usual told her he had written it while at sea. Glancing at the date, Anne found that the letter was dated in early 1807. Anne realized that Frederick must have bought the book during their past engagement, kept it with him, and written this letter to her shortly after their separation. The thought of his keeping her book for all those long intervening years nearly brought tears to her eyes as Anne glanced back down to the letter in her hand.

Anne hesitated, wondering whether she should just put the letter back and forget about it. Frederick had never mentioned the book or the letter to her, so perhaps, she thought, it would be better not to journey back to the time after her foolish mistake. Anne fervently wished that she could forget about those eight long years, but she also desperately wanted to know what Frederick had been thinking shortly after she ended their engagement.

Eventually, Anne's curiosity won out over her better judgment, and she looked at the letter once more. With a deep breath, she read it:

My Dearest Anne,

I daresay you would think me impertinent for the contents of this letter, be what they may, but as I will never send it to you, I must tell you of my thoughts as honestly as possible.

It is with a broken heart that I now set out to sea, hoping that in time I might replace images of your smile in my mind with thoughts of sailing and fighting. However, I do fear that I will never succeed in forgetting you, Anne. A better man would perhaps say "I hope you will forget me and learn to be happy yourself", but I am afraid I am not that good. I hope you do not forget me, as I doubt that I will ever forget you, however hard I may try. "My dearest Anne" you still are, for all that you have torn my heart in two.

Before she could read more, Anne was startled by the sound of the cabin door opening behind her. With a start, Anne turned around and guiltily attempted to hide the letter and book behind her back. The attempt was in vain, for Anne could not conceal the tears in her eyes. Frederick, standing in the doorway, was startled by Anne's look of guilt and sadness. Attempting to figure out what had transpired, his eyes moved from her face to her hidden hands, and lastly to the shelf where the books were missing and the two atlases which Anne had set on his desk. The look of growing realization in Frederick's eyes told Anne he knew exactly which book she was concealing behind her back, and she could see the moment that the cause of her tears and guilt dawned on him. She looked away quickly.

Frederick hesitantly took a step toward her and shut the cabin door. His eyes earnestly searched for hers, but she refused to meet his gaze. Struggling to contain his own feelings, he started to whisper, "Anne, I…" but he trailed off with a heavy sigh, unable to put anything into words.

With her hands behind her back, Anne stuffed the letter back into the book. She brought the book forward, and struggling to contain her tears, she thrust it at Frederick. "I'm sorry," she whispered haltingly, never meeting his eyes, "for everything." Ashamed of herself and feeling unworthy of compassion, Anne turned away to look out the small window. She swiped at her tears, angry at herself for both the pain she had inflicted in the past as well as her present weakness in reading the letter instead of putting it away at once.

For a few moments, all Frederick could do was stare at her back and try to process the scene he had unwittingly interrupted. When he had composed himself enough to think rationally, he gently set the book on the desk and approached her from behind. Anne was striving to contain her emotions, but Frederick knew her well enough to know how she must be feeling. He knew not how much of the letter she had read, but he was sure that any amount of it would cause her pain. It hurt his heart to see that their past still caused Anne pain, even now that they were forever reunited. He silently cursed his own foolishness in keeping that letter. She did not deserve the pain his past words must be giving her.

Gently, Frederick put his hand on her shoulder and quietly said, "Anne."

When she did nothing but wipe her cheek with her hand, he repeated her name. "Anne, look at me."

Anne blinked hard before reluctantly turning around. There were a multitude of thoughts that Anne wanted to convey to him in that moment, but she feared that if she started to explain herself, the words would tumble out and she would say too much. She could have talked for hours about the regrets she had amounted over the last eight years, but instead she simply whispered, "I should not have intruded. I should have just put the book back. I'm sorry."

Anne was still looking at the ground in shame, so Frederick gently lifted her chin until she was made to look up at him. "It's no matter," he assured her, moving his hand to her cheek and wiping a stray tear off her face with his thumb. "You are my wife now, and I have no secrets from you." He smiled at her in an attempt to get her to smile back, but she still looked upset. He continued, albeit haltingly, "As for the contents of the letter… it is all in the past now. I was bitter and resentful at the time I wrote that, but… I hope you know that the resentment I expressed in that letter is gone forever. Surely… we can put that behind us now?"

The earnestness in his voice softened some of Anne's shame. She was relieved that he wasn't angry with her for reading the letter, but the pain of knowing how much she had wounded him eight years ago still weighed on Anne's heart. Quietly, she breathed, "I never meant to hurt you."

Frederick smiled sadly. "I know that now," he promised her.

At his assurances, Anne regained her confidence. Swallowing the last of her shame and sorrow, she asked, "why did you keep the book?"

Frederick smirked, bemused by her question. "I thought of ridding myself of it multiple times," he confessed. "However, each time that I went to dispose of it, I found myself unable to do so." With a sigh, he added, "perhaps, despite what I thought, I never truly wanted to forget you."

Anne smiled for the first time since he had come in, and the sight of it brought a matching smile to Frederick's face. Anne placed her hand on top of the one he had rested on her cheek. Stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, she said, "I never truly wanted to forget you either."

Frederick wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Leaning his head against hers so that his mouth was just above her ear, he whispered, "I love you, Anne Wentworth."

Anne laughed quietly and replied, "I love you too, Frederick Wentworth. I always have."

Now struggling to contain his own tears, Frederick found Anne's lips with his. In his embrace, Anne found comfort and love, and she was finally able to let go of the regrets and shame that she had built up over the years. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with passion, letting him know that their past was finally behind them and they could now live out the happy ending that neither had dared to so much as dream about for eight long years.

Fin.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. If you can, please leave a review! As this is my first fic for Persuasion, I'd love to hear from you :)