Jessica kneeled in the little courtyard beside the chapel, the cool grass tickling her skin. She traced the letters chiseled into the gravestone, though she could recite them by memory – Alistair Albert, Devoted Son, Adoring Brother, Honored Protector and Friend.
She could hear his footsteps only out of practice; his tread was so quiet it was almost feline, and she had to train her ears to hear his approach. Thankfully, he desired her company often enough that she was in good practice. She was grateful for his presence, even though she had thought she wished to be alone for this.
"The anniversary isn't the hardest," he murmured, keeping his distance but still extending an air of comfort.
"You've been tricking information out of the servants again," she quipped, though her ire was only half-hearted. She imagined him shrugging, as if she were simply stating the obvious. She hadn't told him the date of her brother's death.
"It's not the moments that you expect will make you the saddest that usually do. It's the moments of joy when you wish most passionately that they were here to join in the celebration," he went on.
Jessica nodded. "I grieve the things I know he would have enjoyed. The things he's missing. The things I no longer get to share with him."
Angelo closed the distance between them and knelt beside her in the dewy grass. He didn't touch her, though she could feel he wanted to. Not inappropriately, she knew. Not now, in this moment. But she could sense how badly he wanted to console her.
"I imagine you've been missing him all the more now, with that being said."
"And why is that?" she asked, a small amount of sarcasm in her tone.
"Because you've been so much happier with me present," he teased.
She nudged his shoulder with her own, but he didn't take the bait, only reaching out and clasping her hand in his.
"You have, haven't you?" There was a note of honest vulnerability in his words that was so very rare for him. Those moments were becoming more common as their relationship blossomed now that he was staying with her in Alexandria. But even with all the barriers between them that had crumbled over time, he was still Angelo, a master of poker and a keeper of secrets.
Turning away from the headstone for the first time, she stared up into his pearly blue eyes, noticing a depth to them that he didn't usually reveal. It shattered her regular defenses and left her feeling uncomfortably exposed. She could not summon her usual sarcastic remarks in the face of his blunt emotion. "I have," she answered simply.
He smiled a very soft, tender-hearted smile, more genuine than was customary for him, and dug an object from the inner pocket of his uniform.
"What's that?" she inquired, her heart suddenly racing with curiosity and anxiety.
His smile grew a shade sadder, somewhat overcast. "It was a gift."
She studied it as he turned it over in his hand. It was a simple but beautiful gold ring. It was set with a rosary made of ivory, a tiny ruby at its center. A Templar's ring, obviously, but a very special one. It wasn't the standard kind of ring Angelo wore himself. "From Marcello," she guessed.
He nodded. "It was the one he gave me the last time we saw one another. Just before he disappeared for good."
"Angelo," she whispered, unsure of how to respond.
"I chose it. When Marcello was promoted to Templar captain in the abbey, Abbot Francisco called me to his residence and told me to pick my favorite ring, the one I would want if I were ever made captain. This is the one I chose. He told me that that would be the one he would present Marcello with at the ceremony. We never told anyone; we both knew Marcello would never accept it if he knew I'd had a hand in it. Even so, I was secretly very pleased that I could give him a sort of gift on such a special occasion. I was so thrilled, in fact, that I even engraved an A on the inside of it. Very small, of course, so he wouldn't see it. But I wanted him to have a part of me with him on his big day." He sighed quietly, as if the story had tired him. "Ironic that he would someday find a reason to return it."
Jessica leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling his grief as powerfully as she felt her own. And yet, there was a certain amount of light pervading that moment. Being with Angelo, sharing herself with him, felt comfortable and right. It was how she envisioned someone would feel when fulfilling some fated destiny.
"I've valued many things in my life," he continued, some of his joy returning to him and coloring his words. "A stiff drink and a handy deck of cards have always been among my most favored relics," he joked, making her grin and roll her eyes. "But now that it has found its way back to me, I own nothing that carries as much worth as this ring. And from this day forward, I never want you to be without it."
She caught her breath, stunned by both his speech and the honesty in his expression. "Angelo, I couldn't take something that valuable."
Disregarding her protest, he slipped the ring onto her finger, then continued to hold her hand in his own. "You are what I cherish most. This ring now stands only as a symbol of how deeply I treasure you. It is greater a belonging to me than all the diamonds in the earth, and I want you to wear it always so that you know in your heart your own fantastic worth."
She swallowed nervously, but knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was what she wanted, also. She wanted to spend the rest of her life bickering with this infuriating man, sharing her deepest secrets with him, and loving him more passionately than she could love any other person. "It will never leave my finger," she promised, meaning it with all she had in her.
His smile widened jubilantly. "I swore ages ago someday I would make you my wife, Jessica Albert. And I'm going to make good on that promise."
"You damned well better," she threatened playfully, leaning in to brush her lips against his and sealing their betrothal with a kiss that rivaled that of any fairy tale.