"Marry me, Ruth," he murmurs near her ear in a moment of daring.

"What?" she breathes, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Marry me," he repeats, his heart beating so fast that he thinks it might actually crawl out of his chest.

"Harry," she stammers, "this is neither the time, nor the place."

"This is exactly the time and the place," he replies earnestly.

"It's the funeral," she objects. "It's made you emotional."

"No, it's made me see clearly. Ros gave her life to this country and six people came to say goodbye to her. Six people, Ruth... I don't want that for myself, and I don't want that for you."

"What's that supposed to mean, Harry?" she demands angrily all of a sudden. "What are you saying? You think that I won't come to your funeral if we're not married?!"

He leans back, moving slowly away from her as he replies quietly, "No, Ruth. That's not what I'm saying."

"What then?" she asks, her eyes still glaring at him. "We've seen each other outside of work just a handful of times, Harry... You never even touch me and the last time we kissed was more than three years ago, and now you propose marriage?! Do you have any idea of how... crazy this sounds? Or have you completely lost touch with reality?"

He stares at her, feeling the panic rise inside him and the pain from the rejection. She hasn't actually said no yet, but she's building up to it, he's sure. Nothing he can say will change her mind, he can see that, but he has to try; he has to do something... Abruptly he reaches forward, grabbing her arms firmly, turning her to face him and pressing his lips against hers in a firm, yet gentle kiss, full of longing, love and promise. He's terrible with words in this sort of thing, but actions speak louder than words. At least, he hopes they do.

She stiffens as he kisses her, taking her completely by surprise, and for a moment, she wants to pull away and slap him, but he's holding her in such a way that she can't raise her hand that high, and the split second delay in her ability to react is enough for her to feel the emotions behind his kiss, the longing, the tenderness, the love. And then she remembers how much she's longed for this too, how many sleepless nights she's spent imagining it, how desperately she'd wished that she could turn back the clock and accept his second invitation to dinner.

He pulls back to look at her and is struck by the change he sees in her eyes and by her beauty. She looks radiant in that moment and he feels his heart swell with hope. "Ruth," he whispers softly, but he doesn't continue any further as her hands slip between them, and grabbing hold of his lapels, she pulls him towards her for another kiss. He welcomes it, his eyes sliding shut as she presses her lips firmly against his, and this kiss is so much better than the last as she participates fully, conveying all the love, the longing, and soon, the lust she feels for him too. Her lips part below his as she slides her arms over his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair, and he hears himself release a deep moan of pleasure as he pulls her close, sliding his arms around her and deepening the kiss.

The passion he unleashes has her reeling as he kisses her with such ardour that he takes her breath away. She's always known he was a passionate man, but this is something else and she wonders at her own stupidity in keeping him at arm's length all these years. Christ! She'd almost refused him right now, almost destroyed any chance of experiencing this... ever.

He loses himself in the kiss, a passion stronger than he's felt in years overpowering him and he knows that, if he was a decade or two younger, they'd already be making love in the grass and bugger the consequences. As it is, he has to fight hard to regain his equilibrium and slowly pull out of the kiss, lifting his head and pulling her against him as he struggles to catch his breath. She rests her head against his shoulder, letting her arms slip down between them, slipping them round his waist and pulling him closer.

A few moments pass in silence as their breathing slows and he struggles with whether he should ask her again. He desperately wants her to say yes, to commit to him, to them and he knows that, if she does, they will be perfect together. He's never been more certain of anything in his life before, but he also knows that she has doubts and he doesn't want to risk a rejection. On the other hand, he has never been more hopeful than he is right now and he doesn't want to let the opportunity pass him by again. "Marry me, Ruth," he whispers against her hair, his heart in his mouth as he watches her lift her head from his shoulder and seek out his gaze.

"Why?" she asks, her eyes shining with hope, mirroring his own, and it makes him almost sigh with relief.

"You know why," he murmurs softly with a gentle smile.

"I want to hear it this time," she whispers. "I've longed to hear it for three years, three months, and two days, give or take a few hours."

His smile broadens as he lets his eyes roam over her face for a few moments before meeting her gaze once more and declaring, "Because I love you, Ruth Evershed. I love you with all my heart and I never want to spend another moment of my life without you."

"I love you too, Harry. I always have. I never stopped... I don't think I can," she smiles. "I don't even want to try any more; I don't want to ever stop loving you."

"Then marry me, Ruth... please," he repeats earnestly.

"I will, Harry," she smiles. "Of course, I will."