"You do a hard job, Patrick."
"A lonely one, too." Dark, fathomless eyes met hers, and she shivered as the warmth of his hands surged through her. "But it doesn't have to be."
There was that smile again, the small, soft one that left crow's-feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes. He'd looked at her that way so many times now, love and affection stark and naked, but always, always it touched her just as though this time were the very first.
She couldn't stop her answering smile, breathless and giddy from his touch just as much now as when they'd been locked behind titles and protocol. Oh, she had given up so much to be with this man - her work, her family, everything she knew in the world. And sometimes, alone in the dark with his half of the bed cooling rapidly beside her, she wondered at how she'd ever found the courage.
But then he would come back, his shoulders slumped, his eyes weary, and the moment he saw her that beautiful soft relieved smile would blossom on his face. He'd open his arms and there she'd be, clinging together, and all the wondering vanished.
She'd have broken her own heart for him, if it had been necessary. And sometimes it was, for his grief is also hers. But a burden shared is a burden halved, and if she can no longer be his right hand at a complicated delivery, here in the dark she can be something much more important - and infinitely more precious.
Without stopping to think she leaned up, touched her lips to his and let the newspaper fall unheeded to the floor as her arms wound around his neck. He made a surprised little noise in the back of his throat, hands skating down her sides to settle at her waist, and they sank into the kiss.
With my body, I thee worship.
The words of her wedding vows came back to her and she smiled against his mouth, curling her fingers in his hair. He smiled too, she could feel his lips curving against hers, and if they were too tired tonight to take this to its usual conclusion, she didn't mind the wait.
"Never lonely," she breathed against his lips at last, as the kiss parted and she smiled breathlessly. He rolled over her to land on his side of the bed, drawing her with him, and she found herself curled against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her eyes still smiling into his.
"No," he murmured, as his lips brushed her cheek. "Never with you, Shelagh. Never again."
"I love you," she said at last, and pressed her lips to his cheek.
"As I love you," he answered softly, and pressed his lips to her palm. "Oh, Shelagh. Thank God for you."
"No, darling. Thank God for us," she whispered, and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Thank God for us."