Because their train arrived to New York City a full day before they had to board the ocean liner to France, Harold and Marian were afforded the opportunity to do a little sightseeing. As the clever music professor informed his wife, he had built an extra day into their travel time to allow for delays and other unforeseen difficulties. Besides, he had always wanted to show her the city.

While Harold led the way through Manhattan's busy streets, Marian gazed at her surroundings in awe. Although she had read several evocative descriptions of the towering buildings and stunning architectural detail, she still hadn't been prepared for the impact on her senses; seeing such glory and grandeur moved her to tears.

When her husband gave her a kind smile and handed her his handkerchief, Marian laughed at her foolishness and dried her eyes. "Forgive me, darling – I must look like such a country bumpkin!"

"Never, my dear little librarian," he fondly averred. "New York never fails to take my breath away, either… and even if it didn't, your sense of delighted wonder is still charming."

If they hadn't been in the midst of a crowd, Marian would have kissed him. Apparently, Harold was struck by the same desire to retreat to a quieter, less-populated area – tightening his hold on her arm, he quickened his pace until they reached Central Park. Slowing down into a statelier promenade, husband and wife meandered through the park hand in hand, pausing every so often to steal kisses when the foliage thickened enough to afford them a little privacy. When their stomachs began to rumble with hunger, Harold quickly and efficiently procured lunch for them from a street vendor. After finishing their meal and brushing the crumbs from their fingers, they decided to head to the New York Public Library.

Once again, Marian felt her eyes welling up with tears as she beheld the magnificent building, built in the majestic "round-arch" style. The librarian contentedly whiled away the rest of the afternoon perusing the vast collections – and would have been happy to stay there until well into the evening, had her husband not already made other plans. Heading to their hotel – Harold had booked them a room in the grand Waldorf Hotel at Fifth Avenue and Thirty-Fourth Street – husband and wife exchanged their traveling clothes for their Sunday best as they prepared for a night on the town. After a delightful dinner at The Little Restaurant in the theater district, they saw Runnin' Wild at the New Colonial Theatre on Broadway.

"The Charleston certainly is captivating, isn't it?" Marian said conversationally to her husband as they and the other excited patrons streamed out of the theater. "We should try dancing it again sometime – in a place with no lamps in the vicinity!"

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the Shipoopi," Harold said with a wink.

Marian gave her husband a sideways glance and sly smile, and the two of them nestled a little bit closer as they walked along the streets.

At first, they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice the woman calling Harold's name – until she was right behind them and tapping on the music professor's shoulder.

Husband and wife turned to see a tall, willowy brunette with an arresting gaze beaming at them. Although she appeared to be in her late forties, she carried herself in as carefree and self-assured a manner as any woman in the first flush of youth and beauty. And she was stunning – one of the most beautiful women the librarian had ever seen. Marian's smile froze, and she stiffened in her husband's arms. Despite her discomfort – which was mingled with an odd sense of déjà vu – it wasn't lost on her that Harold tensed up as well. Clearly, this lady was one of his former lovers.

If the woman was aware of the disquiet her brassy entrance had caused, she didn't show it. "Harold Hill!" she said ecstatically, sounding a bit out of breath – apparently, she had made quite the mad dash to catch up to them. "I thought that was you coming out of the theater! It's me – Clara." Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and a seductive note entered her already-breathy voice as she chided, "Surely you must remember me – at least a little."

If the librarian had not been so well-practiced at maintaining her poise in the face of adversity, her jaw would have dropped open. This was the woman from Harold's old burlesque photographs, the woman whose flaunting pose and brazen note had caused Marian so much grief – no wonder she had looked so familiar!

Harold gave Clara a wide grin. "Why, of course I remember you!" he said, sounding as confidently at ease as he ever did. However, his eyes didn't quite shine with their usual merry glow and his body was still taut next to Marian's – he was distinctly uncomfortable. He hid it well, of course; Clara certainly couldn't tell, but Marian, who knew her husband better than any woman, was well aware of his true mood.

"Where have you been hiding yourself, honey?" she admonished. "It's been ages since I've seen you in the city – when were you here last?"

Harold paused. "I suppose it's been twenty years – at least," he said, sounding a bit awed himself.

Clara's eyes widened. "My goodness, has it really been that long? It seems like just yesterday you were strutting around the theater district with that million-dollar grin of yours and chatting up all us gals! We have so much to catch up on… " She trailed off as her gaze settled on Marian, and her smile broadened even more. "For starters, who is this lovely creature? You simply must introduce us!"

Harold's arm tightened around the librarian's waist. "This is my wife, Marian," he said proudly. "We'll be celebrating our twelfth wedding anniversary this November and, in honor of such a momentous occasion, we've decided to go on a second honeymoon."

Marian braced herself for the inevitable jealous glare and frosty response. But to her shock, Clara looked positively thrilled by the news. "Well, congratulations! Now I know why you haven't been back to the city for so long! My goodness, you are beautiful," she declared, gazing admiringly at the librarian. The seductive note entered her voice again as she added, "But then, Harold always did have exquisite taste in women… "

As Clara continued to prattle on, paying the librarian several compliments on her hair and clothing, Marian struggled to regain her bearings. Never had a woman who was so fond of her husband seemed just as delighted by her. Normally, when an admirer fawned over Harold, she completely ignored the librarian – or attempted to, anyway. To his credit, the music professor never allowed another female to overshadow his wife, and was always careful to include Marian in the conversation. But his assistance was not required in this instance; Clara chattered to the two of them as if they were both her long-lost companions. Despite her natural reserve, the librarian found herself warming to the woman – it was difficult to remain standoffish in the face of such sincere and infectious amiability. She wasn't at all what Marian would have expected; even with her flirtatiousness, Clara wasn't the cold, haughty seductress her picture portrayed. However, the librarian made sure not to get too friendly – she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was still something about the woman that unnerved her. If it wasn't for the steadying influence of her husband's arm, which seemed to wrap itself even more firmly around her waist as the conversation progressed, Marian would have been anxious that her husband was similarly affected by Clara's charms.

"I was just on my way to Sardi's for dinner – or as you out-of-towners call it, The Little Restaurant," Clara informed them, sticking out her tongue in a teasing manner. "Why don't the two of you join me? I want to hear all about how you met and married – the story must be wildly romantic!"

"We would, but we already ate before the show," Harold said apologetically. "And we ate at Sardi's, as a matter of fact!"

"Well then, how about dessert, darlings – my treat," Clara offered, regarding them with that alluring, heavy-lidded gaze of hers. Marian felt her cheeks crimson as she remembered that provocative photo.

"If it weren't for the fact that our ship leaves early tomorrow morning, we'd gladly take you up on that offer," Harold replied politely but inexorably. "But as it's getting quite late, we really need to turn in for the evening."

Clara blinked. "Oh," she said, sounding a bit surprised. But she soon recovered, and gave them a devil-may-care grin. "Well, it was lovely to see you both, anyway. Stop by the theater district next time you're in town – I'll be around. Ta ta, darlings!" Leaning in, she kissed them both on the cheek – first Harold, then Marian – and then, rushing to catch up to a few passerby who had hailed her upon their approach, she continued on her way without a backward glance.

Still reeling from the woman's audacious effusiveness, all Marian could do was stare after her in befuddlement. Fortunately, her husband seemed to have retained his mental faculties; with his usual grace and composure, Harold steered his wife in the opposite direction and hailed them a taxi.

"I know it's only about a fifteen-minute walk back to the Waldorf," he said as he helped Marian into the cab, "but after all the walking we've done today, even a block seems as bad as a mile."

The librarian gave him a wan smile; suddenly, she felt utterly exhausted. "It is a relief to get off one's feet," she confessed.

Putting his arm around her, Harold drew Marian closer. At first, she balked and cast an alarmed glance at the taxi driver. But the man continued to gaze serenely at the road ahead, clearly more interested in reaching his destination than monitoring the propriety of his passengers. Relieved at the reminder that not everybody was as easily scandalized as the River City-ziens, the librarian nestled against her husband and laid her head upon his shoulder.

But she didn't close her eyes. She couldn't – Harold was still too tense for her liking. Her weariness vanishing, Marian began to mull over their chance meeting. She and her husband had never talked about Clara in depth, and Marian hadn't thought of her in several years. Meeting her was a bit unsettling, but Clara's affability took a lot of the sting out of her vivacious charm and brazen manners; it wasn't hard to understand why Harold had found her attractive. This was the first time the librarian had ever met one of her husband's former lovers, and the experience wasn't as devastating as she would have expected. But then, she wasn't the same woman she was when she had found those photographs; twelve years of experiencing her husband's loving fidelity had done a lot to assuage her silly insecurities.

Suddenly, Marian was struck by the desire to ask Harold questions about his romantic past – not out of perverse curiosity, but a genuine longing to learn even more about the man she loved. But how could she possibly broach such a sensitive subject? And was it really a wise idea? Even after twelve years, some books were still best left on the shelf. Firmly resolved to say nothing at all, the librarian brushed her cheek against her husband's shoulder in an affectionate caress and, gratified to feel him relax a little, closed her eyes.

All too soon, Marian was jolted awake when the taxi came to a halt in front of the Waldorf. Instead of offering to escort her in his usual genteel manner, Harold wrapped his arm around her waist as they made their way to their room. Just as happy to disregard propriety, the librarian uttered no protest.

But the moment they were safely ensconced in their hotel room, Harold moved away and, after removing his suit-coat and fedora and draping them over a chair, regarded her with hesitant eyes. Before Marian could assure her husband that she wasn't upset, he started to speak.

"I suppose I should tell you a little more about Clara," he said, with the air of a man tackling a grim but necessary chore. "As you can probably guess, she's an actress – and a burlesque dancer. I met her around the same time as I met Marcellus. However, unlike Marcellus, she never knew the true nature of my work – she thought I was just a run-of-the-mill traveling salesman looking for a good time."

To Marian's surprise, she felt a wry sense of amusement more than anything else, and archly observed, "Well, she certainly seemed more than capable of providing one."

Her husband goggled at her, and Marian felt herself blush at his intensely scrutinizing gaze. "Harold, I was only teasing," she said lamely. "I'm not angry at you in the slightest, and I understand why you liked her. She was a very friendly woman – "

His expression darkened, and he turned away from her. "Yes… you two certainly seemed to take a shine to each other," he muttered.

For a moment, Marian stood there, at a loss. If she didn't know better, she would have said Harold was jealous. But why in heaven's name should he feel that way? As absurd as the idea was, it made her bristle. If anything, she should be the jealous party; this was his former lover, after all.

But after such a lovely day, the last thing Marian wanted to do was pick a fight. Swallowing her sense of pique, she approached her husband and gently put her hands on his shoulders. "Darling, please talk to me."

Harold turned to look at her, and she was surprised to see anguish mingled with affection in his expression. "Oh, my dear little innocent librarian," he said apologetically. "Do you know why Clara was so friendly to you, and not standoffish? She wanted you, Marian – she wanted us both. Clara always did fancy women just as much as she fancied men."

Now it was Marian's turn to goggle at him. "You were jealous," she stammered, hardly able to comprehend such an idea. The crimson in her cheeks deepened, and she felt like a complete fool. Here she'd been proudly promenading around New York City, feeling like the most daring and sensual woman in the world after having seduced her husband on a train – and she was nothing but a quaint ingénue when it came to lovemaking. Although Marian had felt the dangerous undercurrent of allure during their encounter with Clara, she would never have attributed it to such an attraction. Yet when she reviewed their conversation, it became glaringly obvious that Harold was correct; Clara would have happily trysted with them both. How terribly naïve she had been!

Harold took her hands in his. "I was jealous," he admitted. "I felt just the same as when men have tried to get too close to you. It was ridiculous of me, I know. But I don't like the idea of anyone making eyes at you – man or woman."

Although Marian's embarrassment didn't fade entirely, her spirits were amply bolstered by her husband's indignation on her behalf. He viewed Clara with as much suspicion and displeasure as he would any male rival – no wonder he had held her so tightly! And then she had to go and inadvertently hurt him with her careless remark…

"Oh, Harold," she sighed, giving his hands a sympathetic squeeze, "I don't like the idea of anyone looking at you that way, either. I know your past experiences made you who you are, and if you hadn't been that man, we wouldn't have met. I wouldn't change you for anything, no matter how many women you've been with." Gazing steadily into her husband's eyes, Marian reached up and began to undo his tie. "But now that I have you, I feel just as possessive of you as you do of me. I want you all to myself, Harold – I always have."

Unfastening his collar, Marian leaned in to bestow soft kisses on the hollow of his throat. As her hands worked their way down his shirt, Harold wrapped his arms around her and murmured into her blonde curls, "I am yours, Marian. I'm yours entirely. From the moment you came into my life, there could never be any woman for me but you. I love knowing exactly where and how to kiss you… and I love that you know exactly where and how to kiss me in return."

Her confidence restored, the librarian smiled as her fingers found their way to the last of his shirt buttons. Even if she was inexperienced compared to Clara, she remained more familiar with Harold than any other woman was – or ever would be. "I love how you always know just what to say," Marian replied in a throaty voice, capturing her husband's mouth in a heated kiss as she reached down to unbuckle his belt.

XXX

Even though it was late and she was exhausted, Marian still couldn't sleep. Getting out of bed carefully, so as not to wake her slumbering husband, she walked to the window and gazed out at the city that never slept. The librarian was accustomed to the nights being dark and quiet; with all the lights and bustling activity outside, she'd never be able to get any rest. Although their room was high up and afforded an excellent view of the streets below, she missed the openness of the plains – being hemmed in by so many buildings was starting to make her feel a bit claustrophobic. And even though they'd only been gone for two days, Marian missed her family and friends already…

In the midst of her musings, the librarian felt a pair of arms encircle her waist – apparently, her husband wasn't as asleep as she thought.

"Harold," she ventured, finally giving voice to something that had been piquing her curiosity for the past few hours, "when you said that Clara wanted us, did you mean one at a time… or together… or something else entirely?"

"Anything you could think of, she'd be up for," Harold said matter-of-factly. "And the more unusual your ideas, the better. She was just as shameless and wild in her appetites as I was in mine. But after I had that close shave in Appalachia, I lost my taste for a lot of things. Even though I kept on doing what I was doing, I was a lot more careful after that – both with my schemes and the women I met. I wasn't the only one who changed – Marcellus lost his taste for the business entirely, and went back home to Brooklyn to do some thinking. The two of us didn't meet again until I arrived to River City several years later and came across him brushing a horse in Jacey Squires' livery stable."

"A fortuitous occurrence!" Marian marveled.

He smiled. "Yes… in more ways than one. Twelve years later, the conman's way of life is just as foreign to me as it is to you. I'm a family man, through and through: I love you, and I love our daughters, and I can't imagine being anywhere but where I am now."

The librarian nestled into her husband's warm embrace. "As much as I've enjoyed the city, I'm glad our ship leaves tomorrow – I'd hate to spend the rest of our trip waiting on pins and needles for another old flame to come out of the woodwork!"

"Well… just to be safe, we won't be leaving our hotel until the last possible second tomorrow," Harold said, only half teasingly. "And when we board our ship, we'll only be leaving our cabin for meals."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that so, Professor Hill? I've heard those cabins aren't all that spacious – in such close confinement, we'll soon be at each other's throats!"

With a grin, he leaned in and nibbled at her neck. "You don't know how much I hope that's the case, Madam Librarian… "

"Well, I suppose when you put it like that… " Marian acquiesced, her sighs turning into full-fledged moans when her husband's lips pressed against a particularly sensitive spot.

Without pausing in his ministrations, Harold guided her back to bed. Although it was well after midnight and the boat to France was due to depart at seven o'clock sharp, it was quite some time before husband and wife went to sleep.