A/N: Hey everyone. I'm considering whether or not I should keep going from here. I don't HAVE to have reviews to keep writing, but they DO help my incentive. But I haven't been getting very many. But that's nothing compared to how wrapped up in a bow this chapter felt to me as I was writing it. I have plenty more to write, but don't want to drag this story on unrealistically. Please just let me know your thoughts? Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and Favorited.


Arabella looked out at the ocean … an enormous expanse she had seen before, but normally at a distance. She had been rather young the last time her tribe had made it to any of the Cadiz horse race festivals with her tribe. She couldn't even remember if she had been old enough to have her first bleeding yet. But, even as an adult, the water seemed almost terrifyingly infinite. The water was calm, the waves almost non-existent. But even sitting atop a rented white horse, she could feel the current tugging at the feet of her mount.

The animal's lungs heaved beneath her. Even riding side-saddle – which she had never done before this holiday with Erik – she had managed something close to an all-out gallop on the gentle mare. Erik had been shadowing her; always close enough to potentially grab the horses' reigns or to even grab her from its back if she should run into trouble. But it had not been necessary. They had been riding for the better part of two hours along the shore. Sometimes it was rocky, and sometimes it was sandy. But there had been times when they'd left the shore itself altogether to ride in the grassy dunes above the beach. The animals deserved a rest – and Erik had told her to stop before they reached the next rocky outcropping. High beyond the dunes and beach, built upon the rocks, she could see a small and reasonably secluded Inn. At least … Erik told her it was an Inn. To her it looked like a great mansion of the Gothic style.

"Had enough?" she asked Erik, turning away from the low shimmering water for the first time in nearly five minutes of restful silence. Her eyes were bright and mischievous in the late afternoon light.

"Not at all." He denied with a laugh. "I just thought you might like to have something to eat."

"Oh – you packed an apple in that little saddlebag, did you?" she challenged, referring to the sack that was barely more than a satchel. It had been bouncing of his horses flank for the entire ride, and Arabella had been curious from the very beginning.

They had not planned to go this far – at least not to her knowledge. But Erik had been encouraging her joyful riding ever since they'd set out from the outskirts of Saintes Maries de la Mur. It had surprised her, considering the walk from their rented shack out in the marshlands was over an hour. She wouldn't mind walking at night – and no doubt Erik wouldn't mind, either. But the mosquitos did indeed prove to be a virtual plague around sunrise and sunset… and walking outside at those times of day would be far less than desirable.

Erik turned his horse, walking it up onto drier land so that he could dismount before motioning her closer.

"It's much better than an apple." He promised. "Come down from there, mira kom. We should take a rest before we start chafing most uncomfortably."

Arabella raised an amused eyebrow at him as she accepted his help down.

"Did you just make a joke about intimacy?" she demanded. "Erik, I'm so proud of you!"

She laughed as Erik's shoulders hunched and he turned his masked face away. Even after they had been lovers for weeks on end, it was still difficult for Erik to directly reference it. When he wanted to make love, he might be able to say something flirtatious… perhaps use some scandalous hinting. But usually he tried very hard to make no mention of it whatsoever outside of directly trying to tell her he was in that type of mood… or at least open to getting into the mood.

When he pulled away as though to skulk off, she quickly caught up and threaded her arm through his.

"Don't be upset…" she crooned – her voice still teasing even though she was sincere. "We are alone. We are husband and wife. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed…" he denied. "I just … had not realized what I was implying."

He paused, stepping away from her long enough to gather the reigns of the two horses so that he could guide them away from the water.

"We can tether them up there in the grass … We can't risk them getting rebellious when they belong to someone else, can we?"

Arabella smiled, watching as he walked over with the large animals and tethered them as loosely as he safely could. He then took a moment to pet the animals, loosening straps here and there so the animal could feel slightly less restrained. Then he turned and walked back over to her, looking over his shoulder at the horses as though worried they might disappear.

"Shall we walk?" he asked once he was again at her side, motioning to an inlet of tall rocks. "We could do a little exploring…"

"Not much discovering to be done." She noted, even as they started walking. "The rocks can't be more than a few yards …"

When they came around the tall standing rocks, her voice faltered. Erik was tensing ever-so-slightly beneath her touch as they came into view of a very large picnic basket that couldn't possibly have been left there for very long. She blinked rapidly in confusion, looking around for an explanation. There was a bluff nearby with a small out-of-the-way inn. There was a gardener tending the grounds closest to the beach … and she caught him glancing over his shoulder anxiously towards them. He was higher than them; but once he wandered off to other parts of the property she and Erik would be completely alone.

"Well?" Erik asked quietly, making her turn to him in confusion. After a moment, his entire body squirmed as he held an arm out towards the picnic basket. "Are you hungry?"

"Erik… when did you arrange this?" Arabella's entire body tightened – but in giddy excitement that her husband still managed to be so sneaky. "You have barely left my side!"

"People can still be paid to carry messages from one place to another – and back." He pointed out. "Three days ago I went into the grocer's and paid his wife a very lovely amount to make certain this could get done. Her brother works at the inn up there."

He motioned towards the inn on the bluff, and Arabella assumed the gardener must be the grocers' brother-in-law.

"Small town people are very nice…" she mused quietly.

"Small town people are suspicious… but they're also usually poor enough to let anyone pay them for simple tasks."

He brought her over to the basket and pulled out a surprisingly large blanket. It took both of them ad a few nearby rocks to lay it on the harder packed sand of the area – given how strong the sea breeze was. There were a candelabra and candles available in the basket – but Erik found himself scoffing at the idea of having to light them ten thousand times as they ate. The food inside was simple – but ample. There were several vegetables, a few cured meats, and a lot of cheese and fruit. Two different bottles of wine and one of champagne finished off the entire package with a small box of chocolates that surely had been sent for from a larger town or city.

"You don't mind sitting on the ground?" Arabella asked worriedly.

"I'm old – not ancient." Erik defended himself, looking vaguely affronted. "What about you? Will you be comfortable enough?"

"I've been in worse places." She stated, lowering herself down onto the blanket.

Before she could eat, Erik had to help her fix the hair that had come loose from its braid. Otherwise the breeze coming off of the sea would have given her a mouthful of her own hair rather than food with every attempted bite. They were both laughing almost hysterically before he could even open the bottle of red wine that had been in the basket, and he struggled to keep a straight face long enough to offer a simple toast.

"Are you enjoying our little holiday?" Erik asked curiously while they ate. His eyes were on a small flock of gulls beginning to move in on their little picnic. He'd already pulled out a small fistful of centimes to use as ammunition if the little vultures came too close.

"Of course I am.' Arabella grinned broadly at him. "The town is much smaller than I thought it would be… There are less than a thousand people living here, wouldn't you say?"

"Well… there may be more than that … but … definitely no more than two, for certain." Erik shrugged indifferently.

"Did you see the gentleman sketching the boats this morning?" Arabella asked after a few minutes of a very companionable and happy silence. "When you were fetching the horses, there was a man … But he left shortly before you came back. He said he had lost the proper light… or something…"

"Do you mean that scrawny, ragged-looking fellow?" Erik guessed.

"Yes…" Arabella agreed. "With the red beard and hair…"

"Poor fellow looked starved half to death." Erik grunted. "I almost considered trying to purchase a sketch off of him. But then I likely would have just tossed it away. Most starving artists are starving for a reason."

"Well … for such a simple sketch, it seemed good enough."

Erik smiled at her, and Arabella narrowed her eyes at the expression. She could tell it was an indulgent smile – even though she could barely make out his thin lower lip beneath the mask.

"If we see him again, perhaps he'll be willing to sketch you."

"Don't tease, Erik." Arabella plucked a grape from a large bunch of them on her plate, and tossed it at his shoulder. He pretended that he'd been struck by a bullet before picking the grape up and popping it visibly between his teeth.

The picnic was filled with such playful and relaxed moments. But eventually the sun began to sink for the horizon, and Erik decided it might be wise to head back towards town. He cleaned up what little mess they'd made by putting everything back into the basket – including their by then quite-covered-in-sand blanket. Then he'd placed it up on a wall for the gardener to see for pickup, and walked Arabella back towards the horses and out of view of the inn.

"Would you like me to help you up?" he offered, squeezing her hand briefly as she reached for the saddle horn.

Arabella looked at him with a smirk and lifted eyebrow.

"You are incredibly gallant today." She noted, putting a foot into her stirrup and nearly leaping up onto her horse. "Even more gallant than usual. What has gotten into you?"

Her amusement turned to entertained suspicion as he began smoothing her skirts down on the horse, pulling the material over her ankles and away from the saddle horn where the reigns had been lightly coiled. He did not even attempt to answer her as she began working at those reigns only to knock loose a colored ribbon that had not been tied to the horn before.

It was a lovely seafoam green ribbon of silk … and it had something tied securely to its loose end. It was small, golden, and glimmered with red white and orange sparks of light as it landed lightly against her thigh. She sensed Erik's sudden stillness as her uncertain hand began to lift the object.

For a moment she stared at it, her eyes enormous and her breath caught in her throat. Then she raised her already bedecked hand to make certain she was wearing her engagement ring from many years before. Because the ring in her hand and tied to the saddle horn was a smaller but gorgeously rendered recreation of the phoenix ring Erik had bought her while she languished in a doctor's house. It was smaller, and made of real yellow gold and real expensive jewels.

She turned it in the late afternoon sunlight, nearly hypnotized by how the light struck the brand new ring. It was the most extravagant thing she'd ever laid eyes on – made with a much more skilled hand than the one her own older ring had been made with. The mythical bird could easily have flown to life on the smaller band.

"Bella…"

Erik's voice was soft, and quavered just enough to get her attention. Her eyes jerked over to his, where he stood with his head barely at level with her waist. He reached up and gently clasped a hand over her wrist.

"The ring you wear represents a lost marriage… a lost love."

She glanced down at the larger ring that she'd long thought made of gold and a few pieces of cut glass. The glass she'd been right about – but not entirely the gold. Erik had told her it was only a cheaper metal coated in a very thin layer of gold. It was not pure. It was still beautiful … and it still looked virtually rand new – even though she quite literally never took it off. Not to bathe, not to clean, ad not to sleep. Slowly she looked at the new ring again, and then to Erik.

"The one in your hand represents a newborn love that is purer and stronger. Something far more genuine than I could ever have dreamed of feeling even in my love struck youth."

He slid his hand gently from her wrist until he could pick up her hand and gently press a kiss to the back of it.

"I was a widow … for over thirty years. Arabella … will you do me the honor of again becoming Madame Sauveterre? No questions of legality or being out of the sight of God … no forgeries … Marry me, mira kom. Please… marry me in every possible way known to man or God."

She had been ready to ask so many questions. But as he'd continued his speech he had cleared every last one of them away from her mind. She looked down at him from atop her horse and began to understand with slight dismay why he'd chosen to propose in this fashion. It was the closest he could comfortably get to proposing on one knee. Out here by the sea where it was constantly cool and damp … his age forced his body into bits of rebellion.

"You are not saying anything." Erik accused softly, taking half a step back as she tightened her own grip on the hand he had not released. "Why will you not say anything? Should I have asked during our picnic? Should I be on my knees? I know that I don't deserve you – but I will beg if you-"

"-No!" Arabella jerked instinctively on his arm although he had done nothing to try and kneel as he threatened. "No, Erik. No begging! I never want to see you beg! I am sorry! This is … it is beautiful! You have been absolutely perfect!"

"Then why-"
"-Forgive me, mira ves'tacha." She interrupted again. Her voice was achingly gentle – as he had been during their entire holiday. "I am in a bit of shock. I never expected… Of course I will marry you!"

She slipped her old engagement ring off her finger, and then hesitated. She was only mildly surprised when Erik pulled a very thin leather strip from one pocket and offered it to her.

"Here…" he murmured, his hands visibly shaking suddenly as his voice quivered. "Put it on this. No reason to throw this one into the sea. One you might wear by your heart instead of on your hand…"

It seemed a little ludicrous to wear two of the same ring … but he was right in helping her to keep the old one. In certain ways it was a thousand times more precious to her than a more expensive version of it. They had both been simple people at that time. Poor. It had come from a place of love perhaps even more intense than what they shared on the beach. As cheap as the old ring was, she knew Erik must have paid a fair amount of his meager savings for it.

Once the old ring was hanging around her neck, Erik untied the new one from its silk ribbon and gently slid it onto her finger. His breathing was slightly ragged by then, and Arabella had to curtail the impulse to ask if he was going to be all right. His eyes met hers, and his hands held her waist as she leaned far down to kiss him. After a moment, he was pulling her back down from the horse to hold her much more tightly – forgetting in a moment of rare unselfconsciousness that they were technically in public.

When she pulled away, her own breath was ragged and tears glimmered on her cheeks. This time, Erik did not ask if she was hurt or upset. He just smiled at her, wiping them away with the pad of his thumb.

He understood.

"I have another gift for you." He whispered. "Back at our meager little shack… But for tonight I have arranged for us to stay up there in that inn. It will be much warmer than we have been … and they will have hot water for a bath. It may be salt water… but it will be hot and fresh. I know how much you miss that particular luxury… and I promise you will have it when we move to Trieste."

She slid her arms around Erik, her fingertips playing with the back of his neck.

"I already have everything I need." She murmured; then laughed. "But I admit I will accept the bath!"