A/N: I'm so happy so many are enjoying this fic. I do find it different in this fandom that so many people review as guests, leaving me unable to reply, especially when there's a critique of my writing or my motivations. I won't respond to all those here, but I will say, to the person who felt I was making Elizabeth an "easy woman," I must disagree. This was not my intention at all. I don't find a woman "easy" if she is thinking of making love with the man she loves, who loves her, after being chaste for years since her husband died. This is fanfiction, and here we should be free to speculate what our beloved characters might be thinking or feeling. You might disagree, but my opinion is just as valid as anyone else's, because on the show, we have no way of knowing what these characters really think, or what they do behind closed doors. And let me end by saying, this fic is rated "T", not "G" like the Hallmark show is. If you don't want to read T-rated fics about these characters, simply don't. Thanks for indulging me.

Now, I hope you like the conclusion of this fic.

Chapter 3: Conclusion

Part 1: Lucas

Elizabeth met him downstairs a little over an hour later, her white, fur-collared coat over her arm. As Lucas waited by the hotel entrance for the valet to bring his car, he stared openly at her beauty—a vision in emerald green silk and lace, her hair piled atop her head, loose curls resting enticingly around her flushed cheeks and upon her alabaster neck. She wore long, white gloves and a single strand of pearls. He wondered anew at how he could have been so blessed.

"You look—" he paused, for once having difficulty finding the right thing to say. He gave up. "I truly have no words."

She looked immensely pleased by this—turns out having no words was exactly the right thing.

He helped her on with her coat, pausing to whisper near her ear that she smelled like ambrosia. She shivered and looked with love into his dark eyes.

"Thank you. And you look extremely handsome in your evening attire." He was dressed as formally as she'd ever seen him, with black cutaway coat and tails, his waistcoat snowy white with matching white bow tie. He held a black top hat under his arm.

He drove her to the French restaurant whose praises he'd once read about in the newspaper, and they dined on lobster bisque and cheese souffle, finishing their rich and hearty meal with delicate crepes filled with whipped cream and lingonberry jam.

When the theatre attendant led them to the box seat nearest the stage, Elizabeth gasped at the magnificent view. "How in the world did you manage to get such incredible seats?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I hope you don't mind that someday we'll have to give our first-born child to the theatre owner."

She laughed, as he'd intended, and when the theatre lights went down, he held her gloved hand in his. Lucas watched Elizabeth's face about as often as he looked at the stage, adoring her reactions to the romance and tragedy unfolding before them. It came time for the opera's famous aria, as Butterfly sang of her hope that her American Navy officer would someday return to her, and Lucas realized that he'd made a colossal error. He watched in dismay as the tears coursed down Elizabeth's cheeks, and he pressed his handkerchief into her hand, which she took without comment, her enraptured attention on the stage.

Of course, now he understood why she loved this opera so much—she related to the poor Madame Butterfly, who longed for her husband's return, a man in uniform no less, who'd left her to make it alone with a little boy. The last thing a man would want is for the woman he loved to be reminded of her dead husband.

When the final curtain fell and the theatre lights came up, they sat in silence through the endless applause, both of them strongly affected by the tragic ending, though for very different reasons. Elizabeth absently patted her face with the damp handkerchief, drying the last of her tears, daintily blowing her nose. She turned to Lucas with a wobbly smile.

"That was wonderful," she said. "Thank you, Lucas."

"You're welcome," he said, his eyes grave, uncertain.

They made their way through the crush and again waited for another valet to bring round his car, neither of them speaking much, while Lucas mentally kicked himself. As they drove without speaking through the traffic on the way back to their hotel, Elizabeth was the one who finally broke the awkward silence.

"After Jack died, I listened to the record of Madame Butterfly over and over again, crying my eyes out for hours. But tonight, Lucas, I wasn't crying for Jack. I was crying at the beauty of the singing, of the music, of the joy I felt being there in that glorious theatre…with you."

He looked over at her, straining to see her face in the darkness of the cab. He swallowed over the relieved lump in his throat.

"Truly? I-I thought I had made a terrible mistake. If only I'd remembered the entire plot…"

She laughed. "It was the most wonderful experience in the theatre I've ever had. Please, don't be sorry. It was the perfect gift, and I'll cherish the memory always."

He could hardly wait to kiss her, and as they stopped once again by her hotel room door, he did just that, tasting the salt of her tears on her tongue. She was still emotional over the opera, and kissed him back with increasing passion. The arrival of the nearby elevator had him drawing away for propriety's sake, though his pulse pounded in his ears and his desire for her had reached epic proportions.

It was just as well that they'd been interrupted by the approaching well-dressed couple and their small child, and Lucas and Elizabeth smiled absently and wished them a good evening as they passed on the way to their own suite.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," Lucas said softly, when they were alone again.

"There's some sherry in my room," she said, digging into her reticule for her key. "Would you like to join me for a glass? Or I could call down for some tea…"

He shook his head, wondering if she knew what she was asking of him. He was proud of himself for his monumental patience over the last year, especially since they'd become a couple. Being alone with her now—completely alone—would strain the control of even the most pious of men. And despite his recent attempt to remake himself as a man, Lucas had not always been one for restraint.

"It's late, and we've a long drive tomorrow."

"But—" she began.

He bent and kissed her softly. "This has been a wonderful night. Thank you for coming away with me. I love you to distraction, my sweet Elizabeth."

She smiled into his eyes. "I love you too. It feels so good to tell you at last."

"It's even better hearing it." His hand came up to caress her blotchy cheek, and his lips replaced his hand, nuzzling into her hair, inhaling deeply to better remember this moment when he was frustratingly alone in his room. He was glad he'd thought to bring a bottle of his best Scotch from the saloon.

"Now I know what Shakespeare meant about parting being such sweet sorrow," he whispered close to her ear.

Someday he would have her, of that he was sure, but he felt in his heart it was way too soon for that. He didn't want her to have any regrets. Clearly his desires were reciprocated, but he knew waiting a little longer would make that moment all the sweeter, would bind them together more powerfully, more deeply. And if marriage were a part of that, more the better. He'd found his soul mate, and like his father before him, he would gladly wait until the time was perfect.

"Good night," he said, kissing her one last time. He took her key and opened the door for her, waited until he heard the turn of the lock. He took a deep breath, feeling that he'd successfully dodged a moral bullet, and strolled with a light step to his room thinking about the wonders of the day, reliving the moment she'd said she loved him too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Part 2: Elizabeth

Behind her locked door, Elizabeth stood inside her beautiful suite, confused and let down. She didn't know whether to be offended or relieved, and she felt not a little embarrassed as well, thinking that this weekend had meant something entirely different for him than she'd suspected. How could she have been so wrong? All the signs were there—the way he'd kissed her, wined and dined her, taken her to that wonderful, romantic performance. He knew now that she loved him, that he no longer needed to woo her to earn her complete devotion. He'd won her heart, like he'd vowed to do the last time they'd come to Union City. Why, then, did he not take her up on her offer? Had she been unclear?

No, she realized, a man of his age and no doubt experience would know when a woman was willing. Agreeing to come with him on this trip had been Elizabeth's decision to go all in on this relationship, and hearing that he loved her too had made her even more certain that this was what she wanted. So why was Lucas so…reticent?

As she took off her coat and gloves, she walked absently over to the settee in the small sitting room, pondering where she'd gone wrong. He'd let it slip once that he was thirty, had always been a bachelor. But Elizabeth was no fool; she knew most men of his age would not have gone their whole life without being intimate with a woman (or two), especially a man as charming and handsome as Lucas. Even her late husband had not been as innocent as she on their wedding night. There had been no awkwardness on Jack's part; he'd known what he was doing.

Perhaps Lucas thought she would regret taking their relationship to the next level. Maybe he just needed her to spell it out plainly, to make it clear what exactly she was offering, that she wasn't his mother, who had kept his father on a string for five years. Nothing against Mrs. Bouchard—but Elizabeth was different. She was a widow. She knew what was waiting for her, knew how wonderful it could be between two people who loved each other.

With that thought, she rose from her seat and, clutching her key in her hand, marched out her door and down the hall to Lucas's room. Her heart was beating wildly within her breast; she'd done some daring things in her day, but this definitely would be near the top of the list.

She had the presence of mind to look up and down the hall cautiously before knocking on a man's door. Lucas answered almost immediately, opening the door to gape at her in surprise.

"Elizabeth. Is everything all right?"

Elizabeth's jaw literally dropped as she stared at Lucas, standing before her without his coat, tie, or vest, the most casual she had ever seen him. He'd unbuttoned several buttons of his dress shirt to reveal his strong neck and chest, lightly dusted with dark hair. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, giving her first glimpse of his attractively muscled forearms. Her eyes traveled down to his stocking feet, back up to the hint of bare chest, then up to his concerned brown eyes.

"Uh, yes. I-I mean no. No, everything is not all right. May I come in?"

Pulling herself together, she watched as he hesitated briefly, then, given her obvious distress, stepped aside so she could enter. His room was much smaller than hers, with a single bed, a small wardrobe, washstand, and one wooden chair. Unlike in her suite, with its luxurious modern bathroom, he probably had to go down the hall to the communal lavatory. On the small table beside his bed, it looked as though he'd just poured himself a glass of whiskey from a newly opened bottle. Before he could offer her a chair, she turned to him, anxious to air her grievances.

"I want to know why you don't want me," she stated.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why? Why have you refused my invitations two nights in a row?"

To his credit, he didn't feign ignorance. "I didn't want to," he admitted. "But I

think it would be a mistake."

"A mistake? Why?"

He stood there, looking directly into her eyes, considering her words—and his—very carefully. But Elizabeth was too impatient, too filled with her own frustration to give him more than a second to respond. "Do you feel like I'm—I'm used goods because I've already been married? Have you decided I'm not truly what you want after all?" To her horror, she felt her eyes filling with tears.

"Elizabeth, no. That's not—"

And then she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, kissing her as she'd always dreamed he would, without restraint, mindless of where they were and who might interrupt. She tasted the dark, smoky flavor of fine whiskey, but wasn't averse to it—with Lucas, she felt quite the opposite, the flavor pulling her in. His hands skimmed over her back, then down to her bottom, pulling her close to him so she would have no doubt what he wanted of her. Meanwhile, Elizabeth allowed her hands to glide down his starched cotton shirt to his waist, where her hands slid up to touch the warm skin beneath it. His stomach muscles trembled under her fingers, and he moaned with pleasure, deepening the kiss.

She found herself being walked backward to his bed, and he lowered her to the feather mattress, his mouth still fused with hers. His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her breasts. He broke away from her tempting lips to kiss his way down her neck, to pause at the boat neckline of her dress that modestly covered the full mounds just below, his beard impossibly soft, tickling her flushed skin.

It felt like heaven, his body over hers, pushing her into the mattress, his breathing hot and heavy. Her fingers wove into his hair, holding him to her chest.

"Oh…Lucas…" she said breathlessly, her eyes squeezed tight with passion.

Suddenly, the wonderful weight of his body was gone, and she opened her eyes, disoriented.

"I'm sorry," he said, breathing heavily. "That was—I shouldn't have done that."

She sat up on the bed, trying to think over her racing pulse.

"I was right then," she finally managed forlornly. "This isn't what you want. I'm not what you want."

He laughed without humor, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You can't even begin to know how much I want you, Elizabeth. You might be offended to hear this, but this isn't really about you—you're perfect to me, in every way. I wouldn't care if you'd been married a hundred times—"

Her eyebrows rose at that.

"Okay, maybe I would—but you know what I mean. It doesn't matter that you're no longer a vir—that you're no longer a maid, to use an archaic term. It's me, Elizabeth. I've done some things, well, that I'm none too proud of. Most young men have a rebellious time in their lives, and I was no exception. I went through that, feeling immortal, young and randy and rich besides, and somewhat spoiled because of it. Used to getting my way. I had the time of my life in college, and not because I was studying to be a businessman. I wanted to be the life of the party, a ladies' man. My father finally made me wise up to the dark road I was heading down, and after I graduated—barely—I decided to leave all of that behind and start over. I traveled for years, running from my past, trying my hand at different business, but nowhere seemed to be a good fit, and it was taking me a little more time to change my old ways than I had thought."

He took a deep breath, and Elizabeth watched his face, the struggle that he was reliving. She'd known what it was like to want to break away from her life of privilege, to start over where no one had any preconceived notions of who she was, of what was expected of her.

"I told you that I wanted to settle down, find a soulmate, start a family," he continued. "I'd reached a low point in my life, and realized that those things wouldn't happen if I continued to be a man I wasn't proud of, no matter how far I ran. I came to Hope Valley because I was drawn to the name—I figured there was no better place for a man losing hope." He smiled then, dimples showing in a face she'd come to adore. His dark eyes were pleading with her to understand.

He sat in the chair across from the bed, reached out to take her hands.

"Before I could find a good woman, I realized I had to become a better man. One look at you and I knew that you were the one that would inspire me to work for that. I knew you were a widow, still in love with your husband, with a child to consider, but I resolved to wait, no matter how long it took, to court you slowly, to be as patient as my father had been—the man I had once most admired. You were conflicted about me, drawn also to Nathan. I wanted to respect that, to respect your decision, but at the same time I wanted you to see what a good man I could be. I knew if you gave us a chance, you would see we were meant to be together."

"We are," she felt compelled to tell him, holding tightly to his hands. "One of the reasons I fell in love with you was that you gave me time to figure that out for myself. But you have to know that, once I decided to give you my heart, I was ready to give you all of me, holding nothing back."

"I know that. And I am grateful—and tempted beyond belief. But we've only been together as a couple a few short weeks. I want to get to know you better, I want you to know me. These things I'm telling you, they are part of a past you knew next to nothing about. You have a right to know who I was before you fully embrace who I am now, who you've helped me to become."

He brought her hands up to his mouth, pressed his lips against them, his eyes closed tightly. He raised his head to look at her, the light once more shining in the dark depths of his eyes.

"Let's give this more time," he said. "I have a lot to tell you, and what I say might change your mind about wanting me. But I want the first time we are together that way to be free of any doubts or secrets between us. And I want to marry you someday, Elizabeth. I'm not proposing now—" he said, as her expression quickened and she drew an involuntary breath. He smiled. "That will come when we are both ready. And if I become a father to little Jack, I want to have set a good example for him, like my father did for me growing up. I want to be worthy of his real father, as worthy of you as Jack Thornton was. I know Nathan wasn't my only competition for you hand."

She nodded, for that was very true. Any man she'd wanted after Jack would have had to be exceptional, in every way. It said a lot about Lucas that she had chosen him to be in her life, to love, to be a prospective father to Jack's son. She felt the need to reassure him.

"We've all made mistakes in our lives, Lucas. The important thing is that we've learned from them, tried to be better. I haven't shared everything with you about my marriage, about those years leading up to it, about the other man in my life, who wanted to marry me. I'm not sure how well I handled that. And I was stubborn at times with Jack—we both were. It might be good for you to know this about me, to see how far I've come as a woman from the overindulged, overprotected society miss that I was when I first got to Coal Valley."

He nodded, though he seemed intrigued by the hints into her past. "You're getting my point then, aren't you? About becoming more intimate about our lives as they once were before we commit to being intimate in other ways."

"Yes, I suppose so. And may I say, I hate it when you're right."

He grinned good-naturedly. "Now that is a side of you that I'm definitely coming to know well. But seriously, I love you just as you are now, and nothing you could possibly say will change my mind about you."

"You might want to wait to hear it all before you say that," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I love you as you are now, Lucas. I see how thoughtful, how kind and genuine you are. I can't believe that you were ever any other way."

"I'm happy that you think so. I may end up regretting it, but I feel compelled to tell you everything, the good and the bad."

They stared at one another with mixed emotions—love, reason, and longing all battling for dominance. She leaned forward and kissed him, and she felt the return of his restraint, was achingly aware of the bed she still sat upon. He ended it much too soon for her, and pulled her gently to her feet, walking with her to the door.

"I'm kicking you out of my room now, my darling, though I'm certainly in no hurry to get to bed and not sleep, which I fear will be my sad lot tonight. We can begin those difficult conversations tomorrow on our long drive. What do you say?"

"Yes. However…you must know that, once I've set my mind on something, I have little patience in attaining it." It was a warning, but she saw that he was up to the challenge, for he smiled, his eyes soft with adoration.

"I've witnessed that first hand, and your tenacity is one of the things I've always loved about you. I'm flattered you've turned that quality in my direction, for here you are in my hotel room."

She blushed, the audacity of what she'd done finally setting in.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, looking sheepishly into his eyes. "What you must think of me."

"Don't apologize, and don't lie awake tonight second-guessing yourself. You weren't misreading my emotions or my desires; I'm sure I was sending you mixed messages—kissing you like a madman one moment, pushing you away the next…"

"Inviting me on romantic overnight trips, telling me how you wanted to be alone with me…"

He chuckled. "Yes. That was a miscalculation on my part—I see now how you could have misinterpreted my true intentions. But you now know the reason I wanted to get you away from Hope Valley, where I could have you all to myself."

"To tell me you love me?" she said, realization belatedly hitting her.

"Yes, my love. I wanted everything to be perfect, special, when I confessed my true feelings."

She smiled. "I certainly will never forget that moment, or this trip."

"We will have many others in our future, I have no doubt."

"Yes," she said. "It's funny—I didn't think you could top the moment when you first took me to Union City, but then we had a picnic in the rain. I didn't think it could get better than your getting me a library, but then you helped me get my book published." She leaned into him, her hands going up to encircle his neck. She couldn't get over the loveliness of his bare skin beneath her fingers—she certainly was looking forward to more of that. "And I didn't think you could outdo that first kiss you gave me on the foot bridge, but then you told me you loved me. You've created a monster, Lucas Bouchard. How will you ever continue to surpass my expectations now?"

"I don't know, but you've thrown down the gauntlet, and as you might have learned about me, once I put my mind to something, I seldom fail."

As he kissed her once more to seal the deal, Elizabeth's mind swirled with all the possibilities of their future together—a wedding proposal, a wedding night, Lucas becoming a father to their children. She had faith that he would come through with all of these things when the time was right, exceeding himself every time.

And Elizabeth couldn't wait.

THE END

A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed, who gave me the chance to tell my story in my own way. Again, I hope that if you review, you sign in so I can respond personally. I don't know if I will write another WCTH story, but I've written two other fics for this fandom you might not have read, as well as for many other fandoms. Please, check them out.