He drank the last of his brandy, said goodnight to the Earl and then left the library quietly so as not to disturb any of the guests staying the night. It was hard to realize that while it was nearing three o'clock in the morning, he didn't feel weary from the tiring day. In all honesty, he felt alive, exhilarated by their experience. The vision of Sara was still very keen in his mind and he wondered what she was doing at this moment. Standing at the base of the stairs, he stared upward, thoughtfully envisioning what would be happening in the next short minutes.

The fire blazed in its hearth, spreading a warm glow throughout the room and throwing shadows into the further reaches. There was a candle lit near the bed casting a long shadow up toward the ceiling. The candelabra near the dressing table added to its shimmering light.

Sara was sitting at the table, her hands occupied with removing the pins that held her hair in place. She was humming softly, a song he faintly recognized. As he listened, he realized it was the one song they had danced to, a waltz.

The fire warmed her alabaster skin, lending it a rosy hue. Her pose was quietly dignified. The slit in her satin nightgown ran up from her ankle to her mid-thigh, revealing an intoxicating sight of flesh.

She hadn't worn the gown before, always choosing something more modest, perhaps in an attempt to assuage his desire. Had she anticipated his plans tonight?

He hoped so.

A glance at the mirror and he realized she was watching him as well. He cleared his throat anxiously. All of a sudden things seemed to be happening a little too fast. He absent-mindedly strode over to the fire, squatting before it as he took the fire poker from its stand and began to stoke the fire. His mind was spinning with thoughts of what this night would mean to the both of them if it played out how he had hoped. Now, at this moment, it meant far more to him than he had previously imagined, and he wanted it to last forever. He would take it slow, savouring every moment.

A frustrated grunt came from her lips, and he smiled as he watched her tugging at her hair. A pin must've become stuck and tangled itself into her strands. He casually walked over and took the brush from her hands.

He saw the reflection of her smile in the mirror. Tentatively, he reached for the pin in her hair that was now dangling away from the other curls. Carefully, he loosened the pin and pulled it free. He found three more before her curls were finally lying loosely around her shoulders. His gaze flickered to her face in the mirror and his breath hitched at the sight before him.

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but tonight she took his breath away. The firelight seemed to be playing with her image. He fingered her soft curls then pushed them aside to reveal her smooth skin at the nape of her neck. With his eyes still holding hers, she felt the heady sensation of his lips on her neck.

On instinct, her hand snuck up and held his head firmly, pulling him closer. A whisper of a sigh elicited from her lips. She'd anticipated his return to their room all throughout the night. They'd had several nights of heavy petting and kissing, but it had never gone further, each of them too afraid of advancing it that one more step.

It would be disastrous if they ended up enceinte.

That's what Danielle had said they delicately referred to when a woman was with child. She'd searched out her advice about protection and Danielle had been more knowledgeable than Sara had expected. But at this moment, when looking at Grissom's lips paying obeisance to her neck, the thought of one day carrying his child tugged at her heart. Their eyes met at that moment, and a blush stole up her face. His gaze was piercing and she could have sworn that he'd read her mind.

But Grissom had other things on his mind at that moment. Her hair, now free from the restraints of the pins, shimmered from the light of the fire. In the mirror, he could see how it set about her shoulders, framing her face. At first, the brush grazed her hair tentatively. He'd never brushed a woman's hair before and it was an odd feeling, nothing like he'd expected. Her hair was just as soft as he'd imagined it. More so even, he thought as he brought the brush back up and slid its bristles through her hair once again. He heard a sigh escape from her lips as he made another pass.

When he looked back into the mirror, he caught her staring at him, her eyes full of curiosity. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked, his voice low, but teasing.

"Hmm… hmmhmm. Tonight feels… there's a subtle change in the air. Am I imagining it… or do you feel it too?" she asked.

He stopped his ministrations, and then looked about the room as if searching for something tangible. "Maybe it's the ambience."

Sara let out a soft giggle and turned around to do the same search of the room as he did. "Well, the candles, the fire and the turned down bed could have something to do with it."

Their eyes locked. The moment was heated.

His lips slowly descended to meet her soft and pliant ones. His hand slid up her arm to cup her neckline, moving ever so tenderly to tangle with her curls. He was about to shift closer, his other hand moving toward her hip, when she broke the kiss abruptly.

"Sara?" he asked.

She was suddenly unsure of his intentions, whether he was going to go to the next step or keep it the same. "I want this, Grissom. Tonight, well, I … can we …" her head bowed shyly and she fidgeted by picking softly at his jacket's edge.

He chuckled softly before lifting her chin to look into her eyes seriously. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I mean, if you are. But," she winced as she knew what she was about to say was going to come out all wrong. "Is this… Are we…" She couldn't form the words into anything that didn't sound accusatory.

"Say it," he encouraged. "I'm not going to back away." Grissom drew her over to the bed, sitting her down on it, and then took a seat close to her.

With a strengthening breath, she declared, "This isn't going to be a one time deal, Grissom. I've wanted this for too long – wanted you for too long to have wasted my time for just one night."

"It's going to be tough enough don't you think, if we don't intend for this to be anything more than a fling? I mean…" she hesitated, somewhat flustered. Sara's mouth opened, but nothing came out, so she just as quickly shut it. Her brief hesitation allowed her the time she needed to frame the words, "Grissom, where do you see this going between us? I know you don't mean this to be a one nighter, but what will it mean to you? Please be honest with me."

"I'm always honest with you, Sara," he said quietly. He glanced about the room, memories of the last couple of weeks flooding his mind. Their arguments, their make-ups, their bonding had taken place in this small space. It was as if they truly had been married. His eyes flickered back over her face, her hands inside his own and then back up to her eyes again. "I don't know if we're going to make it back to our time. Doesn't that frighten you?"

She shook her head. "Not if I'm with you. We can do this, but it's going to take the both of us, together. And if we do make it back?" She searched his face, hoping to see a glimpse of his thoughts. Surprise at her question was not what she'd expected.

Grissom's thoughts were jumbled to say the least. He'd only been thinking of them in terms of the life they'd been living as a couple, in England. Not as how things would end up if they returned to their own time, to their team and their careers. But the question, although an excellent one, didn't change his feelings. If anything, they reinforced his feelings for the woman sitting next to him. He'd been given an opportunity, a chance to live the life he'd only ever dreamed about. Losing Sara now was not an option.

Keeping her was everything.

"Gil?"

The use of his Christian name brought him out of his reverie. "I love you, Sara."

She started at his sudden endearment. "I love you, too." He smiled down at her and she could see the wheels turning now behind his eyes.

His lips tenderly grazed hers in a bare whisper of a kiss. "We could leave here and go back to America," he whispered. His only answer from her was a murmur. "We know more about our own history."

He watched her tongue sneak out to taste him on her lips. He leaned in closer, her eyes dazedly anticipating his touch again. With his voice low and husky, his breath warm on her cheek, he asked, "Marry me?"

A small gasp escaped between their barely touching lips, but instead of allowing her to answer, he deepened the kiss.

With a great shove, he found himself lying on his back and hearing her shuffle further on the bed only to straddle his stomach. Her hair fell around her face, framing it as she leaned over him. "Were you going to let me answer that? Or were you afraid I'd say yes?"

He could see the smile hiding behind the façade of her frown and knew she wasn't suddenly on a rampage. "I'm more afraid you'll say no."

"Whatever would make you think I'd say no?" she asked.

"Lord Sexy," he teased.

"What? You're joking right?" she chortled, until she saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Was he really jealous of that oversexed man? "You are joking aren't you?"

"Well, you did spend a good portion of that first hour bedazzling him. I kind of thought maybe…"

"No, no, no… I did not just hear you say that." She smacked him on his chest lightly, but with just enough power to make him grunt in response. "Grissom, what are you doing? Grissom?"

He'd flipped her over so that he now had her pinned beneath him. Her chest rose and fell heavily from the exertions and his eyes drank in the sight of her barely covered breasts beneath the filmy cloth of her nightgown. He'd intended on tickling her until she'd cried 'Uncle', but something exploded inside him and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to make her his.

Sara felt the change in him just as assuredly as if she'd been struck by a bus. His eyes no longer held the icy blue color of humour, but had grown dark and stormy with passion. Her hands rose up to his chest, grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down to her. Their lips crashed together, both of them whimpering from the almost painful sensations. When he pulled away, the color of his eyes had not lessened. "I do love you. You know that don't you?" she asked.

"Will you marry me?"

Her eyes darted back and forth between his fiery ones, wondering at the change that had occurred, but not able to put her finger on it. "Gr…"

"Sara, please don't make me beg."

"Yes, I will," she whispered, as if her breath had been taken from her.

"To have and to hold?"

"Always," she assured.

"Til death do us part?"

"I do," she vowed.

The forcefulness of her 'I do' sliced through the air and they both froze, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. It was a charged moment. The declaration of her vow was pivotal and they both realized at that moment that an exchange of these vows were as serious to them as if they'd been standing before a minister.

He pulled himself up to sit on his knees, never breaking eye contact with her. She in turn, pulled herself up to rest on her elbows. She couldn't resist the need to hear the same words from his lips. "Til death do us part?" she asked.

"I do," he vowed unhesitatingly.

The words had no sooner left his lips than she'd reached forward, pulling him down on her, allowing his lips to crush hers, sealing their vows with a kiss.

Her hands gently removed his from his task and adroitly finished it. His breath was heavy and ragged as her fingers danced over his shirt then under his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders until she was able to throw it across the room to land on a chair. She returned to the buttons of his waistcoat, making quick work of them and then removing it just as smoothly as the jacket.

His cravat was still knotted and she found the way to loosen it from his neck. After it lost its binding, she was greeted with the bobbing of his Adam's apple. It drew her to him. She pressed her lips to it then trailed further down, following her fingers as they undid the buttons of his shirt.

A soft dance of his fingers, like butterfly wings against her skin, brought him to the short sleeves of her gown. He tugged on one until her shoulder was bare and he was able to tenderly place a kiss on her sweet skin.

His touch sent shivers down her spine and she fumbled with the last button of his shirt, but soon enough, it was off and she slipped it from him. The masculinity in front of her drew her breath from her. Her hands leisurely caressed upward over his stomach and his chest. She couldn't help herself, and she leant forward, pressing a kiss directly on his sternum.

Her touch was driving him mad. It was soft enough to tantalize him, but sound enough that he knew it wasn't a dream. He slid his hand up her back and grasped her hair, pulling it back to swoop down and capture her mouth. The kiss was rough, filled with passion and desire.

She groaned against him, encouraging him in his ministrations.

Encouraged, he definitely was. Holding her to him, he laid her back down, covering her with his half-naked body. He ran his hands along her arms, then back up to her sleeves once again, but this time pulling them down further, giving him a greater view of her ivory skin.

It wasn't long before both of them were completely unclothed. It took some cooperation on each of their parts, but neither seemed to mind. His gaze made her skin blaze and the blush that enveloped her covered her skin like the rising sun. "You are so beautiful, Sara."

Remembering another time, Sara asked, "Since when have you been interested in beauty?"

A deep chuckle came from the depths of him. He lowered himself over her and between each word of his reply he pressed repeated kisses to her shoulder, her neck and her face when he said, "Since… I… met… you."

The smile that lit her face conveyed more than he'd ever know. Pushing himself off of her, he lay next to her, his hand on her hip and his eyes memorizing every inch of her. The satin nightgown had twisted between her legs. His fingers tightened on the silky material, drawing it slowly up her thighs and she trembled slightly from the sensation. When his fingers had reached the beginning of her hip bone, he sucked in his breath at the realization that she wasn't wearing anything beneath.

Sara watched his gaze move down her legs to the tips of her toes then back up again as his hand drew the material of her nightgown up her hip. When he stopped suddenly, and she heard the swift intake of air, she looked down to what he was staring at. A soft giggle swept through at the thought of how much the lack of under garments could affect a man. Now that she was convinced that this night would play out as she had dreamt, she felt the need to take a little more control and with that, she grasped his hand firmly. She tugged on it until he relinquished his hold on her gown and dragged it enticingly up over her abdomen until it lay just beneath her breast line. "Touch me," she whispered.

Relishing her tempting command, he cupped a breast through the thin material – hot and heavy, fitting in his palm just as he always imagined. He kneaded lovingly and heard her moan in response. He ached with need as a rush of blood gathered at his loins. He pressed his body into hers and tasted her, from her lips to her throat and collarbone down to where her flesh mounded in his hands.

Now he feasted.

With a moan she panted for more breath, sighing his name. He licked and suckled knowing he had to be marking her; the thought sent a rush of utter possessiveness through him. His lips grazed over a tight nub and she cried out, urging him on. He instinctively pressed his groin into hers and even through his clothing he could feel the searing heat of her junction. In anticipation, he was already in aching need of her, but now, feeling her heat and knowing that culmination was near, it overtook him.

Levering himself on one arm, he tugged the night gown up. Sara acted in understanding, hoisting herself up so that he was able to remove the gown over her head. When he peered down, taking in her nakedness, the tight pebbles and dark aureoles, his chest tightened and he fought for breath. He wanted to take this slow, but he didn't think that was going to happen. Especially not now as he felt her nimbly unbuttoning his trousers, her fingers knowingly grazing his rigid length.

If she kept this up, he wouldn't last long enough to entertain the thought of feeling her sheathed around him. So, he stopped her hands, held them for a moment as her eyes met his and understanding dawned in her brown orbs. It was the work of seconds that he had removed his remaining clothing. When he turned back to Sara, his Sara, her eyes were appreciatively marking him. A contented sigh released through her lips and the sound of her satisfaction with him made his head swell. He lowered himself to her again, this time it was skin on skin, mingling the warmth of both bodies. His manhood pressed at her junction, the hard length rubbing hard against her nub of pleasure. A small movement on his part and she gasped at the sensation. He did it again.

She couldn't help but shift to better feel him. She'd been with other men, but none had created a reaction in her this intense. She knew, in her heart and mind, that he was holding back, keeping a tight control over his body. It wasn't what she wanted. She lifted herself, pressing her moist center against him. He growled in return.

"Sara, don't move." His voice was strained, painful.

She gathered him in her arms, tightening them about his shoulders. "If you… couldn't tell, I'm more than… ready." Each phrase punctuated with a thrust against him.

He didn't want it to be this quick, not this night. So, with a quick steadying breath, he pushed himself up, away from her. She whimpered from the loss of his touch. Her breasts rose and fell with each strained breath, tempting him with each rise to touch them, knead them. His hand cupped her then, feeling the weight, measuring it against the time before. He let his thumb graze over a taut nub, making her moan with each pass he made. His mouth came crashing down on her breast, taking the pebble into his mouth, tugging and pulling on it with his teeth, suckling it between his lips and laving it with his tongue.

His hand traveled down the length of her stomach, pressing deep when meeting the sweet indentation where hip met thigh before moving down to feel the silky softness of her inner thigh. It was smooth and firm. With his thumbs he felt the crease of her thigh, and then moved slowly, tantalizingly inward.

She was an extremely vocal woman and when he moved away from her warmth to do the same to her other thigh, her frustration with his attentions came out in a strangled cry. "Grissom!"

He shushed her lightly, before returning to her breasts, now giving the same attention to the other. When she was about to say something more, his fingers had found the crease of her other thigh once again, but this time he gave what she so craved. His fingers dipped into her damp curls, searching through her heated softness to find her.

She arched against his hand as one finger entered her, the other pressing against the hard nub at her center. She was slick, swollen and so hot. Her breast strained against his mouth, pushing up along with the rest of her to meet each thrust of his finger. He continued to gently probe, stroke, finding new ways to get her to invoke his name.

He felt her clamping down on his fingers, she was close.

Before she could react to his fingers leaving her body, she felt his thigh between her legs, pressing them further apart. She met his gaze, never leaving it as he positioned himself at her entrance. She wanted to close her eyes as he entered her, the sensation too intense, but his eyes held her, claimed her to be his.

She was wet and so invitingly hot, as she sheathed his length. He held himself within her, unmoving as her body became accustomed to him. When her body arched against him, he moved within her. His thrusts, slow and rhythmic, set a pace. She found his rhythm and matched it, her finger moving over his back, feeling his straining muscles ripple beneath them.

His thrusts continued, but with each one his hips rolled as he entered her, encouraging her to spread her thighs wider, raise her knees higher. She took the invitation and wrapped her legs around him, pressing against him as he stroked deeper. And when he chose that moment to kiss her, she gasped into his mouth when he'd found the spot that would send her over the edge.

Her muscles clamped around him, and she buckled beneath him. A strangled cry caught between his lips as she found her release. A thousand shimmering lights exploded in her sight. He rode through each wave of her pleasure until he found his own release.

She held his body to her, her muscles still tense and holding the essence of him within her. She could feel his offering slipping from her body and the sweetness of the moment, knowing it was Grissom that filled her so completely, she buried deep into her heart.

They drifted off to sleep, neither pulling away from the other, each knowing that this was how they always wanted to remain.