He had stood a short distance from her to see if she would come into his arms. He didn't expect it, and of course he knew he didn't deserve it. His arms reaching out to her had been an involuntary reaction, a reflex, one that was beyond his power to prevent.

And Charlotte had walked right into them. Alexander's joy was beyond expression. She encircled his waist with one arm, under his open coat. He could feel the cold leaving her and his warmth infusing her with life. She was still crying, but she had calmed a little.

He knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness this quickly, and he had no illusions that this was forgiveness – he felt it was pure need because he was experiencing it as well. Charlotte needed to be held by him as much as he needed to hold her. Right now they were two wounded people giving comfort. He suspected everything else would come later.

Four months. One hundred and twenty-eight days, every one of them filled with desire for her, with a need to hear her voice, see her smile, watch her mind at work, enjoy her laugh. Not one of those days had gone by without thoughts of her from the moment he woke up until the time he finally closed his eyes and went into a fitful sleep with yet another unfulfilled dream.

And now she was here in his arms. She hadn't turned and walked away. She hadn't berated him although he knew he deserved it. Worse still would have been if she had shown him indifference, revealing no feelings for him whatsoever.

Alexander was trying desperately to curb his emotions, but he could not, so he would have to speak through the choking tears that had risen to the surface with her so close. He had to immediately put voice to the words that had been in his thoughts for four long months. He knew they wouldn't be enough – he understood that he deserved to travel an arduous road back to her trust, her full giving of her heart, and the dear future he wanted now more than life. But it had to start with this.

"I am so very sorry. I never wished to hurt you. I believed I was protecting you from hurt by separating from you…" Alexander barely managed to get the words out before his voice was lost to his emotion and the wind.

Charlotte pulled back, thinking she must look ghastly, but needing to see his eyes. They were as she remembered, the same deep brown with tiny gold flecks, and they were full, as hers were, with unshed tears. The tears that had already fallen had left long, glistening tracks on his cheeks. He was as raw as she was, unprotected, open to being completely shattered with a word. What he had said was important, but before he went further, she had to be truthful with him. No more secrets.

"I am engaged…" she said, leveling her eyes on his, unblinking.

She was prepared for anything. For him to turn and stride back to his carriage, for him to release her and move backwards in search of propriety, for him to be hurt, or even angry, to chastise her for having so little faith in their love, for moving on so quickly – in truth all the things she had already said to herself.

Yes, Charlotte knew he had said horrible things to her that day so many months ago, but then he had traveled to Trafalgar House on Hannibal without even donning a coat, looking frantic and remorseful. And when he had tried to explain himself, she had stopped him.

She had stopped him.

How many times in the last four months had she wished she could go back to that moment and let him speak? He had been wrong to do what he did, but she had never allowed him to make it right. Instead, she had indulged herself with a monologue, telling her side of the story but not allowing him an equal share. After hours upon hours of reflection, she knew now that she had been afraid to let him speak when he stepped forward in the drawing room at Trafalgar House. She'd been so close to faltering in her resolve, she had to simply get through her practiced speech and dismiss him so that she could be alone and break down into tears.

Now, with the wind on the cliffs blowing around them, she searched his eyes, and she could see that her engagement came as no surprise to him. As she suspected, Mrs. Wheatley had shared Georgiana's news.

"Yes, I know," he said, still holding her tightly, as if she might blow away on a gust of wind. A lock of her hair had become lodged on her wet cheeks, and he reached out tenderly to pull it free. Looking down at her hands, he lifted her left one, starkly bare of any adornment. "No ring?" he asked, looking up and into her eyes.

Charlotte sighed. "Safely in my jewelry box."

He took a long breath and asked, so softly, dreading the answer, "Do you love him?"

"No." Charlotte answered so quickly that it caught even her by surprise, and she looked down to hide the blush that had come into her chilled cheeks. "I plan to break it off when he arrives for Georgiana's party this evening. He's a good man. He deserves better. Not someone who is incapable of loving him."

Alexander gently reached out and lifted her chin so he could see her eyes. "I have never known anyone more capable of loving than you are, Charlotte."

Charlotte. Her name had never sounded so sweet. She searched his face, her breath calming, her eyes glistening. It occurred to her suddenly that she and Alexander were two people who had absolutely nothing to lose. They had already lost it all. They had lost each other for a time, not because they didn't love each other. She could see clearly in his eyes that he loved her – it was emanating from both of them, creating an aura around them, his love and hers, protecting them in a sort of cocoon. Pretending it wasn't there would be the height of absurdity.

The entire situation was so surreal, so unexpected, and it was so purely blissful to be in his arms again. He seemed to have changed somehow – beneath the emotion he was more confident, less concerned about keeping himself safe. Just the fact that she had said she was engaged, a fact he clearly already knew, and he was still holding her in his arms, told Charlotte that he was following his own instincts and needs, rather than second-guessing or trying to satisfy anyone or anything outside of himself.

They were on the cliffs, without a soul around, other than a carriage driver who was discreetly facing the opposite direction, and was likely intensely loyal to Mr. Colbourne in any case. She had met Alexander so often in her dreams on these very cliffs, that Charlotte wondered if she might still be asleep in her bed. How many times had she awakened in tears? Was she now going to walk away from a waking dream she'd wanted so desperately to be real?

Enough. Someone has to speak the truth.

Charlotte placed her hand on his cheek and felt the cold there. She ran her thumb softly over the tracks of his tears and down to his lips, tracing their outline and remembering so vividly the feel of them on her own lips. Alexander closed his eyes and allowed a soft sigh to escape as he leaned into her touch.

Her voice was almost a whisper. "I've missed you very much." She paused for a moment, and then added, "Alexander." She said his name as she had in dreams, but now it was aloud, and real, for the first time.

His eyes opened and his lips went to hers immediately. Charlotte raised her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. They had saved up so much desire in those long nights alone reliving the two kisses they had shared, and it was just as they remembered, only better. Her fingers ran through his hair just as she had dreamed, and his hand moved to her neck, guiding gently, his thumb caressing her as it had in memory, their lips parting, inviting each other in, tasting each others' tears, until both were breathless.

Charlotte was the first to come to her senses, and she moved her head down to his chest, the hammering of his heart loud in her ears along with the sound of her own. "We shouldn't," she said on a sharp inhale, but with little conviction. "I am still…"

"Engaged…" Alexander said, between deep breaths. "Of course, you're right…" He grasped Charlotte gently and moved her slowly away, until no part of their bodies were still in contact except for his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She reached her hands up and covered his with her own, unwilling to let go completely.

She looked up into his eyes and couldn't suppress her happiness. She smiled. "You're here. This is real," she said.

Alexander smiled back, his eyes suffused with love for her. "I am. It is," he said.

"And you're attending the party this evening?" she asked.

"Yes, I'll be escorting Augusta. She came ahead and is even now awaiting my arrival."

For a long moment they simply looked at each other, trying to reconcile the reality of where they were, while their rational minds continued to tell them it was impossible. Finally, Alexander spoke. He was unable to continue looking into the intensity of her eyes, so he gazed down at his boots.

"We have much to talk about. I have no illusions about what I put you through. I ask only that you give me a chance to make amends, because I will happily spend the rest of my life in the attempt."

Charlotte's eyes began to resemble steel. "I can hear anything you have to say, but as I told you, I must know who you are. I have come to the understanding…," She narrowed her eyes at him and spoke forcefully, with passion, "...alone…that what you said in your office was for my sake and not your own, but I cannot be in a relationship where I have no say in the turn of events. I must be seen as an active participant, because what you do and say affects me deeply. If you cannot understand that, then we have no common ground on which to begin."

Her voice had risen to the point that she was certain now that the driver had heard her, and to cover her dismay at having lost control so dramatically, Charlotte raised her chin in defiance and set her mouth in a firm line.

Alexander nodded, but slowly and against his will, a smile started at the corner of his mouth. This, of course, moved Charlotte from passion to fury. "WHY are you smiling?" she said, her eyes narrowing again.

Erasing the smile immediately, Alexander moved his hands from her shoulders. "Miss Heywood, I apologize. I was reminded, in the best possible way, of your impassioned speech in my office on that first day. And I was wondering if I should make haste to saddle one of the horses so I am prepared to chase you down the cliffs and bring you back when you turn and stride away." He paused for a moment and then added with obvious admiration, "You, Miss Heywood, are formidable." He used the French pronunciation and managed to tame his countenance into profound seriousness.

Now it was Charlotte who tried not to smile, but her eyes gave her away. They went from steel to warm brown, and then she raised an eyebrow. "So, we're back to 'Miss Heywood,' are we, Mr. Colbourne?"

His voice lowered and softened. "You will always be my Charlotte. Except when you frighten me, as you did just now." His smile started again, crooked, up on one side in a way that made her heart skip and pulled down all of her defenses.

One of the horses whinnied and stamped in the distance, tired of standing still in the chilly wind. Alexander turned and then returned his gaze to Charlotte. "It is cold. Come with me in the carriage and I'll deliver you safely to the Parkers."

"I am not lodging with the Parkers. I am staying with Miss Lambe in her new apartments."

"Ah. Then may I drop you there?"

Tiny lines formed between Charlotte's eyebrows, just one of the thousand things about her that Alexander had missed so much. "You worry about how it might look? I understand. Perhaps I can leave you just outside of town and you can walk the remaining distance? It will not be nearly so cold there."

The lines disappeared, and Alexander smiled. After spending months among strangers, the comfort and ease of being with someone he knew so well washed over him like a soothing balm. He offered his arm and she took it, smiling sidelong at him. "Thank you," she said. "I suppose it was serendipity to encounter you here today. If only for a welcome carriage ride."

He laughed softly as they walked. "When your hat flew through the air outside the window of the carriage, I would not have been surprised to see a specter underneath it looking just exactly like you." He turned to her and his eyes went soft. "I have imagined you in every corner of London for months. Your flying by my carriage would seem not at all out of the ordinary."

Charlotte looked down at the rocky soil beneath their feet. "I have done the same, although it was harder to imagine you in Willingden."

Alexander exhaled deeply as they stopped at the door of the carriage. "You cannot know how many times I wished to call for this carriage and have it take me to you."

Tilting her head, Charlotte asked, "And why didn't you?" Her face was so open and honest that it took Alexander's breath away. She was like a truth serum.

"I was afraid that you would simply tell me to turn around and leave you in peace. And then I would lose any headway I had made, microscopic though it was, in the despair I felt without you."

Charlotte shook her head and smiled sadly. "What fools we are."

Smiling back at her, Alexander said, "Indeed."

"Back to Sanditon," he called up to the driver. "Just to the outskirts of town, if you please."

He helped her up into the carriage and she sat facing the horses. When he climbed in he began to sit across from her, but she took his hand and pulled him around next to her. She didn't release his hand but kept it in hers as he rapped on the roof of the carriage and it lurched forward.

Charlotte looked shyly at him from under her lashes. "I have never been in your carriage with you before."

Smiling, Alexander said, "The night after the Ball, I was inches from climbing in with you to escort you home. But I thought perhaps you'd had enough of me for one evening."

Raising an eyebrow, Charlotte said, "You think entirely too much, Mr. Colbourne." She leaned up and touched her lips to his quickly, and then she turned and blushed as she gazed out of the window. "I seem not to be able to stop doing that," she said in embarrassment.

He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "And it's my wish that you never do."

The carriage jolted, and the book of poetry Charlotte had laid safely on her lap jumped and fell to the floor of the carriage. Alexander looked down, and he could see that the book had opened naturally to the page where some flowers had been pressed.

Three blue cornflowers. Dried to straw but still starkly blue.

He reached down and picked up the book carefully, mindful of leaving the pressed flowers undisturbed. His heart expanded in his chest, and then he said softly, "You still have them?" He looked over into her eyes and she smiled.

"They were a gift from you."

He was so moved that he took her hand in his and said fervently, "Are we allowed a second chance? Have I ruined it completely? I will do anything…"

She squeezed his hand tightly. "I believe in second chances. First I must free myself, and then we will talk." She looked down at his hand, still in hers, and began speaking softly. "My father arranged the engagement, and I no longer had a reason to refuse him. He told me that it was my responsibility as the oldest to set an example for my younger siblings. That we all have to make sacrifices for our families and this was mine." The words were tumbling out and she forgot herself. "But through it all I never stopped…" Charlotte's eyes flew up to his and she pressed her lips together silently.

Alexander said, "You never stopped… What?"

Charlotte exhaled and closed her eyes. "I cannot. Not yet. I must release myself before we can discuss any of this."

The carriage slowed and stopped and Alexander leaned out the window. "Good, we are in the trees, and your walk won't be far." He shrugged out of his gray coat and put it around her shoulders. "It is certainly cooler than when you left. The sun is setting."

She turned to him with gratitude in her eyes, but mixed with dread. "I'm not looking forward to this. He's done nothing wrong. How do I find the right words?"

Leaning over to kiss her cheek, Alexander said. "You will. You always do." He smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled as he handed her the book of poetry. "May I ask you for a dance tonight?"

Her eyes softened. "Yes, I would like that very much." She started to get out of the carriage and then turned back.

"Look for me."

Alexander had never expected to see her on the cliffs. He assumed he would see her for the first time tonight at the party. Perhaps it was kismet that had brought her straw hat sailing across his line of vision – he didn't care. All that mattered is that he had seen her, they had spoken, and beyond his wildest hopes, they had kissed.

He leaned his head back against the seat in the carriage and closed his eyes, willing himself to commit every second he'd just spent with her to memory.

Alexander sighed, so grateful that he'd been given the news of Charlotte's engagement before he heard it from her today. It gave him time to settle his feelings, especially in light of his messenger's subjective opinions on the matter. Evaline Wheatley was not one to mince words, and after her discussions with Miss Lambe, she had come to some conclusions, which she was all too happy to share in a letter to him.

Miss Heywood is not in love with that man, because she is in love with you, Xander. And if you could move out of your own way for even a moment, you would know, as I do, that you love her too. God gives us chances in this life, but He doesn't often give them twice. Don't test His patience. Or mine.

Smiling, Alexander looked out of the window, seeing that they were again at the cliffs after their detour. Xander. That name, from Eva's mouth, or even her pen, took him back to childhood. She had been the steadiest, most loving influence in his life, and had it not been for her, he would not even have a concept of love. She was the only one who could take him down a notch with one word.

Well, she was the only one, until Charlotte had walked through his door.

The changes had been coming over him since the moment he had looked up from his writing to take in the aspect of the new governess candidate. Eva had described her well, however, she had left out some pertinent facts. A pair of enormous doe-brown eyes that would require long and exhaustive study, not just the quick glances he could manage in the interview. A voice that was at once soft and firm, that drew him in, confident and open. An intellect that was a repository not only of knowledge and the required facts for civil discourse, but also of a fervent wish for social justice, a desire to change things that needed changing, and a willingness to draw a line in the sand even to her own detriment.

Putting an end to the interview, Miss Charlotte Heywood had snatched back the portfolio that he had roundly criticized, folded it determinedly under her arm, and exited his office before he knew what hit him.

What he understood in that moment was that Miss Heywood was extraordinary. Whether he agreed with her was immaterial. If she could stand up to him with such eloquence, such controlled intelligence and well-reasoned arguments, then perhaps he had finally found the person who could light a fire under his feral and insolent girls and free him from failing them so miserably as a guardian.

To a lesser, but no less compelling, degree, Alexander wanted to see her eyes again. To study them. Or so he told himself.

He had thought often in the last months about precisely when he had fallen in love with Charlotte. In truth it had been a steady process, and even once he had fallen, he continued to fall, deeper and more profoundly than he believed his heart capable of.

But if he had to pinpoint the moment that he had started imagining a future with her, it was when she had stepped fearlessly up to Hannibal and placed her hand on his long nose, whispering soft words and gently calming him. Alexander had always trusted the instincts of animals more than of people. They had no underlying motives for those they accepted and those they did not. And this was not the first time one of his animals had responded to her. In fact, Luna had run after Miss Heywood that first day. Alexander had watched from the window as she took the time to bend down and offer her hand and then a laugh. In part, that exchange was what took him to the stables to saddle Hannibal and find her out on the cliffs to offer her the position.

The truth was, Alexander had always been a slightly awkward person who felt too much and showed too little. He had a sharp mind and retained obscure facts easily, and that skill, along with some measure of natural charm, had gotten him through many uncomfortable social interactions – but he could never remember a time, even as a child, when he was in the company of others that he wouldn't have preferred to be alone.

So when he heard the spinet from his office, and then heard the girls' laughter, he was astonished to find himself putting down his pen, standing up, and finding his way to the drawing room to see what was happening. He had to admit he felt somewhat bewitched. His carefully crafted persona, that of the Master of the estate who neither wanted nor needed anyone, was crumbling around his ears, and he was quite off his feet about it.

This wasn't the first time he had listened at doors, and he told himself that it had been merely to assess Miss Heywood's abilities with her charges. Because governesses had seldom lasted more than a week, for the first time he was able to hear progress, and listen to the expression of ideas from Augusta and Leonora that had never been available to him before.

They felt safe with Miss Heywood, in a way they had never been with him. And why should they? He was always prepared to take their heads off no matter what they said, and with their new governess, they could say the most outrageous things and she would simply laugh and ask them to elaborate and defend their position on the matter. To expand on the malacologist theme, he listened to them slowly crawl out of their shells. The shells he, himself, had built around them.

In short, Alexander had been reduced to skulking about and around his own house. He hardly knew himself anymore.

Alexander had always hidden from the girls and society behind the volume of work he said he had to do to keep the Colbourne Estate in good running order. In fact, he had solved those challenges many years ago. It had been true that much time was required after he took over for his father, who spent most of his time studying the bottom of a whiskey bottle rather than managing the affairs of the estate, but that time had long since passed.

His first task after his father's death was one he relished, to free the last of the few slaves his father kept, and to make certain that they were able to start new lives with possessions, a small piece of land and a good chance of success. After a decade, he still wrote letters monthly to each family, making certain that they were getting on well and they were not in need of anything, but that was a duty he enjoyed.

Eva had chosen to stay on, although she was now free to go wherever she pleased. She had honored him by saying that he was her family now, and she had come to love Sanditon and the estate. Alexander told her that she could live in the house as a family member without having to work, but she had simply scoffed and explained that a life without work was no life at all. She managed those below stairs with the skill and determination of a general, at the same time she kept a watchful eye on the girls and a loving hand on her Xander.

So, between Mrs. Wheatley and the stable master and groundskeeper, Alexander had a staff who were exemplary in carrying out their duties. All that was left for Alexander was to keep the books, pay salaries, and make a few decisions, which took all of about ten hours in the space of a week.

He managed to stretch out those ten hours with busy work, at times recopying ledgers completely when he found a small error, or analyzing the pros and cons of selling a plot of land. But the majority of the time he spent in his office was in reading, and when he grew weary of that, he would stand at the window and think. And when he grew weary of that, he saddled Hannibal and rode the beaches and the land.

He had tried his hand at poetry in the past but had been lacking inspiration. Miss Heywood had changed that, much to his initial distress. He found himself wanting to write sugary sonnets to her eyes, her hands, the way she held her mouth when she concentrated, the sound of her voice in the kitchen as she laughed with Mrs. Wheatley, telling stories about her brothers and sisters. He had managed to get some down on paper, but never to his satisfaction.

The laughter hadn't disappeared completely from his family along with Miss Heywood. There was no turning back, even when she was gone, on the openness and expression of regard that she had brought out in everyone at Heyrick Park. There was a massive hole where Charlotte had been, and for a time they simply stepped around it and tried to make do. Finally, Alexander had decided they all needed a change. He was tired of every room being defined by her absence, tired of standing at his window imagining her coming around the corner and onto the walk, tired of the girls asking whether he thought she was returning to Sanditon.

London had been a great challenge for him, but the relief of being able to come into a room without remembering Charlotte in it was worth it for a time. Spending time at the house on Hyde Park meant he now had to enter rooms with the memory of Lucy in them, but the great surprise of his time there was that it was much less difficult than thinking of Charlotte.

They had missed the height of the Season, which was ideal in many ways, because Augusta had an easier time of it, and the endless cotillions and parties were beginning to wind down, much to his relief. Alexander did take joy in watching Augusta strive to be a lady and to curb her sharp tongue, not because he asked her to, but because she wanted to belong. She fit in beautifully, and blossomed before his very eyes. He was under no illusions about who had started that process.

Leonora missed Charlotte with a passion that rivaled his own. Alexander thought about Charlotte every day, but Leonora put words to her feeling of loss, and it never ceased to tug at his heart. It was gradually dawning on Alexander that while Augusta saw Charlotte as a beloved older sister, Leonora had found a mother in her governess.

None of that helped to assuage Alexander's guilt and regret at the ham-handed way he had dealt that final blow to Charlotte. He likened it to "protecting" someone with a ten-pound hammer to the solar plexus. He had always been better after the fact, thinking things over and assessing, than he was in the moment. He had learned much in the time away, through the agony of missing her and the regret at putting the girls through her absence as well.

If he had it to do over again? He would have pulled out the chair at breakfast, poured her a cup of tea and buttered her toast for her. And then he would have sat back and enjoyed the laughter of what he now considered his family as they discussed the pros and cons of lurchers vs. mastiffs while he considered himself the luckiest man on the face of God's green earth.

And in the silence of his thoughts, he would tell Colonel Francis Lennox to bloody sod off.

The familiar green carriage pulled up to Heyrick Park just as the sun fell below the trees. He stepped out onto the gravel and was greeted with a knee-crushing hug from Leonora.

"Father! Finally! I have so many things to show you! I found a full snake-skin in the garden and I need your magnifying glass. Miss Heywood would be SO proud of me!"

Eva stood on the steps with a broad smile. "Miss Augusta is upstairs primping for the party, and your coat is pressed and ready." She raised an eyebrow. "You're late for dinner, so you'll want to take it in the kitchen. "What kept you?"

Alexander squeezed her arm affectionately. His grin was playful and the one she remembered so well from his boyhood. "I ran into an old friend and time got away from us." He wiggled an eyebrow at her and both of her eyebrows raised to her hairline.

"Indeed?" she said, following him in. "Then I shall be taking dinner in the kitchen with you. And you'll be leaving nothing out, Xander."