He watched her go – his love – he watched her drive away in the carriage and something pinched in his chest. She would come back, of course – this time, he knew she would come back – but he still didn't like to see her leave. He stood on the steps of the front door and watched the carriage go down the drive, and then they rounded the bend and she was gone. He stood looking after her for a moment, but then he shook himself, turned around, and went back into the house. It felt strangely empty without her. He walked to his study and sat down behind the desk. He spent the morning doing paperwork, but he had trouble focusing – his eyes kept getting drawn to her usual chair, where she would normally be sitting at this time of the morning, curled up with a book. He told himself sternly that he was being ridiculous – she had only been gone for a few hours – but the truth was that he missed her already.

…

The news had come only yesterday. They had been talking over breakfast, when a letter from her sister had arrived, and he had watched her face grow more and more concerned as she read it.

"My father is ill", she had finally told him. "He's in bed and needs a lot of care. Laura says mother needs help and company, and she can't do it because she's going to have her baby soon."

He felt his heart sink, but he said:

"You should go, of course."

She shot him a grateful look.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No, of course you need to be with your family at a time like this."

"I might be gone for quite a while… We don't know when father will recover, but it will probably take several weeks at least…"

"Stay as long as you are needed", he said, trying not to show his dismay at the thought that she might be gone for a considerable amount of time – he couldn't quite imagine not seeing her every day anymore.

She seemed to sense how he was feeling, however, because she looked at him and said:

"I don't want to leave… You know that, right?"

He nodded, but he was still glad to hear her say it.

"I don't want you to leave either."

She smiled a little sadly.

"I'll come back as soon as I can."

She had packed her bags, given instructions to the housekeeper, and then this morning after breakfast, she was ready to go. Annie got into the carriage, and then it was just the two of them, standing by the front door, looking at each other. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her a thousand things, really, but his throat felt tight and he didn't trust himself not to accidentally say too much.

"I'll write to you", she said, looking almost as sad as he felt. "When I get there."

"Yes", he said. "Please do."

"You better write me back!" she warned him.

He gave her a half-smile.

"Try and stop me."

She tried to smile too, but then her eyes clouded over, and the next moment she was hugging him, burying her face against his chest. He froze for just one moment, but then he carefully wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. Oh, how often he'd dreamed of taking her in his arms like this – what he wouldn't give to be able to do it every day – what he wouldn't give to do this for any other reason than to say goodbye.

"I'm going to miss you", she whispered.

He swallowed hard.

"I'm going to miss you too."

She started to pull back, and he opened his arms with the utmost reluctance. They stood looking at each other for a long moment, and he wanted to kiss her goodbye so badly that it hurt, but then she pulled herself together and walked towards the carriage. He watched her go, feeling words rise up inside of him, words he wanted to say so desperately. When she reached the carriage, he said:

"Raquel!"

She turned and gave him a questioning look.

"Yes?"

"I… I just…" he tried, but then he lost his nerve. "Have a good journey."

She nodded.

"Thank you." She seemed to hesitate. "Sergio…"

He took a step closer.

"Yes?"

She sighed and gave him a sad look.

"Take care of yourself while I'm gone."

Then she got in and closed the door, and he was left alone.

…

March 29th, 1816

My dear Sergio,

I arrived safely at my parents' house yesterday. Father is very ill and needs constant care, and Mother is distraught and tired. It's a good thing that I came, because she needs help. Laura has visited every day until now, but she has gotten so big and she should stay home. I spoke to the doctor today and he said Father will survive, but he will need at least a month to recover. I am grateful that we won't lose him, of course, but I can't help but think that a month is a long time to be away from home.

It is so strange to be back in my old room. One of the first nights after we were married, I cried because I was homesick for this room, yet yesterday I felt like crying too because it no longer feels like home. Home is now, and will forever be, with you. I wish I could write more, but there is so much to do. I'll write again soon.

With love,

Raquel

…

March 30th, 1816

Dear Raquel,

Thank you for your letter. I'm glad to hear that you arrived safely, and that your father will recover. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.

Raquel, I never knew you were homesick when we first married. I'm so sorry I didn't notice. There were a lot of things I didn't notice back then. Can you forgive me?

Please know that home is not the same without you. The house is very quiet, and I'm not used to the quiet anymore. I keep looking up from my books because I want to tell you something, but you're not there. It's a strange feeling. Of course you must stay with your family for as long as you are needed, but I cannot help but express the hope that your father will recover quickly, both for his sake, and my own.

Do write to me if you can find the time. I promise I'll write back.

Please give my best wishes to your family.

Yours,

Sergio

…

April 18th, 1816

My dear Sergio,

Laura has had her baby! It's a boy, Oliver, and both mother and child are in good health. I'm busier than ever now, because Mother is spending a good part of each day with Laura, which means that I have to direct the servants in the running of the house, and care for Father. I'm not complaining though – it makes the time go faster. Father is recovering, but only slowly, and I'm afraid I'll be here longer than I thought (or hoped) that I would be.

Your letters are such a comfort to me. Please keep writing to me, I so look forward to reading your letter every morning – and I admit that I reread it at night before going to bed. It is so good to be reminded that my home is waiting for me. It is even better to know that you are waiting for me.

Could you take Freya out riding once or twice a week? I hate the thought of her being cooped up in that stable all the time – rather how I'm feeling right now. I can't wait to go out riding with you again.

Oh, and pet Clover for me.

All my love,

Raquel

…

April 19th, 1816

Dearest Raquel,

Please offer your sister and her husband my sincerest congratulations.

Don't worry about the animals, they are well. I've been taking Freya out riding regularly.

I have to admit that it pains me to hear that your father is recovering so slowly and that you might have to stay longer than you thought. It's a very strange thing, Raquel – I used to value my solitude above all else, but these past few weeks, I have found myself missing your company. I try to play piano, but it's not the same if you're not there to listen. Meals have become rather somber affairs without your conversation, and I just can't find any joy in my solitary games of chess anymore after playing with you for so long.

If my letters bring you comfort, please know that yours do the same for me. Your home is indeed waiting for you, as is your husband – more impatient every day.

Freya misses you. Clover misses you. Raquel, I miss you.

Yours,

Sergio

…

There was so much work to do – and she was grateful for it, because it kept her busy. Any time that her thoughts weren't occupied with other things, they strayed to Sergio, and then the ache in her chest returned. When he told her in his last letter that he missed her, she had to use all her restraint not to go straight back home. He had asked her several times if he could visit her, and she desperately wanted to see him, but her mother and father were in no condition to receive visitors, and she felt like she really couldn't ask him to drive all that way just to take a short walk with her. So she said no and clung to his letters, to every word he wrote to her. She noticed that the way he addressed her had changed from 'Dear Raquel' to 'Dearest Raquel', and she couldn't keep herself from wondering if it meant something – anything. She missed him so much it hurt.

…

He had been staring at the way she had signed her last letter for an hour now. 'All my love'. He told himself this was something you could easily write to a friend as well – who knew how she signed her letters to Monica, for instance? Yet it was a change from how she had signed her letters up to now – 'With love', which was a neutral way to end a letter – in fact, Tatiana ended her letters to him in just the same way. All herlove, though? Could it mean something? He shook his head and put the letter down – he was overthinking every word she wrote to him.

That day, he wrote her two letters. The first, which he tried to keep short, was sealed and sent. The second expressed what he really wanted to say to her. I dreamed of you again last night. I would ride all day just to see your smile – I don't know how much longer I can live without it. I love you, Raquel. I love you, I love you, I love you.

…

May 6th, 1816

My dear Sergio,

Your last letter was disgracefully short – I'm sure you could spare a few more moments out of your day to write to your long-suffering wife. Please, Sergio, I want to come home so badly and your daily letters are the only thing keeping me sane. Don't make me reread the same ten lines over and over again. I don't care what you write, just write… more. Tell me about your day, about the things you are reading, or feel free to compose some poetry if the mood strikes you. I'll read it all.

Laura and the baby are doing well, though he cries often and that makes her bad-tempered. Father is a little better every day, but I really can't say how much longer this will take. I wish I could set a date to come home, so I could start counting down.

I miss you terribly.

All my love,

Raquel

…

May 7th, 1816

My dearest Raquel,

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Alright – I stole that, it's Shakespeare. I'm afraid writing poetry is not one of my gifts, but I'll happily read and quote you all of Shakespeare if you'd like that. This sonnet is particularly apt, I think, to reflect my current mental state: I'm feeling rather sorry for myself these days, but when I remember that you'll be home soon (please tell me it will be soon), then I feel better.

I apologize profusely that my last letter was so short. In truth, there are so many things I would like to talk to you about, but I know how busy you are. However, if you would like longer letters, I will gladly provide. I've been reading the novels you left for me, and I would love to discuss them with you. I am greatly enjoying 'Pride and Prejudice' – mostly, I suspect, because the protagonist reminds me of you.

Raquel, I can't believe that it is spring and you're not here to enjoy it with me. We should be out riding together to see the new leaves and the flowers. The weather is getting warmer but the house still feels cold – I suspect that will only change once you come back. Soon, the roses will bloom. I hope you will be here to see them.

I thought I might be able to get used to living alone again. Instead, I miss you more every day.

Yours, always,

Sergio

…

He was walking through the rose garden after an early dinner, thinking about her. It was a beautiful, sunny day, the flowers were in glorious bloom, and the air around him was so sweet, but he barely noticed any of it. Today was their wedding anniversary, and he felt so dejected that he had to spend it without her. How much had changed over the course of a year, he reflected. He had been miserable on his wedding day, yet now he looked back on it as the most important day of his life – the day everything had changed, the day that had made her his wife, which he would forever be grateful for. Though the pain of missing her was an ever-present ache in his chest, if he could go back in time, he would marry her all over again.

These weeks without her had been harder than he ever could have anticipated, and he was devastated that she wasn't back for their anniversary. He shook his head at himself – he'd lived alone for years, and yet now, without her, he felt completely lost, unable to really enjoy even this perfect day if he couldn't share it with her.

And then, suddenly –

"Sergio!"

He froze. That voice.

He turned around and there she was, on the other side of the garden, lovelier than any of the roses that surrounded her. For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Was she really back?

They looked at each other, and then she was running towards him, flying into his open arms with such force that she almost knocked him over, but he caught her and spun her around, both of them laughing and clinging to each other. She was back, she was here, she was in his arms. His love. The sun was golden and the roses bloomed, and when she looked at him, her eyes were radiant, and he couldn't look away. They looked at each other, breathless, and the air was full of things unsaid. The pull of her was so strong, a sheer magnetic force drawing him in, and filled with the euphoria of seeing her again, he suddenly didn't have the strength to resist her anymore. He lifted his face, and kissed her.

…

All throughout the carriage ride back, Raquel had been thinking of Sergio. He didn't know she was coming – when her mother had told her that morning that she thought she could handle things now, and that she should go home for her wedding anniversary, Raquel had embraced her and then immediately went to pack her bags. She couldn't wait to see Sergio again. Riding back home, she had been almost bursting with impatience – waiting all these weeks to see him had been so hard, but somehow these last few hours were worse. She kept hoping that they would hug again, like they had done when she left. She could almost feel his arms around her, and she wished the horses would go faster.

The carriage ride felt like an eternity, but finally they arrived at the house, and she was vividly reminded of how she had arrived here for the first time exactly a year ago. Her marriage was not entirely the way she had expected it would be, but still… she had no regrets. If she could go back in time, she would marry him all over again. Her heart was beating fast as she jumped out of the carriage and went into the house, leaving Annie to deal with the luggage – where would he be? She looked in his study and the library, but it was such a lovely day that she wasn't surprised when a footman told her he was outside.

She finally found him in the rose garden, his back turned to her, and she felt tears burn for a moment. There he was. Her husband. How she had missed him – how she loved him.

"Sergio!" she called out to him, and when he turned, she saw surprise turn to delight on his face.

He opened his arms to her and she started running, a fierce blaze of happiness in her chest, and then she was in his arms and he lifted her off the ground. She held on tight to him, laughing as he spun her around, and then she looked into his eyes and the world stood still as everything suddenly felt exactly right. They looked at each other and she forgot to breathe, she couldn't think – all she could see was the way he was looking at her, the air between them charged with unspoked words. And then suddenly, he lifted his face to hers and kissed her.

She was so surprised that she pulled back and looked at him in astonishment.

He'd kissedher.

Sergio.

Kissed her.

She was so surprised she couldn't make sense of it for a moment.

At her reaction, his eyes went wide and he put her down, then took a big step back.

"I'm so sorry", he said, "I didn't mean to…"

She could feel her heart break.

"I overstepped. I know you don't want…"

What was he saying?

"I know we said we would just be friends, but… but… oh, I can't take this anymore."

She looked at him uncertainly.

"What do you mean?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then said:

"Raquel, I know I shouldn't say anything, but I've missed you so terribly and I can't keep it in anymore. You… you deserve to know the truth. I told you once that I wasn't capable of romantic love, and I truly believed that to be true, but… but the past few months have proven me wrong."

She looked at him with wide eyes, afraid to make any assumptions about where he was going. He continued:

"I was so blind last summer, I never really knew who I married. And when I finally got to know you better, I couldn't help but… but notice how wonderful you are. How much I love your company, how much I love talking to you and going out riding with you and playing chess with you and… and just being with you. You have… made my life so much better in every possible sense. So I have to tell you, Raquel, because you deserve to hear it. I love you. In every way, and with all my heart."

She couldn't believe that he was saying the words she'd been wanting to hear for so long. Was this really true? Was this really happening? She suddenly realized she was crying, that there were tears on her cheeks.

He looked at her, alarmed.

"I shouldn't have said anything, I've upset you, I…"

"No", she said, wiping away the tears and smiling. "No, you haven't."

"But you're crying…"

"Sergio, did you mean that? Did you really mean what you just said?"

"Yes", he whispered, looking so serious.

"You love me… in every way?"

"Every possible way."

"Like… like a husband is supposed to love his wife?"

"Yes", he whispered, going a little red. "I'm sorry, I know you're not in love with me…"

She looked up in surprise.

"Why do you think that?"

"I heard you say it to Monica."

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh no."

"Nothing has to change", he said quickly. "I… I can live with it, just… please don't leave again."

A soft, tingling feeling of joy was manifesting itself in her stomach as the realization sank in, a joy so warm and golden and pure – he loved her.

"Sergio", she said softly. "I'm not going to leave. I'm in love with you too."

He looked like he couldn't believe it.

"You… you are?"

"Yes", she said simply, feeling the joy expand as she looked at him, until it filled her completely. "Yes, of course I am."

"But what you said…"

"I was lying."

He stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to get hurt again, Sergio."

He nodded, looking ashamed.

"Yes, of course, I understand that."

But then he looked up at her, and there was so much hope in his eyes that she couldn't help but smile.

"Do you… do you really want me?"

She looked at him.

"I've never not wanted you, Sergio. I've wanted you right from the start. That's why I married you."

"You're so much smarter than me", he said, and she laughed.

They both looked at each other with shining eyes, then he came a little closer to her, hesitantly. As he looked into her eyes, she suddenly felt completely breathless. Oh. Would he? Would he really?

"Raquel", he whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes please", she whispered back, and as he came even closer, she felt such a thrill of anticipation in her stomach. How long she'd waited for this moment, how she'd despaired that it would never come and now… now he was looking at her with such longing. Their kiss before had been so unexpected, and over before she'd really registered the sensation, but now he would really kiss her, and she couldn't wait, wondering what it would be like to kiss her husband – she'd dreamed about doing that so often, and now it was really happening.

He was standing very close to her now, and she felt her heart beat in her throat as she looked up at him. Oh, oh, she'd never wanted anything more than to feel his lips on hers. He lifted a careful hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, then cupped her cheek and stroked it slowly with his thumb.

"I've been wanting to kiss you for so long", he whispered.

Then he bent his head and she closed her eyes as he brushed his lips against hers, just for an instant, the softest, most fleeting sensation. He did it again, and she felt herself begin to tremble – she wanted him so badly. To her utter delight, he stepped even closer, then wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her against him. The next moment, he softly pressed his lips against hers, and it was everything she'd ever dreamed it would be, soft and warm and lovely. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed herself closer to him as she kissed him back, and oh, it felt so amazing to be this close to him, to lean against him and feel his arms around her, to breathe him in and feel his lips against hers. One soft kiss led to another, and another, and she realized with a rush of joy that kissing was wonderful, kissing was fantastic, and she never, ever wanted to stop.

And then it got even better. He opened his mouth a little and lightly flicked his tongue against her lips. She realized what he was asking her, so she parted her lips and tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to his. The effect on her body was electric and intense – a shiver shot down her spine and she felt a sudden hot tingling between her legs – oh, she liked this, she liked it a lot, so she did it again, and again, and again, until she felt brave enough to open her mouth a bit further and explore. Her explorations were a little timid at first, as was his response, but she felt so comfortable with him, and this felt so right, that soon her shyness gave way to joy, and she kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless. One of his hands was on her lower back, the other cradling her head, but she couldn't resist from letting her own hands wander a bit – they were in his hair, stroking the back of his neck, then they were on his shoulders, his back, his chest. She loved that she could finally, finally touch him, after wanting to for a whole year. It hadn't been easy but oh – he was so worth the wait.

…

Kissing her was the most wonderful thing he had ever done. The moment he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers made up for all of those months that he had wanted to kiss her but couldn't – and oh, he had been so right to want to kiss her. Her lips were softer than he could have possibly imagined, the scent of her was lovelier than the roses, and there were silver bells ringing in his head as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him. His heart was beating so fast – he couldn't believe he was holding her, he couldn't believe that she wanted him. What had he done to deserve her? Her nearness, her lips against his, her body in his arms, it all overwhelmed him in the most wonderful way, and he could barely wrap his head around the fact that this was really happening. At least – he thought it was really happening – if this was a dream, he hoped he would never wake up.

He would be perfectly content to just keep pressing soft kisses to her lips for all of eternity, but then he remembered Jennie, a year ago now, telling him that he should use his tongue, so he opened his mouth and tentatively brushed his tongue against her lips. When she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his, the immediate reaction of his body took him completely by surprise. He hadn't seen the appeal of this particular action before, but he damn well saw it now. It made him wonder what other pieces of Jennie's advice would positively surprise him later. In the meantime, he focused on her kisses, which were becoming more daring, and he was loving every second of it. The taste of her was so sweet, and he explored her slowly, testing, tasting, gently at first, then a little more passionately. He wasn't quite brave enough to move his hands, but he thoroughly enjoyed her hands all over him, her fingers stroking the back of his neck sending a shiver all the way down his spine.

After a long, long time, they broke apart and she looked up at him, a little flushed, breathing rather fast, and he still couldn't believe he was allowed to kiss her now. He did it again, just to revel in the fact that he could. One more kiss. One more. One more. How was he ever supposed to stop? He finally pulled back with a supreme effort of will so he could look at her, his wife, his love, her eyes bright and her lips red from kissing. He softly stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, and then she caught his hand, opened it, and pressed a soft kiss against the palm, making him experience such a rush of tenderness for her that he could barely stand it. He bent his head and leaned his forehead against hers, and they stood like that for a long moment, their eyes closed, their hands entwined. Together.

…

Somehow, they ended up on a bench between the roses, his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him as they watched the sunset together, her arms firmly around him. Well, they were supposed to watch the sunset, but really they only had eyes for each other.

"I missed you so much", she whispered. "So, so much."

"I missed you too", he said. "I'm so happy you're back, Raquel, I hope you never have to leave me again. I don't think I could bear it."

"But if being away from me finally made you kiss me", she said, "it was worth it."

"Yes", he smiled. "I agree."

They sank into a slow, sensual kiss for a while, then he pulled back and sighed.

"I can't believe how much time we wasted", he murmured. "A whole year. We could have had a whole year together by now."

"But think of all the years we still have left", she smiled. "We're married, Sergio. We'll have so many years together. All the years. A lifetime."

He looked at her.

"I love that. Still… I should have told you I loved you the day I realized."

"When did you realize?"

"When I danced with you at the ball."

Her eyes went wide.

"But that was months ago!"

"I know", he grimaced.

"You should have said something!"

"I know", he repeated. "I was a fool."

She looked at him in disbelief.

"So… we were both in love with each other for weeks without realizing it?"

"Like I said…" he shook his head, "we've wasted so much time."

She smiled.

"Make it up to me."

He smiled back.

"Gladly. How?"

"With a kiss."

He pressed his mouth to hers again, softly, lingering for a long time.

"Hmm", he murmured against her lips, "I think we may need to catch up on a year's worth of missed kisses."

"I have no problem with that", she smiled, but then a cool breeze ruffled her dress and she shivered.

"It's getting cold", he said. "Let's go inside."

She looked up at him appealingly, afraid to ask but so, so hopeful.

"Sergio… Will you… will you sleep in my room tonight?"

He gave her an earnest look.

"I would love nothing more."

Her heart started beating faster.

"Really?"

"Really", he murmured. "Raquel, I want nothing more than to hold you tonight and wake up next to you tomorrow… and every day after that."

She almost started crying again.

"What's wrong?" he said, concerned.

"Nothing", she said, looking up at her husband and feeling like her heart would burst. "Absolutely nothing. Can we go to bed now?"

He smiled.

"Yes, let's go to bed."

They went inside, hand in hand, and she felt absolutely dizzy with happiness.