Chapter 10

He arrived home just before dinner, to a house fallen strangely still and silent. The children had a new routine, Frau Schmidt told him, taking an early supper in the nursery and then occupying themselves with homework and games until bedtime. "They said that dinner time just wasn't the same while you were away," she explained.

Meanwhile, Fraulein Maria had taken to solitary walks along the lake in the evenings, often stopping to linger in the old gazebo. "I'm worried about her," the housekeeper shook her head. "She seems happy to be back here, but she's unhappy, too."

The report unnerved him. He didn't seek the children out, but went instead to stand on the balcony and gather his thoughts. Suddenly, he caught sight of Maria, wandering along the lake's edge, wraithlike in the soft light of early evening.

She wore blue, the airy blue of a summer sky, a simple dress with little detail or adornment, so light she seemed to float along the shore. She looked utterly delicious, a French macaron come to life. His eyes followed her until she disappeared on the path to the gazebo, and he set out to find her, his heart racing like a nervous schoolboy's. When he found her, it was a struggle to keep his voice light.

"I thought I just might find you here!"

Maria had been thinking of him, nothing but him, longing so intensely for his return, that when she heard his voice from behind her, she thought she might have conjured him up in her imagination. But when she turned, he was standing in the doorway of the gazebo, looking unbearably handsome in a dark suit.

She felt his eyes on her, as tangible as a caress on her bare skin, but he made no move in her direction. Instead, in an elegant, deliberate gesture, he lifted one hand to his heart.

Whatever Georg had expected, he wasn't prepared for her elated squeal, or the joy that lit up her face as she launched herself at him, winding her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. His arms tightened automatically around her, but this time there were no tears, just the welcome feel of her body molded against his. Everything was different, it seemed, but he didn't know why.

"Hold on," he laughed, setting her away from him, but not too far away. This must be the first time that he had seen her wearing anything but his daughter's castoff clothing, he realized. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Do you like it?" she asked, gesturing hopefully at the dress. "I got tired of Liesl's hand-me-downs, so I made it from the drapes that used to hang in-"

"Drapes? My prospective bride has been roaming around Salzburg dressed in some old drapes?" but his face must have given himself away, because she broke into a smile.

"You do like it."

"Yes, I do, but what I meant is that you've gotten" he gestured, his hands tracing a shape in the air, "you are all skin and bones. Have you stopped eating dessert?"

"I haven't been eating well. Or sleeping," she confessed. "Everything was all wrong while you were away. Oh, I have so much to tell you! Aren't you going to tell me where you went?"

"I'll tell you all about that later. Right now, we've got to-" but then he faltered. What had to be said between them was so enormous, so momentous, that he could not even imagine how to start.

"Start at the very beginning," she was always telling the children, and that, as it turned out, was exactly what he wanted to do, although he hadn't realized it until this moment, and surprised the both of them with what he said next.

"Maria. Why were you at Nonnberg in the first place? How did you ever think you were meant to be a nun?"

"That's the first thing you want to-" she caught herself and shrugged. Maria hadn't expected to have this conversation now, but perhaps it was as good a place as any to begin.

He seated himself on the bench that ringed the gazebo, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and watched her wander aimlessly around the gazebo as she recounted her story. Outside the walls of the gazebo, night slipped into evening's place, turning the woods around them dark and forbidding, silencing the birds and buzzing insects so that only the murmur of the lake could be heard. But inside, there was only the two of them, two hearts brimming with anticipation, hope, desire, and not a little fear.

"I was only eight years old when my parents were killed in an accident, and I was sent to live with my mother's half-brother. Uncle Kurt was quite elderly," she stopped and looked apologetically at him – "well, he probably was only about fifty, but at the time he seemed quite old to me. He was round and jolly, and the kindest soul you can imagine. Dear Uncle! He'd been living an uncomplicated, peaceful life, surrounded by books and music and friends. His only experience with children was dispensing peppermint drops to them. He loved peppermints. Anyway, there he was, suddenly responsible for this unruly child. I was positively wretched with grief. And from the very first day," Maria stopped to stab the air with a finger, as though to underscore her point, "he was utterly devoted to me. There was nothing Uncle Kurt wouldn't have done to keep me safe and happy."

So he'd had it wrong. Somehow, Georg had always imagined her the victim of a wicked, miserable childhood, that there was some dreadful secret lurking in her past, something that had driven her into the Abbey. No secrets there, as it turned out.

As if she read his mind, she looked down at her feet, clearly embarrassed. "There was this one thing, though, that was – ehrm – unusual about Uncle Kurt."

"Yes?" Now he was intrigued.

"He was an atheist."

"I'm sorry?"

"He wasn't mean or angry about it, he just didn't believe. When I went to live with him, I had only just made my first Communion, and my faith had not really taken root, and of course I was completely devoted to him, and so, well, that was it." Maria shrugged. "Everything my parents had taught me slipped away, and I didn't set foot in a church for ten years after that."

"What brought you back?"

"Just as I was finishing high school," her voice wavered, and he could see her hands tremble, "Uncle Kurt fell ill. As his health worsened, he became obsessed with securing my future. Although there wasn't much money, he'd set aside enough for me to go to teachers' college. I had always adored children, of course, so I loved my studies right from the start. I fell in with a lovely crowd of friends, too. They were churchgoers, so I started to go with them, but only in a casual way at first, really. That group of friends - it got me through at the start of my second year, when Uncle …" her voice seized up then, and she sent him a pleading look until he beckoned her to his side.

Maria went to him immediately, and he took her soft hand in between his two, and waited for her to continue.

After a while, she cleared her throat and went on. "The week after graduation, our group went on a camping trip together. We hiked far up into the mountains, to where the glaciers lie. One evening, I went off with," she paused and sent a wary look his way, "a boy."

"So there was a boy, after all." Georg said coolly. Not that it mattered, of course. After all, how many women were there in his past?

"Klaus," she smiled. "He was tall, but he was always hunched over, so that he looked like a comma, you know, that way tall people do sometimes? You don't do that. And he wore glasses."

He tugged at his ear. "Were you in love with him?""

She shrugged his question away. "Everything I knew about love came from Goethe and Schiller and Shakespeare. It always ended badly, in blood and death. I mean, I did think that I might like to marry, you know, and have children, but love? " she shook her head. "No. Although," she confessed, "I was very -" he saw the color blossom in her cheeks as she shifted uneasily in her seat next to him, searching for the word.

"Curious?" Georg supplied. In some remote corner of his mind, the promising notion of his innocent, curious little Fraulein stirred him deeply, but he pushed the impulse away. Not yet.

"Yes, exactly. I had let him kiss me once or twice," she admitted. There was something in his face that stopped her. "When you – when we - you didn't think that was my first kiss, did you?" She wasn't ready to admit to her Captain just how deeply his kiss had affected her.

"I didn't give it much thought either way," he shrugged, pretending disinterest. It didn't matter, really, because he was damned well going to be the first for everything else. "You were telling me about Nonnberg."

"Oh! Yes! Well, up on that glacier. There was a magnificent sunset. Glorious. I thought I would explode from the joy of it. The sky was red and violet and the whole world looked," – she rose to her feet, as though in a trance, and spun in slow circles around the gazebo, arms flung out wide – "like a gift from God." Her lovely face was transcendent.

"While I was still grieving for Uncle Kurt, I was also overwhelmed with gratitude that God had provided for me, by finding me shelter with someone who had loved me so faithfully. That sunset," she struggled for the words, "it was like a reminder. Of a debt I would never be able to repay. I know it must seem sort of grand, to talk about my life that way," she said apologetically.

"No, no," he reassured her, beckoning her to sit by his side again. This was the heart of her, he thought, something far more intimate than a kiss or even a tumble in bed, something even more fundamental than her name, or all the memories she had lost when they first met. He was quite certain Maria had never shown this side of herself to anyone before.

"Klaus was going on and on about something, but I didn't hear a word he said. It was my moment of truth. I was inspired to do something – something good, something big, to demonstrate my gratitude and devotion, not only to Uncle Kurt, but to God. So I decided, at that moment, that I would dedicate my life to God's service. I would give up teaching, and my love of the outdoors, and my hopes for a husband and a family. The next morning, I hiked off the mountain to Salzburg and presented myself at the gates of Nonnberg Abbey.

"Why Nonnberg?"

"Because if I was going to do it, I was going to do it without half measures. Everyone knows they are the most devoted, the most pious, the most strict. When I arrived, I asked to speak to the boss," she laughed, "there I was, in my hiking boots, with an icepick in one hand and a rope coiled over my shoulder. They didn't know what to make of me, but they took me in, and although I was nothing but trouble, they let me keep working with the children, and I began to learn, and pray and try. Oh, and I did try!"

Her head dropped to his shoulder, and he draped a comforting arm around her.

"They must have known from the start that it was not the life I was born to live, but when after two years I'd failed to realize it, I suppose they lost patience."

This young woman, with a heart as big as a sky, had the most extravagant gesture of love she could imagine, thrown back in her face. No wonder she'd been so completely devastated by their rejection, so much so that her mind was wiped clean of the past.

"So you see," she told him, "I had been on a path that would have made me perfectly happy, but I just couldn't let myself deserve it. I had to choose the difficult path instead. It made no sense, of course."

"No," Georg said slowly, "but I think I know exactly how you might have felt."

To his surprise, she slipped out from beneath his arm and stood, moving a little ways away before turning to fix her clear, direct gaze on him.

"That's why I'm not going to marry you."

His eyebrows flew upward. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said I'm not going to marry you. I'm not letting you make the same mistake I did. Making a meaningless sacrifice because it seems like the noble thing to do."

"Don't be ridiculous, Maria. You see, I've been thinking about it, also, and I -"

"Is that what you want?" she interrupted him. "To wake up every day of your life, for as long as you live, knowing you're married to someone you don't even love?"

Had he just imagined her exuberant cries of welcome, her soft arms around his neck? "But just now, the way you-"

"I didn't say," her cheeks turned pink again, "that I didn't want-" She took a deep breath and studied the floor. "I've decided to accept your offer. I'm going to go live in your cottage. As long as I can see the children regularly. And you," her face was flaming red by now, "you could visit me too. Alone, I mean. If you want."

Georg gaped at her, slack-jawed, for a long minute before he could compose himself enough to reply.

"I'm sorry, Maria. That's not possible. I'm afraid that the offer of the cottage is revoked. Rescinded."

Her brow wrinkled. "I don't understand. Why? What happened?"

"If you will let me finish even one sentence, I'll try to explain. I want you to stay here. I - ehrm - beg you to stay, actually. Because I'm in love with you."

It was an indescribable relief to say it out loud at last. But she simply stared at him as though she had not understood the plain meaning of his words.

"You'll marry me," he began again.

"I told you," she said stubbornly. "I won't have you marry me out of pity. And I don't want to marry someone who doesn't even love me."

"But I do," he said quietly. "Love you, I mean."

She must have understood him this time, because she went utterly still. He came up close to her and gathered her hands together, pinning them to his heart. "I love you, Maria." Georg said it slowly, deliberately, so there could be no mistaking his meaning.

"But you told me-"

"I was wrong. It happens, although only very rarely."

She felt one strong arm slide around her waist. He lifted his other hand to her face, his fingers brushing the hair off her forehead, trailing across her cheek, tracing her lips.

Maria yearned to press closer to him, to lose herself in the familiar, solid feel of his body. A shiver went through her, anticipating the exquisite relief his kiss would bring, after a wait that had been a matter of weeks, though it felt like years. Yet from somewhere deep inside, she could still hear the doubts and questions shouting at her.

"Wait," she whispered. "I'm not sure I'm ready-"

"Oh, yes, you are," he murmured, drawing her closer.

She pushed at him with a frustrated whimper. "But you haven't explained – I need to know what happened? Where you went. Why you changed your-?

"All right," he smiled, hands flying up in the air. "Come, sit with me and I'll tell you about my trip." He led her back to the bench and took her hand between both of his. It might take hours to explain it to her, but he didn't care, as long as he didn't have to keep his hands off her. That would be impossible.

"Well, first, I went to Trieste. I have a boat there."

"You own a boat?"

"I own two boats, actually. One is a yacht, a long, sleek one for the Mediterranean. But the one I took out on this trip is just a simple little tub with a single sail, and no facilities to speak of. When I was younger, I liked to – well, I hadn't had it out on the water in years. It was stored in Trieste, so I just wandered around the Adriatic for a bit. A trip with no destination, really. I hardly saw another human being for three weeks. Then I went to London. To see my in-laws. And then Paris. I hadn't been there since my honeymoon."

"Why did you?"

He longed to kiss away her frown, which was an adorable mixture of trepidation and curiosity, but there would be time for that later. Instead, he found himself squeezing her hand, as though it was anchoring him in his struggle to explain it all to her. Even in the chaos of battle, Georg had always been able to think ten steps ahead, issuing crisp, clear commands without needing more than a moment to organize his thoughts. Now here he was, muddling through an explanation of something he barely understood himself, yet wanted desperately for her to understand. He could see that, in her innocence, she was looking for the truth in his words, not his actions. There was no other way through it but words, if she was going to learn to trust him.

"It's all your fault, you know. I'd trained myself not to think of her at all, when-" He nearly yelped at the surprisingly sharp pinch she administered to his upper arm; even through jacket and shirt it stung. "What was that for?"

"She had a name," Maria hissed.

"All right. Agathe. I had gotten very good at not thinking about Agathe, avoiding her memory. I was getting along just fine."

She rolled her eyes at his wry smile.

"Then you came along. Reminding me of what we lose when we don't have any memories at all. It turned out that the music was a comfort, and the children were - well, it wasn't so awful after all, letting myself remember her. So, you see, I'd just gotten Agathe back, in a way, but then - oh, hell, I can't make any sense of it myself, not talking about it this way. If you only would let me-"

"Go on," she prompted, trying not to notice that he'd rested a casual hand on her knee.

"You told me once that people are nothing without their memories. But the problem is, memories alone are not enough. It was damned unsatisfying to love a memory when there you were, Maria, standing there, loving me. A flesh and blood woman, who's courageous, and smart, and beautiful. A woman I wanted so much – the way you looked at me sometimes, I could hardly breathe!"

He hesitated, peering out into the night, as if he could find the right words written in the stars. "I had to go find out for myself," he paused, and then continued slowly, each word a revelation painfully won, "if I was brave enough to leave the memories where they belong. And let myself love you."

Maria frowned. "But when I came here, hadn't you already decided to get married again?" she asked.

"I could have been married to Elsa for fifty years and it would never have felt like a betrayal of Agathe's memory. This – it took me longer to accept. But I've got it worked out now, you see. Agathe will always be in my heart. Along with our children. And you. I want you by my side. All day, and, yes, especially at night. Those last few nights in Paris, I thought I would go out of my mind, I wanted you so much-"

"But – but that's just it!" She tried not to think about his hand gently squeezing her knee. "That came first, didn't it? I mean you wanted me, but you didn't love me."

"Ah. Well, for men," he paused. "It can be hard to tell the difference, sometimes. But if all I had wanted was," he cleared his throat, "that would not have been difficult to find. That kind of thing has nothing to do with what I feel for you."

There was a long silence, and then, very deliberately, he took her hand, turned it palm-up, and began to trail his finger across her palm to her wrist and beyond. With each stroke, he ventured a little higher along the silken-skinned inside of her arm, every caress leaving a trail of fire behind.

"You – you love me," she whispered.

"I do," he said gravely.

"Even though you said - I mean, I thought-" she fumbled. Her heart was beating so fiercely she could hear her pulse in her ears.

"Perhaps you should try not thinking for a change," Georg said slyly, but she persisted.

"You said you'd never be able to - you'd get this look on your face, like you were a million miles away. Like the time you found me in the nursery, playing the Edelweiss song. I wanted to cry, you looked so sad."

To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed.

"You would have cried, if you'd known what I was thinking. I was thinking about you, you goose. And how you were almost certainly naked under that nightgown. Or nearly so." He stroked his chin in mock deliberation. "And if she has knickers on, are they pink? Or white? Lace? Or plain?"

Every part of her turned hot, and her mouth went dry. How easily he could unsettle her, with just a few words! Now that he'd admitted to loving her, did that mean he wouldn't try to kiss her after all? Or would he - Maria stole a glance at him, and the look he gave her in return sucked the very breath from her lungs and made her feel so weak that she simply collapsed against him, listening to the familiar, reassuring drum of his heart.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out how to get around her defenses. She liked being petted, it turned out, practically vibrating under his touch. And although she would probably never admit it, he could see that she was drawn to his wicked side. He held her close and cupped a gentle hand around the back of her neck, where the skin was damp and warm, and played with the curls he found there, smiling at the shiver of her response. He was beginning to suspect that, convent or no, she might have quite a naughty side of her own.

"I do want you, Maria. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. I want you because I'm in love with you, and I will love you until I draw my last breath. And no, I haven't forgotten our agreement. You can have all the time you need. After we're married, I'll take you away, so it's just the two of us, and you'll get used to the idea. Of us, together. I promise you won't regret it."

She should have been put off by his tone – casual confidence bordering on arrogance – but she somehow, she found it reassuring. And anyway, his hand on her neck was so distracting, and her skin so tingled with the memory of his long fingers tickling her palm, that it was impossible to think very clearly about anything. Anything except -

"I-" she blurted, "-I have already been thinking about it, actually." She pulled away and forced herself to look straight at him. "Quite a lot. That's why I was willing to be with you in Vienna, if that was the only way." Maria swallowed her embarrassment, feeling the urgent need to explain herself to him. "When you first asked me, I was afraid I'd regret it, going with a man who said he couldn't love me. But while you were away, I began to think that I would regret it more if I lived my whole life without knowing what it was like to be with a man - no, the only man I could ever-"

Georg studied her flushed face, which held eagerness, anticipation, and very little fear. He was relieved; somehow, his fumbling attempts to explain himself had put her mind at ease. But there was also something about her direct approach and the look on her face that was all at once, artlessly innocent and deeply carnal, and set fire coursing through his veins. He willed away the rising tide, though, and tried to focus on what she was telling him.

"When my memory was lost," she was saying, "I clung to anything I did know about myself. Or thought I did. The music. Being a teacher. I was so sure I wasn't a 'Maria,' or the type of girl to cry buckets." She shot him a rueful smile, and then lapsed into silence, closing her eyes, arching her neck into his palm.

"But even though my memory returned, the old me didn't." Her voice was breathless, dreamy. "Living here changed me. I didn't want to stay at the Abbey anymore. What I wanted was you. At first, I didn't want to believe it. I was afraid that if I went with you, I would lose my heart entirely," she finished unsteadily, "but apparently that happened long ago."

"To both of us," he reminded her.

She swayed back against him, humming in wordless agreement.

He couldn't bear it any longer, sitting this close to her, her body supple and relaxed under his hand, her scent surrounding him. He realized that he was the experienced one, and that without some initiative on his part, she might think that they were supposed to exhaust themselves talking about all of it, when more words were the last thing either one of them needed. Now that she was calmer, less skittish of him, he knew exactly what they needed, in fact.

He removed his hand from her neck and rose to his feet, biting back a smile at her barely-discernible whimper of disappointment. "So, you were thinking about it," he said lightly, "being with me, is that right?"

She looked up at him and nodded slowly.

"Can you tell me what you were thinking?"

Her eyes dropped to her lap, and she shook her head, slowly again, side to side.

He extended his hand to pull her to her feet.

"Can you show me, Maria?"

Her blue eyes flew back to his face and grew wide, but she nodded and went into his arms without hesitation. Georg studied her face one last time before bringing his mouth to her ear, his voice low and urgent. "Are you ready to let me love you?"

Her squeak of permission was nearly lost in the onslaught. He plowed his hands into her hair and pulled her to him and then, holding nothing back, his mouth covered hers and he kissed her thoroughly, powerfully, until they were both breathless.

Each kiss made Maria hungrier for the next. Those kisses turned her inside out and upside-down, until the blood sang in her ears and she knew that she'd surely fly straight up into the clouds, or crumble to the floor, without his strong arms around her. Hold onto me, he had told her, and I'll hold onto you, and we will fall together, and so she dug her fingers into his shoulders, wondering at his grunt of pleasure in response. She had just enough presence of mind left to let her fingers wander to the back of his neck, weaving them through his soft hair before giving a gentle tug. Another grunt, and then his hands began to explore and she forgot herself entirely.

He dragged his mouth from hers, exploring her neck until he found a spot behind her ear that made her cry out. Alarmed, he pulled away, loosening his hold on her abruptly. She staggered backward a bit until he caught her around the waist and steadied her.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, she gasped, "I just never-"

"Never what, love?"

"I've never been kissed that way before. Even if I forgot everything all over again, I would never forget that."

"You're not scared of a kiss, are you?" his smile was tender, though there was something dark and predatory in his eyes.

"I think I've finally figured out that your bark is worse than your bite," she declared, and then dissolved in helpless giggles when he bent to bite gently at her neck.

He couldn't get enough of her, the way she trembled and shivered and squirmed in his arms, or the adorable way she tried to carry on a conversation at a time when words were superfluous.

"I – ehrm – I took your advice," she informed him.

"Hm?" She smelled delicious, like lemons and mint and – oh, God - aroused woman.

"You said to hold onto you, so we could fall together."

There was no mistaking the curve of his smile against her neck.

"What? What did I do? What's so funny?"

"I was thinking of something else when I said that," he told her, straightening up, "but never mind that. Look, Maria," he said, more seriously now. "Are you sure? I don't want you to make another choice you'll regret down the road. Your life will be very different now, different from anything you ever imagined."

"Regrets? Other than having to get used to a new name after all? No." She gave him a bewitching smile. "The love between a man and a woman can be holy too, I'm certain of it."

He laughed. "That settles it. Now you just have to decide about the honeymoon. I'll take you anywhere you want to go." He waited for her to choose Paris, because of course what else would she pick? He thought he was brave enough to try it, too. But she surprised him.

"I want to see your boat. The little one."

He shook his head. "No you don't. It's cramped and filthy. And barely big enough for two! The only thing it's good for is the smaller islands, which don't usually have much of a harbor. Traveling with that boat means camping and cooking over fires and sleeping on the ground. Not much of a honeymoon, I'd say."

"I saw the look on your face when you told me that bit. It was your favorite part of your trip, and I know I'll love it the best too," she said firmly. "You can show me the other places another time."

"Wouldn't you rather go somewhere with delicious food and soft beds?" he coaxed. "Like Paris! With history and art and music? Why burn fish over a campfire when you can have all the macarons you can eat?" As he spoke, he slid his hands along the curve of her waist and lower. But then the slender shape of her in his hands made him think of other things: soft sand and hidden sapphire-blue coves. His bride, floating next to him, wearing nothing but freckles, a blush, and a smile.

Before he knew what he was doing, Georg had hauled her against him for another kiss. The roar of his heart in his ears made it impossible to hear the small, stern voice in his head that was trying, without success, to remind him to take things slowly. But it didn't matter. She was hungry for everything he had to give her, her mouth lush and demanding under his, her body fitting to his as though she couldn't possibly get close enough to him.

Maria could feel his hands moving restlessly, everywhere he could reach, as though his very touch branded her, and the heat of his body through his clothes soaked into her skin and shimmered in her veins. By the time he released her, she was fairly sure she'd seen stars, even with her eyes closed against the night sky.

They stood facing each other, gasping for breath, staring at each other in astonished disbelief at what had been unleashed between them.

"Please," she gasped. "D-don't."

"Don't what?" He ran his hands through his hair, eying her with bewilderment, as though, having known her for months, he was just noticing her for the first time.

"Don't apologize."

"Why-" Georg took a deep breath, and managed, "why would I do that?" He was quite certain he hadn't even a wisp of chivalrous instinct left in his possession. Had they not been in a glass building furnished only with narrow stone benches, he'd have had her on her back by now. "I have no intention of apologizing."

She broke into a grin. "That's the kind of thing that makes me love you."

"I thought it was because of the children."

"Not only the children, no."

"Then at least it's my money. Or my good looks."

She rolled her eyes.

"Or because I want you more than I've ever wanted anything and you want me in return? Don't try to deny it, either, darling."

"I do," Maria said shyly, "I do want you, but what I meant to say is only that you - you are so sure about everything. Although it does make you very bossy. You said I would find my memory again, and I did. And now, when you kiss me, I just know everything will turn out fine, you see," and then she paused. "Aren't you going to tell me why you love me?"

There was a sudden lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow away. All he could do was draw her close again, and bury his face in the golden silk of her hair, until at last he finally found a few words that were wholly inadequate for the task.

"Oh, my love. My darling girl."

This. This kind of love, so fierce, so precious he could barely speak of it aloud. This was the heart of him, Maria thought. She'd caught glimpses of it from the start, but he'd kept it well hidden behind his keen mind, his intimidating physical presence, even his grief. She was sure of one thing: there was only one other person who'd known him this way, and she was no longer living.

And so they stood in the middle of the old gazebo, clinging to each other, while the lake murmured against the shore. A breeze sprang up, rustling the leaves in the trees around them.

At last, Georg cleared his throat and spoke. "About the honeymoon. Why don't you let me surprise you?" A plan was already forming in his mind.

"Y-yes. You're the one with the experience, after all," she said, and then immediately regretted it. It was going to be awfully complicated, being a second wife. All Maria had meant to say that, as far as she was concerned, if she could have those kisses for breakfast, lunch and dinner, she didn't much care where they went. "How long will it be until – I mean, when can we get married?"

"Today, if possible," he said promptly, and when she laughed, he added, "I am a very powerful man, Maria. I have half a mind to haul the mayor of Salzburg out of bed to do the deed, just to prove it to you. But we ought to have a proper wedding. In the cathedral, with a choir and you in a long white dress, with a veil. And the Archbishop."

"I don't want that kind of wedding," she objected. "I wasn't going to have any kind of wedding until a few hours ago! Can't we just wait until morning and ask the mayor then?"

"But the girls will be so disappointed," he countered. "That's what we ought to do, you know. Why don't we ask the children? We'll let them decide."

"That's ridiculous," Maria said. "It's not the kind of decision to leave to a bunch of children! Although I can't wait to tell them the news. You have no idea how hard it was to keep from them! The older ones will still be awake," and she turned to look back up the hill, at the villa, where a few upstairs windows still glowed with golden light.

"Let's go and see, shall we?" he asked.

His arm curled around her shoulders and drew her close, and her arm went around his waist in return, as naturally as though they'd walked arm-in-arm a thousand times before, and would a thousand times more. The kind of everyday gesture another person would hardly bother to remember.

But Maria didn't take her memories for granted. She thought about how, when she'd come to the villa, she'd lost not only her memories, but the love that came with them: her parents, Uncle Kurt, her friends, her life at Nonnberg. Now her memories had been restored to her, along with love in greater measure than she could ever have dreamed. Ahead of her lay a life with new memories to be made, memories she could not even imagine.

"Ready?" he asked, gently urging her out of the gazebo and toward the villa.

"I'm ready," she said.

Then together they climbed the hill toward home, where their family waited for them.

THE END

And, alas, that is the official end of my story! Except it's not, because having learned the hard way how unhappy one's readers can be when I think my story is over and they do not, I do promise you a nice long epilogue which will at least resolve matters as to the wedding and Georg's mysterious honeymoon plan. Till then, thank you for your patience waiting for this last official chapter, and thank you so much for what has been one of my favorite-ever experiences as a TSOM fanfic writer!

Some random notes about this chapter: those who have read Maria's memoir may recognize bits from her childhood, the scene on the glacier and her arrival at the Abbey. Also, Georg in this story is a perfect example of how a character creates himself outside the author's sphere of control. This Georg obviously is a lusty fellow. He's never going to be able to separate love from passion. I didn't intend to make him that way but he just … is.

Please leave me a review, especially if you want to see the epilogue! (I'm not above threats). Don't own, all for love.