"I don't know about you," I speak softly so as not to startle her, rapping my knuckles lightly against her open office door. "But today has not been a very productive one for me."

She looks up and offers a weary smile. "I know what you mean," she agrees, fiddling with her pen and resting her cheek against the heel of her hand. "There is simply too much to wrap my head around, especially when I can't focus to begin with."

I nudge the door shut and move over to the window, twisting the blinds closed. My visit to her office is purely personal. She hasn't been out of my sight for days and it seems odd to have been without her these last few hours. Something in me needs to know she's hanging in there. I intend to ask both how she is and expect an honest answer. It might not be necessary to shutter the blinds, but I know she dislikes any public display of vulnerability. Surely, she won't want to be seen as people walk by – and it also ensures Kenna understands my expectation that she play guard dog and hold everyone at bay.

Since she made the phone call to Tomás on Wednesday afternoon, I've tried to give Mary every opportunity to back out, but she's stubborn, this one. So headstrong once she makes up her mind.

Stepping to the side of the desk, I pull her up out of her seat and loop my arms around her waist, my forearms angled down and resting across her hips.

"I know you're uncertain about tonight," I tell her. She leans into me, her head falling against my chest. I bring her body closer to mine, tightening my grip. "But they've assured me – and remember, I'm the tough sell here." A chuckle escapes at my attempt to bring humor to our circumstances. "They assure me everything will be fine, that the restaurant will be secure and that we will both be safe."

"But what if … " I cut her off, holding a finger to her lips. While in Vermont these last few days, we discussed every concern, every contingency. There's no need to dredge any of it back up at this point.

"Everything will be fine. We'll eat dinner, they'll search his office, and we'll finally get to go home. You'll see." She drops her head directly back from its place under my chin to eye me skeptically as I finish speaking. I move a hand up to her neck, my fingers hiding beneath her hair – tangling their way into the dark curls.

I tilt my head down and catch her lower lip between my own. Only meant as a gesture of reassurance, she surprises me with her eager response in deepening the kiss. She unwillingly releases me as her phone signals an incoming call.

"Let it go to voicemail," I urge. "Why don't we get out of here?" One of her brows pops up as she cranes her neck to gauge my level of seriousness. I shrug. "It's Friday. We're both struggling to stay focused. Let's just go."

She answers by stepping out of my arms to grab her bag, stuffing back into it a few items from the day. I turn to reopen the blinds and wander out the door to inform Kenna that we will both be leaving, even though it is only early afternoon.

I feel Mary's hand brush up against mine before her fingers entwine with my own.

"Let's go."

As the driver pulls to a stop at the curb, I marvel at Tomás choosing a Mediterranean bistro in Central Park West to dine at this evening. It certainly isn't my style – sleek, modern decor with classic cuisine in little portions. My mother would love it.

We ascend the steps, her hand at my elbow. If it were any other night, I'd allow myself to be distracted by the lacy red dress she wears, but I know I have to keep myself in check tonight. It will take everything I have to keep her calm enough to get through this meal without giving anything away.

Checking in with the maître'd, we are escorted to where Tomás and his colleague, a Mr. Vincent LaConte, await our arrival. I take a moment to look at Mary, making sure she's ready to walk into this dinner. She takes a deep breath and nods, slipping her hand down to mine and squeezing to indicate her determination to move forward with the evening.

"Ah, Mary! Francis!" Tomás receives us enthusiastically, shaking my hand and offering Mary's a light kiss upon her knuckles. He then turns to introduce his companion. "Vincent, this is Francis Valois and Mary Stuart; Francis and Mary, please meet my business partner, Vincent LaConte." We exchange the required handshakes and sit, our knees finding their way beneath the cream-colored linens.

"Do not worry about appetizers," Tomás says, pointing to our menus. "We have already taken the liberty of ordering a few of our favorites." The waiter returns shortly, bearing a bottle of Riesling requested by Vincent, and takes our orders.

Polite chit-chat tends to be my least favorite part of any social gathering, small or large. In this case, however, it seems to be the safest course of action, so I work hard at it. I ask Vincent what role he plays at Aviz. I even hold my own discussing San Francisco's finest attributes with Tomás as he laments over his desire and inability to spend more time at home, something for which I'm impressed with myself because I loathe San Francisco.

"You should guard her close, Valois," Vincent drawls in a manner that makes me never want to let Mary out of my sight. I don't like his use of my last name, as though we have a long, chummy history. He laughs as he jokes, "Or someone might steal her away!" At least I hope he's joking, both because Mary has gone rigid in the seat next to me and to prevent me from doing something I probably shouldn't in such a nice establishment.

"Have you set a date for the wedding?" he queries, taking note of Mary's ring after the appetizers have been laid before us. I doubt he knows as little as he lets on, but I play along. I sense her breathing more easily anyway, her hand alighting on my leg under the table.

"We were thinking sometime in the fall, perhaps a year from September. Isn't that right, darling?" Glancing over at Mary, I see her business smile well at work as she sips from her water glass.

"Yes, though it does seem so far away at times," her eyes lock on mine as she replaces the glass next to her plate. I see so much in those depths that I can't begin to entertain tonight. "So much of it will naturally fall to Francis' mother to plan, particularly if I am on the West Coast for a year or two while assisting with my father's company."

"Of course we would love for the wedding to be sooner," I concede to the men. "But you know how society engagements go – so much to consider and show off with the affair that they require years to orchestrate all of the details." I find Mary's gaze again and drop a wink, chuckling. "Perhaps I can convince her to just elope with me one of these days and avoid the whole thing altogether." Wouldn't that be nice?

The two men join in our laughter before Tomás takes a more serious tone, shifting our conversation away from innocuous topics and toward the reason for our meal.

"Should she decide to come to San Francisco and work for Aviz, I fear it would put a strain on your relationship, Francis. Particularly as we would hope to have her as a long-term employee," he states clearly. His smile reflects an iciness that I don't particularly like. As I've mentioned to Mary before, I simply do not trust the man. His colleague, this Vincent character, comes across as an even smarmier human being. For the first time tonight, I do truly wonder what I've allowed her to walk into by coming here.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I excuse myself to take a look at it, citing some of the Valois staff working late on legal matters. It's a text message from David, the point person for tonight's operation: 'We've gotten into the building. Beginning search.'

I tuck the device back away and wait for a good time to re-enter the conversation.

"Ms. Stuart, we do so hope you will choose to come work for us," rattles off Vincent. "Tomás has shared with me so much of your history. It would truly be an honor to work with such a natural talent in our company's fledgling years."

Not many words can be inserted edgewise, as Mary unobtrusively mines for information about the position and the city, for details of how much opportunity she would have to engage with Stuart Tech. As expected, Tomás and Vincent flatter her in every possible way – offering everything in their power to sway her decision. All I can do is sit and listen and hope that, just across town, the search team finds what it needs to put this ordeal behind us and bring the responsible party to account.

"All I want," I manage to interject at a rare lull. "Is to make sure Mary is taken care of." Assuming the dutiful fiancé must be brought to the forefront of my behavior at some point, I layer on the concerned charm and extend my fingers so they can rest across the back of hers where they have moved to lay upon the table. "If she decides she must go, I understand her reasons and will be at her side as she makes that decision. I wish there were more we could do at Valois, but it appears our options are particularly limited right now."

I spy a little moisture gathering in her eyes as I turn in my chair to get a better look at her. The weight of the evening has begun to settle on her, the reality of just what is at stake again threatening to accost her heart with fear. I've seen that look too many times since Monday to not recognize it.

"But we'll figure that out if we come to it, won't we, darling?" I ask, letting my eyes match hers and linger for a moment as the waiter delivers our entrées. I want to be sure she can continue with this, searching for even just a small sign that she hasn't yet given up.

For the second time, my phone buzzes. This time it reads, 'Finishing up. Good chance your dinner companions might already know what is up, as staff member just questioned what we were up to. Sending reinforcements. Stall leaving as long as possible.'

A surprise trace of fear works its way up my spine. If they are sending reinforcements, that must mean they don't believe us – Mary, in particular – to be safe. I force myself to remain calm, knowing that the moment Mary sees me spook even in the slightest, all her work tonight will be lost. Our food provides a welcome diversion, the four of us enjoying our plates in silence and limited conversation for the first time since our arrival. Somehow even the others guests in the dining room keep their voices to a delightful, subdued hum.

I offer to order another bottle of wine, but Tomás and Vincent decline, claiming an early flight back to San Francisco and the need to get back to their hotel to prepare. Scrambling for something to keep them there, I come up empty. It has been a good twenty minutes since my last text from David. How long does it take to get extra men here?

They finish their last bites and Tomás sits back in his chair.

"So, Mary," he begins, his expression intent. "If I may be so bold, may I ask your intentions for this offer? It has been on the table for several weeks now. Surely, you must know in what direction you're leaning."

Vincent, too, has turned his full attention to Mary. Mary, wide-eyed at being put on the spot, dabs her napkin at her mouth and looks to me before answering.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a tempting offer." Her words measured, I can tell she's trying to draw out the revelation that she has no intention of taking the job. "The opportunity alone to be close to Sacramento again would be something out of a dream," she gushes. I can't help the commentary that runs through my own mind. Or out of a nightmare. The bluff should come next, if she continues as planned.

"My father's company, however, cannot replace either the family I have lost or the family I have found with Francis and his parents. To me, that means the world right now." She recites her lines like a professional, adding in just the right touch of earnest emotion needed to sell it.

"Even if they cannot help at this time, I want to trust that they will be able to do so in the future. I have only recently begun to put down long-overdue roots here in the city – I did not know that you hoped I might stay on for many years to come, Tomás. As lovely and as generous as the offer is, I think it very unlikely I will be relocating to join you at Aviz." A sympathetic smile turns its way up at her lips. "I am so sorry, Tomás. I do so very much appreciate everything you've offered to me and to the memory of my father. I can never repay your kindness."

As she speaks, I keep my eyes trained on Tomás to see how he reacts. Whatever he does know or suspect, his expression doesn't give anything away. Vincent, too, comes across a stoically unflappable personage. I'd be impressed if I didn't know they plan to trade Mary's last link to her father as a bargaining chip to further their own interests.

"I am sorry to hear that, Mary," expresses Tomás. "Though I do certainly understand the desire to keep your family close, after all that happened with your father." The way he says 'father' makes me want to leap across the table and hit him squarely in the jaw. He's well-aware of the game he's playing with Mary and I feel my blood start to churn. Hopefully, the night will end soon. I'm not sure how much more of this underhanded taunting Mary can take before she cracks under the strain of it all. Thankfully, I've just received one last text from David, relaying that reinforcements have arrived.

"Ah, well," Tomás continues, hastily scrawling a signature on the check the waiter has just dropped by. "I'm sure you will inform me if you change your mind. You would be a welcome addition to our staff at any time. Please let me know if you are ever in San Francisco." He signals with a dip of his head to Vincent, who pushes his chair back. "It's time we were headed back to our hotel."

Tomás, too, pushes back from the table and rises. We stand up with them, shaking hands and exchanging goodbyes. And then – just like that – they're gone.

I hear Mary breathe audibly to my left. "Are you all right?" I ask, dropping a light kiss onto her temple. She nods that she is as she drinks the last of her wine. Soon enough, we'll be on our way home, where I hope she'll finally be able to relax – this whole week and its terrors behind her.

"I'm just going to use the ladies' room and then we can head home," she says, getting up from the table and looking behind her toward the entrance, where the restroom resides. "Meet me at the front in five minutes?"

She drags her hand across my shoulder blades as she walks away. I pull out my phone to check my email while I wait, thumbing through several from my father about getting us back on track to meet our deadlines. Something tells me next week will be fun.

After a few minutes, I slide out of my seat and make my way toward the front door. I know it has been at least five minutes, but Mary is nowhere to be seen.

"Mary, where are you?" I mutter to myself, standing by the door and watching as people both enter and leave through it. Looking around, I have a hard time stilling my foot, which seems to want to tap in impatience tonight. I am really looking forward to being home again.

My phone dings in my pocket, having been switched out of its silent mode. I reach for it. As I glimpse the words on the screen, my heart clenches and my feet move quickly through the door and out into the night – 'Don't panic, but Mary is outside with us.'

I step out to the curb and see a crowd gathered around a few officers who have Tomás and Vincent pinned up against a police car. My eyes frantically scan the sidewalk for one person, hunting for the red of her dress. Off to the side, away from the crowd and close to the building, I spot her. An officer talks with her, presumably taking her statement from the notebook in his hand. I still have no idea what happened or why she appears to be hyperventilating and my thoughts swim as a result, with only one pressing to the forefront: I want to be at her side.

Pushing my way over, I arrive as the man hands her a business card and walks toward the source of the commotion. She has begun to fall back toward the wall when I catch her up in my arms, her tremors spreading out into my body. "It's all right," I whisper into her hair. I can't seem to hold her close enough. "I'm here."

The middle of the night finds me in my room, not yet ready for sleep. Instead, I take the opportunity to unpack a few things from our time away – trying my best to settle into the idea that we're back home and finally safe within its walls. The menial nature of the task prevents me from focusing too much on what Mary revealed of the ten minutes that elapsed between her leaving me at our table and my finding her outside of the restaurant.

Stashing my socks in a drawer, I shut it and cross the room to retrieve shoes from my bag and return them to my closet. A gun. Mary's words come back to me as my feet shuffle across the floorboards. He intercepted her as she left the restroom and threatened her with a gun.

I pick up the shoes and turn toward the closet. My jaw sets itself, teeth grinding together at the thought that Tomás had physically tried to abduct her because she didn't want to work for him in San Francisco – therefore keeping him from fulfilling his end of the bargain with Tudor. If the officers hadn't been busy wrestling him and Vincent into a car for transport to the nearest jail for holding, I would have pounded into at least one of them without any sort of hesitation or mercy. How dare they?

I set the pair on a low shelf and return to empty the last of my bag, moving it from my bed to my desk and making a mental note to have Stephen return it to storage in the morning.

The door creaks open behind me. I look over my shoulder to see Mary, bashfully standing in its opening in a thin nightgown. With one glance at her, I see her evident exhaustion, but she seems to be seeking more than just rest. "I couldn't sleep," her voice drifts across the room, her eyes darting about.

"Mary – " I don't quite know what to say, but I begin to close the distance between us. She has a way of leaving my mind a bit foggy.

"Why?" she asks, suddenly flailing against me with her arms as I arrive in front of her. Her tone grows louder and more insistent with each word that follows. "Why did you come with me tonight? You didn't know those other men would be there – "

"Mary, stop!" I interject gently but firmly, trying to corral her flying arms without hurting her. She pushes me around the room, closer to my bed.

"He knew what he was doing – he would have hurt you if you had gotten in his way! Why would you do something so stupid?" Every word laced with desperation, she verges once more on the brink of breaking down completely, tiny fists assaulting my chest. I find an opening and affix my hands on both sides of her neck, forcing her to still if only for a moment. Before I can catch them, four words slip out of my mouth.

"Because I love you!"

They surprise even me, though I know from the instant they leave my lips that they are undoubtedly true.

"What?" I feel her body go limp under my fingers, her confusion surfacing. She shakes her head, quickly re-tracing our conversation to uncover the origins of my declaration.

"Because it's pretty obvious now that, for you to be safe, we need to be together." The words tumble out and I realize I truly believe them. The only one I trust to keep her safe is me.

"But what about your father's determination to control our lives?" she asks, anxiety taking hold again after all that has transpired in the last few hours. I realize that to allow her to continue talking will result only in further worry for her. I make up my mind to prevent her from talking – and I cut her off with a simple kiss.

It amuses me how my action throws her a little, obviously so. I watch as she tries to regain her train of thought, to continue back down her path toward fear. "But what about Valois? And my father's comp–" I wrap my arm around her waist, drawing her to myself this time – the kiss deeper, longer. I refuse to let her be anxious. She's safe. She's with me.

This time, she responds, maddeningly sifting her fingers through the hair at my neck. And, as we pull away from one another, she doesn't say anything.

"There has been entirely too much thinking going on," I remark, holding her eyes for a long moment. I fully intend to keep her distracted, which is why I kiss her again. While I savor the taste of her, I direct us slowly toward my bed. If nothing else, perhaps she'll be able to sleep in here tonight. I warned her against the stubborn need to sleep in her own room, but I won't gloat at her inability to do so – she doesn't need that. Instead, I'll just welcome her into my bed. I've grown quite fond of having her next to me anyway.

As we situate ourselves on top of the covers, she seeks out my mouth, playfully sweeping her tongue at a corner of my upper lip. I sense my self-control beginning to weaken as she hooks her heel around my calf and her nightgown drifts upward, exposing even more of her thigh. If I don't make sure right now that she wants where our bodies are quickly taking us, I won't have the resolve to stop myself.

"Mary," I withdraw just enough to look her in the eye, nose grazing nose. As much as it would be difficult to put my desire for her on hold, I need to know she wants this – that she wants to know me in this way, as I unquestionably want to know her.

"Tell me when you want me to stop."

The request hangs between us, my vision locked on the two amber pools before me. At the pause in activity, oxygen floods in and our breathing slows.

"Never," she replies softly, her voice rife with need. Before I can fully register her consent, she has returned her lips to mine. Never? Her teeth tug gently at my lower lip, fingers gliding under my shirt and stroking circles against my skin.

I think I can accommodate that.

Author's Notes: A special thank you to all of my guest reviewers. Obviously, I can't respond to your comments individually, but I do read and appreciate them greatly! Thank you for sticking out this story with me. In total, I think this chapter was more than 9k words, something I never thought I'd do. This story certainly has taken on a life of its own. It's been really fun to play with stretching the narrative, but I'm also looking forward to getting back to the 16th century! Look for the epilogue (much shorter than the last few chapters, but not necessarily "short") sometime next week. As always, reviews are loved and I enjoy hearing your thoughts! :)

Disclaimer: As with the last section, dialogue for this chapter was pulled from episodes 103-107. Those are not mine. Modifications and plot are, as is David's disembodied text-wielding fiend of a character. ;)