At last, Ichabod looked up triumphantly from his sketch.
"I have finished!" he announced, looking quite pleased. He handed the drawing to Anabelle for inspection. His smile faltered as he thought about the supplies he would need.
"Masbeth?" he called tentatively. "Young Masbeth?!" When there was no reply, Ichabod looked at Anabelle concernedly. "Where did he get off to?"

Anabelle laughed. "To get a new door, Ichabod. Ours is off its hinges."
She rose from the bed to peer out the window. She could see Young Masbeth riding in the front of a delivery carriage with a man in a brown cap.
"Rupert is coming down the street now with a new one," she returned to the bed, glancing down at the sketch. She took a deep breath. Ichabod surely had a lot of faith in her if he thought she could construct something like that...

"Oh, good," Ichabod said. "I am going to have him go and get the supplies..." He paused, wondering how to phrase his next thought. "I would really rather not have you outside without me, alright?" He reached over and touched her hand gently. "Sorry. It isn't that I don't trust you, of course, but I don't trust...anyone else around you."

Anabelle smiled at Ichabod's words. She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "I understand. I have never had so devoted a protector. Thank you."
She looked up into his eyes, her own sparkling.

Ichabod's grin had a distinct glow now. He reached out and took both of her hands, pulling her back onto his lap.
"You're welcome," he said into her ear, his lips brushing her flesh. "Now that I am temporarily done with work until we get this built... do you think that you could still be considered a distraction? Or are you now my main focus?"

Anabelle's breath hitched in her chest. Without any thought, she slightly inclined her head to allow easier access to her ear, jawline and neck.
"I believe that all depends on what you think," she managed as her eyelids fluttered closed.

"I do not know what I think," Ichabod said, running his lips in a trail from her ear to her jaw. "However, I certainly wish that it could be so that you are always in the center of my attention. If only that good-for-nothing boss of mine would leave me be."

"Soon this will all be over, Ichabod," Anabelle relaxed in his arms. "And somehow I doubt your boss will be back as long as I'm here...unless he finds some reason or another to arrest me."
Ichabod's fingers began to brush against the skin of her shoulder.
"If I could be the center of your attention," she began, her eyes still closed against the sensation of his fingertips brushing her skin. "Is this what it would be like?"
She shivered, his lips stopped at her neck, just resting against her pulse. Her hands trailed up and down his back.

"If you like," Ichabod murmured. "If you could be at the center of my attention, you could do whatever you wanted. It would be what you wish." His lips worked slowly at her pulse until a light purple-colored mark arose there. He pulled back, peered at the peculiar marking, and frowned. "It is probably a good thing, that everyone thinks us married, is it not?"

Anabelle fought to control her breathing as Ichabod's lips gently worked her pulse. The sensation was dizzying and intoxicating. She felt him pull away and forced herself to focus on the words he spoke.

"I think," she opened her eyes to meet his, surprised to see what passion was burning in the shy constable's eyes. "I think it is a very good thing."

Ichabod grinned before setting his mouth upon her cherry lips once more. It was another minute before he pulled away. He looked up at her, brow furrowed slightly.
"Are you alright, Ana?" he asked. "You are breathing strangely..." He had a sneaky suspicion of why that was. "You can relax. If you want me to stop, tell me. I will respect you, and your space..."

Anabelle opened her eyes to meet his. Ichabod really was incredibly sweet. She smiled before setting her lips to his.
"Don't stop," she murmured the second before she pressed her lips to his.

"Yes ma'am," Ichabod said, laughing lightly before returning his tender kiss to her neck. Another slight mark appeared on her neck, then another, as he roamed across the skin, softly drawing it in. There was a knock on the door, which Ichabod had closed when Anabelle had been leading him back to the bed. Reluctantly, Ichabod detached his lips from to spot just between her neck and chin, and looked around at the door. He glanced briefly to Anabelle, shrugging helplessly. Then he called out to whoever was standing at the door, "Come in!"

Anabelle smiled and shook her head, her long hair falling over her shoulder, covering the marks Ichabod had left. She pulled herself from Ichabod's lap and reached for her book, burying her nose in it. Ichabod reached over and, with a laugh, turned it right side up.

Just as he had set it back into her hands, the door opened and Masbeth poked his head into the room.
"Sir? The new door is here. They are putting it up for you now, and then said they will calculate the cost," the young man explained. "And...um, is there anything else you need?"
"Yes!" Ichabod said quickly, waving the boy over. He scribbled down a quick list and handed it to Masbeth, who looked down and scanned over it blankly. "I need for you to go get these things if you would. It's for making this." He handed him the sketch for a second, then snatched it away again carefully. "So I can get to the city hall and do something...useful."
"Oh! Yes, sir. I'm right on it." Masbeth nodded, and then turned and hurried from the room, shopping list in hand.

Anabelle watched Young Masbeth scurry out the door with Ichabod's shopping list.
"Please remind me to make him stay for dinner," Anabelle looked up from her book. "He's been running all over the city for me and I believe I owe Rupert a banquet."
She glanced sideways at Ichabod.
"Are you quite relieved to be getting out of bed soon? I'm sure you're anxious to be up and about...although personally I can't say I've minded the delay; I just wish it hadn't had to be so painful for you."

"Ah, but it hasn't been so bad," Ichabod said. "The pain lessens when you have a lovely woman sitting with you the majority of the time." He reached over and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "In fact, I'd much prefer waiting to get up until I'm fully healed, but that isn't exactly an option right now, is it?"

Anabelle's cheeks flushed. She had never particularly thought of herself as "lovely." It wasn't that she found herself plain, in fact, she thought she was rather pretty, but "lovely" wasn't something she'd used to describe herself. And yet, Ichabod had called her "lovely." She wet her lips, raking the lower through her teeth as she watched his thumb stroke over the back of her hand. Anabelle turned hers over, catching his and lacing their fingers together. When he met her eyes, she simply smiled, knowing her cheeks were still a tell-tale pink.

Ichabod raised an eyebrow at her, his thumb now stroking hers instead.
"Say something..." he whispered, watching her lips carefully. "Say...anything at all. Possibly a thing that you have never before said."

Anabelle paused. Something she had never said before. Her pulse quickened as one particular thing came to mind...
Nervously, she wet her lips again, repeating the raking of her lower lip through her teeth, watching Ichabod's thumb caress hers before looking into his eyes.
"Ichabod," her voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "I..." she took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? "I...have never felt this way about anyone before."
Anabelle looked down at their intertwined hands, studying the matching wedding bands that encircled their fingers. Could she possibly...?
"And, I...I am not sure I will ever feel this way about anyone else," she whispered almost inaudibly. "About anyone but you..."

Ichabod smiled brilliantly as he pulled her to him and hugged her, entwining his fingers into her dark hair.
"I," he began, but his smiled slipped from his face like a drop of rain down a window pane. He could not think of a reply to that. "I haven't either" or "I never have felt this way as well"... He could say it, but it was a downright lie. She would know it. He had felt this way before, about Katrina. He could not deny it was different, but yet so similar. He closed his eyes.
Would any of this have happened if Katrina were still alive? Where would Anabelle be now if she were? Shaking his head, Ichabod sighed, unable to think of a sufficient reply.
"I'm glad you feel that way," he whispered, knowing full well he sounded like an idiot.

Anabelle wrapped her arms around Ichabod, pulling his body flat against hers. Her quickened breathing caused her chest to rise and fall against his. After a moment, she pulled away to meet his eyes. Her gaze softened as she saw him glance away. He looked uncomfortable and a little embarrassed, and if she were to guess why, she would say it was because he was unable to reply in words similar to her own.
With all the tenderness she could manage, she brought her hand to cup his chin, bringing his eyes to hers.
"It's all right," her tone was gentle and her smile was soft. "It was just something I thought I should tell you."
All of a sudden, she felt a little unsure of herself. Her gaze faltered for a second, but when it returned to his, she studied the depths of his dark eyes. Once again, they were pulling her in, making her forget about anything else in all of creation, making her forget any uncertainty she had.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, no, Ana! The other way," Ichabod was saying, frustration and laughter lacing his voice. It was nearly three hours later and the construction of the splint was nearly complete, but Anabelle was having some difficulty tightening the final bindings. "Here, bring it here. I will help you," he said gently, holding out his hands to her and smiling. Upon seeing her slight annoyance at not being able to get it right, Ichabod brushed back her hair and chuckled. "Don't worry... I am not entirely sure I can get it either."

Anabelle handed him the contraption, her hands dirty, a smudge across her nose. She glared at the piece that had given her so much trouble. It had taken a good deal of her time, and most of her patience, to even get the bindings this far. Although she did not mind Ichabod's help, especially since he knew what he was doing, she rather liked the idea of completing the project herself. Why, she had no idea, but the thought appealed to her.
Anabelle watched as Ichabod's fingers worked with precision over this invention of his. She marveled at how he could understand something like this...how to fashion it, put it together, make it work.
Hearing him call her name several times brought her from her musings. Actually, he had called her "Ana." She couldn't help but smile.
"I like when you call me that."

Ichabod looked up at her, his hands freezing where they were. He furrowed his eyebrows and gave her a strange look.
"C-call you what?" he asked. "Ana?" He smiled and shrugged. "I hardly noticed I was doing it. I'm glad you don't mind. Anyways, come here. You do this last one yourself." He reached over and took her hands in his setting them in a specific way on the contraption and showing her how to correctly attach the binding. Then, slowly, he pulled his own hands away and watched her expectantly.

For a moment she just looked at him. Then she drew a deep breath and began to work the bindings. It took her more time than it did for him, but she got it fastened. She let her hands linger, glancing back at Ichabod.
"Did I do it right?"

"Perfect," Ichabod said, smiling. He slowly sat up further and scooted towards the edge of the bed, holding on tightly to Anabelle's hand. He looked slightly nervous about trying out the splint, but did his best to appear optimistic. "Alright," he started, pulling the splint from her hands and setting it down on the floor carefully beside his injured leg. "Let us try this out..." It was a short splint, just long enough to cover his knee and prevent it from bending. Most would probably think that it was very overdone for what it was for, but not Ichabod. He looked proudly at his newest invention before turning to Anabelle and blushing.
"I...will need you to leave the room," he said, embarrassed. "It must go beneath my trouser leg and...well..."

Anabelle averted her eyes, slightly embarrassed at the thought of remaining if Ichabod was going to be in such a state of undress. She closed her eyes, brushing the stubborn locks that hung in his eyes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I will be downstairs, then," she replied. "Should I send Rupert up, in case you need assistance? Some of those bindings look difficult to attach."

"Er, no," Ichabod replied, shaking his head and looking, now, even more embarrassed. "I will manage, I think. It should not be too difficult." In truth, he never before had had so much as his shirt off in front of anyone before, only his vest and jacket, with the exception of what had happened upon his last visit to Sleepy Hollow. He nodded and smiled as Anabelle left the room, then breathed a sigh of relief and started to slip of he suspenders and undo to buckle of his trousers.

Instead of going to the kitchen to start dinner preparations as she originally planned, Anabelle wandered off in the direction of the library. Quickly scanning the shelves, she discovered a book with an interesting title and plucked it carefully from the shelf. She retraced her steps to sit at the foot of the stairs and await Ichabod's completion of fastening the contraption to his leg.
The book was a terrible distraction. In fact, it did not hold her attention past the first seven words. Oh, no, her mind would drift to Ichabod. Anabelle had never expected to come to know him so well or care for him as more than her cousin's husband, yet she could not say she was regretting either. She hoped that in whatever afterlife Katrina was in, she would not mind, or at least not begrudge any happiness Anabelle brought to Ichabod. However, somehow Anabelle truly doubted this...once she had lost Katrina's ice skate on accident and Katrina had never let her forget it. Now, Anabelle had somehow managed to turn the thoughts of the shy constable who was head-over-heels for Katrina...Anabelle shuddered at what Katrina's reaction would be...the ice skate incident was bad enough.
Unconsciously she began to trace the outline of another symbol on the stair with her finger. Perhaps letting herself get so close to Ichabod was not a wise move. However, she knew he would never let her go...not with the Horseman on the loose or the magistrate against her. Deep down she hoped, maybe...just maybe...there could be another reason, one she barely dared to imagine at the time.
The symbol stood barely visible in the dust from the calamity over the door. A symbol of repentance...asking forgiveness...Anabelle leaned forward, allowing one tear to splash against the wood.
"Forgive me, Katrina," she whispered as softly as she could. "Forgive me because I cannot give him up."