A/N: They did it! Richard and Isobel are married! Why can't that be the headline we see on the CS promotional material? I'll be honest, guys ... the CS promos have got me down. I'm actually despairing over them in real life. I would be remiss if I did not thank ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for her encouragement of late. She's been talking me through the wedding night, and heaven knows I've needed it!

Things are heating up for the Clarksons! I like the slow burn between them. I think it'll all culminate nicely.

As ever, reviews are my lifeblood! I've been so encouraged by them thus far!

Hope you enjoy ...

Richard and Isobel had agreed to a seated brunch with their guests after the wedding, and they'd accepted Cora's offer to host it at the Abbey. The two had determined that it was the most effective way to keep the reception short. No slight against the guests, but Isobel had agreed to a formal ceremony versus elopement so long as brevity was the order of the day, so that she and Richard could focus on celebrating alone together.

As he helped her into his car on the way back from the church he whispered hotly to her, "I have seen you in many exquisite dresses, but none so lovely as this, Isobel. The only thing more breathtaking than seeing you in it ... will be helping you out of it." There was no mistaking the intent behind his proclamation and his words, in concert with the embers slowly building to flame between them for years now, had an obvious effect upon her.

"I'll trust you to put your money where your mouth is, love," came her breathy reply.

"Oh, Isobel, my beauty, you have quite a way with words," he rasped in response to her deliberate innuendo. He had been leaning across her, standing in the open door as she sat on the front seat, and he nuzzled his face against the column of her throat.

She squirmed, thinking she would lose control if he didn't stop and yet internally begging him not to. "Darling, you're not playing fair," she cried. "Are you absolutely certain we can't just go home?"

"Oh, sweetheart," he laughed at her. "I promise you we'll be no more than an hour, all right? Your family knows we mean to keep it brief. Besides, while we will most certainly stop off at home, we'll not be staying." He closed her door, came around to the other side of the car and sat down behind the wheel. The look of sheer bewilderment on her face had been expected and he was prepared with an explanation.

Isobel opened her mouth to question him, but he held up a hand to quiet her. "We've tickets on the 2 o'clock train to London. Before you ask, no, we'll not be staying at Grantham House. I've booked us into the Ritz and room service will bring up dinner when we check in. I know how you love Handel's Messiah, and tomorrow we shall be attending a matinée performance by the Royal Choral Society."

Isobel was well and truly overwhelmed. Richard watched her open her mouth to speak and then fail to find the words several times. Finally she sputtered, "Choral Society?! But they perform at- "

Richard smiled. He knew where she was going. "The Royal Albert Hall. Yes, I know."

"Richard, you ... you did all this? The family didn't put you up to it? They didn't interfere? Is that what I am to understand?"

Richard couldn't help but chuckle. Befuddled Isobel was utterly endearing to him. Her usual cool elegance gone, now she was pure reaction.

"My beautiful one, I married you. They didn't. Yes, I made all the arrangements."

"But ... Richard, all of this must have cost you a fortune! I didn't ... I don't ... My love is not for sale, you know. It's yours for the taking, to the utmost. Always."

"Isobel, I have the greatest admiration for you. I know that you have lived with much and you have with little and that it hasn't changed who you are. This is a longer conversation than we ought to undertake on our wedding day, but ... My love, I have been a man alone for most of my career. There is little I require, and even my pastimes are not particularly costly. I have laid aside most of my earnings for the simple fact there was no reason to spend them. The details are for another day, but suffice it to say that the funds are of no concern. At last I have someone with whom to indulge in those things I never thought I would, and I plan to do exactly that."

Isobel blinked, synthesizing this new information and trying to decide how she felt about it. Richard was right, most of the details were a conversation to be had another day. Richard regarded her face as she took it all in. The subtle widening and narrowing of her eyes, the tiny furrow between her brows that appeared and disappeared, the small twitches of the corners of her lips. He knew he would enjoy immensely watching her beautifully expressive visage all of their days.

She turned to look at him and raised a hand to his face, brushing the pad of her thumb across his lips simply because she could now, boldly and without apology. "I'm proud of you, my love," she smiled, and then she kissed those lips she had just touched. "You've done well for yourself and I shall rather enjoy watching you enjoy the fruits of your labor."

Richard said a silent prayer of thanksgiving to God for giving him this woman. Isobel had been a wife before and she knew well the powerful impact of those four words - "I'm proud of you" - upon a husband. It was as if his life's work suddenly took on new meaning. Not that he didn't derive satisfaction from seeing sick patients recover and delivering new lives into the world, but even that had its monotony at times when there was no one with whom to share it. But now ... Now he saw that Isobel had taken notice of his work, that she respected him for it and trusted him to care for her, for them. And he would bet she had no idea of the gift she'd given him, as it cost her nothing to say it. That was Isobel ... whatever she gave to him, she gave it with abandon

Richard kissed Isobel with a force that stole the breath right out of her lungs. "My darling," he said, overcome with love and pride, "I have most certainly married up!"

The brunch was a lovely affair, informal at Richard and Isobel's request. The food had all been catered, ordered up from the shops in the village. It was important to the couple that the staff at the Abbey feel as little impact as possible upon their workload as a result of the wedding. There was fresh fruit along with a delectable array of pastries and quiches and tea, and Isobel and Richard were glad of the opportunity for a bite to eat as neither had been able to manage much that morning or the previous evening.

The couple stayed close by one another for the duration, reveling in the fact that they could now. Isobel's hand rested at Richard's elbow while they stood and talked with the family. She looked up at him with adoration from beneath her lovely long lashes as one after another of them made mention to him how moved they were by his Scottish vows. That look sent the most minuscule of electric shocks up his spine as he imagined her curls falling down around her shoulders while she lay wrapped in nothing but the bedsheets, looking at him that way.

His hand rested at the small of her back, lingering there as she showed her wedding band to the ladies. He hated the fact that he couldn't feel her through the whalebone of her corset, couldn't knead the muscles there, which he knew would be tight and painful as a result of being bound up once more when that was no longer her custom. He looked at her and she read the concern and frustration in his eyes. She nodded as if to say, 'I know. It's all right. Soon.' and pressed her lips to his because it was her right to do so now.

It was refreshing, particularly for Richard, to beg off from their own party. He had insisted upon including Isobel's family and their friends in celebrating their matrimony, and he was glad for every moment of their morning. But although it was a small gathering of people, it was still a far greater number than he was accustomed to or comfortable with for very long at a time. He felt positively drained of energy by the end of the hour and was ever so grateful that his bride caught the look in his eyes and quietly informed Lord and Lady Grantham that they'd be taking their leave.

"If I may have your attention," Lord Grantham spoke in his gentle but confident manner, "Doctor and Mrs. Clarkson will be saying their goodbyes now, if we could all make our way outside to see them off."

Isobel and Richard walked ahead of the party, hand in hand down the grand staircase and out the front door. Isobel's heart began beating furiously, and she found herself feeling once more like a silly, bashful bride. Richard noted the uptick in her pulse and the curious expression on her face and whispered to her, "Whatever it is, Bel, it's not silly."

She sighed as she failed to hold back a sob, joyful tears spilling over once again. "I just had the thought that our life begins right now. This moment. But truly it began the night you saved me ... from dying alongside my son. Either way, it's serendipity of the most wondrous kind. I'm yours, Richard!" They stood by the car while the group was gathering and Richard, impervious to the lack of solitude, took Isobel in a firm embrace. She buried her face in his neck and he cradled the back of her head.

"I told you it wasn't silly, my beauty. I have waited for you all my life. Forever begins now," he whispered so that only she could hear. She heard - and felt - the quiver in his voice as he fought against tears in front of the gathering. She held onto him until his breathing returned to normal and then moved to stand at his side, leaning into him with her arm wrapped around his waist and her head on his shoulder. Clearing her throat, she addressed the assembly.

"Richard and I can't thank you enough for sharing this most extraordinary of days with us, and for the love and support you have shown us over the years, both together and as individuals. You cannot know the gratitude that fills our hearts when we think of each and every one of you. We are honored and humbled that you are our family and friends."

Most of the group said their goodbyes from where they stood, understanding the couple's need to make their train. But Mary brought George to Isobel for one last cuddle before they would be apart for a few days. She gathered him close, drinking in his sweet baby scent, treasuring the feel of him in her arms. Tom brought Sybbie up for a hug and kiss from her "Nana Bel," as the little girl had christened her, and then he caught Isobel up in an embrace of his own.

"Don't worry about a thing, Mum. I'll mind the house until you return. I love you and I wish you and Dr. Clarkson every happiness."

"Thank you, son. I am ever so grateful to you for all you do and all you are. I love you."

Isobel's interactions just prior to she and Richard's departure were sweet while Richard's was at once shocking and gratifying. The Dowager approached him and it was all he could do to keep his mouth from dropping open.

"Lady Grantham?" He managed.

"At ease, Dr. Clarkson, I mean you no harm. I've only to say that you will have your hands rather full now with Isobel, but be that as it may I could not be more pleased with her choice. Were it not for you ... " Violet lowered her voice and looked around to be certain no one was in earshot, "Isobel would not have survived the loss of Matthew. The pair of you are very well matched. And while I've no doubt you will tell your wife of our conversation, I trust it will go no further than the three of us, hmm?" And she smiled at him. Genuinely smiled. It would not have been obvious to anyone else, but to Richard it was plain as day.

"Of course, Lady Grantham. Isobel and I are most grateful for your presence with us today. Discretion is the hallmark of my profession, so you've no cause for concern in that regard." And he nodded his head in acknowledgment of his comprehension.

Their farewells said, Richard helped Isobel into the car. Her pulse began to race again and she knew it was pointless to masquerade. "We're going home, Richard! I know we're not staying, but ... it'll be our first time in our house as husband and wife."

She was leaning on him as he drove and he squeezed her tightly with the arm he had around her. "Oh, Isobel," he said, captivated by the purity of her heart, "do you know what a gift it is to me, your sense of wonder at all of these firsts of ours, when you've had them before?"

She pressed her lips against the shoulder of his jacket, and he felt the heat through the many layers of fabric. "But I've never had them with you, beloved," she replied with conviction. She spent the remainder of the ride with her face turned into his shoulder, lips rooted to their spot.

They arrived at the cottage and Richard looked at Isobel, carefully unwinding his arm from around her. He came around to open her door and clasped her hand in his. As he unlocked the front door she allowed herself the opportunity to savor the significance of the moment. My husband. My husband! We're home. Richard ushered Isobel through the door and stepped inside, closing it behind himself.

Their eyes met and she took a tiny step backwards, effectively backing herself into the door and silently beckoning him closer with outstretched arms. He closed the distance between them and she watched the limpid blue of his eyes turn dark with intent as he stared at her lips. He caught her wrists in his hands, not missing the rapidity of her pulse, and held them against the door, one on either side of her head.

"Isobel," Richard rasped, his lips so close to her own that she could feel her name on them.

"Yes." Her reply was a statement, not a question.

"Mine," came the low rumble of his voice again.

"Yes." She was not giving consent, for it had been given, both earlier that morning and on the evening when first their lips met. Nor was she yielding to him, for her need of him was equal.

"Say it." His voice was rough and the edge sent chills down her spine. He was not commanding, for he knew that the strengths of both her desire and her will matched his own. He waited, his gaze fixed upon her beautiful mouth.

"Yours," she declared, and by the lilt in her voice at the very end he knew there was more to come. Silently she willed him to meet her eyes and when he did she proclaimed, "And you're mine."

He fairly growled at her words, ducking his head and taking her lips in a searing kiss. She moaned into his mouth, making no effort to conceal it. It was she who slipped her tongue between his lips first and he broke the kiss long enough to swear softly before meeting her intensity. When their lungs began to burn with the need for air, Richard released Isobel's wrists, slowly tracing his fingertips down her arms and over her sides, deliberately brushing the sides of her breasts.

"God," she cried, having waited endlessly for him to touch her there. "Upstairs."

Richard nodded, taking her hand and leading the way as she trailed close behind him. Their ascent of the stairs seemed never to end. When did they multiply? Richard bit his lip to keep from cursing.

When they finally reached the bedroom, Richard took Isobel in his arms just inside the doorway. He ran his hands up and down the sheer sleeves of her gown, wondering how the sensation could be so provocative when he wasn't even touching bare skin yet. He concluded it was her reaction to his touch - head thrown back, lips slightly parted, breathing rapid and erratic - that made it so.

"Isobel, my love, we don't have much time now but with the few moments we do have ... "

"I know. Richard, I want ... I need to touch you. I need you to touch me." Hearing her speak so freely about her need for him had Richard fairly panting after her.

"Bel, promise me ... that you'll always be so forthright about your desire. It's maddening, love, in the very best way."

"Yes," she whispered just before kissing him slowly and deliberately. "I promise, darling man. Help me out of this dress and let me feel your hands on me." At those words he felt the ache of arousal coiling low in his belly.

"Good God, your mouth!" He exclaimed, tapping her lips with his index finger. She took the pad in her teeth, nipping gently. "Unfettered and lovely."

She turned away from him so that he could undo the buttons and zip. Every point of contact between his fingertips and the skin of her neck and shoulders sent jolts of electricity singing through her veins.

"Ohhh," she sighed. "You haven't even really touched me yet but that feels so good." He slid the fabric down her shoulders and off, the dress pooling at her feet. He was aware she'd worn a corset once he'd had a chance to hold her after they left the church, but seeing her in it now made him hurt for her.

"Oh, darling, why?" he asked, turning her around in his arms as he fingered the top edge of it.

Isobel shrugged. "A dress so exquisite requires it."

"I did appreciate that you cut an elegant line, but ... aren't you in pain?"

She sighed, but he asked and she would never lie to him. "Yes. Help me?"

"Lovely, I don' t... I've never ... " He fumbled for the words with which to tell her he'd never been this close to a woman's corset and couldn't begin to know how to remove it.

She looked at him wide-eyed as he continued. "I've ... observed. Very long ago. But I've never ... assisted."

"Ah," she said with a soft smile. "Well, not that I shall be wearing this often, but would you like to learn how it's done?"

"Aye, lovely. Show me, please." He smiled back even as his fingers burned with the need to feel her ... her, unencumbered by steel and whalebone.

Isobel took Richard's hand and raised it to the top of her corset, between her breasts just where the busks began. Of course she couldn't feel his touch yet, but the symbolism still made her draw a sharp anticipatory breath.

"You see this row of hooks and eyes going down the midline?" she nearly whispered, fully aware of his intense gaze focused on her torso. He nodded and she watched as his eyes traced the length of the garment, heat pooling in her belly as he visually caressed her there. She cleared her throat and continued, "The hooks release when I shift the one side underneath the other, but as the corset is rather inflexible it must be done as a singular movement, not one by one." She drew in another breath and released the busks, sighing in instant relief. He pried the halves farther apart and his eyes met hers in a silent question.

"Yes, like that. Off." And he pulled the offending garment off and away from her. His eyes took in the diaphanous satin chemise beneath; delicate, but still an impediment. He slipped his fingers under the thin straps and caught Isobel's eye once again.

"Lovely underthings, Isobel, but not the subject of my interest."

"One moment. You're overdressed, love." She made quick work of the buttons on his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. He was completely still as her fingers released the row of buttons lining his waistcoat and she flattened her palms against his abdomen as she removed it. The heat of his skin suffused through his shirt and urged her on. She loosened the tie at his throat, dipping her head to kiss the skin she exposed. She continued in this manner, pressing open-mouthed kisses to each new patch of skin she revealed with every button that was undone, making her way down to the waistband of his trousers.

As her tongue dipped into his navel Richard realized he had stopped breathing. He brought his hands to Isobel's shoulders and gasped, "Lord, Isobel! Come here."

At this Isobel rose and stepped into the circle of his arms. He looked fixedly at her as he gathered the hem of her chemise and raised it slowly. She nodded. "Off. Please."

He remembered her words. I do so hope you still look at me that way once all has been revealed. I'm afraid I am not the girl I was when last I was newly married. As he looked upon his wife - his wife - for the first time, standing before him bare but for her knickers and stockings, every notion he'd ever possessed with regard to her body and its desirability was eclipsed by her, his woman, in the flesh. She was correct. Her body was not that of Reginald's angelic nineteen-year-old bride. She was lithe, slender. Strong, proud arms and shoulders, well-toned stomach muscles, all resulting from lifting patients and from her habit of never sitting still even when she wasn't working. Her hips flared the slightest bit, that and the almost imperceptible roundness of her lower abdomen the only proof that her body had borne a child. Because her breasts were small, they were still high and firm. Her legs were long and elegant and he found himself wondering what they would feel like, wrapped around his waist.

He'd gone silent in his appraisal of her, and as he brought himself to look at her face he saw her desperately trying to hold onto her confidence as she stood there with her eyes closed, afraid to see what he saw. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and he saw how she held her breath. He knew what she needed.

"Isobel, open your eyes, love. Look at me." His tone was gentle but commanding and she complied, her eyes fixed on his. She watched as his eyes swept the full length of her body, watched them become hooded and dark. She exhaled the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Richard said her name again. "Isobel. So beautiful." He held his hands out and she let him engulf hers. "May I tell you something?" He asked. She nodded. "You are aware that I admire your prowess at speaking freely. Especially as my lover." He paused to look pointedly at her. "Yes, Isobel, you heard me correctly. You are my wife; now you will be my lover. I have never been easily given to expressing my feelings verbally, but for you, darling, I'll learn. Shall I tell you my thoughts now, as I look upon my lover for the first time?" She nodded once more.

"I can't help myself, Isobel! I know that you are your own woman, and I hold you in the highest regard as such. But my first thought when I laid eyes on you was, she's mine! I understood your apprehension in theory. And then I saw you, Isobel! You are all woman. My woman. I want to kiss every inch of your warm, beautiful skin. I want to hold the weight of your breasts in my hands, to taste them. I ache to feel the curve of your bottom pressed against me. I want those long, slender legs wrapped around me as my body presses yours into the mattress. I want to know how you feel when I'm buried inside you. I want to move against you slowly, and I want to take you hard and fast. I want, Isobel. I want you. I love you so completely. Come." He held his arms outstretched and she came into them readily. Reminiscent of their embrace outside the Abbey, he gathered her in against him, encouraging her to tuck her face into his neck.

She spoke from her place against him, and he felt her words on his skin as much as heard them. "Beautiful words. Beautiful man. I know what it cost you to speak your thoughts to me, and you must know how I treasure it. I need that, Richard, and it's so unlike you, and yet you did it so expertly! I am the one who's never lost for words but to say that I love you seems so inadequate. I shall have to show you, I believe. And oh, how I want to!"

"I'm now cursing the fact that we've got a train to catch, though I cannot wait to go with you. We need only to change clothes and load our luggage in the car, however." He answered her inquisitive look with a sheepish smile. "Mrs. Hughes came down last evening and packed your things. I ... thought she'd know far better than I what you'll require."

He watched a smile light up her face as she whispered, "Elsie," in astonishment at the plotting of her two favorite Scots. "Whatever will I do with the two of you? Richard, how much time do we have now? When must we leave to make the train?"

He looked at his pocket watch. "Twenty minutes."

"I don't suppose you'll be traveling in these? They're hardly conducive to comfort." She fingered the waistband of his trousers. Richard shook his head in wonder. Just like that, his bold, brazen beauty was back.

"No, my darling, I'll not be traveling in these," he said with an amused smile. "What suggestion is forming inside that beautiful mind of yours?"

Isobel shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just ... " She let her actions speak for themselves as she released the fastenings and his trousers pooled at his ankles. "The best seductions are achingly slow, my darling. Just because we cannot finish now, certainly doesn't mean we cannot start." And she fixed him with a look that was positively salacious.

He growled in response. "Isobel! Suppose I tell you what I think of that, hmm? Shall I?"

She giggled. Oh, loving Richard was going to be many things. Not least among them pure joy. "Yes," she whispered against his lips just before stealing a kiss.

"I believe the precise wording was, 'Damn, Bel. Well played.'"

"Ah ha!" She stated happily. "Step out of those. Come. Sit." She sat down on the settee at the foot of their bed and beckoned to him.

He could not resist teasing her. "The ward is under your command, Nurse Crawley!" And he sat down, clad only in his undershorts, and pulled Isobel to straddle his lap.

"Mmmm, that's Nurse Clarkson now, Doctor." Her cheek faded away instantly as she came to the realization that they now held one another like lovers. "Ohhh! Damn the charade ... God, Richard! We can do this now!" She took in the look and feel of his bare shoulders, chest and abdomen, touching him with gentle fingers.

"Aye, Bel. That we can ... and I suspect we will ... with great frequency." He dropped his head, planting kisses to the side of her neck and downward, his tongue lapping at the hollow of her collarbone, eliciting the most delicious gasp from her.

"Can I assume that's to your liking then?" He whispered in her ear, repeating the action of his tongue on her earlobe.

She squirmed in his lap. "Lord, yes," she answered breathily. Her finely-manicured nails bit into his shoulders and he hissed. She realized what she'd done and drew a sharp breath. "Oh, love ... I'm sorry!" She traced the tiny crescent shapes with her fingertips.

Richard shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's quite alluring." His lips returned to the sensitive spot he'd discovered on her left collarbone while his hands moved upward from her waist, over her ribs and then gently covered her breasts.

"Yesss," Isobel breathed, "oh, Richard. Talk to me, please."

"Isobel, your breasts are beautiful. So warm and soft. I have wanted to touch you here since ... since I met you, if we're being forthright. You are magnificent when we argue, the way your breasts rise and fall with your increased respiration. I hope you won't be too cross with me, but I've deliberately begun arguments with you just to watch you that way." He continued to knead her breasts and she writhed against him, overwhelmed with sensation and unable to keep still.

"Love, I think you could say anything to me so long as you touch me like that, and I wouldn't be cross with you." She was breathing hard and Richard knew he'd uncovered one of the secrets of making love to her.

"So sensitive here, aren't you, Bel?" He whispered, kissing her where her earlobe met her jawline.

"Yes. And we're going to have to leave and I've yet to really touch you," she lamented. He stilled the movement of his hands on her breasts but didn't break contact with her, allowing the both of them to cool down gradually.

"You know, this beguiling woman I married told me that the greatest seductions are painfully slow, and she's right about a great many things; I'm certain she'll be proven correct in this case as well." He made her meet his eyes and they smiled at one another. While he had eye contact with her, Richard continued, "There's time for all that, my love. We'll have all evening once we reach London."

"Just ... " She kissed his lips. "Wait, Richard." Kiss. "I love you, my darling." Kiss. "I want you." Another kiss, deeper, nipping at his bottom lip, and then he turned the tables and took her lips mercilessly.

"I love you, Bel, and dear God, how I want you. Come on, beauty. We need to get dressed." He set his hands on her shoulders and she moved out of his lap.

"Isobel." He spoke her name as she began to walk to the dressing table. She turned back to look at him and he smiled, treasuring that image of her, nude, moving gracefully through their bedroom.

"Yes, love?"

"My wife." He rose, walking to the wardrobe.

"Mmmm, yes," she said, "very happily so. You want my opinion?"

"Yes."

She was still bare and she stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around him. "No suit. Grey jumper. White shirt. Black trousers. This tie." She reached beyond him and pulled an emerald green tie off the rack. "Dashing and comfortable. And yes, I was looking for an excuse to touch you again. And no, I'm not sorry." He shook his head. He was going to enjoy the domestication of Doctor Clarkson. Very much.

"Thank you, sweet girl. You want mine?"

"Richard, I've been dressing for no one but myself for twenty years. It's flattering to know that you have an opinion at all! Please tell me."

He paused, taking her hand and placing kisses from shoulder to wrist. "This color. It's lovely on you." He fingered the sleeve of a plum-colored blouse. "And this skirt," he pointed to a dark grey one. "The cut is ... very becoming." He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. "And for heaven's sake, no more corsets."

It was his turn to step up behind her and he took hold of her hips, pulling her back against him. His lips pressed hot kisses to the back of her neck and she moaned, pushing her bottom into him.

"Love," she said breathlessly, "if we're to make it to London, we can't. But the last thing I want is to stop!"

"You're right, darling. I'll go into the en suite to change. You can dress in here." And he kissed her shoulder once more before stepping away.

Isobel shook her head, catching her reflection in the vanity mirror as she dressed. She lingered as she took in the expression on her own face. She'd seen it before, on the day of her wedding to Reginald. In the photograph of the three of them, Isobel in Reginald's arms and just-born Matthew in hers. She'd seen it on Mary's face when Matthew announced their engagement and again when Reverend Travis pronounced the beautiful young couple husband and wife. And she saw it often in Cora's eyes, her heart full of love and admiration for Robert even after more than thirty years of marriage, fortunes squandered, children lost. Isobel knew that look. It was the look of a woman in love.