A/N: We've come now to the end of my story. I caution that there is some residual "M" stuff, and that the chapter itself is extra long. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 9: Conclusion
Much later, he lay atop of her, the sheet falling down from his back to his waist, his hands on either side of her face, so beautiful and flushed from residual passion. He looked deeply into those blue eyes that had haunted many a waking and sleeping hour, eyes that now looked back at his with love and banked desire. He kissed her lightly, tenderly, drawing back before he could become too distracted by the soft, yielding body beneath his.
"You asked earlier what I want of you, and here it is. Interfere in my investigations, and I'll interfere in yours. Argue with me, yell at me, quit talking to me for days, and I'll do the same. I'll pretend to be angry and you can pretend you didn't purposefully try to goad me. Drive me mad with frustration, infuriate me to no end, tease me about my clothes, and my hair and my old bachelor ways, and I'll berate you for your know-it-all, suffragette, mule-headed ideas. I'll never ask you to boil an egg again, if you'll never ask me to stop trying to protect you or keep you safe."
He paused to gage her reaction, wondered if she could feel the hard pounding of his heart. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she reached up to caress his beard, to slide her hand up to trace his brow, to brush back the damnable shock of hair that had fallen untamed over his forehead.
"Those are not very auspicious vows," she said, meeting his eyes with a shy smile.
"Vows? I suppose they are at that, if that's what you want to call them. All I know is, I don't want you to change for me, Eliza; I don't want us to change. This is who we are, what we do. To make this work between us we must find some middle ground, some way to compromise, so long as we can always find our way back to this place, where I love you and you love me, and we let nothing ever truly come between us."
Eliza was feeling overwhelmed by this outpouring, by this man who had offered her everything she wanted before she had even realized what that was. If they did this, if they agreed to accept one another's faults and stubborn ways, could they really find a way to be happy together?
"It will never be easy between us, William, but I'm realizing that we are not so different, you and I, and therein lies the root of our difficulties. But I have to know: are you really onboard with my continuing to be a detective, to my not being a traditional wife? Will that masculine pride of yours allow you to accept that my love of my work is no less important than yours is to you?"
"I've come to accept that your cat-killing curiosity is part of you. You would not be content to lay about at home and supervise a household. You are hopeless at cooking, and I have it on good authority you know nothing of even making your bed, let alone keep a house. You are not one to have tea with the ladies, or embroider pillows, or attend society balls. So, if I'm to have you, I must try to take you as you are, and appreciate your other…womanly qualities…" He lowered his lips to hers, slipping his tongue inside for a taste. As he moved down to her neck, he found to his disappointment she was not done with their conversation.
"People will talk, you know," she was saying. "They'll say that you are…uxorious." He raised his head to look at her again, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.
"Ha. As if I haven't heard that already. I ken my men talk about us, and they don't use such a civilized term for it. Even Munro has implied it. There's a certain truth to that, and I would never have admitted it before. But we both know the power you have over me, mo leannan, and you well know how to use it."
She grinned mischievously. "I will not deny it. But what you don't know is-is your power over me."
Naturally, he looked skeptical at this, and not just because he'd always felt she'd pulled all the strings in their relationship. The fact that Eliza Scarlet was admitting any weakness was monumental. Still, he waited, and found himself holding his breath for her to continue.
Under his intense gaze, she was suddenly shy again, but since they were getting to the heart of their feelings now—feelings they had never been comfortable enough to express before—she found the courage to tell him.
"You can make my heart race with just a look, make my knees feel like marmalade. But it's more than that. I can withstand your blustering and your temper, but it's when you show disappointment in me, in my judgment, that you wield the most power. I—I'm like a child again, and I don't like feeling that way, that I need your approval. But I do, William. I want you to admire me, to see I'm not some silly girl playing at detective." She cast her eyes down in embarrassment, and William felt a wave of love flow over him. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger, and she reluctantly held his gaze.
"Hear me now, woman. You are the most intelligent, instinctive-albeit exasperating-woman—no, person," he amended, "that I have ever known. You've gotten one over on me on more than one occasion, as well as the entirety of Scotland Yard, not to mention all the criminals you've sussed out before I could bat an eyelash. I don't think you a silly girl; far from it. I'm proud of you—have been since you took over your father's business. Was I doubtful at first? A bit intimidated even? Aye, I'll admit to that. Do I like when you put your life-or mine-at risk? Not in the least, but your determination is one of the things I love most about you, and no matter how much I bluster, I'll always secretly be in awe of you. Though now, since you're letting me kiss you these days, I may not be so reluctant to show it."
As warmth flooded over her from his words, certain other parts of her became heated as he went back to kissing and caressing her.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They awoke the next morning wrapped in each other's arms. He'd had her once more in the night, but had been fearful his passion would be too much for her, so he'd contented himself with sleeping with her warm, lithe body safely enfolded with his. He wanted her again the moment he felt her shift against him, but he restrained himself, settling for kissing her rosy cheeks and then her lush lips, made fuller by their nighttime revels.
"Good morning, William," she whispered shyly, eyes still heavy with sleep.
He grinned. "Good morning, Eliza," he replied formally, as if it were any other day. "And how are you this fine day?"
"Completely knackered," she said, and he laughed aloud.
"I could tell by all the snoring," he teased. "Or did a wild boar wander into the house…?"
William was completely taken off guard by her sudden strength that had him pinned to his back, her hands pressing down on his arms while she climbed atop him, her hair like a golden curtain around them. "Take that back," she growled.
Fire spread instantly through his veins, and he let her hold him there, her naked body almost painfully arousing.
"Or what?" he challenged, eyes hot on hers in the morning light.
To his delight, she moved against him, and he gasped aloud. Her eyes were filled with mischief and desire as she bent and kissed him, her wild hair brushing provocatively against his chest. He lay there, completely undone by her, letting her explore his neck, then trail kisses down his chest, stopping to explore one flat nipple in an imitation of his earlier attentions upon hers.
"Eliza," he said on a moan. He felt her smile against his chest as she drifted downward beneath the sheet to his muscled stomach. He felt her lips brush intimately against him, almost making him rise off the bed. She let go of his arms as she moved to focus on what she was doing, but William had had about all he could take of that torture. He reached down with both hand, grabbing her waist, pulling her up his body again, setting her upon his rigid erection.
"I've told you before lass, that blasted curiosity of yours will land you in trouble every time." He raised his hips and slid smoothly inside of her body; she was the one gasping her surprise.
"William! What-?" Her eyes flew to his, questioning this new, tantalizing position.
"Pretend you're riding a horse," he said, humor and passion filling his voice in equal measure.
"But I haven't ridden since—oh, heavens…"
He pulled down on her hips as his rose up to meet her, filling her completely, their sounds of shared pleasure echoing in the room…
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"As much as I wish we could stay here all day, the inspector is expecting me in Ryde this morning. And I need to get back to London."
"So soon?" she said, her head resting on his chest, listening to the reassuring pounding of his heart beneath her ear as he idly played with her hair.
She never wanted this to end, and she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to awaken this way every morning, to feel his warm body next to hers, to feel boneless and thoroughly satiated on a regular basis. She'd never dreamed what it would mean to be so close to another person; indeed, she hadn't been prepared for what giving herself to a man would do to all her long-held beliefs about complete independence. If they could be together in this way, yet still respect one another's autonomy, be equal partners but still lovers, perhaps this could work, perhaps they could find an understanding that would allow both of them to have everything they wanted. Was it possible? Could they both change and adapt to make this work between them? Oh, she wanted it so much she ached with longing for it.
She didn't realize she was crying until William felt one hot tear fall on his chest.
"Eliza? Are you all right?"
He reached for her chin, lifting it so he could peer into her troubled face. He was startled by her tears, frightened to think she was regretting this now.
"I love you so much, William," she said, her anguished tone belying the passion of her words.
"I love you too, more than my life. But why are you crying, mo ghardh?"
"Is this all just an unrealistic dream? Will we be able to be together like this in our real lives? We still have so many things to work out, and we're just so different, William."
His pounding heart slowed in relief. There were no regrets in her tear-washed eyes, just fears for the future. Those, he could handle, even though he too had his trepidations about it.
"We will make this work, Eliza, if we can both stop being so damned stubborn and compromise a little. But we have to want this more than we want to be right, to be willing to get out of our own way to focus on being together."
It was on the tip of his tongue to propose at that moment, to reassure her of his commitment, but something told him this was not the right time. She was still not sold on the idea of them as a solid couple, living their lives together back home in London. But he would give all that he had to convince her, for suddenly he found that he had all the patience in the world because he knew in his soul that she loved him.
She'd been quiet as she regarded him, the fear somewhat abated in her gaze, though not completely gone. He brushed away an errant tear.
"Do you believe me?" he asked.
"I'm trying," she whispered. He did the only thing he knew now to convince her—he leaned up and met her lips with a searing kiss. That would do for now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He left her in bed, warning that he'd return soon with a carriage to transport them and their trunks to the train station. He'd hastily washed in the wash basin, dressed and leaned down once more to kiss her in the bed they'd shared. He didn't like leaving her alone, but reckoned she'd be safe for the few minutes it took to walk into town. He'd bring her back something from the bakery for their breakfast, since Mrs. MacKenzie had already cleaned out the kitchen, and they'd eaten what she'd packed for their lunch yesterday when they'd gotten up in the night, starving. He grinned at the memory, of feeding each other with their fingers. He said goodbye, looking longingly at her flaxen hair in sensual disarray on the well-used pillow. She murmured her unintelligible answer and drifted off to sleep again. His smile grew soft with love.
He was surprised then to meet Mrs. MacKenzie in the parlor-just as surprised as she. She'd come to finish cleaning up after them, now that the police were gone.
"Inspector Wellington, is it now?" she said, eyes narrowed in accusation.
William flushed in spite of himself. It was like being caught in a lie by yer mither.
"I'm sorry for the deception. It was a police matter."
"Och, aye. That ah kin see." She looked angrily around them at the evidence of the shootout from the day before, then up toward the staircase. "At least tell me that's pure yer wife up there."
"She soon will be, God willing."
She sniffed, but seemed somewhat mollified.
"I'll be back in a bit with a carriage. Miss Scarlet will want a bath and care for her wound. I already paid ye for the week, mind." He was halfway to the door before he turned. "And I'll nae be hearin' any gossip about her in town."
Unafraid of his dangerous tone, she shrugged. "Lak ah tellt ye afore, I'm no tattle-stoory."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Before they met the train to London from Ryde, William and Eliza had the cab stop at the police station. Woodhouse had survived the night, and the doctor assured William he'd be fit to be returned to London in a few days. William confirmed the arrangements with the local inspector, and they were off on their journey. They were both pleasantly tired, but it was difficult to keep their hands to themselves on the train. He'd even considered getting them a private berth—she still wore her mother's ring on her left hand—but reconsidered it, not wanting to push his luck. He settled for holding her hand (propriety be damned) the entire way, enjoying the weight of her head on his shoulder as she napped to the clacking of the tracks. Once in London and another hired carriage, he directed the driver to her address.
"I'd like to go with you to Scotland Yard," she declared.
He took a deep breath, remembering to compromise. "I thought you might want to drop off your things and see if Ivy is back first, maybe rest a bit. Come meet me when you're ready."
She looked up at him next to her in the carriage. Every instinct in her made her want to argue with him, but she saw the thoughtfulness and logic in his suggestion. She nodded. "All right."
He smiled in relief. They'd successfully surmounted their first hurdle.
"Good. I'll see you soon."
He gave her a proper kiss, almost reconsidering going up with her. He wasn't looking forward to all the groveling explanations he would have to offer, and subsequent recriminations from Munro. To fortify himself, he lovingly caressed her rosy cheeks.
"I love you," he said, just because he could.
She gripped his hand tightly, bright-eyed from their kisses. "I love you too." The driver had already unloaded her trunk and opened the carriage door, but Eliza turned back to William and gave him an impulsive farewell embrace that had him grinning like the besotted fool that he was.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
With Woodhouse safely and uneventfully transferred to London, all that was left was to take his official statement and prepare for the trial, only delayed by two days as a favor to Munro by the prosecutor. Eliza bravely testified, as did a heavily guarded Woodhouse. With these first-hand accounts, it was an easy decision by the judge to convict Rothschild. He escaped the noose, however, deference given to his standing in the peerage, and was sentenced to life in prison. Woodhouse was not so lucky. Such was the law regarding the lower classes.
Through these busy days, it was difficult to find time alone together. Eliza, now nearly recovered, went to work for Patrick Nash, who only had a few days to acclimate her to the agency before leaving for Paris. With all her new responsibilities, she and William had had to content themselves with stolen kisses at Scotland Yard, and a brief, passionate tryst in her old office one lunchtime. She'd wondered if her father was turning over in his grave after what they'd done on his desk.
Ivy had returned from her mother's a few days after Eliza had come home, giving the encouraging report that her mother was well, though still feeling the affects of the stroke. She hired the neighbor to continue her care, with Ivy going to visit more often to help. She hadn't been pleased to hear the account of Eliza and William's harrowing stay on the Isle of Wight, especially the inappropriate news of a lack of chaperone.
"I'm quite all right," Eliza reassured her, eyes drifting to her tea. "The Fitzroy caretaker saw to my needs morning and evening."
Ivy frowned. "That's not what I'm concerned about, and you well know it, Lizzie. Now, tell me the truth—did anything happen untoward between you and the inspector?"
"You haven't even asked about the shooting," Eliza hedged, "or the capture of the assassin who came all that way to kill me. We all nearly died," she finished dramatically.
Ivy waved a dismissive hand. "I'm that glad that the inspector did his job and protected you, and even that Mr. Moses was there to help, but I do believe, missy, that you are changing the subject." The housekeeper stared hard at Eliza's guilty expression, which the younger woman tried in vain to hide behind her teacup. She might be able to lie to the police or to a suspect she was pursuing, but she couldn't lie to Ivy. She gasped as she read the truth there.
"Lizzie!" she exclaimed, scandalized. "You—you didn't! Oh, this is all my fault. But wait until I get hold of that William Wellington. I'll see to it that he does right by you, if it's the last thing I do!"
She rose angrily to her feet, a determined expression on her face. Eliza set down her cup. "Wait, Ivy. It wasn't like that. I—we—we love each other. We're going to do our best to make a go of it."
Ivy paused, sitting down again. "He said he loves you? Out loud, in plain language?"
"Yes. And I-I said it back."
"Well, it's about bloody time!"
"Ivy!" It was Eliza's turn to be appalled, but she was smiling a little too.
"Has he made an offer for you?" Ivy continued excitedly.
"No, but there's been no time. Between the Rothschild case and both of us returning to work, we haven't had much time for each other." She shrugged nonchalantly. "If it is meant to be, it will happen in due time."
But Ivy's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Lizzie, no sense trying to fool me. You still have doubts that this will work. Is it what I suspect, that since he took what he wanted, he's getting in no hurry to do right by you?"
The way Eliza cast her eyes downward into her tea was enough to convince Ivy. "I'll have a word with him, and he'll find the time to make it right."
Eliza put her hand on Ivy's arm. "No. Don't. If he wants to marry me, he'll ask. I'm content now with things as they are. Our jobs will slow down, I'm sure of it." But it had been one of Eliza's biggest fears, that away from their cottage by the sea, reality would once more interfere, and their time on the Isle of Wight will seem too much like a dream to carry over into the real world. "Please, Ivy, let this play out like it is meant to, with no interference."
"But—"
"If you care for me, you'll do this for me."
Ivy didn't like it, but she nodded. "Fine, but it goes against everything in me not to go over to Scotland Yard and drag him back here by the ear—"
Eliza smiled at the image. "I know. Me too."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next morning, Eliza sat in her new office, going through the stack of cases that had been brought to Nash and Son's. She would delegate some of the lesser ones to the detectives beneath her supervision—adultery, missing persons, debt collection—and she would take the suspicious death, ruled a suicide by Scotland Yard, but needing further investigation by the victim's family. She was just rising to head to William's office to see if she could finagle from the inspector (by new and delicious means) access to the official police and autopsy reports, when she was interrupted by a knock at her door. She flushed to see the man in question, standing there, a beatific look in his eyes, though his outward appearance was all business. "Miss Scarlet."
"Inspector," replied Eliza, aware of many curious eyes watching them speculatively. "This is a surprise." It would be impossible to hide their true relationship from a roomful of detectives, so she dropped the act and said: "Please William, do come in."
It was his first time visiting her there, and she felt a strange mixture of pride and nervousness. He walked in and she closed the door behind them, inhaling his familiar, intoxicating scent as he brushed past her. "So, to what do I—"
She didn't have time to finish her sentence before he'd dropped his hat on her desk and pulled her into his arms. His hot, seeking mouth found hers, and she melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his waist to hold herself upright. His clever tongue made her think of naughty things, and she gasped into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. A few heady moments later, and he abruptly released her. She swayed and caught herself at the last second, as Wiliam looked around in appreciation.
"Nice office," he said, noting the expensive furnishings—the large, heavy desk, the fine leather chairs, the red velvet curtains at the windows. He eyed the decadently padded settee against the wall, lifting an eyebrow. "Planning to do some entertaining?"
Still reeling from his passionate kisses, she took a moment to formulate an answer. "Patrick said it might come in handy if I have to stay late to work on a case."
"He did, did he?" William's mouth tightened in annoyance.
Eliza rolled her eyes. "Nash has gone to Paris, William. Even had he not, you have nothing to worry about where he's concerned. We are just business associates."
"You be sure to remind him of that—frequently." As will I, he finished to himself.
Eliza didn't dignify that with an answer, either way. She cleared her throat. "It's lovely to see you William, but surely you didn't take time out of your busy schedule just to come for a social call."
"And why not?" he asked, moving back toward her. His eyes swept over her body, and he no longer tried to hide the love or lust in them. She reached up to caress his bearded cheek. A flash of how that had felt between her thighs made her tremble and blush to her hair, while William grinned wickedly, reading her mind. "In fact, I've come to ask if you'd like to have lunch with me later."
"The last time we ate lunch together, I don't recall food being involved."
"I heard nae complaints, woman," he said softly as he nuzzled into her hair. "I for one left completely satisfied." She shivered in agreement.
He raised his head, and she caught a strangely insecure expression, which he quickly hid. "Nothing untoward today though, I fear." He chuckled at her frown. "Don't look so disappointed. There'll be time enough for that later." He gently bussed her pouting lips.
"All right then," she relented on a sigh. She stayed in his arms, her fingers smoothing his recently rumpled cravat. "But I also have some business to discuss with you, namely your recent dismissal of the Winthrop murder."
"You mean the Winthrop death by suicide? He jumped from a rooftop to his death, Eliza; there were plenty of witnesses to corroborate that, especially those who had to step out of the way of the falling body."
"But, William—"
And they were off into a more typical argument, which lasted until he kissed her into silence, though he promised he would bring the police reports when he came by to collect her for lunch. To Eliza, it was a very productive visit, and a reassuring one too. There was something wonderfully comforting in seeing William huff at her in familiar frustration.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"It's a lovely spring day," said William, as he helped her into his carriage. It was true; the air was soft and warm, the strong scents of London somewhat tempered by the blossoms on the trees and the flowers and from the flower-seller's cart they passed on the Victorian Embankment along the Thames. Arthur, his driver, turned toward Piccadilly Circus, keeping the horses at a jaunty clip.
"Where are we going?"
"A place like something from a dream," he said cryptically.
"Oh! Are you finally taking me to Slater's?"
"No. The ambiance at this place is much better though."
"You're being so mysterious, William. My expectations are rising by the moment."
He smiled, then leaned over to kiss her cheek, his hand lacing with hers. "I hope it surpasses your expectations," he whispered.
"I'm with you, William, which certainly is beyond any dream I've ever had."
He was at a momentary loss at the sincerity in her voice, instead of the usual sarcasm she employed whenever things became too personal, too serious. He swallowed hard, then found her lips, suddenly overcome with intense feelings of his own.
They were surprised when the carriage stopped, but several minutes must have passed while they were caught up in each other. Eliza raised a shaking hand to put her hat and hair to rights, then reached over to brush the errant curl from William's forehead. The way she smiled at him made him want to say to hell with his plans and ask Arthur to take them on a much longer ride. Making love in a carriage could be quite exciting.
A throat cleared and then a quick rap came on the door. "We're here, Inspector."
William opened the door and stepped out, and then handed Eliza down. She was a bit confused to see that they had arrived at Regent's Park. All about them, couples and families strolled through the tree-lined paths toward the distant circle of Queen Mary's Gardens. From the small rack on the back of the carriage, Arthur retrieved a basket, which he gave to William. Eliza was feeling a sense of déjà vu. William grinned at her expression and held out his arm for her to take.
"Be back in an hour, Arthur," he instructed.
"Aye, Sir."
"So it's to be a picnic," she said carefully, her heartbeat audible in her own ears.
"By George, Eliza, you've turned into one hell of a detective," he teased, but he seemed suddenly tense as well.
They walked across Clarence Bridge, and then William steered them to the left, toward the Boating Lake. Suddenly, both of them were very quiet, and the beauty of their surroundings faded into the distance. After a five-minute walk, they arrived at the lake, and with a mutual feeling of anticipation, he found the perfect spot beneath a grove of cherry trees. Off the paved path, they felt quite alone, their only company the tweeting birds above them, and the lazy rowing of a man squiring his lady about the lake.
"We missed the blossoms, I'm afraid," he said quietly, breaking the silence.
"No doves?" she dared ask.
He looked up into the tree above them. "Do robins count?"
Her smile was a bit wobbly. "They'll do."
He set down the basket, which Eliza now realized was very familiar. "This is Ivy's basket," she said, as he removed a red blanket and, shaking it out, spread it on the grassy ground.
"Yes. I stopped by to see her this morning, asked if she would mind preparing a lunch for us—all your favorites."
Eliza sank weakly to the blanket. "So, Ivy knows about this—this picnic plan."
He joined her on the blanket. "She does. After a brief haranguing, she happily packed us a lunch."
Eliza blushed. "I can only imagine what she said to you. I'm sorry."
"Dinnae fash. I deserved it, I think."
"I received my own lecture yesterday," she said sheepishly.
The silence between them grew uncomfortable, but more from nervous excitement than distress or trepidation.
"Are you hungry?" he asked at last. "There's quite a feast inside. I had a peak earlier…"
"No, I—perhaps later."
Neither of them knew where to look, but William, feeling suddenly annoyed with how everything was not going to plan, vividly swore under his breath. From his coat pocket he retrieved a small white box, tied with a sky blue ribbon. Taking a deep breath, he got up on one knee and reached for Eliza's hand. Although she was expecting this, she couldn't help the startled reaction at seeing him there, kneeling before her, taking her hand. She felt a little faint.
"Eliza," he began, then cleared his throat. "Eliza. I—I—you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and whatever else I'm unsure of in my life, the one thing I know is…we are meant to be together. So, will you do me the honor, and for the love of God, Eliza, put me out of my misery—or in it, as the case may be—and be my wife?"
And then, as relief and love flowed through her body, her eyes watered with tears of joy, and her lips quirked in amusement. "Why, William, this is so sudden."
He raised an eyebrow in warning, though his eyes shone with love. "So help me, I'll take back my offer this instant if you don't say yes right-"
"Yes! Of course, William. I'll marry you, if I'm really what you want."
"You're all I've ever wanted, and may God help us both."
She laughed before she came up on her knees and wrapped her arms around him. "Now how could a lady resist such a romantic offer as that?"
The kiss that followed was the most tender, most passionate kiss either of them had ever known.
Later, they sat, their backs against a tree, Eliza snuggled in his arms, heedless of what any passersby might see. This, she thought drowsily, this is what true happiness felt like.
"Now that you've finally caught me, don't you want to see the ring?"
"What? Oh! I can't believe I nearly forgot! Please, I would love to." He sat up straight and reached for the forgotten box on the blanket. He set it in her open palm, and she gazed at it a moment.
"It truly is like Christmas morning," she said in wonder, turning it every which way and admiring the beautiful bow.
"Well, it's startin' to feel like I'm goin' to have to wait till then for you to open the damn thing."
"These things can't be rushed, William." Then, carefully, slowly, she pulled on one end of the ribbon and slid it from the box, before laying it gently on the ground. He rolled his eyes at her antics, despite the loud pounding of his heart for fear she wouldn't like it. She took off the white lid and stared at the tiny gold jeweler's box, decorated with filigreed roses. "Oh, William," she breathed, emptying it into her palm. "It's beautiful."
"There's more inside," he prompted impatiently.
She gave him a withering glance, then turned the ring box upright again. Reverently, she opened the hinged lid, then gasped as she beheld the deep blue solitary sapphire, encircled by small pearls. It was simple but lovely, and exactly what she might have picked herself.
"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, William…it's perfect."
He smiled. "Good. I chose it because it matches your eyes." He took the box from her and removed the ring from its satin nest, then, taking her left hand, slipped it on her finger.
"Now, in Ivy's words, I can finally make an honest woman out of you."
"William dearest," she said, sidling seductively back to his side, "it will take much more than a ring to make me a completely honest woman. Occupational hazard, you know."
He chuckled, and then he kissed the woman he loved.
THE END
A/N: Thank you for taking this journey with me. I really hoped you liked this, and that it helped fill the void until the new season starts. Thanks to those who reviewed.