Sorry for the delay, both in producing something and giving any answers. I realised I hadn't fulfilled my M rating and had to attend to it immediately.

She led him into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him once he was inside. Turning away from the handle, their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, softly, a little shyly, but still their passion was evident from the look. Isobel thought she was still entranced by his presence, that he was here, that he was actually here in the flesh- the lips she had kissed, the heartbeat she had felt. She could not stay away from him, even without her thinking about it, her feet were drawn across the room, and she was approaching him again and his arms were extended to receive her.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they stood in the middle of the room, kissing. From his kiss, it was as if he'd never gone away. She marvelled that someone who had seen what he must have done could be so gentle, that there could be any gentleness left in him, and yet here he was, lavishing it on her. She sighed in contentment, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied softly, "Very alright."

His hand brushed up and down her waist, moving around to cradle the base of her spine.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his eyes lower, "I've hurt enough. I've hurt you enough."

She cupped his face, lifting his chin a little to look at her.

"I love you," she told him, "You won't hurt me."

She kissed him as tenderly as she could.

"It's alright," she whispered.

"I love you, Isobel," he replied.

"I love you too," she told him again. And then, "Take your uniform off?"

He complied, undoing the button on the front of his tunic, shrugging it off his shoulders and to the floor. She raised her hands to undo his tie and shirt buttons.

"Undress me," she whispered to him.

He did as he was bidden, slipping the buttons of her jacket open.

"Am I asking too much?" she asked.

"Never," he replied softly.

Her hands ran up and down his bare chest, remembering what his skin had looked like before, trying to identify any changes. He had always had scars- leftovers, he called them, from the South African war. There were some new scratches but no deep wounds. She ran her fingertips over his skin, planting a kiss at the base of his throat.

She had seen him like this before. She shivered, remembering the times before he had gone away when, in spite of his gallantry, they had got ahead of themselves, found themselves almost stripped down, her in her underclothes, him in his trousers, kissing, touching everywhere. Her legs draped gently over his shoulders. His hands holding her.

He was gently divesting her of her clothes as these memories ran through her mind, pausing as he reached her corset, for permission and a little bit of help. Smiling, she guided his fingers to the hooks and it came apart in his hands. Discarding it, he followed her towards the bed.

She sat down of the edge, sinking before him, letting her hands run lower as she did so. She looked up at him, moving her hands to the front of his trousers.

"Isobel-..." he murmured, his hands lingering over hers.

She looked him clear in the eyes.

"Let me," she asked him, "Please?"

"You don't need to," he told her.

"I want to," she replied, "You want me to," brushing her hand gently over the bulge in his trousers.

"Isobel-... ISOBEL," he cried out as she swiftly undid his trousers and touched him with her mouth.

Slipping her hands inside his short to cup his bottom, she took him inside her mouth, humming with contentment at the sounds he was making. She had thought about doing this ever since he had first pleasured her and the reality was more than living up to her expectations.

"Isobel," he gasped, "Need to make love-... now-... please-..."

She did not need asking twice. Pulling back, she looked up at him, letting him lean forwards and kiss her, pressing her backwards into the bed. She lay back, her arms winding around her neck again, pulling him with her. He paused only to kick his trousers and shorts off before they arranged themselves on the bed, him settling himself over her and kissing her again. His hands were on her breasts and she arched her hips upwards so that his arousal brushed against her stomach, down to the satin of her underwear. He groaned loudly.

"Now," she whispered.

He sat backwards, slipping his thumb into her underwear, pulling them down her legs and off. She sat up as he did so, moving gently towards him. She came to where he sat, spreading her legs over his.

"Like this?" she asked.

He groaned, pulling her towards him and burying his face in her shoulder. He slipped his hand between her legs, feeling her arousal, but she knew she was ready for him. She sank down onto him, wrapping her legs around his back. They both gasped loudly, her head falling back a little. His hand cradled the back of her neck, kissing her throat. She was still for a few moments, getting used to the feeling of him filling her. And then she began to move, holding on to his shoulders for leverage, her eyes half open, watching the way his eyes fell shut with feeling, listening to the words tumbling from his lips.

"Jesus, Isobel, yes, like that, oh god, yes, that."

She kissed his face and his arms wrapped around her back and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Richard, I love you," she told him, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

She said it over and over again, because she could, because it was true and because he was here, he was alive to hear it.

He slipped his hand between their bodies, touching her, determined not to leave her behind, and she cried out just before he emitted a long, low groan. Her body collapsed forwards into his, his hands latched around her back.

"I love you," she murmured hoarsely into his skin.

He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

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