It turns out Harold had a few things to say about what just happened! I think the story was fine as a standalone scene, but since I wrote this, I figured I may as well share it.

XXX

Much later, when they lay peacefully together in the bed they shared, Harold had time to think about things. He held Marian as she slept; one of his hands buried in her tangled blonde locks, the other holding the small, innocuous-looking item that had so nearly cost him his happiness. He twirled the hairpin in his fingers, watching it sparkle and fade as it caught the light from the lamp on his bedside table. He smiled sardonically at this mocking wink; it was as though the pin was daring him to further doom.

When Marian showed him the tin full of hairpins she had collected from the parlor, Harold wasn't surprised she was embarrassed and angry. But her oblique suggestion that they curtail relations threw him completely off balance. His heart had just about stopped; despite Marian's displays of modest reticence, he knew she was enjoying this new aspect of their relationship as much as he was. He never expected that she would be willing to take such drastic steps to ensure their propriety.

Yet as distraught and infuriated as he had been, Harold supposed he couldn't blame her for considering the possibility; he had been rather thoughtless in his actions. As passionate a woman as Marian was, she still had that element of innocence and Victorian reserve. He hoped she would always have these characteristics; her pristine nature was one of the things he found so alluring about her. Harold needed a woman like Marian, to keep his baser instincts at bay. Simply by being her charming and tenacious self, she brought out the finest in him.

As for what he had brought out in her… Harold grinned. It was enchanting to see how Marian blossomed as she grew more comfortable and confident in his embrace. This particular rendezvous had been especially delightful; as soon as Harold closed their bedroom door, Marian took the lead with a rapacious avidity she had never demonstrated before. But as much as he enjoyed this sooner-than-expected turn of events, Harold hesitated; as he had warned her when they were downstairs, she was too caught up in the moment to be thinking clearly. Though he longed to respond to Marian's ardent caresses, he did not want his dear little librarian to wake up with regrets. So he tried to slow the pace a bit.

"Darling, we do have some time, you know," Harold said gently, placing his hands over hers as she began to undo his belt buckle (she had never been so bold as to undress him below the waist). "With all this snow, I don't think either of us will be going anywhere for the next day or two."

"I want this, Harold," Marian replied, her voice quietly adamant. She gazed unblushingly into his eyes. "I want you."

His heart had just about stopped again. It wasn't her frankness that awed him – she had said similar things in the past – it was her absolute certainty. Even during their more unrestrained moments together, there had always been an iota of the retiring maiden in Marian's demeanor. But now, Harold saw no trace of that. A woman stood before him, with a woman's understanding. What little restraint he still possessed fled, and he lost himself in her arms.

Now, as he lay in a sated stupor, Harold could only chuckle at his foolishness. What had he been doing, wasting his time with fleeting dalliances all those years? Despite his vast experience, he had drunk only from the shallowest depths of the well of love – and fancied himself a connoisseur! If only he had known how sweet the water got the deeper one went…

Harold chuckled again. Even then, he still would have been reluctant to get too involved with a woman. A man like him, who never did anything in half measures, was right to be wary about falling in love. After all, look where it had gotten him: The great Professor Harold Hill, traveling salesman and charlatan extraordinaire, was now saddled with the onerous demands of running a legitimate business, a hefty mortgage on a cozy little Victorian in the middle of nowhere, and a wife who was every inch the wholesome, innocent female. He was living the existence he told Marcellus he despised – and he had never been happier. Luck, or perhaps Providence, had brought him to Marian.

Even on days when challenges presented themselves and made things a little more difficult than he liked, wanderlust remained a distant memory; the fascination of novelty paled in comparison to the excitement Harold felt when contemplating his wife's familiar curves. But it was more than the carnal that captivated him: He wished to plumb the depths of her soul. As they were getting to know each other and building a history together, Harold felt a closeness with Marian that transcended physical intimacy and satisfied something in him mere lovemaking never could. Still, despite this closeness – or perhaps because of it – the idea that Marian had considered not sharing a bed with him was intolerable, and he vowed never to give her cause to ponder such "solutions" again.

As Harold continued to toy with the hairpin in his hand, he realized Marian had grown too quiet. Looking at his wife, he saw she was now awake – and was gazing at him with the same fondness he regarded her with, when he surreptitiously watched her.

Harold laid the pin on his end table and turned his attention to his wife. Once their eyes met, the usual blush colored Marian's countenance. Harold grinned – for all her bravado earlier, she was still the adorable little Victorian. "Well, that was really something, Madam Librarian," he said playfully, hoping to deepen the crimson in those beautiful cheeks. "I'm going to have to come home early more often!"

Once again, Marian surprised him. "In that case, I'll make sure to start letting my hair down by three o'clock in the afternoons – at least," she replied with a sly, unabashed smile.