This is the final chapter. It's taken me a little long than I planned but They are exactly where I want them. The recent stills from filming have given my muse a little shove so hopefully more of these two to come.

Lavender and Hay - you loved the word so much I had to put it in.

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Chapter Ten

There were times when the littlest of things would trigger a deep profound sadness; she would catch sight of his picture bathed in sunlight and for a moment the memories would come flooding back, or Edward would smile and she was transported back thirty eight years with baby Matthew curled up in her arms, gazing up at her. Sometimes the tears would fall unbidden, other times she would find herself lost in her thoughts. For the past week she had also been blessed with inexplicable happiness. They had had little time together, with the family and the hospital pulling them in different directions, preventing them from actually having the conversation he had so insisted upon. The fact was there was really no need for it because when Richard looked at her, when he kissed her, when his arms held her so reverently, she knew it was what she wanted, that no amount of time or talk would change her mind.

In public nothing had really changed between; they worked side by side in the hospital, she brought him tea and biscuits after rounds and Richard continued to watch over her. Alone, everything had changed, so much time had been wasted that she was loath to waste another minute. There were times in the privacy of his office she would initiate contact, slipping to stand between his desk and his chair, flirting shamelessly with the man who had rescued her from her darkest despair. He made her brave, even more liberated than before, confident that life was still worth living and while their kisses were chaste, their fingers barely touching, they held the promise of so much more.

The fact that they were still able to work side by side at the hospital she took as a good sign, even if they seemed to have spent most of the last few days there than working on their fledgling relationship. After weeks of the hospital being almost empty the wards were now full to capacity, another outbreak of influenza bringing down half the village, and she had been by his side every day that he would allow her.

The day had been another long one but finally she had convinced him to take an evening off and walk her home, lest he be struck down too.

"Are you sure you can spare the time?" she asked as they crossed the small patch of green outside the church. He had been reluctant to leave, still convinced that things would fall apart without him and even as they walked she sensed his thoughts were still there.

Richard glanced down at her, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "The hospital know where to find me, Isobel. I'm all yours."

"I'm so glad to hear it."

He chuckled lightly. "I just wish . . ." He wished for so much, not least that they had found time to discuss their future, that he could show her how much he wanted to be with her. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the stolen kisses and the feel of her hand in his, but his intentions were so much more honourable.

"Hush," she said, interrupting yet another apology. "It doesn't matter." Her fingers gently squeezed the arm she was holding. "It really doesn't."

"So what exactly are we doing?" he asked, giving her a small nod in acquiescence. "Because I know you are up to something."

"I have something for you," Isobel announced with a smile, pushing open the gate and tugging him with her. "Please come in and I'll fetch it for you."

Opening the door, Isobel slipped out of her coat, hanging it on the hook before disappearing down the hallway. Bemused by the change in her, the Isobel he knew so well returning, Richard placed his hat on the hall table and followed her down the hallway to the library, calling after her.

"I hope you still like it."

"I'm sure I'll love it." Standing in the doorway, he allowed his eyes to survey the room, pleased and surprised that what had a few weeks ago been chaotic now had order. The books were now restored to their shelves and the desk held little but her writing materials.

"I tidied up a little," she offered with a shrug as she watched him from across the room.

"A lot, I might chance."

Isobel knelt on an armchair and leaned over, almost landing head first on the carpet as she misjudged the distance, before retrieving a package from behind it.

"Would you like some help?" He asked, moving swiftly across the room until he was standing behind her, his hands either side of her waist, ready to catch her if she slipped again.

Closing her eyes she leaned into his hands, her body reacting as it always did to his touch. It had always been there, she realised, his effect on her, but she had chosen to ignore for so long, now she fully intended to enjoy it. "No, I'm fine," she said, finally turning to look at him, settling herself on her knees as she held out the small rectangular frame towards him.

Richard glanced down at the painting in her hands, recognising it at once. "It's beautiful, Isobel." He admired the intricate watercolour, taking in the delicate brushwork, one last time before turning to look at her. "Thank you."

"It should be me who is thanking you. If it hadn't been for you I don't know how I would have made it through the last few months," she offered genuinely.

"You would have found a way. You're stronger than you realise." He lifted the painting and held it up to the light. I'm going to hang this in my bedroom."

Isobel swallowed hard. "So you can look at it and think of me?" she asked nervously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carefully Richard placed the painting on the desk and turned, taking her hand in his. "I think about you all the time. But when I look at it I'll remember how you always see the beauty in everything."

"Richard," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat, her heart beating a little faster as she saw the full extent of his admiration in his eyes.

Gently he cupped her face in his free hand. "To remind me how beautiful you are." He sighed deeply, his fingers lightly caressing her cheek, the desire to kiss her almost overwhelming him. "I should go."

"Or you could stay," she said, her voice coming out almost huskily as nerves got the better of her. When she had invited him to the house she had intended to present him with the painting and ask him to stay for dinner. A simple seduction would follow or at least that was her intention, the how still escaped her. Now faced with his immediate departure her head was spinning.

"For dinner?"

She nodded mutely, before turning her head away. "And the night, if you would like."

Silence echoed between them as he realised what she was suggesting, a gentle battle waging between his head and his heart. With a deep resigned sigh, he tilted her face until he could once more look her in the eyes, and he gave her a loving smile, "When you're ready. I want you to want me to stay."

"I am. I do. You're more than just a life raft, Richard. When you're kissing me, when you hold me, I don't forget everything, pretend that everything is alright. I feel happy. I see that there is a future worth living for. I wonder what your fingers would feel like against my bare hip, I wonder whether your hair sticks up in the morning. I even allow myself to imagine what our days would be like when you retire."

Her passionate declaration made his heart soar. "I wonder how we'd end our days. Would we sit up for hours talking or would we sit in bed reading? I wonder whether I'd ever get to read a medical journal again." A slight flush tinged his cheeks as he considered the other possibilities.

"Stay and find out." She no longer felt hesitant, no longer had any qualms about what she wanted, the idea of dinner forgotten.

"I want to. But I only have so much self control, Isobel."

She shrugged nonchalantly before giving him the smallest of smirks. "Then I'll come home with you."

"Not exactly what I had in mind." Richard didn't suppress the eye roll.

"I know. But I want you to take me by the hand and take me to bed. And before you suggest it's grief talking. It isn't. It's love. I love you."

His smile widened as he continued to gaze down at her, the surprise evident as he asked, "You love me?"

"I think I have for a long time, Richard. When you almost asked me to marry you I was scared, fearful that we would embark on a relationship and it would end badly. I would lose your friendship and the life I had. Which all seems a little silly now because our friendship has survived probably the worst time in my life. Because my life is infinitesimally better with you."

"So you will let me court you with the intention of one day proposing?" Inwardly he groaned. Isobel, the woman he loved, was inviting him into her bed, and he was trying to restore propriety to their relationship, but the gentleman in him wouldn't let her make such a sacrifice without it.

"Yes. But . . ." She began to worry her lip between her teeth. "I. . . ."

"You can say anything to me," he assured her, taking her hand in his and gently entwining their fingers. "Anything. We can take this at your pace. We don't ever have to get married if it's not something you want. And I would never take advantage of you." He continued to ramble, no longer set on reassuring her but trying to divert his attention from the idea of taking her to bed.

"That's good to know. Because as nice as holding hands and sharing kisses is, I was hoping we could go a little faster."

"I think we've moved pretty quickly already," he laughed awkwardly. She looked momentarily hurt and he instantly regretted his comment. "Didn't you once tell me that if you wanted to get me between the sheets you could engineer something?" he asked, teasing her as his hand released hers and lightly stroked her arm, trying to diffuse the sudden intensity that had come over them, wanting to bring a smile to her lips again.

"I invited you in to look at my painting," she replied coyly.

"It's been a long time since I did this."

"That's reassuring."

"I just want you to know that I don't make a habit . . . I may be out of practice . . . Isobel, I love you, I want ever second we spend together to be . . ." His thoughts were cut short as she leaned in and kissed him forcefully on the lips.

As she pulled back, she smiled, "I may be out of practice too, but I'm pretty sure it will be much better if we do more of this." She kissed him again. "And less talking."

He nodded, stealing another kiss, deepening the kiss as her hands slid up and over his chest to entwine at the nape of his neck. When he finally pulled away she was gazing up at him, wide eyed, her cheeks a little flushed and all he wanted in that second was to see the rest of her naked and flushed. "So, Isobel, are you going to give me a tour of the first floor?"

"I thought you would never ask." Rising to her feet, she entwined her fingers with his, half leading, half tugging him through the door and up the stairs. "So these are the stairs."

"Yes, they are."

"And there are four bedrooms, two bathrooms. . ." She was rambling a little she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

They almost made it as far as the landing when nerves got the better of him too and he came to an abrupt halt. "Isobel, are you sure?"

Isobel turned, looking down at him from two steps above him. "I'm sure, my darling man." Dropping his hand, she gently cupped his face. "I want to go asleep in your arms tonight. I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow and for many more tomorrows."

"I've dreamt of this for months, years. Now that were actually contemplating. . . I do so love you."

Isobel shook her head, wondering how she became so lucky. "I love you." Lightly she brushed her lips over his. "Now I really do think it's time we stop talking and try a new approach." Her hand sought his, clasping it firmly as she pulled him up the last few treads and towards her bedroom.

The End