Her eyes were closed. Carefully, he watched every shuddering breath that passed her slightly parted lips as she gently slipped her hands out from between his, so that her small palms and fingers partially covered his, her holding his hands now, raised their cupped hands to her mouth, and slowly pressed a kiss over the top of his fingers. He was transfixed, he could not take his eyes away from her face, and then his hands when she released his fingers, his touch lingered over her face, touching her cheeks tenderly, hoping to hold her to him by any means possible. Her eyes flickered open, looking straight back into his; half-washed by tears but steady and fixed in their gaze now. Before that moment he had been intensely frightened of hearing her answer to his entreaty, but something quite ineffable in her eyes made that feeling melt away as quickly as it had formed.

They seemed to blink together, breathe together, held together in that moment.

"Well," she conceded quietly, "If you want to look after me," she placed particular emphasis on the word, giving a small but radiant smile, "I don't see that there's anything I can do to stop you."

"Oh, Isobel," his breath left him in a long shake, "Come here, would you?"

She stood up from her chair quickly, crossing and settling herself on the sofa beside him, her body comfortably close to his. Her hands fell naturally back into his, her posture naturally inclined towards him, their eyes meeting; it felt like they were sinking backward, downwards together, as one. And it was consummately, incredibly natural when their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss that was so very close to being entirely chaste.

His hand held her face carefully, as if touching her too hard would cause her to break. Their kissed deepened gradually, her lips parting, allowing him access, his tongue carefully running along her lower lip, drawing it between his own lips and sucking fully, exploring each other's mouths until they were both struggling for breath. Her body rested naturally against his, her head under his chin when they broke apart, his arms wrapped securely across the back of her shoulders.

"Richard," she murmured at last, when their breathing had calmed a little, her voice soft with timid curiosity and deep feeling, "How do you want to take care of me? How much are you willing to give me?"

"Everything, Isobel," he told her quietly but audibly, unmistakeably, pressing a kiss into the top of her head, burying his face briefly into her soft hair, "I want to give you everything. I'll be your friend, your lover, whatever you need. I love you, I love you," he whispered it softly like a mantra, carefully raising her face to his, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips, "I'll do anything. Ask anything of me. I love you."

"Let me love you in return, then," she told him, "Please." Her lips whispered softly into his throat.

He didn't know there could be a feeling like this, this fullness, this closeness, even when barely touching. His view was completely clouded, skewed, over-whelmed by love for her. He could hardly think, he could hardly breathe, he was suffocating so very happily. All he could do was feel, feel her, feel his arms still wrapped around her, holding her. Her lips travelling back up to his face to latch onto his lips. He kissed her again, more fiercely than last time, unable to get enough of her.

"Be my husband?" she asked him, their lips inches from one another, voicing the suggestion that he had not dared to make.

"Oh," he could not think of anything else to say, "Isobel."

"Perhaps not straight away," she told him, "If you're not sure."

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he told her earnestly, his eyes blazing into hers, "I want to. I've never stopped wanting to."

Impulsively, he hugged her tightly to his chest, knowing she could feel the way that his heart had sped up until it was pounding with excitement at the thought, with the unbelievable thing she had asked him in that moment. Her arm wrapped around his body too, her hand starting to stroke up and down his back.

"Listen to me, Isobel," he told her, "Listen to me."

"What?" she asked him.

"You're so brave," he told her.

She sniffed a small laugh.

"I'm not," she replied.

"No, listen to me," he insisted, "You're so brave. You ask things, you do things, you act upon your feelings in a way I could never do. You're fiercely brave, though I know you're hurt now. The clarity, the conviction of your mind. I can hardly believe you're real, let alone that you'd ever sit beside me or hold me. I've never known anyone like you. I think you're wonderful. Asking me to marry you... oh, God, Isobel. You... And when we made love," he continued, taking a deep breath, steeling himself to look her in the face and say this, "You were all that mattered in the world, and that's not changed since then. You were so beautiful, and strong. You're incredible."

Tears were forming in her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tilted in a smile.

"Richard, what are you saying?" she asked him, softly, "Don't be silly. I'm not-..."

"You are," he pressed, his arms tightening a little around her, pressing a kiss into her temple, "You're beautiful to me. To me there's nothing in the world so beautiful as you. I couldn't love you any more than I do, my heart would break."

"You are being silly," she insisted, "To say that you're any less brave than I am."

After his lengthy speech, she managed to take every thought of words out of his mouth by saying so little. He heard his breath deepen and tremble again. She smiled sweetly at him, seeing his discomposure, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"I love too you, Richard," she told him, taking advantage of his silence, "So much. I love you."

He smiled back at her as best he could, as her lips met his in another deep, sensual kiss. Her arms draped around his shoulders, bringing them closer together, his arms settling snugly around her waist. Her face nestled against his as they broke apart.

"Let's make love," she whispered in his ear, sending a palpable shiver down his spine, part-surprise, part-excitement.

He broke a little away from her, needing to see her face, even in the near-dark.

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

"Yes," she told him earnestly, "Let's make love again. Properly this time. Let's," she kissed his face tenderly, with open-mouthed kisses, "Let's take our time. Let's wake up together."

"Oh yes," he murmured, "Let's."

"Come on," she told him, taking his hand and leading him to the door, "Upstairs."

She closed the door of her bedroom deftly behind her, pulling him towards the bed. She let him embrace her as they stood beside it, him almost lifting her off her feet, kissing her hard. He heard her gasp in surprise.

"Sorry," he murmured, setting her firmly back on two feet, steadying her a little with his hand on her waist, "Got carried away."

"Don't be sorry, Richard," she told him, her hand wandering to his tie and the buttons of his shirt, "Don't be sorry for a moment. I want you to take me. Make up for last time."

"It doesn't matter," he told her, trying to catch her lips again but she evaded him, "Honestly, Isobel, it doesn't matter."

"I took too much," she whispered back, "Please. I can't stand the feeling that I spoilt our lovemaking, the first time we made love by-..."

"Isobel," he murmured, sitting down on the bed, pulling her by the hand with him, "You don't have to make up for anything. Don't you realise that you making love to me was the best thing that's happened in my life? It is the only thing that has ever happened. The only thing that matters. I love that you took me, you made me feel wanted like I've never felt in my life. It was incredible. You gave as much as you took. More."

"Richard," she murmured, pleading with him.

"Alright," he acquiesced, "Alright," holding her to him, "Just let me hold you. Let me kiss you."

His lips touched hers tenderly again, then more intensely. His hand began to work on her hair pins, letting her hair gradually fall down her back. He kissed her face, her neck. Her hands held his head gently, pressing him closer to her.

"Take my dress off," she told him, "Please."

He stood her back only for long enough to remove her dress so that she stood before him in her corset and shift, her hands moving deftly to remove his shirt; their clothes falling carelessly to the floor. Settling her gently back on the bed, they rolled so that he lay above her, kissing her intently. Her shift worked halfway up her legs, he gently caressed the curve of her knee, tracing up her thigh, the line of her hip.

He felt her hands clutching his back. They had said they would go slowly, but here he was, already caressing her thigh, slowly back and forth.

"Isobel," he told her quietly, "Please take your corset off."

He sat up to let her move and without much ado she had the thing off and it joined the dress and his shirt on the floor.

"The shift too?" she asked him, reaching down for the hem.

"If you like," he told her, swallowing a little at the thought of her naked body, beautiful and under him.

He saw her smile.

"I know we said we'd take things slowly," she told him, reading his mind, again, "But I want to feel you, Richard. I want to feel your skin on me."

She shrugged the shift over her arms and off, tossing it onto the floor.

"Oh, Isobel," he murmured, seeing her body again, anew, "Isobel."

Reaching out, he cupped her breast gently, running his thumb carefully over her nipple, making her whimper. Spurred by her reaction, he leant forwards, taking her breast into his mouth, lavishing her nipple with his tongue, his hand rising to knead the other.

"Richard, that feels so good," she told him.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his lips still pressed against her skin, letting the sound rub against her breast, making her shiver.

"Yes," she replied, "Please, touch me, Richard."

His hand slipped between her thighs, obeying her wish without hesitation. Drawing her underwear off, her parted her so very slowly, so that she arched into his hand, desperate for more contact.

"Richard," she moaned, her hips jerking a little.

"What, my darling?" he asked her, "What is it you want?"

His fingers rested on her folds, moving so very slightly in a regular rhythm, which he knew she could feel. She stumbled a little, her breath too uneven to allow her to speak.

"Is it this?" he asked, taking pity on her, sinking a single finger inside her.

"Yes, Richard," he heard her half-cry, "That's it."

He slipped another finger in, pressing against her nub with his thumb.

"Now I want you to come," he told her, "Please, for me."

"I can't," she moaned out, panting with the regular movement of his fingers, the pressure of his thumb.

"Please," he told her, "Just let go. Please. Darling, Isobel."

He sank his head back to her bosom, kissing her breasts, moving down her stomach, feeling the tension in her body, finally latching onto her nub with his mouth, his fingers still inside her.

"Oh, God, Richard, I-..." her words were lost in a cry, as she came, hard, her hips rocking against his mouth, her muscles clenching around his fingers.

He smoothed his hands over her sides, holding her softly as her body continued to undulate and finally stilled, her breath still coming in sharp gasps.

"I can't believe you allowed me that," she told him, "You-... You're-..."

"Shh," he told her, kissing her temple again, burying his face in her hair- damp and curling from exertion.

"Make love to me," she told him quietly, "Inside of me, Richard. Please. I want you."

He paused for a beat.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

His hand moved from her arm, trailing back to her breast. Hers moved deftly to work on the fastenings of his trousers.

His trousers off, he lay over her, pressing her body to the mattress.

"I love you so much," he told her, kissing her.

She smiled.

"Yes, I know, I love you too."

They kissed once.

"Now," she told him, "Please."

And he did.

It took a long time for them both to recover, collapsed together, arms locked around bodies, her legs wrapped around his waist and holding him firmly inside of her.

"Never leave," she told him, in between ragged breaths, "Just, never leave me, Richard."

"Never," he agreed, kissing her collarbone tenderly, "Never."

End.

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