A/N: First, the most important thing.

This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful chelsietothenorthern, who has so patiently been waiting for the update on this fic. Her birthday was last week. Do send her birthday wishes, if you haven't already. She is always so encouraging to me and other fic writers, and it means more than I can say to have her support – and to call her friend. All the love and blessings to you dear, on your special day, and always!

Now to a quick summary as to what's going on with this story (since it has been a ridiculously long time since the last update): Charles and Elsie are in Scotland, visiting her parents in the summer. She's got two years left at university in Glasgow. He's just graduated from Cambridge and he's starting his BPTC in London, training to become a barrister. He proposed and surprise! She accepted. Richard and Isobel are married with a daughter named Mairin, and they have another child on the way.

Most of Charles and Elsie's friends are from the canon Downton crowd, including Tom and Sybil. In this fic, they're similar ages – I didn't want you all to get confused. Two exceptions from the canon crowd who make appearances this chapter are Peter, who was Charles's roommate at Cambridge, and Julia, Elsie's roommate at Glasgow.

Elsie's dress is based on the Rebecca Ingram creation, "Nancy". I do love researching for Chelsie weddings; it's too much fun…

I could've gone on forever with wedding prep/wedding day/conversations between people. But the honeymoon's been in the queue for ages. I hope you all don't mind.

Bits of M in here, warning, blah blah, you know the drill.

I think that's all the really important stuff. On with the story!

Of course Mam and Da knew of the proposal. Elsie had known they knew when Charlie had told her of them staying longer in Cambridge after his graduation.

"We didn't like lying to you then," Da confessed the next morning as he spread jam on Becky's toast. His eyes twinkled. "But we thought you would forgive us."

"I do," Elsie bent over and kissed him on the cheek. "You're all plotters."

Mam turned her head from the stove. "You would know, my girl," she grinned. "You learned from the best." She moved the bacon from the frying pan to a plate and set it on the table. Becky's eyes gleamed. Elsie snatched the plate and moved it farther away from her. She thought her sister couldn't really reach it, but they never took chances.

"Are you saying the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?" Elsie teased. Blowing on some of the smaller pieces of bacon, she set three of them on Becky's plate. She and Da both laughed when the brown-haired girl grabbed a piece and stuffed it in her mouth. "Mam made it just the way you like it – crispy!"

"You get your plotting ways more from your mother than from me," Da said. "It must be something women carry with them."

Charles came back inside. The front door groaned when he shoved it all the way closed. "Mmm, it smells good in here." He hovered in the kitchen doorway watching the quiet domestic scene. Parents and children. Plates, cups, coffee, tea, toast, jam, fried eggs, sausage, baked beans and tattie scones covering the table. Having just got off the phone with his parents, he suddenly saw it through Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's eyes: their family, the way it had always been. The four of them.

It made him feel a little like an intruder.

But only for a moment.

Elsie's face broke into the beautiful smile he knew well, and it made his heart sing.

She looks at me like that!

"Did you talk to them?" She asked. "Sometimes the signal doesn't work up here."

"It was fine. I walked up the lane a bit. It's a beautiful morning." Becky waved cheerily, and Elsie's father smiled and wished him good morning.

"It is that. Good morning, Charles," Elsie's mother gave him a warm smile that reminded him of his own mum. "Breakfast is nearly ready, and there's plenty – even for you." She squeezed his arm.

"Good morning. Thanks, it all looks really good." He sat down next to Elsie. Kissing his fiancée, he told himself not to linger on her lips too long. She wouldn't agree with him, but he thought she looked even better in the morning light than she had the night before, with her messy hair, rumpled t-shirt and shorts.

"What did they say? Did you ring Granddad, too?" She grabbed several slices of toast and spread jam on them for him.

"They were pleased. Very, very, very happy," he said, feeling as though his heart was going to bubble right out of his chest. "Even though they knew I was going to ask you, I think most of Yorkshire heard Mum."

Everyone laughed.

Charles told them all about his conversation in detail. There was less to say about what Granddad said. Mostly because the old man had choked up on the phone.

"I'll ring him later today," Elsie promised, her voice soft. "I want to thank him myself." Her sapphire and diamond ring sparkled in the light coming through the window.

The day passed quickly, with both the newly-engaged couple busy talking to family and friends. Most people they knew were not surprised, but all of them were delighted.

"I'm kind of overwhelmed," Charles confided that afternoon. He jogged several feet to pick up the football Becky had sent sailing his direction. He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I knew I would be happy, but it's surprising to hear how happy everyone else is, too."

He had been so focused on proposing, and Elsie accepting, that he had spared almost no thought to anything else.

Elsie laughed, then sighed. "I know what you mean…but it's not like you thought anyone would be upset about it. Did you?"

"No. Just everyone seems really happy." Robert's exuberance was expected. As was Peter's. Charles had rarely heard John Bates so thrilled, except when he talked about Anna.

"I'm glad your friends are as thrilled as mine are." Elsie twirled in a circle along with Becky. The two giggled, linking hands and dancing about like wild things.

When they were together, it was obvious they were sisters. They shared a bond that was different from that of her friends. As much as Elsie loved them.

Beryl had shrieked so loud Elsie had had to hold her mobile away from her ear. Phyllis was delighted, and Anna had gotten a little teary. Julia was already planning a hen party in Glasgow.

Charles and Elsie had called Richard and Isobel and told them together. The other couple was, of course, not surprised. But that had not stopped them from expressing their joy. Isobel had cried, then joked it was only her hormones. Richard laughed and congratulated the newly engaged couple, telling them that they were meant to be married.

"I want Becky to be my maid of honor," Elsie said that evening as she and Charles sat with her parents. "She doesn't understand, but I couldn't ask someone else. The other bridesmaids will have to do the usual things in her place, but on the day, I want her there beside me."

Mam's eyes brimmed with tears. "Lass, that's very sweet of you."

"How many bridesmaids are you planning to have? And groomsmen?" Da asked. He poured whisky into four glasses and put them on the table.

Elsie and Charles exchanged glances. "We're not sure," Elsie said. "At least two each. We both have several friends."

Da sat down across from her. "We can't promise a lot," he looked her and Charles in the eye. "But your Mam and I want you both to have the day you want. Ask whoever you want to be in the wedding. We'll figure out the rest."

Elsie felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you," she whispered. "We promise, we're not asking for a royal wedding-" her parents laughed, and Charles squeezed her hand, "-or anything very extravagant. But we do appreciate your wanting us to have something we want, for our day."

She saw a certain glint in Mam's eyes, and knew what she was thinking.

There'll only be one wedding in this family.

It was something she knew her mother had long come to accept, that Becky would never be like her. It didn't hurt anymore, Mam had told her several years before, but it made certain life events more poignant.

Now that she was older, she understood what Mam meant.

"We have some time to plan," Charles leaned forward in his chair. "We want to be married as soon as Elsie finishes her course, but that won't be for another two years."

Elsie blew several hairs out of her face. "That seems like such a long time!"

"It won't be, as the day gets closer." Mam fingered her own wedding ring. "I thought our wedding day would never arrive, but near the end I almost went out of my mind with everything that had to be done."

Da took her hand and kissed it. "Your Mam had a bit of a temper in those days."

"I did," she admitted. Da raised his eyebrows at Charles.

"I told her I would still be there to marry her. No matter what."

His future son-in-law nodded earnestly. "Nothing's going to change my mind."

Elsie nudged him playfully. "That's right. You're stuck with me."

"Which is the point," he kissed her nose, grinning.

Da raised his glass, and the others followed suit. "To you both. May you be happy, healthy, and have a long life together filled with love."

Narrowing dates down was easier than figuring out where to have their wedding. Or how many people would be in it.

In late October, Elsie visited Isobel and Mairin for several days during the term break.

"On the one hand, it's quite simple," she said, holding the baby's hands as she walked along the sofa. "It's got to be here in the U.K., if nothing else than for Becky's sake. The easiest thing for Mam and Da is for us to get married in Scotland, but to be honest, I don't want to." She bit her lip. It made her feel guilty. She loved her childhood home, but there wasn't a place there that felt right for her and Charlie's wedding.

"Then don't get married in Scotland," Isobel said, ever pragmatic. She shifted a little, moving a pillow behind her back. It made her growing belly look bigger. "If it's not what you want, then you shouldn't feel obligated to go there. Your parents aren't forcing you."

"No, they aren't." Elsie pulled Mairin onto her lap and bounced her on her knee. The baby laughed, which made her smile. "Lately Charlie and I were talking about Yorkshire again. The church where his grandparents got married. But he's found he doesn't really have a connection there – a personal one," she explained. "Of course Granddad loves it. It would be convenient for Charles's family, but he's only been there for Christmas and Easter."

"It sound like you're looking for a place that means something to you both." Isobel shook her head. "The answer is obvious to me. I can't believe you haven't thought of it."

"Where?" Elsie asked her friend. "The only place I can think of that's special to us is Downton, of course, but-"

"But what?" Isobel grinned. "But it's a school? Elsie Hughes, surely you know it has hosted weddings in the summer holidays before. Do I need to remind you it used to be a house?"

Elsie opened her mouth, then shut it. She knew more about the history of Downton than most of its students and graduates, having spent so much time organizing its archives.

Detention did have its uses.

The more she thought of it, the more the idea took root. It was at Downton where she and Charlie had met; where their relationship had started; where they fell in love.

Our first kiss, on the roof.

"And if you're worried that the inside is too grand, you can always have a tent outside," Isobel continued. "The grounds are quite popular for weddings. Though, knowing your fiancé, he'd prefer to be married on the cricket pitch."

They both snorted with laughter. "The best man would like that, too," Elsie hiccupped, which made them laugh harder.

It took very little time to convince Charles that they should get married at Downton. He was thrilled, as was she.

Though he and Richard both tried for quite a while to convince the bride that the wedding would be entirely appropriate on the cricket pitch. They failed to change her mind.

There were other reasons for the bride and groom to be happy.

The fee that was normally charged for renting Downton was cut in half.

The headmistress made sure of that.

August, two years later

Wispy clouds floated in the warm summer sky. Sunlight speckled the green lawn, the white canopy tent, and the chairs arranged in rows. More and more guests were arriving.

Charles was glad at the moment he didn't have to greet anyone. He stood with his groomsmen in the shadow of Downton.

"I still think the cricket pitch would've been better," Robert said, his arms crossed.

"Here, here," Richard and Thomas Barrow chorused together.

Charles grinned. He expected nothing less from his old teammates. "I do too, but Elsie wanted us to get married here. Every time I tried to argue, she'd roll her eyes."

"Better to let the bride have her way," John reached over and brushed lint off of Charles's suit jacket.

"It was the wise thing to do," the groom agreed, nodding.

Laughing, Peter slapped Charles on the back. "Oh, come on. You were digging in your heels, insisting that you should get an equal say in the matter – until she threatened to cut off sex."

"Oooohhhh," groaned Robert. "Really!?" Peter and Thomas only laughed harder, while Charles's face went beet red.

"That is not what she meant – it wasn't that drastic-"

"Oh wasn't it?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "She said, and I quote, 'We'll have fifty years of equal say, but the wedding day is MINE.' And then when you said that as the groom, you deserved an equal voice in the planning, she said, 'Keep talking and the only word you'll hear from my voice is no."

"Great friend you are," grumbled Charles playfully as his supporters laughed. "That was a private conversation! You and Mei just happened to be there! Never trust a ginger," he mock-glared at Peter. His former roommate just continued laughing at him.

"It's not like he said anything we didn't already know," Richard wiped tears of laughter off his face. "Elsie has the whip hand over you, and she's not afraid to use it."

Their laughter and conversation continued. Anna did come over to them once, mostly to check that they all still looked presentable. And also to let John have a good look at her blue bridesmaid's dress. Richard left twice to check on the flower girls. He brought Saoirse over to the men the second time.

"Mum has Mairin under control, but I thought I'd give her a break with the baby for a few minutes. She's been clingy lately." He took the cloth on his shoulder and wiped his younger daughter's chin. "You look beautiful, precious," he cooed. "Let's not get dirty until after the ceremony, okay?"

Thomas stood behind him and made faces at her. Saoirse giggled.

"She won't be the baby, not for long," Charles smiled. "The new baby will be born close to her second birthday, right?"

Richard swayed with his toddler daughter on his hip. "Yes. And then we're going to have a break before even thinking about another one. I told Bel I was happy with two children, but, well-"

"Mrs. Clarkson convinced you otherwise. No surprise there…" Thomas reached out and took the little girl from him. "It's not a bad thing. Your girls are beautiful. They take after their mum, of course." He grinned. Richard rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"For your sake, I hope the next one is a boy," John said.

"Yeah, there needs to be a Clarkson on a future Downton team," Charles said.

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Who says there won't be? My dad got Mairin a little cricket bat for her birthday. She has a good swing!"

"Likely better than poor old Molesley's," Robert said under his breath.

"It's better than mine," Peter nodded. "She almost hit me in the face yesterday."

Charles turned slightly when he saw who was coming towards him. "Mum!"

He was relieved to see his grandfather waving from near the tent – his father had left early that morning to get him and bring him to Downton.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Everything's fine. I'm glad your father and granddad got here – another five minutes, and I would've been worried.

Elizabeth Carson smiled at Charles, brushing the lapel of his jacket, straightening his cuffs. "My little boy," she whispered, her voice wobbling a little. "Not so little…you're all grown up, and getting married!"

"I'll always be your little boy," he said, hugging her. He still remembered when she was taller than he was.

"They're just about ready," she said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a tissue. "Ainsley-Mrs. Hughes, that is, is getting all the bridesmaids together. Saoirse needs to come with me now. Come along, love," she cooed, taking the girl from Thomas.

"How does Elsie look?" Charles couldn't resist asking. He hadn't seen his fiancée since dinner the night before.

His mother beamed. "Stunning."

Despite the crowd gathered to watch, Charles was not very nervous.

He kept glancing over his shoulder as Julia, Anna, Isobel, and Beryl processed into the tent as a string quartet played beneath the trees nearby. There was a chorus of awwwwwws as Mairin and Saoirse walked slowly up the aisle in between the seats. Both of them tossed flower petals out of their little baskets with evident glee; Saoirse flung them to either side, sometimes spraying guests with red and pink petals. No one minded.

The groom bit his lip, fighting not to laugh.

The two of them will be excellent cricket players.

Becky was solemn, not like her usual self, as she walked towards the front. But then she gave Charles a dramatic fist bump, before kissing his cheek. The crowd laughed when she skipped back to her place beside the other bridesmaids. Beryl tucked her arm through Becky's. It was a sign of affection, but also to keep her still – as much as possible.

The musicians stopped playing, and Charles straightened. Richard patted him on the back.

It took all of his willpower not to turn when he heard the quartet playing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". Or when he heard the guests stand up.

Or when he heard their collective gasp.

He let out a breath when Richard grinned, having looked over his shoulder. His best man nudged him. Charles turned around.

Elsie was only steps away from him on her father's arm.

The groom looked right past his father-in-law. The only person he saw was his bride.

Her figure-hugged dress clung to her curvy shape. It had lots of lace; of that, he was certain. The cap sleeves showed off her shoulders, and the V-neck almost killed him. Her hair was half up, similar to the way it had been styled for the May Ball.

What Charles saw most, though (despite the V-neck), was Elsie's face. She beamed at him. In her eyes was a mixture of nerves and love, and most of all, joy.

Like they had rehearsed, Mr. Hughes did not give her hand to Charles. Instead, father and daughter embraced each other. As Mr. Hughes went back to his seat with a warm nod at the groom, Elsie came forward and took Charles's hands.

I choose you.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful. He thought of whispering "I love you."

Instead, he leaned over and kissed her. Full on the mouth.

Laughter and applause broke out among the guests.

Elsie smiled against her groom's lips. He had surprised her, of course, but from the second she'd seen the back of him, she wanted to kiss him.

From his humming, he was in no hurry to stop, either.

"Ahem," Reverend Travis said in a low voice as whistling began to erupt on all sides, "I'm all for the bride and groom kissing each other, but we do need to get to your vows."

He cleared his throat as the couple ignored him. "Whenever you're ready, of course."

The ceremony had ended. The vows having been made to the satisfaction of Reverend Travis, it was time to party.

The wedding party and their guests dined on a wedding breakfast inside Downton, in the hall.

Violet met the newlyweds as they left their seats to cut the cake.

"Thank you so much for the reduced fee," Elsie said as the older woman gave her a fond hug. "Da is even more grateful than I am – I'm sure he'll thank you before the afternoon is over."

"He already has." Violet took Charles's hand as she held on to Elsie's. "Don't mention it, dears. I'm delighted you decided to get married here."

"It was the best place for us," Charles glanced at Elsie. "In the end there wasn't anywhere else that meant more to us."

"Do come back, from time to time," the headmistress told them, smiling. "You both will always be welcome here. My congratulations."

They thanked her again. Charles linked his hand through Elsie's right as they walked towards the cake table.

"That was very nice of her…she always was nice, even when we were at school. Of course I would say that, wouldn't I?" He wagged his eyebrows. "Former Head Boy and all that. Maybe you don't think she was nice. How many times did she send you to detention?"

"I'd have to think about it," Elsie laughed, holding her left hand over her mouth. Her engagement ring, the heirloom from Charles's grandmother, and her new wedding ring sparkled. "At any rate, I doubt she's giving many students detention this coming year."

"Why do you say that? D'you think she's going soft?"

"No…but she does have a boyfriend. That changes things."

Charles came to a dead stop. "What!?"

Violet Crawley, with a boyfriend?

Elsie arched an eyebrow at him. "Charlie, you can't tell me you're surprised. She brought a date to our wedding!"

"I…I know," he stammered as they started walking again, nodding at passing guests. "But I thought he was only a…friend."

She snorted with laughter. "Indeed he is. An old friend. She met Igor Kuragin years ago at university. Some foreign exchange thing…anyway, they reconnected on social media a couple of years ago. They've been meeting during the summer holidays in the Mediterranean. He lives in Croatia now, but he's planning on moving here in the autumn. Isobel told me," she said to her gobsmacked groom. When he said nothing, only continued to stare vacantly into the distance, she frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly," he said softly after a moment, looking down at her. It's just…life is funny, isn't it? Richard and Isobel are married with two children and another on the way, you and I are married now, and the headmistress of Downton has a foreign boyfriend."

Squeezing his arm, Elsie laughed, nodding. "Life certainly is funny."

They cut the cake, a three-tiered chocolate and raspberry concoction, and fed each other a piece. Charles managed to be clean about it, but Elsie left a smudge of icing on his upper lip.

She took care of that herself.

"It was my fault," she whispered as they led guests back outside. "I was the messy one, so I thought I'd better clean up the mess…I suppose I could have used a napkin." A naughty smile quirked on her face. "Instead of my mouth."

"You won't hear me complaining," Charles rumbled in her ear. "You can kiss me like that anytime." She blushed, and he kissed her hand.

Workers had removed most of the chairs beneath the tent, and the DJ was already playing music. The bride and groom danced to "Say You Won't Let Go". Having heard the song the night they got engaged, they both were fond of it.

Elsie danced with her father, then with Granddad Carson. Charles danced with his mother, then with Ainsley Hughes.

"We're so happy for both of you," his new mother-in-law said as Louie Armstrong's "Wonderful World" lilted in the background.

"It's been a wonderful day," he told her. "We can never thank you or Da enough."

"Just take care of her," her eyes were kind, but serious. "That'll be thanks enough for us."

They both turned to look at the bride, who twirled beneath Granddad's arm.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Charles murmured, slowing down to watch her. "She's always been beautiful, of course, but now-I can't describe it."

"It's the look of a woman in love, my lad," Ainsley smiled.

Dancing was lovely, and once Elsie started, she felt like she could go on for hours. The sun was beginning to glare in the west by the time she sank down into a chair next to Isobel.

"Oooohh, my feet," she removed one of her shoes and rubbed her foot. "I'm glad we decided to have a bit of a hooley after the breakfast, but I needed to sit."

"You and me together," Isobel moved Mairin's cup closer to her so the little girl could drink from it. "I love to dance, but my feet could never stand it now. Tell me – do you know where you're going on honeymoon? Tom Branson told me you'll be staying at The Grantham Arms tonight, but I didn't suppose you'd be staying here in Yorkshire for the next ten days."

"We aren't. Other than that, I've no idea where we're going," Elsie confessed. "I did say I wanted our honeymoon to be a surprise, but Charlie won't even give me a clue. Beryl keeps dropping not-so-subtle hints about bikinis and the Caribbean, but I know he didn't tell her the location. She would never have been able to keep a secret."

"Mmm," Isobel's eyes danced over the rim of her glass of water. "He did tell Richard."

"What!?" Elsie cried. She glared in Richard's direction, but he was too busy dancing with a giggling Saoirse to notice. "So he knows – did he tell you?"

"No," her friend said stoutly. A slow smile spread across her face. "He knows I have a secret that I'm keeping. For now. We'll tell each other once you and your husband have left."

"A secret-" gasping, Elsie put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my god – you had your scan this week, didn't you? You know what you're having!"

Isobel's fingers skimmed over her round belly, her eyes soft. "I do."

"Oh please tell me," Elsie begged. "If Richard knows something I don't, I'd like to know something he doesn't. Even for a few more hours."

"Well," Isobel glanced over her shoulder to check no one was close enough to hear them. "If the scan is correct, and I'm fairly certain it is," she grinned, "My husband will not be so outnumbered next year."

Elsie had the sense not to let her excitement show too much. "How lovely," she whispered. She leaned over and gave her friend a hug. "Congratulations. Your son will be another wonderful addition to your family."

They sat and chatted for a while, joined by Julia and her partner Imogen, and Robert and Cora.

Charles's former teammate and his American girlfriend had just married in a lavish ceremony in London the previous month. They were flying to Cape Cod for another reception with her family in a few weeks.

"I do hope we can meet sometime when you and Charles are back in London," Cora leaned forward. "Paris is only a train ride away."

"We'll try," Elsie said. "Once the school year begins, I'll barely have time to go to the Tate Modern on weekends!"

She got up when she saw Violet and Igor approaching. She thanked them both for coming, and asked if they had seen Charles. He had been dancing with one of his aunts.

"We did," Igor said. "He was talking to the photographer outside the tent."

Violet fumbled in her purse. "Which reminded me that I needed to give this to you. Keep it. No, no," she held up a hand when Elsie opened her mouth to protest at the object she held out. "I know it's in good hands. And who knows?" She patted Elsie on the arm. "You may need it after today."

Several minutes later, Charles came over to the table. "We're needed again," he grinned. She smiled back.

We've both been waiting for this.

"Don't worry," Charles said to their friends. "We'll be back soon. We're not leaving for good this evening just yet."

Jack Ross was by the front doors of Downton. He was a little surprised when they walked by him to go inside.

"This way," Charles told him.

"The light is beautiful just now," the photographer said. "Are you sure you don't want more pictures out here before it gets dark? This is one of the nicest days we've had all summer!"

"Trust me," the groom led them to the grand stairs inside, "Neither of us know much about photography, but we don't think you'll be disappointed."

They made their way through the empty halls. Charles slowed down, pointing out the German classroom. "You know Peter's great-grandmother was born here? Before Downton was a school? He said that classroom was once her bedroom. He said she set it on fire once! That's the story his grandfather told him, anway."

"Did she set it on purpose?" Elsie raised her eyebrows. She hadn't taken German while at school, and had never gone into that particular classroom. "Maybe she was a pyromaniac…"

"Or maybe she had a toaster that hated her."

The two of them cracked up. "Charlie's grandfather has an ancient toaster," Elsie explained to Jack once she stopped laughing. "It's really quite simple to use, but someone can't seem to use it without burning bread – or his eyebrows!"

"I never burned my eyebrows," Charles protested.

"We'd know if you had," Jack replied. "You'd look like a totally different person without them."

They made their way to the end of the science wing, to a forgotten staircase.

"Careful," Charles said as they fumbled their way up the stairs. He hoped it wasn't too dusty. Elsie would be unhappy if her dress got dirty.

Jack coughed behind them. "Where are we going? The ancient torture chamber where bad students used to disappear?"

In the dim light, Charles saw Elsie smiling. "Just wait," she glanced over her shoulder. The two men heard a clink of a key, then the groan of an underused door swinging open.

The evening sun was blinding in their faces.

"Ooh, that's bright," Elsie laughed. She pulled Charles behind her up the last two stairs, then they both turned to help the photographer. "Welcome to the roof of Downton, Mr. Ross."

He blinked when he got to the top, his eyes adjusting. Then he smiled as he surveyed what he could see.

Elsie was well aware he skipped the immediate view of the ugly vents, and the nondescript roof, with its eaves and angles. Below the three of them, the white canopy tent on the lawn gleamed. People, scattered like dots, were milling about. Laughing, talking, eating, drinking, dancing. Music drifted on the breeze.

"Hmmm," Charles hummed, wrapping his arms around Elsie from behind. He whispered in her ear. "Looks like quite a party. I wonder what they're celebrating."

Smiling, she reached up and touched his face. Her ring was cool against his cheek. "I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Carson."

"I have no idea either, Mrs. Carson."

It was not the first time he had called her by that name, but for some reason, it made Elsie giggle to hear it.

"What?" her husband asked, standing up straighter, his eyebrows together. She bit her lip, grinning, wanting to assure him she wasn't laughing at him.

Because she wasn't.

"Mrs. Carson…" she whispered, turning in his arms. "I just…look where we are."

He was perplexed. "On the roof at Downton, of course. Where we had our first kiss." He looked down at her, befuddled. "We wanted to come up here. For Jack to take pictures of us here."

"Yes," she said, trying to marshal her thoughts. She took his hands in hers. Rubbing her thumb over his ring, she shook her head. "That Valentine's Day…I woke up that morning at school thinking the day was going to end just like any other. That the Head Boy knew my name, but didn't feel anything like I felt."

"Elsie," he whispered, leaning his head against hers. "But the Head Boy did feel something for you. He couldn't believe the smart, strong Elsie Hughes actually liked him back."

"I liked you then," she murmured. "But I love you now, and always will."

"I love you."

He gently pressed his lips against hers. It was a short kiss, sweet, as they both smiled remembering that cold night in February years before.

Their next kiss was not short.

Charles held her close, feeling her hands on his back as she hummed into his mouth. She ran one hand up to the base of his neck, bringing him closer.

Elsie's heart was full. Here we are, where we began.

And now we will live the rest of our lives together.

Jack clicked away, being as unobtrusive as possible. It was not terribly difficult. The newlyweds barely took any notice of him.

They did pose for a few shots, silhouetted against the setting sun.

"Perfect," Jack grinned. When he opened his phone, its light reflected back on his face.

Charles hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten. He smiled, his arm around Elsie's waist, her head tucked under his chin. He slipped his own phone out of his pocket and with his thumb hit a few buttons. Then he gave a nod to Jack, who was near the door to the stairs.

"Well, how about I leave the two of you up here for a few minutes?" the photographer asked. "I think I can find my way back downstairs. If I'm captured by a ghost from Downton's past, don't worry…I've already saved your pictures. That picture on the gallery of the girl with light-colored hair was divine."

He shut the door behind him.

"We really need to go," Elsie whispered as they kissed again. "As nice as it is up here by ourselves, our guests are going to think we snuck away."

"Mmm, let's stay a little while longer." He rubbed her back.

Below them, from the tent, a very familiar song began.

Elsie lifted her head. From the look on her husband's face, she knew.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Well," he swallowed, smiling, "You wanted pictures on the roof. And it was the first song we danced to. I just thought…"

"Charlie," she interrupted, moving back a few steps, keeping her hands in his, "Shut up and dance with me."

I felt it in my chest as she looked at me

I knew we were bound to be together

Bound to be together

She took my arm

I don't know how it happened

We took the floor and she said…

"You are a romantic, Charlie Carson," she teased as they went with the beat. He twirled her under his arm, and then dipped her in his strong arms.

"Never forget it," he whispered, his lips just above hers.

"I won't."

Oh don't you dare look back

Just keep your eyes on me

I said 'You're holding back'

She said, 'Shut up and dance with me."

This woman is my destiny

She said, 'Shut up and dance with me…"

They had the choice at the end of the dance to keep dancing, or to kiss.

They kissed.

It was a grey morning in front of the Grantham Arms.

Elsie yawned, shuffling her feet. Charles and Tom Branson were putting their luggage into Tom's car.

She was tired and her body ached.

I don't regret it. Late night, early morning, all that.

I know he doesn't.

Charles lifted her suitcase and set it in the boot of the car. She could see his muscles rippling in his arms. The familiar sensation stirred low in her belly. It made her smile.

Like we were just going to fall asleep last night!

He was dying to get your dress off of you…

And you were just as eager to get his morning suit off of him.

"Here you go."

Elsie blinked, tearing her eyes from her handsome husband. Sybil Branson held a drink carrier in her hands.

"This one's yours," the dark-haired young woman pointed at one. "Mocha, extra hot."

"Thank you," sighed Elsie gratefully. Usually she would have had tea, but she needed something stronger.

"All ready?" Tom looked at them. His eyes lit up. "Coffee!"

"Oh, I see what your heart truly loves," Sybil teased as she handed him and Charles their drinks. They all got into the car, Charles and Elsie in the back. For a couple of minutes all was quiet.

"Mmm, I needed this," Tom savored his steaming cup. He set it gently next to him, keeping his eyes on the road. "Wife, are you human or divine? That is nectar of the gods!"

"Hear, hear," Charles agreed. Since beginning his BPTC, he had become addicted to his morning cup.

"If I'm divine, so is Elsie," Sybil grinned over her shoulder at the bride. "She suggested getting some before we left the village."

Charles held up his cup. "I won't argue with that, goddess divine." He admired his wife as he sipped his black roast.

They had made love before, but there had been an extra intensity the previous night.

The way she moved in my arms…what she does to me…she could've asked for the moon, and I would've said yes.

She slid her hand across the seat to put it over his left, feeling the ring on his finger. "If I'm a goddess, wouldn't I know where we're going?"

"You still don't know!?" Sybil whipped her head around. "It's a good thing neither of us spilled it accidently – we thought Charles would've told you by now!"

Lifting Elsie's hand, Charles kissed it. He felt a little nervous. What if she would have preferred to go somewhere else?

"We're going to Italy," he told his wife. "Venice, to be precise. We can take a day trip to Padua, if you like," he rushed on. "There's lots to do…"

Elsie was overwhelmed. "Really?" she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "Venice? Are you serious, Charlie?"

"Yes," he gave her a hesitating smile. "I hope you're not disappointed."

Her tears overflowed. "Disappointed? Charlie, I'm thrilled! The farthest I've ever gone was France, with you, and that trip to Ireland with Julia and some of my other friends from Glasgow this spring! Venice?" She wiped her eyes, laughing. "The city of Casanova, and gondola rides…oh, Mr. Carson, you are a romantic."

The backseat got very quiet.

"I think," Tom whispered to Sybil, "It's going to be a successful trip."

It was a long travel day, but neither of them minded. At first Elsie was too excited to even think about sleeping on the train from Leeds. Then in the hubbub of King's Cross and the Tube to Heathrow, she had no time to rest.

The flight was another matter.

Charles smiled gently, shifting slightly in his seat. His wife's head rested on his shoulder.

For her sake, he was glad she wasn't snoring. Not that the flight crew would have minded. The attendants had spoiled them, bringing them champagne and going on the intercom to announce to the entire plane that the newlyweds were there. Several passengers had congratulated them.

He drifted off to sleep, his head resting against Elsie's.

"Wow," he whispered to himself. The view by anyone's standards was spectacular.

Venice's Grand Canal was spread out before him. The evening light sparkled on the water, and lights everywhere gave the ancient city a glow that he could feel in his bones.

He would be paying the bill for this trip for a long time (even after Peter and Mei had kicked in some of the cost, insisting that was their wedding present), but it was worth it.

Worth it to stay at the Hotel Danieli, with a larger room, with their own private balcony.

He took a deep breath and went through the French doors to their room. He checked his reflection and slipped his jacket on. An open-collared shirt and jacket, along with nice trousers, was a good choice for the evening, he thought. Not too casual, but not too formal.

"Elsie?" He knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you ready soon? We've got a reservation."

"I remember," she said in a dry voice. "I'll be out in a moment, dear."

He smiled, shaking his head. One day married, and I'm waiting on her to finish getting ready.

I don't mind.

She opened the door and a cloud of perfume and warm air came out. "Ooh, it feels much better out here," she said. "Do you think I need my cardigan tonight? Just in case?"

His tongue felt too big for his mouth. The little black dress she wore showed just a hint of her cleavage. It took all his willpower to make his brain function. "Bring it. J-just in case."

In case I need you to wear it so I can function without staring at you like a lunatic.

"All right," she said brightly, putting in her other earring. "You look very handsome."

"Thank you."

He stood still as she gathered her cardigan, phone, and small purse. She had opened the door, and was turning back to him, when he wondered why she had that look on her face.

"Are you coming to dinner?" She asked, biting her lip. Her eyes twinkled. "We do have a reservation."

"I remember," he said. He followed her out of the room.

They ate outside at the Terrazza Danieli, enjoying the tasting menu with wine. Elsie was quiet. Charles could tell she was enjoying the food, both because of her complimenting it, and because he knew her well, but he still worried that she was displeased.

She said she was thrilled – what more do you want?

To shake his fears, he took another sip of his wine. "This is excellent, don't you think?"

"It is." His heart warmed when she smiled. "I would have thought you would have chosen the Bordeaux, but instead you chose the Mormoreto."

He set his glass down. "Well, I do prefer the Bordeaux, but when in Italy…"

She blew out a laugh through her nose. "…drink Italian wine? Indeed." She nibbled at the dessert that still sat in front of them. "This is a fancy chocolate biscuit…with coconut and raspberry. I thought you would've finished it in three seconds flat."

"I wanted you to have some." His stomach flipped. "Don't you like it?"

"I do, very much," she said, her elbow perched carelessly on the table, the tips of her fingers against her lips. "Charlie, what is the matter?" she asked gently. "Please tell me. Something's bothering you."

He thought about saying nothing, or saying he was tired. But she read him like a book.

"I just…" he ran his finger along the white tablecloth, his eyes flitting from the lights dancing across the canal to his wife. "You were so quiet during dinner, and I wondered if I'd done the right thing. If I should've chosen a place that wasn't so…so fancy, I guess."

"If you're wondering whether you should've had us honeymoon in Cornwall or somewhere closer to home, please don't second guess yourself. It's lovely there, and I do want to see more of our own country. Someday. But Charlie, you did pick the right place for us." She sighed and slid her hand across the table. He took it, and she squeezed his hand. Comforting him. "I've been quiet because I've been re-living the last few days. Yesterday morning I woke up in Beryl's room when her dog jumped on the bed, and now I'm sitting here on this marvelous terrace seeing this amazing view, having finished the most expensive meal I've ever eaten in my life. With my best friend, who is now my husband." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I've not been quiet because I'm unhappy. I'm quiet because I'm happy. The happiest I've ever been. And this is only the beginning."

His anxiety went away at her words. He wasn't sure if he was going to burst into tears or burst out laughing out of sheer joy.

It's how I feel. All of it.

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "God, I love you, Elsie."

"I love you, Charlie," she breathed, half-laughing. "You lovely man."

Her eyes were dark. He did not think it was just because they were sitting outside beneath a night sky.

A lamp was lit in their room. The dim light showed his shoes kicked askew, his jacket hung haphazardly on a chair, his shirt and trousers crumpled into a heap near the bed.

Her black dress was on top of his clothes.

She straddled his lap on the bed, her hands on either side of his face.

She loved his kisses.

They are better than dinner, better than the wine.

Definitely better than the wine.

His tongue caressed hers and she moaned.

"Charles Ernest Carson," she whispered, shivering, as he pulled her closer, "You. Are. A. Devil."

"Am I, Elsie May Carson?" He rumbled, his nose brushing against hers. He grinned when he ran his hands down her back and cupped her bum, and she whimpered. "Do tell me how bad I am."

It was all he could do to talk. She loved to talk during sex, he knew, and the better it was for her, the more she talked.

"Bad," she panted, giving him another fiery kiss. "Very, very bad." She ran her fingers through his hair.

He couldn't wait anymore. He could only hope she was as close as he was. He laid back, pulling her with him. For several seconds she was on top of him.

He took the opportunity to tease her breasts some more.

She cried out, the sound echoing around the room. "More mo ghraidh, god, make me come-"

Rolling over again, he joined them, feeling her arms hook through his, her breath against the hollow of his neck.

Their movements together.

She swore, her fingernails digging into his back. Scratching him. Marking him. "Husband, please-"

He came with a roar. His joy was made complete when she shattered beneath him.

He is bad, so very bad, oh god he's good, he's good, he's good good GOOD, and he is mine

And I am his. Forever.

They lay together, panting. She was warm but she still shivered. Coming down from her high.

What he does to me…

His kisses, and everything else.

She found he had so thoroughly satisfied her, she couldn't figure out how to talk.

So she laughed instead.

"I do hope," he panted, her hand in his, resting on his chest, "That means you are happy."

It felt like there was a giant bubble inside his chest. Instead of popping however, it just got bigger.

"Yes," she hiccupped as soon as she could put words to speech. "So happy." She rolled onto her side, leaning on her elbow. "You make me happy, Mr. Carson."

"And you make me the happiest of men, Mrs. Carson. My lovely woman, my bride."

He pulled her close and kissed her.

During their first two days in Venice, they did not venture much beyond the hotel. The first morning there, they enjoyed breakfast in their room.

She did not bother getting dressed when the knock came on their door.

This was a fact that escaped him until he had let the staff member into their room (having hurriedly dressed himself), and saw her sitting upright in bed. She had pulled the sheet over her chest, but her shoulders were bare. He sensed the other man glancing at her, and looking away.

"Why didn't you put clothes on?" He sputtered when they were alone again. It was not jealousy he felt. In the morning light, he could hardly feel anything negative about her – not when her red hair was tousled, her lips were still enticingly swollen, and her skin was flushed pink.

She rolled her eyes. "There was no time, Charlie. I would have had to run across the room to grab a shirt. I could hardly put on last night's dress." She slid out of bed and hung up the said dress, completely comfortable nude. "Besides," she ran a hand through her hair, the other hand on her bare hip, "I don't mind a total stranger being aware of how much I love you."

"He was staring at you," he mumbled, unbuttoning his rumpled shirt. There was no sense in him keeping it on. "You're my wife. I don't want someone else staring at you."

"And I was staring at you the whole time he was in here. I only saw him in my peripheral vision. Now," she climbed back into bed and grabbed a croissant, "Let's eat before it gets cold." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Don't worry, dear, I won't leave this room unless I'm dressed."

They enjoyed an in-room massage on their second day, and went to San Marco Piazza the next. They laughed at the pigeons and the tourists that encouraged them.

"Feeding the birds, really?" she giggled as they enjoyed some gelato in a quiet street. "Sometimes people have no sense…"

"I would have been tempted to do it, if you hadn't told me not to," he licked the melting cream as it inched towards his hand. "How did you know it was a bad idea? Common sense?"

"That, and I grew up on a farm," she said stoutly. "Birds are a menace at the best of times."

Walking and wandering through the narrow streets, they never got lost, but they lost their sense of direction at times. One afternoon they visited several little shops. She wasn't one who enjoyed shopping, but Anna and Phyllis had given her money to do so.

"You should buy that hat," Charles whispered to her as a saleswoman hovered in the background. "It's like something Sophia Loren would have worn, back in the day."

"Am I an Italian legend?" She asked.

"No. You're better. The Scottish legend, come south to dazzle them all."

"Flatterer," she harrumphed. She ended up buying the hat, and a pair of retro sunglasses that looked like they had been in the shop since the '80s.

"Most fashions come back," Elsie told Charles as they walked back to the hotel. "I don't know much about it, but I do know that."

He reached over, touching her glasses, her hat bag swinging from his hand. "We're going to go home and everyone's going to think you're some Sloane Ranger, is that it?"

"Nevaaaaahhhhh," she stretched out the word. "Is that what you think, Mr. Carson?" She adjusted her glasses, staring over the top of them at him. Her native accent was gone; she sounded uncannily like some upper-crust lady from Suffolk, he thought.

"I think you're beautiful, no matter what you wear." A smile pulled on the corners of his lips. "Or what you don't wear."

"Well said, sir."

"When it comes to you, madam, I always speak the truth," he replied, putting on his best RP. She linked her hand through his elbow. They managed to walk twenty feet, very prim and proper, before dissolving into laughter.

They took a gondola ride one cloudy morning. Both agreed it was much better once they'd left the Grand Canal and main channels. Sitting back in the boat, they snuggled together and kissed as they drifted beneath small bridges, in waterways so narrow their guide could touch the walls on either side.

They ate a late lunch, then went back to their room. Both of them slept for a while. After they woke up, they went online for the first time in days.

"It's nice to avoid it for a while," Elsie said. They were sitting outside on the balcony. "I've put a bunch of pictures up. Now I can log off and forget about it until the next time I go on, when I'll wonder, 'Why do I have so many comments?"

"And you tagged me," Charles grumbled. "I go on even less often than you do. Now I'll get a bunch of comments…"

"Consequence of being married, love," she kissed his cheek. "Oh the horror, you'll have people wanting to connect with you on social media, too."

"Anna took a lot of pictures from the wedding," he mused, scrolling down a bit. "Mei did – oh!" He cried. "Did Phyllis work on your dress? I didn't know that!"

"She did," Elsie said, her chin on his shoulder. "It was a last minute thing. She was a lifesaver."

"I don't know her well, not as well as you do, but she seems really nice. I don't know what she sees in Joseph Molesley, though…" He said it only to rile his wife. He knew his former teammate, awkward though he was, had a heart of gold.

"Oh, hush, not you too," Elsie scowled at him. "Joseph is a very nice young man. I'd say Phyllis sees just as much in him as he sees in her."

"Finished defending the downtrodden?" He smiled, undeterred by her expression. "I do love it when you feel the need to take the moral high ground."

"Charlie Carson, you did not talk down about him just to get a rise out of me," she gasped, swatting him on the shoulder. "How dare you!"

He kissed her nose. "You are incredibly sexy when you get angry, did you know that?"

"That is very dangerous thing to say," her eyes flashed. Though he also thought he saw her mouth twitch.

He took a chance and stood up. "I'm only speaking the truth, amore mio. Please don't think I would ever make you angry on purpose."

"You are a horrible liar," she said, jumping up. Her hands were on the back of the chair he'd just vacated. "You always have been, and you always will."

He ignored her and started to sing. In truth, he felt rather silly, but she made him so happy he didn't care how silly he looked.

Or sounded.

"O sole mio…"

He picked up one of the red roses from the vase and presented it to her with an exaggerated bow.

"Oh no," she groaned, smacking her hand on her forehead, "If you think you're going to seduce me now, you're going to have to try harder than that!"

He set down the rose and grabbed her hands, still singing, and started dancing. She refused to move.

He was not discouraged by this. Her face twitched, and she smiled.

Aha!

Before she could react, he picked her up like a sack of potatoes, hauling her over his shoulder back into their room. She giggled, beating her fists on his back. It didn't hurt.

"Put me dooooowwwn, ye crazy man! I thought I married a Yorkshireman, but you're an Italian!"

Her accent was stronger the more she laughed. He started laughing himself, spinning slowly.

He tossed her on the bed. That was as far as he intended things to go, but he slipped and fell forward, landing across her knees.

"Get off me," she choked. She was laughing so hard, tears were running down her face. He moved a bit so he was laying right next to her. "You silly, silly man."

"I am who I am, Mrs. Carson," he wagged his eyebrows, hiccupping. "Your silly man. Or whoever you want me to be."

Her chest still heaved with laughter, but her eyes sparkled. "I want you to be you, Charlie," she gasped for breath, smiling widely. "Horrible liar, excellent student, soon to be great barrister, a Yorkshireman who loves his cricket-"

"Not half as much as I love you," he said, feeling a grin coming on even as he tried to be serious. "All right…maybe half."

She got a fit of giggles again. "I don't mind that," she put a hand on his chest. "I loved watching your matches when we were at school." He raised his eyebrows.

"Who's the liar now?"

"All right," she shook her head. "I loved watching you. You and those cricket whites…one look, and I was gone."

"How so? What do you mean?" He tried to sound innocent, and succeeded. She blushed.

"Oh, you know-" she gestured rather randomly.

"No, I don't. Tell me," he persisted. He thought he knew, at least.

Her face got even redder. "Do I need to say it out loud?"

"Yes. Yes, you do." He ran his finger along her cheek, under her chin. "Of course I know, but I'd rather hear it from you."

For as open as she was when they were intimate, there were times that she found it hard to say what she meant.

"I already liked you," she said shyly. "Before I went to my first match. Seeing you in the cricket whites…those long trousers, your sleeves…I could see how…how strong you were. How fast, how agile. From behind, I got a really good look at your bum, too…you're very fit, Charlie, as you well know," her deep blue eyes danced. "I wanted you then," she whispered. "I knew you obeyed the rules, unlike me, and that you liked being Head Boy. I knew you were a good student and I wasn't then; I even knew you liked another girl for ages, but those things didn't matter. I wanted to know the real Charlie Carson, what you were like when you were alone. I wanted you. Warts and all."

"You got all that from a cricket match?" He asked.

She nodded. "I didn't know if you would ever notice me, so I knew I had to go on as if you never would. And then there was that day in the rain. And later, that day when I saw you as the Headmistress dragged me to her office."

"And then we met on the roof on Valentines' Day," he whispered.

"Thank God," she put her hand over his against her cheek.

"Well, Mrs. Carson," he murmured. "If you want me, you can have me."

She leaned forward and gave him a very gentle kiss. Just a little brush against his lips. "I do, and I will."

They made love slowly. Cherishing each other. She cried, holding him in her arms.

There is no one I ever wanted more, or could ever want.

It rained the day they went to Padua. Though their main goal was to see the Scrovegni Chapel (an inside attraction) Charles was a little disappointed.

"I wanted to wander a bit," he confessed on the train back to Venice. "See different things…if I'd known it was going to rain, I would've just had us stay put."

"Stay in bed, you mean," she teased him under her breath. There were others sitting nearby – Charles wasn't sure if they spoke English, but he and Elsie had to assume they did.

"You're not far wrong," he whispered in her ear.

His breath tickled her neck.

They sat further apart when a priest came into their compartment. Elsie started scrolling on her phone.

"Did you see that picture of Alice?" She asked.

He hadn't thought about Alice Neal in years. "I didn't know you were friends with her!"

"I'm not, but Cora commented on it," she said. "You know her – she friended everyone from Downton. Did Alice get plastic surgery?"

"How would I know?" He yawned, gazing out the rain-spattered window. "Why, does she look different from when she was at school?"

"Her nose looks thinner."

He leaned over to take a look. "Hmmm. You're right. Maybe she did have surgery…I can't say it was an improvement. If she likes it though…"

"I'll never have surgery," Elsie clicked her phone off. "You'll just have to watch me age naturally. Whether I turn into some ugly old bat or not."

"Hey, bats are good-looking," he protested. "Anyway, I think you'll be beautiful, no matter your age," he said. He started singing under his breath. "That it's just you and me/Until we're grey and old…"

She hugged his arm. "I love you."

"You too."

The priest smiled at them.

Too soon, it was their last night in Venice.

"Do you really think the red dress is fine?" She called to him through the bathroom door. "I thought maybe it was a bit much. Maybe I should wear the little black one again…"

"Wear the red one," he bent over the sink and carefully shaved beneath his nose. He knew she was eyeing herself in their room, probably biting her lip. Doubting her choice. "You wore the black dress the first night we were here."

And if you wear it again, I won't be able to leave this room, much less the hotel.

He let out a long breath, forcing himself to concentrate. The last thing he wanted was to cut himself.

After successfully shaving, Charles dressed in his suit and paired it with a lighter grey tie. He fiddled with his ring a little when he was gathering his wallet and the key to their room. He wasn't used to the weight on his finger.

Not that he minded it at all. It was just new.

He headed down the stairs toward the grand lobby. He could tell it was more crowded than when they had returned earlier, because the sound of voices bubbled up the stairs, echoing everywhere.

Mixed in was the familiar sound of Elsie's voice. Her laugh.

He felt himself smile. Hearing her laugh would never get old. Ever.

Like hearing her the night of the Valentine's Day dance, after Jimmy told her a joke.

Slowing down on the stairs, he came to a stop on the bottom. In the lobby, where before there had been two men playing some sort of card game, there were now at least eight that he could count.

And they were all clustered around her.

His bride.

She laughed, brushing her hair from her face, pointing at the various cards, speaking both a mixture of English and the few Italian words she'd picked up during their stay. Her red dress, instead of washing out her natural hair color, accentuated it. And he knew that it fit her perfectly – she'd tried it on for him after she had bought it.

There was a glow about her that was almost tangible.

"It's the look of a woman in love, my lad."

Mam was right.

One man tried to explain the rules of the game, but Charles couldn't see how she could hear him, while three other men were trying to get her attention. Despite the smoking ban, cigarette smoke floated in the air around them. It gave his view an old-school feel, like something out of a '50s movie.

That, and the crowd of men clustered around a gorgeous woman.

Like a bunch of peacocks.

He wasn't jealous at all. He could hardly blame them!

Less than two weeks after their marriage, it still felt like a dream to him. That she was his.

She sat in a chair, her left side facing him. Her ring glinted on her finger. Throwing down a card, she laughed again when the men all cheered.

"Brava, brava!"

Resting her hand lightly on her cheek, she turned towards Charles, as if she sensed he was there. He felt his heart stop at the sight of her. She was so beautiful.

He didn't even care that he was staring openly, or that his grin resembled the fabled Cheshire cat.

The smile and blush that spread across her face when their eyes met told him that he had just as much effect on her as she did on him.

Still, she rose gracefully from her seat. Her soft, "Grazie, ciao," to the disappointed men made him love her all the more. She'd never convince him that it sounded ridiculous when a Scot spoke Italian.

"You look wonderful," she breathed when she reached him. Her eyes sparkled.

"Thank you. You look…" He couldn't even finish. He wasn't quite sure when he'd taken a breath, or how, but he must have had, or else he'd be lying on the floor.

He took her hand and kissed it, stars bursting in his chest at the sound of her little gasp. She wove her left arm through his right and they walked out of the hotel. It was a short walk to the restaurant.

"Having fun?" His face was going to hurt from smiling. He didn't care.

"Yes," she still sounded rather breathless. He slowed down, though they were hardly going fast. "It was funny, and loud, especially as more people came in. But I would rather be with you, amore mio." She squeezed his arm.

He stopped completely and pulled her closer. His kiss was light against her lips, but she made a soft sound in her throat, a wordless murmur. She pushed his head further down with her hand on the nape of his neck. Their mouths opened.

Very soon their heavy breathing would have been considered indecent in public – if they were anywhere else except a quiet street along a canal in Venice.

"God," she whispered as his lips traced a path from her cheek down her neck to the thin strap on her shoulder, "What you do to me…"

His hands moved from the small of her back to her hips. If she backed up a few steps she'd be against a wall. The thought made him groan aloud. Her fingers dug into his neck and back, and his mind whirled.

She wants me, too. Here.

They were forced to stop when a group of tourists walked by. Elsie was glad her husband had the presence of mind to simply give her a hug.

After the noisy group had gone, Charles stood up straight and took a step back from her, feeling light-headed. He took a deep breath and checked his appearance. His suit, shirt, and tie were somehow still pressed with no wrinkles. Elsie's eyes were heated, but she laughed under her breath, tucking her hair back and smoothing her hands down her dress.

"You need to eat. We both do." She almost sounded normal, though her chest still heaved. There was a red flush across her face and down across her chest. "Is my makeup smudged?"

"Not at all. Well, maybe you need a touchup of your lipstick. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, willing his body to calm down.

She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "It's not only your fault. It's easily fixed, anyway." She pulled out a tiny mirror from her purse and re-applied her lipstick.

"How do I look?" He held out his arms in a dramatic pose. She laughed louder, wrinkling her nose, as she put the items away.

"As I said before, wonderful," she reached up to brush at his forehead. "Though one curl insists on flopping onto your forehead. As always."

"Mum said she hoped you would finally succeed where she failed, and browbeat my hair into submission."

There. The image of his mother should have made him more able to control himself. To succeed in him resembling something other than a horny newlywed who wanted nothing more than to carry his wife back to their hotel room and make love to her until dawn. Or until they were both arrested like Casanova.

"Why would I want to do that?" Her fingers slid through his as they began walking again. "I love your curly hair – you don't need to do anything with it. Besides, when you go to court, you'll be wearing a wig! No one will see your fine locks except for me. Which is the way I like it," her eyes twinkled.

They enjoyed their evening, unaware that they got several looks from others sitting near them.

Young love.

Aren't they sweet, Todd?

Bella donna…

Venice was lovely, a beautiful memory that they would share for the rest of their lives, they knew. But real life and home beckoned.

This time, they would live it together.