"You didn't think it was going to happen right away but you knew it was going to happen, didn't you?" Smiling, she pulled her hands out of reach and lightly smacked his fingers. "Your confidence is carved of pure marble, sir."

"Only sometimes," he answered. "I didn't know," he replied. "I just knew that I loved you so much, I didn't want to leave and miss my chance. That, and I could hardly leave you in the middle of a war."

"E'en though I kept telling you to," she chided. "If I were you, I would have most certainly left me in Cecelia."

"Why?" Marcello asked. "Can you give me one good reason that I should have left you in Cecilia?"

She shrugged. "You were back on the Mainland. You could have gotten away. For all you knew I could have been going back to get myself executed. You wouldn't have . . . you'd've missed all the rotten business in Oireachteigh."

"Why would I have wanted to get away?" Marcello asked. "That doesn't make much sense, does it?" He shook his head. "I didn't mind Oireachteigh," he said. "It was better than being in the field at Leabhearcham."

She sighed and gave up. "Let's just say I have a lot of regrets. You are not one of them. And we leave it there."

He smiled, and kissed her. "Regrets are normal," he assured her. "The only one I have is that I haven't been kinder to you."

"You've always been kind to me. You know that." She put her cheek to his chest again, stroking his arm. "I'm the new bride who's being all contemplative o'er what's done when she should be thinking about the future, dear."

He gave her a hug. "Not over Dierdre," he answered. "I was horrid and a hypocrite when I should have been more understanding. Which is more or less what other-me wanted me to know."