Sorry for the long wait!! I have exams next month so I have lots of revision to do. I can't wait until they're over! This chapter is quite happy and relaxed, because I haven't done one of those in a long time and I miss Damon and Eloise together. Anyway, I don't normally ask for comments and the like, but please leave some down there about how cute Damon and Eloise are or what you want to see or something. Pretty please?

I love you guys for everything you've done :)

Anyway, on with the chapter!!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We stop multiple times in order to use the restrooms and buy more food. We drive for three days before we arrive at our destination. It feels like a blessing to know I do not have to be in that bottom-numbing coach any longer.

I step out of the coach, my limbs stiff and sore. Damon stands in front of me, his eyes shining with mirth, a faint smile painting his lips. He stares down at me for a moment, trapping me in the deep pools of his eyes. Then he steps back, bowing down with a flourish of his arms.

"Our new home, Miss Eloise." He says, searching my face for a reaction.

The house is a two storey house, the windows beautifully framed by ivy, the door made of a dark wood. The garden is drowning in knee-length weeds and flowers. There is a smell of nature in the air; of unbridled wildness, of sprouts being allowed to grow in whichever way they want. There is a smell of pure beauty. My fingers long to touch the growing greenery, the ivy curling up the walls, they long to feel the roughness of the thatched roof and the smoothness of the windows.

A slow smiles shapes itself onto my face and I look up at Damon. "This is our house?"

"This is our home." Damon corrects me. "We will stay here from now on until forever.The two of us. Nobody can tear us apart now. Nobody."

I nod silently, chewing on my lip. "Can we go inside?"

Damon beams. "Of course we can."

He takes my hand, leading me up a stone pathway that takes us to the door. As we walk, I look around myself, revelling in the beauty of the wild, observing all the different plants that have grown, admiring the texture of the ivy that binds the house together, all the while my heart thudding at the warmth of Damon's hand in mine.

Instead of walking straight through the door, Damon stops and raps on the door.

I look up at him in confusion, but Damon just stares at the door, a small smile trained on his face.

Then the door opens. On the inside of the house, stands my dear nurse, Mary.

I soundlessly jump into her arms, allowing myself to cradled like a child for a few moments as I ponder over how awful yet amazing life can be. Just weeks ago, I had become a soul-less shell of a girl shackled with a man who she wanted nothing to do with. Today, I am a free, vibrant woman with the man and nurse I love by my side, ready to support my each and every step.

Life can be so strange!

Mary pulls me into the house, into a room that is homely yet elegant.

There is a grand fireplace at the back, with flames devouring the logs earnestly, providing the room with light and heat. The other light sources are the gas lamps, strategically placed throughout the room. Oil paintings are framed on the walls, depictions of wondrously hilly landscapes and crowds of people milling around a puppet show. Armchairs and chaises are pushed up against the walls with ornamental tables beside them. A huge oak table is in the middle of the room, an urn of flowers (that seem to be picked from outside) placed directly in the center of it. The floor is covered in a lavish Persian carpet with intricate patterns I could not decipher if I tried.

"Wow." I breathe.

"I furnished the whole house myself." Damon says, his voice ringing with pride.

"It looks heavenly, Damon. It really does." I assure him, running my hand along the smooth table, admiring the bright flames stretching out from the logs.

"Well, I had better get going. The driver is bringing all of your luggage into the garden, I will come to help you locate everything tomorrow afternoon." Mary says.

I turn to look at her, a sudden, unexpected coldness gripping my gut. "You are not staying, Mary?"

"I have my own little cottage a small way down the road. That will be my own home. A nice change, don't you think, after residing in somebody else's home for the better part of eighteen years?"

I sigh in relief, glad to see that she is not leaving this area, whatever and wherever this area is. "Very well, Mary. Go home, indulge in a rest and serve yourself for a while. You have been running around after me for much too long."

Mary chuckles and then slips out of the door, letting in streaks of pink and orange and blue. A sign that the day is coming to a close.

I turn, observing the fireplace, staring intently at the complicated patterns carved into the mantelpiece. I run my finger over them lightly, attempting to sense all the effort and time and money that would have gone into making a majestic fireplace such as this.

There is a breath at my neck and I whirl around, ready to strike -

- my hand stops inches away from Damon's cheek.

I gasp, cradling my hand to myself. "Damon! Oh, I do apologise! I thought it was somebody else..."

To my surprise, Damon just chortles. "My, oh my. That fire in your eyes, that dip in your eyebrows, that indignant scrunching of your nose. I have not seen that in a while. How refreshing!"

I cover my face with my hands, groaning with mortification.

How could I act so impulsively?

I hear Damon laugh, but it sounds much more distant.

Then his voice loudly calls, "If you have finished dying of chagrin, would you like to see your bedroom?"

Lifting my face from my hands slowly, I nod, my cheeks still heated. Damon chuckles and holds his hand out for me. I walk slowly over, taking his hand in mine, letting the texture of his rough hand smother mine. We walk through the door.

To my side, there is a gigantic staircase with a ribbon of red carpet racing up the middle of it. Behind the staircase is a hall with an endless ceiling dotted with rafters, several doors are embedded in the walls and in the middle of it all, is an open parlour with four elegant chaises set up in a square, separated by individual ornamental tables with identical decorative urns set on the middle of them.

Damon leads me up the stairs, always being one step ahead of me, always looking back at me as if to make sure I am still there.

At the top of the stairs, we enter a landing. There are three doors; one in the east wall, one in the west wall and the final one opposite Damon and I. Tucked into a corner, is a small staircase.

"Where does that lead to?" I ask Damon, pointing at the staircase.

Damon looks at me, his eyes shining with love. "There is a bedroom up there. When we get married and we have a child, that will be where it sleeps."

I swallow a lump in my throat, my mind rolling through images of myself holding Damon's child, rocking it to sleep, teaching it to talk, to walk, educating it, providing it with the knowledge, giving it all the love my human body can possibly give.

"Do you want to see it?" Damon asks. "Although it is not quite ready as of yet - we need it to be properly furnished."

"I will see it when it is done." I decide. "Which room is ours, Damon?"

"We are not sharing a room, Eloise." Damon states simply.

I snap my head round to look at him. "Why not?!"

Damon kisses my forehead, chuckling. "Well, we are not married as of yet. Your mother would not approve of us sleeping in the same bed."

"But Damon - " I begin but Damon quickly puts a finger against my lips.

"I just got your mother's approval, Eloise. I do not want to lose it."

I sigh, grumbling. "Okay. We will have separate rooms."

Damon chuckles. He points at a grandfather clock against the back wall that I had not noticed before now. "What do you think of that, Ellie?"

The clock is made of a rich, dark oak and has branch-like, winding patterns that all spiral upwards, past the face of the clock and disappearing into the pediment (top) of the clock, which is a tangle of carved wood, almost like a crown. In the middle of the clock, there is a glass screen that showcases the swinging pendulum, the three weights and the glinting chains hanging down.

"That looks beautiful." I say. "It must have cost a lot of money, Damon. How can we afford all this?"

"Your mother has given us a mighty sum of money. I refused many times, but your mother was intent on giving us the money."

I am about to reply when the grandfather clock chimes, sending a loud reverberating through the floorboards. I look at the clock - it is seven 'o' clock and sure enough, the clock chimes seven times.

"Ah, just in time for a late supper." Damon says, snaking his arm around my waist and then leading me back down the stairs. We walk into the open parlour and Damon leads me through a door to an adequately small dining room.

The large dining table takes up most of the room. There are gas lamps spread strategically around the room and watercolour paintings of delicious feasts have been hung from the walls. The carpet is covered in another rich Persian carpet and each chair has a cushioned seat, which will provide a nice change from the hard, wood seats of normal chairs.

"Mary made us pheasant." Damon says, strolling over to a door, revealing an extensive kitchen. "I hope you do not mind that."

"No, no, of course not." I say, sitting down. "Pheasant sounds good right now. All we've been eating for three days is bread and soup. Something hearty makes a good change."

I hear Damon clattering around and then he emerges, carrying two plates in his hands. He sets one down in front of me and then puts his plate down.

He walks over to a chest of drawers at the back, taking a wax candle and a candle holder out. He then travels to each gas lamp and turns them right down to the lowest setting. When he gets to the last lamp, he puts the candle against the flame, lighting it. Then he puts the candle into the candle holder and rests that between us.

"What are you doing?" I finally ask when he sits down opposite me, pouring us each a glass of wine.

Damon replies, "Tonight, we shall have dinner by candle light. Mary told me it is a much appreciated romantic gesture. Lets have a toast, shall we?"

When I pick my wine flute up in agreement, Damon smiles and says, "To freedom, to love, to the rest of our lives!"

We clink our glasses, taking sips of the sweet wine. I look at Damon from under my lashes curiously. He is already looking my way. Embarrassed to have been caught staring, I quickly pick up my utensils and begin to eat, almost groaning at how unbelievably delicious the food is.

We eat in silence, completely engrossed in our food, our heads bent, the only sound being the scraping of utensils against the plate. I cannot describe how wonderful the food is. I have never taken this much of a liking to pheasant; it must be the fact that this is the first wholly edible meal that we have had in a few days.

After our plates are empty, Damon shows me the kitchen, the stocked pantry, the store room and the extensive additional parlour.

As we return to the room in which we entered from the garden, Damon suddenly pulls me to himself, crushing me in his strong arms, his chin set firmly on the top of my head. I do not say a thing, I just let him hold me and I hold him in return. It feels so familiar yet so alien - hearing Damon's heart beat under his chest, that is.

When he pulls away, Damon immediately sits down and pulls me on to his knee, cradling me like one would cradle a fragile baby.

Damon winds his fingers around mine and then something glints in the light.

The ring Emmanuel gave me.

"Why are you still wearing this?" Damon asks, not meeting my eyes.

I shrug. "I would never wear it and every morning, Emmanuel would force it on my finger. I gave up trying to resist after a while."

Damon pulls the ring off my finger. "You do not need this any more. The only ring that will grace this finger will be mine."

I nod silently, my chest swelling with happiness at this jealousy Damon is displaying.

Damon throws the ring and it lands at the back of the fireplace, where it will no doubt finally be destroyed.

I look at Damon, smiling and quote him. "My, oh my. That fire in your eyes, that dip in your eyebrows, that indignant scrunching of your nose. I have not seen that in a while. How refreshing!"

Damon throws his head back and laughs uproariously, his shoulders shaking with hysteria. Without missing a beat, Damon pulls my face down to his. He kisses my forehead.

When I look at him in confusion, Damon pushes a strand of my hair back and says, "No kisses until the day of the wedding. Your mother's orders."

I groan, slumping my head on Damon's chest. "Please tell me we are getting married soon."

Damon chuckles. "I have a meeting with the priest of the local church the day after tomorrow. We will be deciding the date then."

I smile to myself, looking up adoringly at Damon. "Is this what you have been organising and preparing while I have been away?"

"You say that as though you've been on holiday." Damon smirks.

I shudder. "It was quite the opposite."

Damon just grunts, holding me tighter to himself possessively. I smile again, draping an arm around his neck, watching the flames of the fireplace rise and fall, watch the flames lick the logs, watch the logs become charred and turn black.

I do not know how long we sit there in silence. Maybe it is mere moments but maybe it is hours.I cannot express the comfort I feel sitting here in Damon's arms. Sitting here, just the two of us, against all odds. They tried to tear us apart, they tried so hard. But somebody out there must have wanted us to be together a lot more than Emmanuel wanted us to be apart. Maybe that is why I am here today, gazing a beautiful fire, my eyelids drooping, my head rested against the firm chest of a man who is everything to me, with the most loyal nurse I could ask for just down the road.

Tonight I feel blessed. Tonight I feel as though my life has finally begun.