He didn't want to be her jailer, but Bella knew any marriage between them would see them both locked up in a metaphorical sense. Social doors would be closed to them forever. He could lose his job—his livelihood—his family. He seemed certain that he wanted her no matter the cost, although Bella imagined his mind might change the moment he saw the sacrifices in action. There was something romantic about the prospect of leaving behind comforts for an everlasting love, but Bella doubted that Mr. Gladstone—a man who flourished in a secure job at the hospital—would bode well living like her. (Merlin, he might not even understand it.)

Bella's eyes went wide when he touched his lips to hers, but had fluttered shut by the time he pulled away. Any rational thought process came to an immediate halt; her lips were tingling and her cheeks were aflame. It was not her first kiss (nor did she imagine it would be her last), but it felt very different from the ones she'd shared with Ben Crouch. Before she could even respond, he'd continued speaking.

"I-I couldn't marry you and work for him," she breathed, clearly still caught off guard by the contact. "It's not a permanent position. He—well, I'm fairly sure it was one offered out of pity."

And she couldn't wander around the Hebrides married—not with Jamie there. It was in that moment that Bella realized she liked him, too. (The more she thought about it, though, Bella realized Jamie had only ever looked at her like she was an annoyance. An inconvenience. He'd probably be pleased if she disappeared and left him alone. It was nothing like the sincere adoration that Mr. Gladstone expressed.)

Fuck it. Without a moment's notice, Bella leaned up and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck.

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