“Just four years. He is twenty-one. When he was born his father sent him and his mother away as well.”
“It is a dreadful thing, Thomas. I am so very sorry.”
He shrugged, said nothing.
“Will William be coming to the one of your houses where we’re going?”
“We will see,” Thomas said, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled at her. “You look quite beautiful, Meggie. I remarked upon it when you walked down the aisle toward me, when I was not remarking upon Rory, that is.”
She laughed. “As for Rory, isn’t he a little scamp?”
“Yes, he is. I’m very glad he survived that fever.”
“I cannot imagine what it would have been like if he had not. But enough of that. Rory is well and speaking Latin again. Now, you are the beautiful one, Thomas. I am ordinary compared to you.”
That made him laugh. He lightly ran his fingertip along her jaw. “A man is nothing more than a solid creature, Meggie, whose size allows him both to build and to bash heads together.”
“And to laugh and to eat peeled grapes like the Romans did.”
“At least to laugh. I haven’t seen many grapes where we’re going.”
“That reminds me. I’m very hungry. Mrs. Priddle packed us a basket. Should you like a bit of champagne? Some of our wedding cake? Or scones that she made for my uncle Colin? He’s the Scottish earl, you remember.”
“Yes, some champagne would be just the thing.” He raised a dark brow. “Should I drink some out of your slipper now?”
“No,” she said, looking at him straight in his eyes. “I would like you to sip it out of my mouth.”
Thomas refused to open the champagne.
Thomas had booked them the very best room in The Tipsy Nun’s Inn, a corner room with a lovely view of the English Channel. It was long dark when they finally arrived, but there was a full moon, and it shone down on the Channel water, making it glisten like the brilliant sapphire on Meggie’s third finger. The town was spread out behind them, silent and still.
“So beautiful,” Meggie said over her shoulder as she pulled back the lace curtain to peer out over the still water. Gentle waves curled onto the sand, then sprawled out like a coquette’s fan.
“Yes,” Thomas said.
She turned then, for he was still standing by the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest, just looking at her.
“Mary Rose asked me if I had any questions about marital sorts of things.”
If he felt any surprise, he didn’t show it, merely remarked, “Did she tell you what you wished to know?”
“Oh no. I told her that since you kissed very well, I imagined that you would do the rest of it quite adequately. I did ask her about this tongue business. After much skidding around the question, she finally admitted that it was the done thing.”
“Since she is your mother, I can well imagine that speaking of such intimate things would make her uncomfortable.”
“Do you know that she and my father are always touching and kissing, particularly when they don’t think any of the children is around?” He really didn’t want to smile, but he did. Meggie said, her voice all off-hand, “Perhaps, if we are blessed, we would also have to pay attention when we kiss so as not to embarrass our children.”
“It is much too soon to think about those sorts of things, Meggie.” He paused a moment, then said, his voice very deliberate, “You are mine now. No matter what happens, you are completely and irrevocably mine.”
She cocked her head at him. “You have said that several times now, Thomas.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but Meggie was never one to falter. She took one of his big hands between hers. “Listen to me. I am your wife. I am not like your father. I will not leave you. Since I am not a rug to be tread upon, I’m sure we will have fights and enough shouting to bring the roof down. If you haven’t noticed, we are both stubborn and have our own ideas about things, but no matter how much we yell at each other, or how loudly, I won’t go haring off in a snit, ever. Goodness, even my papa the vicar and Mary Rose occasionally yell at each other, but that’s nothing, Thomas, nothing at all. We will be together and hopefully life will dish us up more laughter than tears.”