"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."
He said, his voice cold, withdrawn, "That was very eloquent."
She said slowly, "Was it?"
"And naive."
"It is true in my family."
He merely shrugged, and kept his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He said, "My father and mother-they are none of your concern. I do not need assurances from you to calm my disordered brain. You seem to think I'm suffering from long-ago pain dished out freely by my parents. I am not. About my parents-I only said what I did because you seemed to need to know, and, indeed, your father demanded to know. It really wasn't his right to know."
"Yes, it was. He is my father. It is his responsibility to protect me."
"Your father wanted to refuse me your hand in marriage."
"Of course he did. He believed you were a lecher. But it was William. I believe my father was very relieved when he learned the truth of the matter. He wants me to be happy, you see."
Thomas said nothing. He looked as if he wasn't certain what he should do now, as if he was nervous, undecided about something, and Meggie found it utterly appealing. She skipped to him, wrapped her arms around his back, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "Kiss me, Thomas. That is something I like very much."
She raised her face, came up on her tiptoes, but for a moment, he hesitated, touched his fingertips to her cheek, so soft her skin, flushed now in excitement.
It was, after all, her wedding night.
She'd never done anything to harm him, he was thinking, and she was his wife. Slowly he brought his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He didn't kiss her, just held her. Actually, it was he who was holding on to her. She was half his size and he was burrowing onto her.
He lifted his head to look down at her. "You're a virgin, Meggie."
She lifted her face and gave him a very small smile, a nervous smile, and he knew it. "Well, yes. I'm supposed to be."
In an austere voice he said, "Many women are not pure when they come to their husbands."
"I had never thought of it. Are you certain? No, that's all right. No one else has anything to do with us. Ah, Thomas, kiss me now."
He was rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "Do you like your cloak?"
"It's lovely. Do you like the onyx pen I gave you?"
"Yes."
"Mary Rose believed it to be very masculine."
"It is."
"It is solid, like a man is supposed to be."
"Yes."
"Thomas, are you uncertain what to do? No, it's all right, truly, you don't have to say anything. I rather like that the two of us can begin everything together. I'm sure that we will be able to figure this business out."
"You think I'm hesitating because I'm lacking in experience? That I just might also be a virgin?"
"It's all right, Thomas." She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him, a girl's kiss that made him laugh. Another damned laugh, and he'd even come to like the feel of it, alive and snaking warmth all the way to his gut, and that was alien to him.
"I'll admit it, I'm nervous, yes, just a bit nervous," she said between light nipping kisses, "but we are married now, and you belong to me, and I wish to see what all these marital things are about. Oh goodness, does that sound terribly loose?"
"A man doesn't belong to a woman," he said slowly, his voice suddenly remote, all laughter dried up. "A man is his own being."
For an instant, Meggie was blank-brained. Whatever had happened? Had a woman hurt him badly in the past? He wasn't old enough to have been hurt all that often, surely. "Thomas, how old are you, exactly?"
"I am twenty-five. I will be twenty-six in December. I was born the day after Christmas. I don't think my mother ever forgave me for ruining her Christmas."
He was making light of it. Well, no matter. If a woman had hurt him, had made him cynical, someday he would tell her and she would fix it. She kissed him again, this time a line of kisses all along his jaw. She said, all the feeling that was in her vibrant in her voice, "I will make you want to belong to me."