Pendragon (12 page)

Jeremy and Charlotte were there, Charlotte well into her pregnancy, smiling, looking utterly beautiful, glowing, Jeremy, so proud, so possessive of her, standing close by her, always. Meggie had greeted them warmly, so very warmly. As for Jeremy, he'd had time to say to her, “I need to speak to you sometime, Meggie.”

She'd nodded, having no intention whatsoever of listening to him lecture her on something, probably on copying dear Charlotte, the perfect obedient subservient wife.

Mary Rose sat between Alec and Rory on the very front row. She was trying to hold Rory still since he was bouncing up and down, wanting, Meggie knew, to walk along beside her. She'd seen him just the day before practicing how to walk. Meggie saw her father try to frown his son down, but then she realized he just couldn't. It would be like scolding a racing kitten. When Tysen smiled at his son, Rory managed to pull away from his mother and dash to his father and Meggie. Laughter erupted from the congregation. Tysen swooped down and grabbed up his son,
even as Rory tried to climb over him to get to Meggie.

Meggie took the little boy's face between her gloved hands and kissed him, then said, “Rory, will you and our papa both give me away?”

And Rory beamed and said loud enough for everyone in the church to hear, “Oh yes, Meggie, let me, let me. Meggie, is that really you under that white sack?”

Meggie lifted a corner of her beautiful veil and winked at Rory.

There was laughter until finally Bishop Arlington raised his hands.

Rory stood proudly by Tysen until the bishop asked who was giving Meggie away, to which both males replied, “I do.”

More laughter. Meggie looked up to see that her groom was smiling, a relief since he was very pale, probably as scared as she was.

Bishop Arlington had a booming voice that probably reached even the folk down at the tavern. He spoke of all sorts of expectations for Meggie, all blessed and approved by God, which made Meggie want to roll her eyes. She peeked up at Thomas, saw that he was looking quite severe, and so didn't make a sound.

The marriage service barely lasted fifteen minutes. Now, she, Meggie Sherbrooke, was a countess and Thomas, at Bishop Arlington's kind direction, was pulling back her veil, kissing her, smiling, looking immensely relieved as he said close to her ear, “You're mine now, Meggie. Mine.”

“And you are mine, Thomas. Forever.”

And something deep moved in his eyes as he stared down at her, something deep and thick and veiled. He kissed her again, a quick light kiss because there were many people avidly watching. They turned toward the congregation, both smiling so big some feared their jaws would crack.

Meggie said out of the corner of her mouth, “This is so very exciting. Do you think you will drink champagne out of my slipper?”

13

I
T WASN
'
T UNTIL
nearly six o'clock that evening when Mary Rose was fastening the small buttons of her traveling gown up Meggie's back.

“Has Thomas told you where you are spending tonight?”

“No, the man has refused to tell me a thing. Not even a single hint. I have wheedled and promised all sorts of wicked favors if he would just give me one sentence, but he refused. I even offered to put my tongue in his mouth, but he refused to speak a word about it. Oh, forgive me, Mary Rose, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just that this tongue business—I think I like it. Ah, I do hope we're on a packet to Calais, then to Paris. I should love to go to Paris again, Mary Rose. Remember when we went last time? I was thirteen and we walked in the Luxemburg Gardens and visited Versailles and Notre Dame, how magnificent that was, and—”

Mary Rose interrupted her, laughing, “Yes, love, I remember it well.” She sighed then. “I believe I would have preferred to have your father to myself, but I endured having my interfering stepdaughter along.” For just an instant Meggie didn't laugh at her jest. Mary Rose took Meggie's face between her hands and kissed her. “I loved you from the moment you rescued me and sneaked me into your bedchamber at Kildrummy. I loved you even
more when I heard you try to convince your father that you were innocent as a shorn lamb, that you weren't hiding a thing from him. And I loved all the excuses your father had to invent to keep you out of our bedchamber at night.

“You have grown into a splendid woman. I want you to be happy with Thomas. I also want a letter from you, but I will give you a week before you have to write it.”

She kissed her again, only to have Meggie's arms go around her and hug her tight. “Oh goodness, now you will have your own bedchamber with your own husband. Time has gone so quickly, Meggie, so quickly. Savor every moment. Be happy, love.”

And Meggie said, “I knew I would adore you forever when I saw Papa carrying you over his shoulder back into the castle. I was trying desperately to pull your valise back inside, but it was so heavy because of the iron candlesticks.”

Mary Rose laughed. “They weren't iron, Meggie!”

“I know, but they were very heavy, and I was only ten years old. I will miss you and Papa, Mary Rose. Oh goodness, what about Alec and Rory? Will you be able to manage them? Will—”

“Everything will be all right. They will miss you dreadfully and ask me every day when you are coming for a visit. Don't worry, love. You are a married lady now and that is a very different thing. Er, Meggie, is there anything you wish perhaps to ask me?”

“About what? Has either of the boys done something you're not sure about?”

“No, not today. When they are monsters I will simply lock them in the closet beneath the stairs. Now, Meggie—” She paused a moment, pumping herself up. “Would you like to ask me about marital sorts of things? I promised your father I would, er, inquire.”

“Oh. Oh my, Mary Rose, you're embarrassed!” Meggie laughed, hugged her again as she said, “You know, I think it is rather exciting not knowing much of anything.
Thomas does kiss very well. I assume he can continue this lovemaking business efficiently.”

“Yes,” Mary Rose said, her voice dry as the cherrywood armoire in the corner, “I believe that he will as well.”

Meggie said, suddenly appalled, “I cannot imagine speaking to Papa about those sorts of things.” Then she looked thoughtful. “But perhaps you could tell me. Is this tongue in each other's mouths—is it the done thing? Do you and Papa do it?”

Mary Rose managed not to swallow her own tongue. “Well, as a matter of fact, if you are truly interested, and I suppose that you are since you have such an inquiring mind, well, I imagine that I would have to say yes, it is very much the done thing.” Mary Rose then smiled, flushed, looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, patted Meggie's back, and picked up her traveling cloak, a rich burgundy velvet Thomas had given her for a wedding gift.

Thomas was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. He wasn't smiling. He was, obviously, anxious to be off. She saw all her relatives spread out behind them, all of them speaking and laughing, the dratted boy cousins being idiots, as always. So many beloved faces.

She hugged her father, and it seemed to everyone there that she didn't want to let him go. Tysen saw that Thomas was looking utterly emotionless, but he'd known the young man long enough to realize that he wanted his new wife and he wanted her five minutes ago. He wanted her to himself, and that, Tysen thought, was something he would simply have to accustom himself to. He also saw Thomas looking several times at Jeremy, and again, there was no expression at all on his face. Tysen wondered, but he couldn't do anything else. He kissed Meggie once, twice more, then patted her shoulder, and placed her hand on her husband's arm.

“Be happy, sweetheart,” he said.

Meggie looked down to see Rory tugging on her skirt. She lifted him up high, gave him two smacking loud
kisses, and said, “Say hello to your new brother-in-law, Rory.”

Rory looked over at Thomas, studied him for a very long time, and said finally, “You are the man who saved my life with that volcano medicine.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Thomas said.

“You will give Meggie everything she wants,” Rory said.

“I will,” Thomas said, and bowed his head.

Rory patted him on the shoulder. Meggie kissed the little boy one more time and handed him back to their father.

Her ribs sore from so many hugs, Thomas's hand firm in the small of her back, Meggie was lifted into the carriage. She leaned out the window, waving, smiling until she was sure her mouth would break.

Glenclose-on Rowan was gone from her view in the next minute because Thomas had turned her around to face him, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

He released her even before she'd had a chance to think about that kiss and what she should do. She said, staring at his mouth, her fingertips on her lower lip, “You didn't open your mouth. You didn't give me time to do anything at all. Perhaps I would have liked to open my mouth a bit.”

“I never wish to begin something that I would be unable to finish.”

“I suppose you're talking about lovemaking.”

He didn't smile at her, just untied the bow beneath her jaw and pulled off her stylish bonnet. He laid it carefully on the opposite seat. “You have lovely hair, Meggie.”

“Thank you. So do you, Thomas, all dark as ancient sins, nearly as black as your eyes. At least they look black in this dim light. You and I are very different, Thomas, and I like it very much. I will thank God every day for fashioning you just as you are. Now, will you please tell me where we are going on our wedding trip?”

“No, not yet. You will see. All right, a small bit of a hint. I am taking you to one of my homes.”

She was nearly speechless with excitement. “We are sailing to Italy?”

“No. Not this time. You will see. Don't fret. It will be dark soon. We will spend the night in Exeter.”

“We are traveling west.”

“Yes.”

She poked him very gently in his belly. He obligingly grunted for her. “I am your wife, sir. It isn't healthy for you to keep secrets from me.”

He said nothing to that, and she leaned back as he pulled up the window against the chill evening air. “Are we going to Cornwall?”

“Yes, but it is not our final destination.”

“I saw you speaking to Uncle Ryder. Do you approve of him now?”

“I believe him an estimable man. I have also determined that it is wrong to listen to gossip, to lap it up as fast as a racing kitten with a bowl of milk.”

“That was well said.” Meggie took one of his hands between hers. “You are my husband now, Thomas. Isn't that amazing?”

“I wanted you,” he said simply. “And now you are mine.”

“You make that sound like I was a prize that you somehow managed to win.”

“Yes. I would say that a wife is a prize.”

“Bosh. You also make it sound like I'm now some sort of possession. I don't know if I like the sound of that.”

“You are chattel, though the word doesn't bring particularly pleasant things to mind. Chattel is owned and so is a wife.”

She laughed, full rich, that laugh of hers, and he felt the tug of it. “That sounds just a bit like something Jeremy—the Jeremy who was the obnoxious superior one—would say. I pray you, Thomas, never treat me like I have a hollow room between my ears.”

He gave her a look that, she thought, was far too serious and said slowly, “I've never believed that.”

“Good. I'm sorry that William was unable to come. I
promised myself that I would try to be polite to him even though I would have probably smacked him in the head.”

“I asked him not to come. It would have been awkward, particularly with the Winters family there. I did not wish to have today marred.”

“I am glad my father told them the truth.”

“I suppose it had to be done, else Mr. Winters might have shot me during our wedding.”

“Mr. Winters is a very fine shot.”

“Then your father saved my life.”

Meggie laughed. “Will I meet William soon? You know, since your mother and father didn't live together, how was William conceived? He is five years younger than you?”

“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 are 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.”