Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7)

“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.