Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7) - Page 35
“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.”
He said, his voice cold, withdrawn, “That was very eloquent.”
She said slowly, “Was it?”
“And näive.”
“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?”
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