"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.