“You haven’t said anything yet!” she mumbled against his chest.
“Let’s swap again.” He handed her the truffle box and took the jewellery from her. Removing the jewellery from the box, he gently lowered it onto her forehead. She looked ethereal. When he’d divorced, he’d been content to never, ever marry again. Why bind himself to something so finite? An institution that had a fifty percent chance of ending in divorce? But the woman standing in front of him made him understand that his life would never be complete unless she was truly his, committed, united, forever and ever, until the stars in the sky imploded. There was nothing practical or sensible about his love for her and this, at this moment, with the jewellery on her forehead that symbolised how far they both had come, made complete sense to him.
“Madeline Grace Mpoyi, will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal, because I got in there first, and become my wife?”
“Nathaniel Cain Goldsmith, I got here first, so thank you for accepting my proposal of marriage. I can’t wait to be your wife.” She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t going to argue. Her answer gave him everything he’d ever wanted.
Epilogue
It’s getting dark, Madeline thought, shifting herself more comfortably on Cain’s shoulder. The wool was scratchy on her chin, but the warmth that radiated from it was all her husband’s. From their blanket, they could still see the lights of the marquee on the Goldsmith’s Cambridgeshire lawn and had a choice spot to watch the fireworks that were due to begin.
“Are you cold?” he asked gently, carefully lifting her from him and removing his ceremonial jacket to wrap around her shoulders.
“Perfect now.” She smiled up at him. “Do you think anyone’s looking for us?”
“Our damn wedding day, we’ll bugger off if we want to,” he asserted, tightening his arm around her shoulders. His tone made her grin. The “and that’s the end of the matter” command hadn’t gone over very well with either of their parents, and rather than the elopement Cain wanted, they’d done things properly. He’d asked her father for his permission to marry her. They’d planned the wedding exactly three days after his return from a stint in Cyprus. Madeline wore his grandmother’s wedding dress with absolute glee. It was vintage Dior and a delight. Finally, the Goldsmiths licensed their home for ceremonies, and the wedding was officiated there with a blessing at the local chapel. Madeline was moved to tears that his platoon turned up in full uniform and high spirits. She found it far more amusing to be referred to as “One-Eyed Willy’s Wife” than Mrs. Goldsmith.
“One scratched cornea, and I’m One-Eyed Willy for life,” Cain muttered.
The party favours were Cain’s favourite truffles made in mass quantities by Madeline and Caz, who still couldn’t understand how her boss was married to a soldier. Rather than wedding presents, they both asked people to contribute to the Rwandan Forgiveness charity and Help the Heroes in Madeline and Cain’s name, which they did in spades. Finally, for the first time in the entire day, they were together and alone.
“I brought something,” Cain said lightly.
“I can’t eat or drink anything else. I’m literally bursting at the seams,” Madeline grumbled, pointing to where the waist of the vintage dress was straining.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of that.”
She pinched him on the thigh. “None of that. We’re having a nice time.”
“You promised me all night long sessions of sex that I can’t handle.”
“You’ll get it. Just not here. I know grass makes you horny but stop it a minute.”
Cain laid a kiss just on her collarbone. “We’ve been married about five hours...”
“So what did you get me?”
“Inside pocket.” He indicated the location with the brush of his fingers. Sending him a strange look, Madeline reached inside his pocket and felt the edges of a velvet box.
“What’s this?” she asked, removing the box and holding it still. Cain gave a slight shrug. “Oh, my God, Cain!”
“It just a pen.”
“It’s not just a pen, you silly man,” she chided, leaning in to kiss him through her tears. “It’s us.” He’d engraved her initials – her married ones, MGMG – with a date.
“The date of the first letter you wrote to me.”
Madeline bit her bottom lip. “Well, my present is going to pale in comparison.”
Her husband leaned towards her for another kiss. “We’re good for presents.”
“Oh, really? Then you don’t want to go to Antigua with me?”
He gave a shout of laughter. “I knew you were up to something!”
“I just want us to go on a plane for something that’s nothing to do with escape and everything to do with us making memories together.”
“I agree,” he said softly. His kiss eclipsed the first firework that lit the sky and the dozens more that followed.
The End
Other Works by
Billy London
Beautiful Trouble Publishing
Windows
On Caristo's Watch
Best Laid Plans
The Claim
At Last
Put Out The Zombie
An Old Cake Tale
Shibah's Monster
At Midnight
Christmas Connection
Mocha Memoirs Press
Playing Dead
Said the Demon
Starting Over
Shara Azod LLc
On Set
The Baby Gift
Vintage Pleasures
Army of You & Me Page 9
