Page 53

One month later

V erity squealed as William lifted her over the threshold of their cottage.

It was a stone’s throw from the vicarage, where they could have stayed at no cost, but the new Mr. and Mrs. William Cole were determined to live alone and follow their own dictates.

Mr. Lockhart, on the verge of retirement, had employed William as curate.

This meager income, plus his father’s allowance and the savings from his time in the military, made it possible for William and his bride to reside in the tiny abode, close to his duties, while granting the couple their independence.

The rooms were sparsely furnished, and Verity had returned to wearing her simple country clothes, which she much preferred, anyway.

The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room.

Mrs. MacTavish, delighted that young Miss Lockhart had found a match, and no doubt grateful she would no longer be dragging mud into her kitchen, had baked a loaf for them and left it in the window to cool.

A little pot of her best preserves stood on the table.

Next to it lay a silver spoon, previously a wedding gift to Verity’s mother and now passed onto the new Mrs. Cole.

Verity’s feet slipped down to the floor, but she did not step away. William was holding her close, his smile widening as she slipped her arms around his waist.

“Welcome home,” she said, pressing her cheek to his heart.

William stroked her hair and planted a kiss in its loose waves. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, looking rather pleased with himself. “But you will need to take off your shoes and stockings.”

“Will you have me undress in the doorway, Husband?” she whispered in his ear.

William’s eye danced. “Do not distract me from my surprise, you minx. I only need you to remove your footwear. For now…”

“Very well.” Verity sat down upon the nearest chair and slipped her shoes from her feet before rolling down her stockings and placing them carefully to one side.

She wriggled her toes. “I have not gone barefoot for months. I have missed it.” She tilted her head at William. “What now? Where will you have me?”

William swallowed hard. “I would have you here and now, Mrs. Cole,” he growled. “But there is something else we will do first.”

He reached behind the door and drew out two large nets, as well as Verity’s portfolio and pencil. “It is a day for new beginnings,” said William. “And I would have it remembered as the happiest you have ever been.”

Verity leaped up and crossed the floor in an instant, throwing her arms about his neck. “You magnificent man, I am already fit to bursting with happiness.”

“Then, perhaps, we may immortalize this day with a sketch. We shall find the rarest insect with a name I shall likely not remember, and you shall record it for posterity. We will show it to our children and say, ‘This is from the day your mama and papa were married. Do you see the beauty of these colors your talented mama has painted? They are as nothing compared to her eyes.’ And then we shall all run down to the pond and see who can find a tansy beetle first.”

“Shall we let our children drag their muddy feet into our parlor?” Verity giggled.

“No, indeed not,” William replied sternly, “for I shall be a respectable vicar.” His lips parted in a grin. “They will have to drag their mud in through the kitchen like the rest of us.”

Verity hugged William. “You will be a wonderful father. And I the most blessed of wives.”

William stepped back and reached for Verity’s hand. “Come, Wife, let us go and show the neighbors what eccentric manners we have.”

Hand in hand, they strolled along the grassy path, their laughter ringing out into the bright, sunny day. Verity felt grounded by the earth beneath her, and the hand that held hers, while her heart… Her heart soared to the heavens.