by Regina Scott
Then Margaret laughed, and Thomas joined her, free and loving merriment lifting to the stars above in a prayer of thanksgiving as old as time.
"You see?” Margaret smiled at him. “The reason you kissed badly, my lord, is that you were kissing the wrong women."
"You appear to be right,” he replied, returning her smile and smoothing her disheveled hair. “You have my heart and my love. I've never met anyone like you, Margaret Munroe."
She laughed again. “Well, of course not. I am an Original. Now, show me again how you intend to kiss me once we're married."
So Thomas granted her request, and she surrendered to the joy of the marquis’ kiss.
To Meryl, a heroine for this and any other century
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