by Yvonne Jocks
“I'd have to divorce you and marry Dougie,” she declared, almost apologetical y. Their bed was too narrow for her to escape fast enough, so Stuart managed to pin her down quite easily, to capture her wrists and kiss her into submission.
“You'l nae marry Dougie,” he ordered, once he had her squirming happily beneath him.
“But I don't want to have to give up that nice MacCal um muffler,” she gasped. “And Kevin's too young.”
“You're truly set on being married to a sheep farmer?”
Suddenly, somehow, they were not teasing. For so long, he'd feared she did not understand al she was getting into. But after tonight, she had to know the dangers, the obstacles....
Mariah met his gaze with her beautiful, trusting eyes, the gray of the coming dawn. “Since the first time I met one,” she whispered.
He covered her mouth with his then; kissed her so thoroughly that he almost forgot what she'd been saying. Almost.
“Thank you, love,” he whispered. “Thank you for asking me to meet you under that bridge.”
Remembering, Mariah's smile was the sunrise. “Since the very first time.”
Epilogue
Stuart wasn't sure what to expect when he met Mariah at the Kissing Bridge, one Sunday
afternoon in September. He felt glad enough for a few minutes away from her family, of course. He liked them, despite Garrison's insistence on cal ing him “Mariah's sheep fanner.” But he did see them twice a month.
Just enough to keep track of the latest escapades of Garrison's other daughters, but not enough to get involved, which was just as he liked it. Laurel had filed on her own claim, despite being no older
than Dougie, and wanted to keep it through the winter. Victoria was writing shocking editorials for the local newspaper, with the reluctant help of her friend Evangeline. Kitty's grades had improved since she started wearing spectacles. Elise was spoiled as ever, and Audra was behaving herself.
And Stuart found himself feeling increasing sympathy for the girls' father.
No, he was just as happy to step out into the quiet autumn afternoon with the one Garrison family member who truly counted.
But it wasn't as if he and Mariah needed a bridge to kiss each other anymore.
“When you pul ed on your hair,” he asked now, a touch uncertain as to why she would revert to their old signal. “That meant to meet you here.”
Mariah's eyes widened at his arrival, as if he'd startled her from deep thoughts. She grew more beautiful by the day. Her golden hair, pulled up as befitted a proper matron, seemed to glow with a light of its own. So did her skin. So did her eyes.
He would have thought that, after almost a year of marriage, he would no longer feel so drawn to touch her, just from looking at her, even in public.
Perhaps they might need to step under the bridge after al ?
At least this time, he need not fear ambush. Idaho Johnson was in prison for life, and though Colonel Wright had managed to avoid prosecution, he'd lost his reputation, respect—and both his children's political y advantageous engagements.
Stuart tried not to take pleasure from that. Sometimes he failed. But usual y he was too happy to think about it one way or the other.
“You pulled on your hair,” he repeated. “Here I am.”
“I can see that,” said Mariah, lowering those large, fine eyes of hers, sounding unusual y shy.
“Thank you.”
Stuart said, “You're welcome.”
She was starting to worry him.
“Mariah, is something wrong?” he asked.
She lifted her healthy, happy face to him, unable to hide her smile any longer, and shook her head.
“I talked to Mother, and we're both very certain that something is wonderfully right.”
And something deep in Stuart's gut shifted, as subtly as a heartbeat, as dramatical y as an earthquake.
Mariah would have sworn that Stuart guessed, the way his eyes flared and a smile played, ghostlike, on his usual y solemn lips. But he only prompted, “Mariah ... ?”
"You remember in July, when you got the windmil working, and the water came gushing up, and we started playing in it... ?" she prompted. He had to remember. Not only was the water itself precious enough to merit celebration, but it had soaked through their clothes, plastered their hair to their scalps ... helped them forget themselves al over again.
“Aye,” agreed Stuart, eyes darkening.
“We forgot to check the calendar,” Mariah admitted.
He stared at her.
"I know we meant to wait awhile longer—not that there'l be a scandal, of course, but so that we could build a house first. But real y, the wagon is perfectly sound, and the baby won't even be here until lambing season ..."
Oh dear, she hadn't thought of that. Stuart would be terribly, terribly busy for lambing. But that wasn't their baby's fault!
Apparently, Stuart didn't think so either. The smile that had flirted with his lips was warming his eyes now, too. “A baby,” he repeated.
Mariah nodded.
“You're certain?”
"Wel ... as certain as one can be about these things. Mother says she's suspected it for a month now."
“You've been tired,” he remembered, suddenly concerned.
“Only a little—and Mother says that's normal.” Not for the first time, she wished her perfect husband were a little more talkative. “You are happy for us, aren't you Stuart? I know we meant to wait...”
But from the way his beautiful brown eyes crackled down at her, with a joy he shared only with her, she supposed she had her answer. She swal owed hard, anchoring herself on the nearness of his gaze.
“Not a day goes by that I'm not happier than seems possible,” he told her, low. “Now I'm twice as happy yet.”
Then, to Mariah's delight, Stuart leaned down across the inches that separated them and kissed her, on the lips, right there in the open. As ever, his love warmed her like sunshine, firelight, summertime.
A peal of laughter caught their attention, and they looked to see Elise running toward them, delighted to have caught them forgetting themselves in public again. Behind her, walking more sedately, came Kitty, holding their father's hand. Behind them, Audra walked with Victoria, Thaddeas—and Evangeline Taylor, clearly saying nothing, as usual.
Papa, noticed Mariah, looked none too pleased by his oldest daughter's display.
“Do you know what else makes me happy, my love?” murmured Stuart as Mariah caught her five-year-old sister up in her arms.
“What, Stuart?” Mariah asked, and although Elise did not even know what they were discussing, she asked it too. “What, Stuart?”
Mariah wondered if she should warn Papa about this bridge, before Elise got old enough to discover it.
Stuart leaned closer, so that he could whisper in her ear—mixed with a few more kisses—"I'm happy we're married, so that your da won't shoot me down where I stand."
Mariah laughed. She could not always be sure when Stuart was joshing—but either way, they'd avoided that scandal, at least!
“Papa's not even armed,” she reminded him, pleased when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, to await her sisters.
“That,” predicted Stuart, “will na last long.”
And since Stuart's pragmatism was far less cynical by the month, Mariah had to wonder if he was right. Then he made her laugh again, solemn or not. He whispered, “Have sons.”
Table of Contents
Yvonne Jocks-Forgetting Herself
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter
Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine