A Kiss To Remember | Herophine

Chapter Fifteen - The Wedding

Hero

I only wish she had a man such as you to watch over her....

Hardin awoke to the music of birdsong and bells. He sprang out of bed and threw the window open wide. A patchwork quilt of rolling green meadows dotted with fat, woolly sheep shimmered beneath a dazzling vault of blue. The joyful pealing of the church bells seemed to be calling his name, inviting him to partake in some wondrous celebration. Bracing his hands on the windowsill, he leaned into the sun-warmed breeze, breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

It was the perfect summer day. It was his wedding day.

He grinned and stretched, flexing his stiff muscles. Although it had been near dawn when he and Josephine had slipped into the house, struggling to muffle both their footsteps and their laughter, he didn't feel the least bit weary. She had finally confessed why she’d been wandering around the wood at that unholy hour. She’d been searching for wild rose petals to top the syllabub.

Maggie was planning to surprise him with at their wedding breakfast. He shook his head, marveling at the intricate and frequently baffling workings of the female mind.

Leaving the window ajar, he padded to the chair and slipped into his trousers, not giving the dressing table mirror a single glance. He’d been a fool to think he could find himself in its cold, polished surface. If he could be even half the man he saw reflected in Josephine's loving eyes, he would be content. It no longer mattered who he had been before losing his memory. All that mattered was who he would be after today—a husband to Josephine and a father to her children.

He was reaching for his shirt when a small furry head butted him in the ankle. The yellow kitten twined herself around his leg, her raucous purr making her sound more like a miniature tiger.

Hardin scooped her up, cradling her plush warmth against his naked chest. “You know I can’t resist you, you insatiable little vixen, but I must warn you that this is your last morning to have me all to yourself."

A heavy knock sounded on the door.

“You may come in Maggie ,” he called out. “I’m not dressed."

Maggie poked her head in the door, blushing beneath her mobcap. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Hardin, teasin’ an old woman that way. If I was to barge in here with you wearin’ nothin’ but that naughty grin of yours, I doubt my poor old heart could stand the shock.”

“I’d wager that poor old heart of yours is stronger than you let on. And what's this?" he asked, surveying the neatly folded pile of garments in her arms. “I was expecting a tray of crumpets."

“I haven’t spent all my time on Miss Josephine’s gown, you know." She held out her offering to him, ducking her head shyly.

He accepted it, discovering a stylish tailcoat cut from deep Spanish blue broadcloth and a pair of buff-colored trousers.

“Why, Maggie, what have you done?” he murmured, running a hand over her painstaking  stitches. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more handsome suit of wedding clothes."

She waved away his praise. “It was just some old fabric I found in the attic. I wanted you to do my girl proud today when you stood up with her in front of all them nosy villagers.” She gave his hips a worried glance. “I do hope the trousers’ll fit. I had to guess at your size."

Hardin slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze, blinking innocently.

Blushing anew, she backed toward the door, shaking a finger at him. “Go on with you, you shameless flirt! If you don’t mind them wicked thoughts of yours, I’m goin’ to run straight to Miss Josephine and tell her you can’t marry her ’cause you’re so in love with me."