A Heart for Milton

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 11

A Heart for Milton - Chapter 11

Mr. Thornton's feet grew numb from the stinging cold of the flowing water, but his heart was warm with love for the woman he held in his arms. He slowly released her from his tender kiss. "Is this how we shall pass our holiday?" he teased her, awed by her ability to constantly surprise him. "Will you show me something of your world every day, so that at length I shall become a carefree country dweller?" he pressed, as he gazed at her adoringly, her face only inches from his.

"Have you never waded in a stream?" Margaret asked curiously, detecting something in his tone that revealed a childlike wonder to explore all things new.

He shook his head with a measure of embarrassment to confess that he had never experienced such a simple pleasure. The river in Milton was deep, and dirty with years of use, and he had seldom visited the countryside.

Her heart went out to him for the years he had worked hard, while others his age had played. He had spent his years in a city with little opportunity to escape his structured confines. Margaret was at once determined that he should know the joy of living in the country, where nature dominated the patterns of everyday life and the constructions and regulations of men were less in evidence.

"Then, yes, it shall be my duty to show you everything wonderful about living here," she declared confidently as she regarded him with affection.

He smiled at her determination and kissed her fervently for her compassion, eager to begin at once the glory of her tutelage.

Mr. Thornton carefully guided her by the waist, as the lovers stepped out of the brook onto the grassy bank. Margaret held up her skirts until she was safely on dry land.

They headed back to the coach, Margaret with wet silk stockings in once-dry slippers and Mr. Thornton in his bare feet, casually carrying his shoes by his side.

Seated in the open carriage once more, they grinned at each other in the shared secret of what they had done as Mr. Thornton brought her snugly against him with a strong pull of his curved arm. She rested her head comfortably on his shoulder as they drove a little further into the countryside before turning around to head to the cottage.

At last, they arrived at the country home that would be their private haven. The driver carried in the groom's trunk as Mr. Thornton helped his wife out of the carriage.

As the couple reached the door, Mr. Thornton swept his bride off her feet to carry her over the threshold. Margaret gasped in surprise, but happily wrapped her arms around his neck. The last time he had held her thus she had seemed lifeless and fragile - a tenuous dream of love and happiness. Now, she was alive and vibrant - and promised to him alone.

Stepping into the cottage, he felt the impulse to continue straight up the stairs and into the bedroom to claim his privilege as her husband, but stopped in the foyer at the foot of the stairs. He was resolved to wait until the time was right. He did not wish to appear overbearing.

"I believe you are supposed to carry me over the threshold of our home," she emphasized playfully, enjoying the demonstration of his strength and the feel of his arms about her.

"I must take every precaution to ensure my great fortune," he replied with mirth as he reluctantly set her down, keeping fast hold of her waist.

Margaret smiled in response but dipped her head timidly, suddenly conscious that they were now alone, and the hours before them unscripted.

"I should change into my day dress," she faltered, her gaze still cast downward. "I'm afraid my dress is a little wet," she explained with a wry smile as she brought her gaze back to his.