Chapter 25 #3
Her wedding had been very medieval and perhaps missing a few more formal things like a mass on short notice.
She’d quite happily enjoyed Wyckham’s priest’s blessing just inside the chapel that seemed roomy enough for only their parents and Connor as Sam’s best man, but the celebrating that had gone on later in the afternoon with everyone had been lovely.
She suspected, however, that her groom wasn’t finding it nearly as relaxing as she was.
He was watching his surroundings suspiciously, as if he couldn’t quite believe things had gone so well.
“I did say yes to you,” she reminded him.
He reached for her hand. “’Tisn’t you I’m worried about.” He looked at her quickly. “I mean to say, you might likely prefer to stay with your parents for a few nights until you, ah, you know.” He cleared his throat. “Accustom yourself to the idea of marriage, that is.”
“Very gallant,” she noted.
“I am that,” he said. He paused. “Also a bit of an idiot from time to time, but that can’t be helped at this late date.”
She didn’t think he was at all, but she did appreciate his consideration. Then again, if he pulled her into one more darkened corner or kissed her behind an obliging relative one more time, she was going to be the one doing damage to anyone who teased him any further.
She thought the very casual way both his parents and hers had at a certain point waved them on to a brief walk on the roof to look at the stars and to take their time was a bit odd, but when in Rome—er, medieval England.
Sam walked with her up the stairs and down the passageway, then stopped in front of her parents’ bedroom.
“I understand,” he said carefully, “that your parents have moved themselves to my mother’s solar. Guests do that from time to time when there is a need.”
“Well,” she said gingerly, “we could go inside and make certain they haven’t left anything behind.”
“That might be polite.”
“Do you think?”
He looked at her, then leaned over and kissed her rather thoroughly. “I think ‘tis the least we can do.”
She nodded, then opened the door. Sam brought in a torch to light a candle, then he built up the fire. She touched his arm, then pointed toward the bed.
There was a woman of a fair number of years sitting up in that bed, reading by flashlight. She put her book down, then looked at him.
“Sammy,” she said with a delighted smile. “And who’s that lovely girl with you?”
“Granny Mary,” Sam said faintly. “A pleasure, truly. This is Harriet Brewster—well, de Piaget now.” He paused. “My wife.”
“Perhaps not tonight, but definitely soon. Hello, Harriet, let’s send him on his way and you and I’ll make a proper evening of this, shall we?”
Harriet looked at Sam standing there, utterly speechless, and couldn’t help herself.
She laughed.
She leaned up and kissed him. “We could use her as a bolster.”
He shot her a look that made her laugh again.
“They’re not at all finished with you,” she noted.
“I’m afraid they aren’t.” He pulled her into his arms. “What say you then to a honeymoon somewhere on the continent? Alone,” he added.
“I say yes.”
He looked over her head. “Granny Mary, your work is done.”
“I know, darling. See you for breakfast.”
Harriet watched him smile wryly, then enjoyed one final kiss from him before he shook his head and pulled the door shut as he left the room. “Bolt it, wife.”
Harriet did, then turned to look at the great-grandmother who had hopped out of bed with the energy of a woman a fraction of her age. She walked over and held out her hand.
“Mary MacLeod McKinnon,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Jennifer’s grandmother, and you’re my wee Sam’s new wife, is that it? Call me Granny Mary, by the way. Everyone does.”
Harriet shut her mouth because words were simply beyond her. “Um …”
Granny Mary laughed and went to rummage around in her large black tote that Harriet supposed she should have noticed earlier. She pulled out a small bottle and a couple of shot glasses.
“I don’t drink much except for a few gin-soaked raisins every morning for heath purposes,” Granny Mary said with a twinkle in her eye, “but half a thimbleful of a tipple will kill whatever you might have caught from bad eel tonight.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Harriet managed.
“You’ll thank me when you’re not hanging your head over the appropriate spot in the loo tomorrow morning,” Granny Mary said with a smile.
“And not to worry, love. I’ll vacate your marriage bed tomorrow.
Connor paid me to come inhabit it tonight and he’s one of my favorites.
Well, so are Sam and Theo, the little terrors, but it’s hard for me to choose with so many delightful great-grandchildren.
I’m just very fortunate to be around for so many of them. ”
“Rum-soaked raisins?”
“That and some adventures with James MacLeod,” Granny Mary said wisely. “Keeps me young.”
Harriet accepted her tipple, tossed it back while trying not to taste it, then looked at Sam’s great-grandmother. “Any advice for me?”
Granny Mary made herself at home near the hearth and smiled. “Oodles and we have all night. Fond of him, are you?”
Harriet smiled. “Extremely.”
“You’re a good match for him, I can tell already. Have you seen him act? His Benedict last year didn’t disappoint.”
Harriet was half tempted to ask for another thimbleful of something strengthening, but she forbore. “You saw it?”
“Honey, I saw the original production, but Sam’s was every bit as good. Now, let’s get down to some time-traveling tips.” She held up her flask. “A touch more?”
“I think I’m going to need it.”
Granny Mary laughed and poured her three or four drops, then sat back and smiled. “Where should I start?”
“Your first memory of Sam,” Harriet said without hesitation. “If there’s time-traveling involved, that’s all right, too.”
“You are my kind of gal,” Granny Mary said. “You’ll be just fine.”
Harriet suspected she might be.