Page 69 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

No cathedral, however splendidly festooned with the finest of flower arrangements, could have been more perfect, more suited to the glory of such a bride. She belonged here, in this spring-like atmosphere, framed by the magnificence of the Crimble Mountains.

As for Nigel? How had he ever become such a lucky bastard? How could he, with all the sins he’d committed, all the mistakes he’d made, all the petty fears and grievances which had driven him to anger and selfishness and greed . . . how could he now be standing here? He could never deserve such grace.

And yet, here he stood.

Luna reached the top of the garden. Pausing, she let her aunties lift her veil to peck her cheeks. Then she turned to face Nigel without any lace to obscure his view of her. She stepped toward him, tears in her eyes as she smiled. And she was so exquisite, he could hardly breathe.

When she held out her hand to him, he took it in both of his, drawing her near. “My dear girl,” he murmured, “you are the Dawn Angel incarnate.”

“You’re not half-bad yourself, Mr. Grimm,” she answered with a wink.

He would carry that compliment with him to his grave.

“Shall we begin?” the vicar suggested.

Thankfully, he did not ask them to turn and face him. Because Nigel didn’t think he could take his eyes off his bride. Not for a moment. They stood at the potting bench, her holding the little lavender and chamomile bouquet in one hand while he gripped the other in both of his. There was a moment of confusion when the vicar asked for rings, of which they had none . . . but Auntie Aurora stepped forward with two simple gold bands, which had once belonged to her parents. Well, Nigel figured, they were wearing Arbuthnot and Amelia’s wedding clothes; might as well use their bands as well! He slipped the ring on Luna’s hand, gazing deep into her eyes as he did so. Though he’d not prepared anything to say, and the vicar hadn’t asked him to speak, he found himself incapable of letting the moment go by in silence.

“Luna,” he said, his voice thick in his throat, “I used to look upon this world and see only its cruelties. Its losses, its sorrows. I thought beauty was fleeting and goodness too fragile to last. Then I met you. You taught me that flowers bloom after winter. That wounded things can heal. That kindness is strength and joy is worth protecting. You made me believe in gardens again. You made me believe in hope. I don’t know whether the Green Mother guided you to me or simply smiled upon the miracle of our meeting, but I do know this: you are the love of my life, the delight of my heart, the glory of my every waking thought.

“I suspect I shall spend the rest of my days far too keenly aware of how undeserving I am. But I vow that every moment I will spend endeavoring to be worthy of the heart you have given me. I vow to cherish you, to defend you, to comfort you, to make you laugh. I vow to make a home with you, to tend your gardens,to brew your teas, to carry your burdens when they are heavy, and to remind you every day how fiercely you are loved.

“And when my life reaches its final hour, I hope my last thought will be the same as my first thought each dawn: That somehow, impossibly, you chose me.

“I love you, Luna. With all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

She was weeping openly by the time he came to the end of his speech. When he finished, she gulped and said, “Do you have a handkerchief?”

“Oh, yes.” He hastily fished it from his pocket and handed it to her. She turned away, blowing her nose rather loudly. “Oh, Green Mother!” she gasped, turning back to face him again and laughing with red-cheeked embarrassment. “What can I possibly say in answer to that?”

“Don’t say anything,” he answered softly. “Only that you love me.”

But she took the ring from her auntie and, after one last little sniffle, stuffed the hanky up her sleeve and reclaimed his hand. Sliding the band onto his finger, she sought his gaze with hers.

“Nigel,” she said, coughing a little and trying to assume a serious tone of voice. Her brow went stern with concentration, but he knew she was only trying to stop herself from crying more. “You keep saying you don’t deserve me, but . . . well, the truth is, I keep asking myself what I ever did to deserve someone like you! You’re the kindest man I’ve ever known. Every day is brighter, every burden lighter as long as you are with me.

“I promise to stand beside you through whatever lies ahead. I promise to laugh with you, to comfort you, and to love you even when you’re being stubborn or anxious or determined to carry the whole world by yourself. And I promise that, no matter what comes next, I will always choose you. Every day. For the rest of my life.

“I love you, Nigel Grimm. Wherever you are is my home. My only home.”

A prayer was said—Nigel hardly listened. He probably should, given his newfound devotion to the Green Mother, but he simply couldn’t hear the vicar’s voice over the triumphant melody bursting in his head. He didn’t hear anything until somehow, through the symphony of imagined strings and horns and timpani, the words, “You may kiss your bride,” reached him.

Then he took his wife in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly, Auntie Arabella squealed, and Auntie Aurora averted her eyes, and the vicar murmured a startled, “Goodness gracious me!”

“Aurora and I are taking a little trip into town today,” Auntie Arabella said as she held Luna in her plump arms and squeezed her softly. A quick peck on her cheek, then she drew back and gave her niece what could only be described as A Look. “You’ll have the cottage to yourself. In fact, I don’t think we’ll be returning until tomorrow morning. Late.”

A hot blush roared up Luna’s cheeks even as she couldn’t deny the little jolt of happiness she felt at the prospect. “Are you sure?” she asked hastily. “We . . . we wouldn’t want to kick you out of your own home.”

“Nonsense! The vicar’s giving us a drive into Greater Snoring. It’ll be a little holiday for Rory and me.”

With this declaration, Arabella firmly took hold of her sister’s elbow and turned her around to follow the vicar to his automagic mobile, parked out front. Aurora sent Luna one last stern look, though what in the hecks she had to be stern over now, Luna could hardly guess. Shewasa married woman, after all! She had the ring to prove it and everything.

Nigel moved to stand at her side on the sloped green lawn. His right hand slid around her waist, a nice warm weight, while his left raised to wave goodbye to the aunties along with Luna. When the vicar’s motor had at last put-putted around a bend in the road, however, he turned her to him and pressed a kiss on her mouth.

His lips positivelyburned.

A thin and quivery thread of nerves unspooled in Luna’s stomach. She pulled back from the kiss rather quickly and blurted, “Tea? How about some tea? I’m parched, aren’t you? Yes, I think a quick cuppa is exactly what we need.”

Whirling in a swoosh of aged silk, she gathered her skirts and all but fled to the cottage kitchen. Her heart beat wildly, and she was painfully aware of every bone in the restricting corset she wore. Because, of course, to wear Extremely Great Aunt Amelia’s wedding gown also meant to wear Extremely Great Aunt Amelia’s undergarments. The gown simply wouldn’t fit right without them. Which, in turn, meant she was a mass of layers: chemise, drawers, corset, corset cover, bustle pad, several petticoats, stockings, garters . . . the whole production. She felt she could hardly draw a full breath, and the magicked atmosphere of the cottage yard was much too warm.