Part 10 (1/2)

He took her hand in both of his. ”I want you, Abby, in my life and in my bed. I vow always to smell more poorly than you. I give you my solemn word that you will always have the majority of garments in our trunk.” He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. ”I want to give you what you want, Abby. I want to give you a home and a family.”

She looked at him. It was hard, but she made herself look at him and ask about what meant the most to her.

”And what about love? Between us?”

He smiled, and the tenderness of it went straight to her heart. ”I

68 Lynn Kurland think I began to fall in love with you from the moment I first clapped eyes on you standing at my gates. Every breath I've taken since then has just convinced me that life with you is infinitely more joyful than life without you.” He raised her hand to his lips. ”My sweet Abby, how can you think I would offer you any less?”

”Oh, Miles,” she said. It was all she'd ever wanted to hear. She threw her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and let her tears slip down her cheeks. ”Oh, Miles.”

”I want you to stay,” he whispered, putting his arms around her and hugging her. ”I'm half-afraid to ask you to give up the future for me.” He pulled back and looked at her. ”Will you? I haven't much to offer you, yet.”

She looped her arms around his neck and smiled at him, feeling joy well up in her heart. ”All I really want,” she said, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes, ”is you.”

”You won't miss chocolate?”

”I hear making love is a good subst.i.tute.”

Miles laughed. ”Perhaps in our travels someday well learn the truth of it. Until then, can you make do?”

”Yes.”

”And you'll wed me?”

”Yes.”

”Finally,” Sir Sweetums exclaimed, triumphantly. ”Well done, Miles, old boy! Finally, someone to take care of my beloved Abigail!”

”I don't need to be taken care of-”

Miles kissed her.

”See?” Abby mumbled. She made a concentrated effort to pull away so she could point out that such barbaric practices were most definitely not in the agreement, but somehow she found herself mesmerized by the feeling of his mouth on hers.

All right. If he wanted to kiss her into submission, she'd let him. Now and then.

”Perhaps, Sir Sweetums,” Miles said, when he let her up for air, ”Abby might be more amenable to the idea of keeping me in line, rather than the opposite.”

69 Sir Sweetums considered. ”Well, Garretts do do that sort of thing.”

Miles's eyes began to water. ”The first thing she might do is remove me from your presence, my good cat. No offense, of course.”

Sir Sweetums drew back at Miles's hearty sneeze. ”Well, yes, perhaps that would be wise. I'll be on my way now.”

”Oh,” Abby said, holding out her hand, ”don't go.”

”But I must, my dear. You are safely settled. My task is finished.”

”But,” Abby said, ”don't you want to see how our lives turn out? What if we have rotten kids?”

Sir Sweetums smiled again, a Ches.h.i.+re cat smile. ”I'm a permanent member of the Guardian Feline a.s.sociation, my dear. We're always about, lending a paw when needed. Now that you're here, I daresay I'll be pop-ping into medieval England more regularly.”

”Always on Christmas Eve,” Miles said with another sneeze. ”I doubt anything else during the year will give me quite the same start as watch-ing you speak.”

Sir Sweetums lifted a paw in farewell. ”Until next year, then. G.o.d be with you, my dears!”

Sir Sweetums vanished. Abby looked at Miles with a watery smile.

”h.e.l.l of a cat, huh?”

Miles laughed. ”Indeed, my love, he certainly is. Now, I believe you and I have some unfinished business below with a priest.”

She followed him down the tight staircase to find the priest standing near Miles's inadequate bonfire, s.h.i.+vering. Abby took one last look around the hall and shook her head. The place was a dump. It made her apartment look like a four-star hotel suite.

Then Miles stopped, looked down at her, and smiled. He held out his hand for her.

Abby put her hand in his. The floor squished under her Keds as she let Miles lead her to the priest. Maybe she would ask for a shovel for Christmas next year. Why hadn't she thought to stuff a can of disinfectant in her jacket before she'd left the twentieth century?

Abby came to from her contemplation of Miles's floor to find the priest looking at her, waiting for her to give some sort of answer in the af-

70 .

firmative to the question of whether or not she wanted Miles and medieval England for the rest of her life.

She looked up at Miles. ”Shouldn't your parents be here?”

Miles shrugged. ”They'll learn of it soon enough.”

Abby looked at the abbot, who seemed to be warning her with his eyes alone that she was sentencing herself to a life with a condemned heretic and shouldn't she really give it a few more minutes' thought?

”I'll take him,” she blurted out.

Miles hustled the priest out the door before anyone had a chance to say anything else. Abby squished her way closer to the bonfire. She'd just gotten herself married to a man some seven hundred years older than she. Talk about a May-December romance! She s.h.i.+vered. Hopefully his family was as open-minded as he seemed to be. She heard Miles stomping his feet outside the front door and she took a deep breath. He didn't seem to be worried about what his parents would say. They would just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Abby rolled her eyes. Hadn't a bridge been what had started her en-tire adventure?

The front door opened and Abby gave up worrying about Miles's par-ents. She was married now and Garretts did do it after they were married. Frequently. With enthusiasm. Her grandmother had been very clear on that.

Abby stood up straight and planted her hands on her waist. No time like the present to get down to business.