Wedding Bells in Oporto

Grinning, Newbury found a seat on a barrel near the impromptu dance. He was not one for dancing himself. Even if he was, his side probably wouldn't bear up well to it. Besides. It was enjoyable enough to sit on his barrel, sip at his wine, and watch.

Cotton grinned, spinning Maggie around. He couldn't help but remember the time he'd asked her to dance, the first evening they'd camped after leaving Lisbon, and the way she'd run off, overcome by emotion. This was still an emotional time, but in an entirely better way.

"You look... You look real pretty, Maggie," he said quietly to her. "You look like a queen, sweeting."

Maggie smiled, embarrassed but pleased. "Oh aye, I look a right queen in this royal crown and all. Most of it's borrowed from the other lasses." She had always known that she was not exactly beautiful, and there had been few people in her life to say differently. The marks and experience from Coimbra did nothing to improve her opinion, but it was nonetheless pleasant to hear Cotton say such things. Of course his opinion could not be relied upon in the matter, because he loved her. That was enough to alter anyone's ability to see clearly.

"I ain't talkin' 'bout your clothes, am I?" he pointed out. "Told you earlier, I'd've married you if you was wearin' me forage hat, an' it wouldn't have made a blind bit o' diff'rence to how I see you."

He loved her, and a few bruises and borrowed clothes couldn't change that. He was still slightly bemused by the fact that she'd chosen to walk out with him - to marry him - when she could have had the pick of any Rifleman in the Company.

"I know," she answered simply with a smile. She felt happy and shy and proud at the same time, and it was rather confusing. A pleasant confusion, though. "Should we share that cake, or keep it for ourselves? I know I could eat half of it," she said with a greedy laugh.

"Be nice to share it, though there ain't near enough to let everyone in the Comp'ny have a bit. Mebbe... mebbe just our friends, an' the Cap'n?" Cotton said. "Though, well, I could eat a fair decent bit of it meself. Don't get cake so often, after all."

"Maybe we'll save it for later, for tonight after the march," she said with a grin. "But we can share out the wine. Couple of bottles, Martha said." And other bottles were already making circulation through the little crowd.

"Better to save it for later - it'll go further, if we have it after a good meal. Though... I dunno if the baggage'll get up to us tonight," Cotton replied. "An' I can't see us drinkin' all the wine we've got given, not jus' 'tween you and me." He couldn't seem to stop grinning. "So, how's it feel to be Missis Cotton, then, sweeting?"

Maggie laughed up at him. "Stop asking me! Everyone keeps asking me. I don't know yet." She sat down at the edge of the fountain and pulled him down next to her so she could lean her head on his shoulder. "I'll tell you one thing I feel, though. Very happy."

He smiled. "Me, too. An' I'm sorry I keep askin'. I reckon I just don't know what to say, really." He slipped his arm around her waist. "I hope I can make things right, so's you'm happy all the time. Well, most of it, anyways. 'Cause I do love you."