Wedding Bells in Oporto

"Oh I know, I know!" she protested earnestly. "He's a well good man, and a real gentleman too. I wouldn't dream of telling him he couldn't come! But... what do you mean, he'd be disappointed?"

He had started scraping carefully at his stubble, and the question made him pause. "Well, he made me his batman, an' he's bin real nice to us both. I think he'd want to come, see us get married, 'specially after... Didn't you say he'd sent the money for your stock, an' your donkey too?"

Her eyes darted over the sleeping riflemen with a slight frown. She didn't exactly want everyone to know. "Yes," she said in a hushed voice. "Yes, he's been real kind. Well if he'd like to come, of course he ought to."

"I was... I was wonderin'," Cotton said, pausing again after another few strokes. "If... if we get proper church-married, later, d'you reckon he'd give you away? 'Cause, well, I think I might ask Joe Newbury to be me groomsman, see." He laid the razor down so he could look at her. "If you don't mind, that is."

Maggie looked horror-struck. When she finally answered, she said, "Let's just cross that bridge when we get to it!"

"All right. It was just an idea." He resumed scraping at his chin again, feeling grateful for the hot water. "Could ask Roper, if you'd prefer," he said, with a shrug, running his hand over his jaw to see if he'd missed anything. He turned to look at Maggie. "How's that look, then?"

"Get that right there," she said, pointing at her own chin. "Don't ask anyone yet. Who knows when we'll get church-wed. Gotta have money for all that, and this is fine enough for me, really. Money for a church wedding could... buy you another shirt, for starters. Or - you know what I really want, more'n anything else?" Her eyes were shining. "A cart. Just a little one! Oh, that would be... so perfect."

"Don't have to be a church, though it'd be nice. Where we goin' to find a proper church out here, where it's all Cath'lic, though? Could jus' see if we can find a proper parson who'll do it, church-style, like a weddin' like that. It'd be cheaper an' we wouldn't have to wait so long." He gave his chin another couple of passes with the razor. "That any better?" he asked, and paused thoughtfully. "Dunno 'bout a cart now... I'd make you one, if I knew we was goin' to be in one place long enough. Or at least, I'd have a go at makin' you one."

"Can't you just steal me one?" she laughed.

"Dunno that you'd want the sort of small carts the Portuguese have. They ain't so good as a proper English one. An' the wheels squeal like all the Devils of Hell." He grinned. "I'd want to make you one. A proper good'n, if I could."

"Meanwhile, I'd settle for the Devils of Hell. Water's boiled. You got the tea? I'm gonna find a candle or sommat to see by." She stopped and looked at him, her thoughts finally catching up with her in spite of her purposeful rush. Her smile died away. "Gabe..."

The tone of her voice made him turn to look at her with a concerned frown. "Maggie? You all right there, sweeting?"

She stopped and gave him a frozen smile. "It's nothing."

He turned to face her properly. "It ain't nothin', Maggie, not when you sound like that. What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I just..." She trailed away and ended by staring at the floor. A piece of burning wood fell in the fireplace, making her jump visibly. She recovered and made herself busy with the kettle. "Let's have some tea."

He crossed to where she was standing and took the kettle from her, then rested his hands on her shoulders. "Leave the kettle a minute, Maggie, an' talk to me, do. Please, won't you tell me what's botherin' you?"

She cringed and shrank under his touch, staring down with wide eyes, not looking at his face. She laughed nervously. "You still got a lost button there...!"

"Maggie - sweeting. Never mind about me buttons, lass." He gently turned her around and slipped his arms around her. "I love you, Maggie, more'n I've ever loved anyone afore, and I want to know how I can make things right for you."

She was breathing heavily and her heart was racing as he wrapped her in his arms. She closed her eyes and steeled herself against his touch, telling herself that it was not entirely repulsive to be held. She did not return his embrace but pressed her fists against her own heart as if to calm its heaving. "I'm scared," she said in a small voice without looking up.

Scared? His first impulse was to tighten the hug a little, but he resisted it; he didn't want to scare her further. He raised a hand to press her head against him a little, careful not to be too hard because of the buttons on his jacket. "Scared of what, Maggie? Me? Or... or gettin' wed? A-cause we... we don't have to, today, not if you don't want. Or is it... summat else?"

She began to relax slightly, slowly, and she managed to put her arms around his waist. "Just scared. I want to go home, Gabe." The words and even the idea made little sense to her. What home? Not her father's home, though it was the only home she had ever known.

She was beginning to thaw, the temporary terror now passing though her heart was still in a rush. She looked up at Cotton wearily, her expression grey. "Can I have some tea?"

"Tea? Yes... Tell you what, why don't you sit down an' I'll make it for you." He couldn't let her go just yet, though. "Maggie... I promise I'll never do nothin' to hurt you. I promise you on me mum's grave, I do."

"It's just... we're getting married, and..." As her husband, Cotton's rights would be supreme. But although she had resigned herself to that fate willingly and knowingly, she was now afraid. "I do want to do right by you, as your wife," she protested quietly as if rebutting an accusation.

"I know. I never said you didn't." She was scared... not of him, but of what he might make her do, and the knowledge cut him like a knife. "I won't do anythin' to hurt you. Not now. And not never, Maggie. Not after... Never. I couldn't."

Now she pulled away gingerly and sat down. Feeling numb was better than the waves of fear that kept washing over her. "I know." She reached out and took him by the hand, pulling him onto the hearth beside her. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm just scared."