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“Where exactly is here?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.
Charles’s intrigue and joy were paramount, not only for what surprise lay ahead, but the very fact that Marie had planned this on her own. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think she would want to do anything of the sort—leave the comfort of home, travel to a town she’d revealed she’d never been to. All of it was so...adventurous.
Charles exited the carriage first, then offered his hand to Marie, who accepted it with a bright expression. He wondered how long it might be before she let him in on her secret, but as they moved beyond the carriages and crowds and closer into the town, he didn’t need an explanation at all, for he knew exactly what she’d brought him to.
“A festival?” he said.
“A festival,” Marie repeated beside him, her hand looped around his arm as they paused to take in the sight. “To remind us of the first adventure we found in common. And, perhaps, the first real adventure we share in together today.”
Charles shook his head in disbelief. All of this was unthinkable in the best possible way. Did that mean she wished to keep adventuring with him? Did that mean she wished to stay married?
With joy threatening to topple from his heart, he cast his eyes around them.
The town was full to bursting with booths set up at various locations, tables overflowing with cakes and biscuits and cheese. A juggler tossed colorful balls into the air as he moved down the street, and children laughed at the puppet shows popped up near shops with their doors propped open.
A group of musicians played in the town square where impromptu dancing now took place between a number of couples, and makeshift fences barred in cows, sheep, and pigs. Any smell that might have exuded from the livestock was removed promptly due to a gentle breeze that pulled the scent of strawberries and brown sugar around the space.
Excitement flapped its anxious wings within Charles’s chest. Never had he experienced such a thoughtful gift—for that was precisely what this was, a gift from his incomparable wife.
“You are pleased?” Marie asked, looking so adorably hesitant, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she knew how greatly he was pleased.
Instead, he pulled her hand up and soundly kissed the back of it, knowing anything further would elicit more than a few stares. “I have never been more happy, m—Marie.”
Their eyes caught. He’d been about to call her, “My darling.” He didn’t wish to startle her with his sudden shift in affection toward her, and yet, as her eyes found his, warmth encompassing every inch of those chocolate depths, he wondered if she might have welcomed the words, after all.
From that point forward, Charles tested his theory as they enjoyed the sights of the fire blowers, the smells of the fresh bread and cherry tarts, and the sounds of laughter and conversation around them. He was attentive and complimentary, placing his hand at the small of her back time and time again and leading her forward with eager fingers through crowds.
He could hardly comprehend what was occurring as he walked about the space with his wife. He’d experienced far more adventurous moments—storms at sea, peering over the edge of enormous cliffs, walking through caves—but never had he enjoyed himself so fully as walking about the town with Marie on his arm, his fingers securely over her hands.
He’d always had great fun with his friends, but there had always been something missing—a companionship, a careful feminine touch—and now that he had it with Marie, he knew he would never settle for anything less.
After sampling cheeses and cold slices of meat, they wandered toward a man at the edge of town who was sending his trained falcon into flight to the amazement of the gathered crowd.
“I’ve always enjoyed watching birds,” Charles mused aloud as the fowl returned to its master.
“They are quite fascinating,” Marie agreed. “My dear friend Mrs. Chumley has just married an avid bird observer. I hear he has been attempting to put on an expedition of sorts through England.”
“Now that would be an adventure in its own right,” Charles said, and Marie hummed in response.
Next, they moved on to listen to the music, a group of female singers having replaced the musicians from before.
“You ought to perform,” Charles said.
“Oh, no. I do not make it a habit to sing before others.”
Charles had been about to claim otherwise, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t quite ready for her to know that he’d been falling asleep to her beautiful singing for a week now.
After listening to the performance, they kept up their meandering past shops and booths, munching on hot pies and fresh strawberries until the sun drew close to the horizon, and the day wore out.
As the rest of the town dispersed, Charles and Marie reluctantly returned to their carriage and climbed in with sore feet and full hearts.
Once settled within the coach’s walls, Charles peered at the empty seat beside her. “Do you mind?”
She gave a little shake of her head, scooting just a degree to her left as Charles settled at her right. Roses—the scent of her hair, perhaps?—plumed around him, and heat blossomed through his core as their arms pressed up against each other.
The carriage bumped down the road, and soon, Marie fell asleep, her head bobbing up and down until Charles gently coaxed her to rest on his shoulder. She sighed, settling deeper against him as heat pooled in his chest.
