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Godric watched as a small bird with a bright orange breast hopped along a branch and disappeared into a hole in the apple tree. In all his years of living at Saint House, he’d never seen a robin here … but that was before his Meggie came to live with him.
“I told you that apple tree wasn’t dead.”
He turned at the sound of her voice. She was wearing bright pink and apple green this morning and looked like the very embodiment of spring as she picked her way down the gravel path.
“Are you feeling better?”
An hour ago, she’d sat down to breakfast, picked up a piece of toast, and then hurriedly dropped it and rushed from the room. He’d gone to see what was the matter, of course, and had found her draped over a chamber pot.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I can’t believe you stayed and helped me whilst I was gruesomely sick. I’ve never been so mortified in my life.”
“I love you, sick or not.” He raised his brows, searching her face for any signs of lingering nausea, but her cheeks were their regular healthy pink now. “Are you better?”
“It’s the oddest thing,” she said, coming up to him and slipping her hand through his elbow. The scent of orange blossoms drifted to his nostrils, welcome and warm. “Now I’m so hungry I could eat an entire fish pie. In fact, I would very much like a fish pie … and perhaps some scones with gooseberry jam. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Lovely,” he agreed, although privately he thought the combination of fish and sweet gooseberries might be … odd. “Have you told Cook?”
She shot him a look that privately he’d classified as “wifely”—he rather liked that look. “Godric, we can’t just ask Cook to make fish pies and go in search of gooseberry jam on a whim.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I pay her wages. If you want fish pie, you ought to have fish pie. And gooseberry jam.”
“Silly.” She shook her head and gazed at the apple tree again, softly murmuring, “Not dead at all.”
He smiled wryly because she pointed out the old apple tree every time they walked in the garden—at least once a day and more often twice—as an example of her gardening acumen.
It was a rather spectacular sight.
The tree had covered itself in an embarrassment of pink and white blossoms, a fragrant, joyous cloud that drew the eye as soon as one stepped into the garden. He was never, ever going to hear the end of this from Meggie.
Not that he was complaining.
“Oh, look,” Megs exclaimed. “A robin’s nest. And I saw baby bunnies hopping about yesterday evening. I didn’t know there was so much wildlife in the heart of London.”
“There never was before a goddess came to live here,” Godric muttered.
She glanced at him. “What?”
“Never mind.”
He wrapped his arms about her, watching with her as the robin took flight. No doubt his garden would be infested with squirrels and badgers and baby hedgehogs soon. Her magic was quite potent, it seemed.
Thank God.
He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “Have I told you how glad I am you invaded my house and turned my life upside down?”
She turned her head so that her cheek brushed his lips. “Every day”.
“Ah.” He smiled against her soft skin. “You saved me, you know.”
She shook her head again. “Silly.”
“It’s true,” he said, because it was. “And now I’m going to save you by demanding Cook make you a fish pie.”
She pursed her lips.
“Yes,” he insisted, turning her until she faced him. “Nothing is too good for the mother of my child.” Her cheeks deepened to rose and she bit her lip, though that didn’t stop the smile she was trying to stifle. “You’re sure now, aren’t you? That’s what this morning was about?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m certain.”
