Page 75 of The Thorn and the Rose

Rose blushed a bright scarlet and glowered at her brother. “I’m sure you must be mistaken,” she said crossly, before taking Izzy’s hand. “Come along, dear, we must take our places before the bride arrives. Good luck, Thorn. Not that you need it, Rosemarie is just lovely.”

Thorn grinned at her and went to greet his parents. Pip was busy trying to keep Tilly in hand, for she was delighted to meet Izzy and the two of them looked set to cause havoc if they were not reined in. His younger sister was there too, with her newly returned husband, Lord Kilbane. He was doing his best to look inconspicuous and failing miserably. There was a slightly uneasy entente between him and the rest of the family, for Cat’s sake, but to give the fellow his due, he was trying his best. Privately, Thorn thought he’d better keep trying as hard as he could to make Cat happy, or every man here would be out for blood.

There was no doubting her happiness now, however, as she rushed to Thorn and embraced him warmly, kissing his cheek. “I’m so glad you found your Rosemarie, Thorn,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Now we both have our happily ever after, there is only Pip to settle,” she added, giving him a sideways look that suggested Pip was in trouble.

“You keep your meddling hands out of my affairs, Catherine,” Pip said sternly, only to blanch a little at the look his father gave him.

Montagu, much to Thorn’s amusement, leant down and whispered in Cat’s ear. “Do your worst, child. You have my blessing.”

With a gurgle of mirth, Cat returned to her husband, who slipped a proprietary arm around her waist as they took their places.

Seeing a familiar and beloved figure wrapped in thick blankets close to one of the braziers that warmed the little church, Thorn hurried over to greet Pippin. She was a very old lady now, though she refused to give her exact age; she could have been anywhere between eighty and a hundred. It was impossible to tell. Once the family cook, she was far more than that to all of them, especially his father, who insisted he would not be here at all without her.

Thorn embraced Pippin warmly, her sharp eyes gazing at him with interest. “Well done, boy. You’ve found a good one there. You’ll be happy.”

Though he had not doubted that one bit, her words settled in his heart and made him smile with pleasure, for Pippin was a wise woman, in the mystical sense, and did indeed seem to know things that other people did not. “Thank you, Pippin, and bless you for coming out in the cold.”

“Oh, I have a little something to keep me warm,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, showing him his father’s silver hip flask.

Thorn chuckled, kissing her cheek, and went to take his place at the altar. Suddenly feeling somewhat jittery, he consoled himself that at least Rosemarie had no excuse for being late, though he took out his pocket watch and checked the time, just in case.

“You have the ring?” he asked Leo, who only rolled his eyes.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” he muttered.

Thorn was about to tell him he’d bloody well better check, for he didn’t trust him an inch, when the words died on his tongue.

There she was.

Whilst it was still short, her hair now curled softly around her beautiful face, which Thorn could not look away from. He registered the fact the gown was yellow, which made him smile, and that Hart’s wedding gift had been her beautiful bouquet of white roses from one of his many hot houses, proving that Hart was a far more romantic fellow that Thorn had supposed. A pity she could have not carried yellow roses, but they symbolised jealousy and infidelity, so would not have been appropriate. Thorn thought this a lot of nonsense, but Hart had been adamant, and so had Rosemarie.

As he took in the picture his wife-to-be made, Thorn’s heart seemed to expand in his chest. They had been through such a lot, and it had been such a long road to get here, but now she was entirely his, and the happiness that shone in her eyes was unmistakable.

This, finally, was the beginning of their lives.

“Where are we going?” Rosemarie protested.

Thorn kept his hands covering her eyes as the carriage swayed gently.

They had left the rest of the family enjoying each other’s company after a lavish wedding breakfast and far too much toasting with champagne. It had been a wonderful day, intimate among the warmth and familiarity of his favourite people in the world, but now, all he could think about was being alone with his wife.

“You’ll see in just a minute,” he teased her, listening to the muffled clop of the horses' hooves as they crossed the snow-covered estate.

“Are we camping?” she asked with a laugh, for they were only a short distance from the palace.

Pippin had been adamant they not consider a long journey, for they would not make it to their destination. As ever, she had been correct. The snow was falling thick and fast, and Thorn congratulated himself on taking Pippin’s advice and making provision for that eventuality.

“No, not camping,” he replied, amused. “As if I’d want our wedding night huddled in a tent. I think not,” he added with a snort.

“Then where—”

But the carriage eased to a stop and Thorn took his hand away, cupping his wife’s face and kissing her tenderly. “Look,” he said, gesturing to the window.

Rosemarie gazed up at him, looking as though she’d far rather he just kissed her again, so he did.

“Now look,” he said, laughing.

She gave him a smile that did odd things to his already overflowing heart and turned with an exclamation.