Mary Putney: Angel Rogue

After the serious eating was done and the toasts had been drunk, Robin bent to her and said quietly, "Shall we take a walk? Our guests can manage without us for a few minutes."

"I'd like that."

Hand in hand, they strolled through the gardens, which were magnificent with early summer scents and blooms. In a few short weeks, Ruxton had become the home of her heart.

As they wandered into the woods, Robin said, "Did I mention how much I like your gown? I've never seen anything like it, but it suits you perfectly."

She glanced down at the exquisitely beaded and fringed dress with pleasure. It had been a wedding gift from Margot. "It's a loose interpretation of a Mohawk wedding costume. I sketched out the design and Margot found a dressmaker who was willing to make it even though she didn't have any dyed porcupine quills."

Sunlight shafted through the leaves and small birds fluttered on all sides, filling the air with music. She nodded toward them. "Look at all the songbirds around us, Robin. It's as if they've come to help us celebrate."

He grinned.

Suddenly suspicious, Maxie looked more closely at the grass beside the path. "Lord Robert, did you tell the gardener to sprinkle grain along this path to bring the birds for us?"

He laughed, unrepentant. "What's wrong with creating a little magic? When I first saw you at the Wolverhampton fairy ring, I thought of Titania, the fairy queen."

She joined his laughter. "And I thought of Oberon. Our imaginations work in similar ways."

"Among many other things." He hesitated, then said, "I probably shouldn't ask, but these days, when you think about the future, do you have a sense of its course?"

She nodded. "Many, many happy years with you."

He raised their hands and kissed her fingertips. "That's what I was hoping."

The path led to a clearing that Maxie had not seen before. In the center was a fairy ring like the one at Wolverhampton. She stopped and gazed at it, feeling absurdly happy.

Robin drew her into his arms and gave her a kiss of aching sweetness. Then he whispered, "Now, Kanawiosta, show me again how to listen to the wind."