We have all waited for such a long time for John and Margaret to finally meet. I hope you all enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
Chapter 10.
~ “I don't want to possess you! I wish to marry you because I love you! I have never loved any woman before; my life has been too busy, my thoughts too much absorbed with other things. I love you, Miss Hale, and will love you always!” ~
His deep voice had trembled, thick with raw emotions; his words still reverberated throughout the walls of Mr. Hales' old study, raking across Margaret's heart. However, it was her own scathing reply to those impassioned words that truly tormented her soul.
~ “Well, you shouldn't, because I do not like you and never have! Why there was not a man, not a poor desperate man in all that crowd for whom I should not have done the same in shielding them from the violence of the riotous mob!” ~
As Margaret gazed about the room, she could still feel the effects that her caustic words had on the strong,independent Darkshire man. His intense pain had been visibly evident, contorting his handsome features and causing the gleam of unshed tears to hover precariously upon his long, dark lashes. Margaret winced; it was all still so vivid.
She did not know how or when his agony had invaded her very soul, but at that very moment she felt it keenly and realized she would carry the imprint forever upon her heart. Margaret knew she should flee this house, but found herself walking slowly to the familiar window to gaze down upon the street below. All she saw, however, were memories.
Her thoughts turned to her beloved brother,Frederick. How she envied his new life, now that he was happily married and living in Cadiz. He had found someone to love and cherish who loved him in return and provided him with comfort in his dark hours when the gnawing pain of loss became too much to bear alone. Margaret had only herself, and her heart still bled. The only person who could ever provide a healing balm to her lacerated heart was forever lost to her, and the bitter reality was that it was no one's fault but her own.
A shuddering sob escaped Margaret's compressed lips. She knew all too well how caring and tender of heart Mr. Thornton could be. Had she not witnessed first-hand his kind and compassionate nature towards her dear Mother? Maria Hale had loved fruit, and as her sickness had progressed, Mr. Thornton had brought her some of the finest fruits Milton had to offer. Margaret clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle another sob as the bowl of ruddy apples flashed in her mind. His words returned to haunt her: ~“I don't remember the color of this fruit...” ~
When her Mother had died, John was there by her father's side, providing solace to his dear friend. He was ever so gentle and understanding, sitting long hours with Richard as the older man poured out his heart. It was only John who could provide the comforting words that helped sooth Mr. Hale's broken heart and spirit.
Margaret yearned to hear his low, soothing voice speak words of comfort to her while he tenderly held her close. But her own callousness and the wretched lie she had told had shattered any such hope. Tears once again welled in her eyes as his harsh words washed over her. ~ “Any foolish passion for you I had on my part is entirely over Miss Hale! I am looking to the future!” ~
Margaret clutched the windowsill as tears threatened to spill over at the remembrance of his words. She had never felt so cold, alone, or empty as she did at that moment.
She was so preoccupied with her own dark, morose thoughts that she did not register the noise behind her. It took a moment before she recognized the slight sound of someone clearing his throat that she roused herself, realizing she was no longer alone in the room.
Collecting her thoughts, she slowly turned to see who had entered. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself staring into the azure eyes of Mr. Thornton. Margaret stood frozen in place; words would not come. For several heart beats, each gazed upon the other, neither uttering a sound. Margaret was certain she was looking upon an apparition, that the day’s events had finally taken a toll. The silence was finally broken when John said in a husky voice, “Miss Hale? ”
Taking a step towards him, she paused, swaying for an instant where she stood. The world fell out from beneath her feet, but she did not fall to the ground. In two quick strides, John caught her, encircling his strong arms around her small waist and holding her close to him. The last thing Margaret remembered before the entire world went dark were the warmth of his embrace as he cradled her head softly upon his firm chest, and the sound of his strong heart-beat reverberating through her very being, touching her soul. Her last fleeting thought was that she was finally at peace; she had come home.
John stood motionless, his breathing ragged as he held Margaret's limp form close to his frame; he would never let her fall. His long, slender fingers gently caressed her dark silken hair while he murmured her name over, and over again, as he had on the day of the riot: ~ “Oh, Margaret, my Margaret...” ~
She lay as one dead against his chest, but he could still feel her breathing and comfort as he gathered her even more tightly within his hold. His rational mind told him he should carry her to the sofa, but he did not want to relinquish his precious burden. For this moment, this one moment in time, Margaret was his as she lay safely in his protective arms. Holding her filled him with a joy that warmed him the way a soft spring breeze breathes new life into the cold barren Yorkshire moors.
He continued to stroke her soft hair and quivered within as his finger occasionally brushed the warm, soft flesh of her neck. “Oh, Margaret...” he murmured.
How long he stood holding her he could not say, but his concern began to turn to fear; she had yet to awaken. He was about to whisk her up and carry her to the sofa when he felt her stir within his arms.
Margaret slowly raised her head from his chest and looked upon him with hazy half-closed eyes as she whispered his Christian name. “John?”
His heart all but stopped; it was the first time he had ever heard his name pass from her lips. His voice trembled slightly as he replied, “Shhh, Margaret, I am right here, I have you.” He felt her hands raise and press weakly against his chest in an effort to right herself, but he kept his arm firmly about her waist while dropping his other hand to her shoulder. His fingers gently grazed her long slender neck. He breathed a small sigh and was rendered spell-bound by her pale yet beautiful upturned face. He could not resist brushing his fingers lovingly over her wan cheek.
Margaret's eyes fluttered fully open at this gentle touch. To her astonishment, she found herself within John's arms, staring up into blue eyes brimming with tender concern. She trembled; his handsome face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath while he continued to softly caress her pale cheek. In the next moment, the spell was broken.
“John! What has taken you so long to... oh....” Fanny's words trailed off as she took in the scene before her.
At the sound of his sister's voice, John quickly regained his senses as a film once again came over Margaret's eyes and she went limp against him. In one fluid motion, he swept her up in his strong arms, cradling her head upon his shoulder, and carried her to the settee. “Fanny, Miss Hale has just fainted!” He tenderly laid her on the sofa and knelt down beside her. A worried look of concern showed in his eyes as he gently brushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen across her ashen face. He turned back towards his sister. Strong man that he was, he was shaken and for the first time in his life was uncertain of what to do. “Fanny...?” he asked beseechingly.
She spoke before her brother could finish, “I will go fetch some tea and a basin of cool water and a cloth.” She noticed that Margaret was stirring; she reached a shaking hand out and placed it upon John's. As John glanced away from her, Fanny smiled knowingly. “I'll be but a moment, John. Stay close by her side, she will be alright.”
John no longer attended to his sister, instead he stared down at Margaret's long tapered fingers as they rested lightly upon his own. He covered her slight hand with his.
Margaret murmured inarticulately as she attempted to raise herself from the settee.
“Shhh,” he said soothingly, lightly squeezing her hand. “Lie still, Miss Hale, you are still too weak to stand.” He spoke the words as soothingly as his trembling voice would allow. “Fanny will return soon, just lie still, I won't leave your side, Miss Hale.”
She gave a low, soft cry, furrowing her brow as if she were in pain. Instinctively, he raised his free hand and placed it upon her warm forehead, surprised to find that it was feverish to the touch. John continued to whisper words of comfort to Margaret as he gently stroked his fingers across her brow. His fears eased as he noted that the rhythmic movement calmed her and a faint pink color returned to her cheeks. Before he knew what he was about, he tenderly caressed her sweet cherubic face.
Margaret's senses were returning. Although she was weak and unable to speak clearly, she was very much aware that John was by her side and that it was the cool touch of his hand that gently glided across her brow, providing relief. At that moment, all thoughts of why Mr. Thornton should be so tender and kind fled from her mind. The only thing she wished was that his gentle ministrations would never cease. When she felt the soft feather-light touch of his hand brushing her cheek, she half sighed, half tried to whisper his name, but to no avail.
As John continued to delicately stroke her soft skin, his fingers brushed back the dark tresses that lay close to her temple. A surge of pain clutched his heart at the scar on the side of her head. It was a scar meant for him and she had taken it on that fateful day. His hand hovered over the mark and he continued to stare at it.
He might be just “any man” to her but the fact remained that he loved her passionately with all the life that coursed within his being. As he looked upon her peaceful, angelic face he was filled with a renewed sense of all that she was to him and all that he had lost. He sighed but it came out like a choked sob as he willed the pain back into the darkest recesses of his soul and continued with renewed fervor to comfort the women he would always love.
Fanny soon reentered the room in a rush of bustling skirts. Jane followed in her wake carrying a basin of water and a cloth. “John how is she?” Fanny asked anxiously.
John's head snapped towards his sister; he had been so intent on caring for Margaret that he was startled by her brisk entrance. “Speak quietly Fanny!” he hissed in a moment of irritation as he turned his attentions back to Margaret.
“Sorry, John.” Fanny appeared unruffled by her brother's brusque command and spoke in a quieter tone “How is Miss Hale? Has she awakened yet?”
“She is stirring, but has not fully awakened,” he responded, his voice full of worry and concern.
Fanny came to stand behind him. Placing her hand reassuringly upon his shoulder,she bent down and whispered, “That's a good sign. She will be alright, Johnny,” as she gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. He nodded, never taking his eyes from Margaret. Yet he understood fully the meaning behind her use of his childhood name, and silently thanked her.
She turned to address Jane, who was staring at Mr. Thornton, “Well, don't just stand there, Jane. Set the basin over there.” Fanny pointed and Jane carefully set the basin and cloth down on the rug beside Mr. Thornton and retreated back, stumbling slightly over her feet. From her first day in the Thornton household, she had found herself nervous in his presence; today, the sight of him with Miss Hale made her long to flee the room.
Fanny gave Jane a questioning look. “Jane are you alright?”
“Yes, Mrs. Watson, I am fine,” Jane replied with downcast eyes and a wan red-faced smile. “I'll go fetch the tea. I am sure it is ready by now.” Casting a fleeting glance back at Miss Hale, she added, “I am sure there are still some spiced nut cakes, I will bring those as well.”
“Very well Jane, but hurry along. ” Fanny turned her attentions back to Miss Hale only to find that she was already being very well taken cared for.
Fanny watched in amazement as her brother dipped the soft cloth into the citrus-scented water and gently brushed it over Miss Hale's forehead and temples. His movements were so tender that Fanny caught her breath. She had never seen such a look of ardent love upon her brother’s face.
The softened expression upon his features made him look like a youth once more, melting away all his cold harshness. Fanny stood transfixed. At this moment, she was struck by how resplendently handsome he truly was. ~ Dear brother, she loves you, she does, I am sure of it still, Fanny thought. Be patient; she will awaken soon. ~
Fanny quietly left the room and went to oversee the preparation of refreshments, thinking Margaret would need more than stale tea cakes to revive her strength.
As John continued to apply the scented cloth, his heart caught as Margaret stirred and opened her eyes.
“Oh, where am I?” She slowly focused on Mr. Thornton's face and everything came back too her.
“Mr. Thornton? How? I don't...?”
He immediately cast his gaze about the room for Fanny, but she was nowhere to be found.
He spoke in a quite, comforting tone.“Hush, Miss Hale. It is alright, you just fainted, that is all.” He smiled down upon her and, without thinking, grazed her cheek with the back of his finger. Her color was returning, he thought with satisfaction. “Do you know where you are, Miss Hale?”
There was a dull ache behind her eyes, and she closed them again. However, his question roused her as did his lean fingers stroking her cheek. “Mr. Thornton...” she murmured.
“Miss Hale, you are at my sister's residence. You fainted and...Fanny left us to bring some tea.” He thought with dismay that he had no idea where his sister had gone.
“I remember now. I was visiting Fanny and I... I forgot my hat....” Her voice trailed off and she rested her head upon the sofa's cushions for several moments before she attempted to raise herself up.
“No, Miss Hale, you need to rest. Please lay back down,” Mr. Thornton gently urged.
“Please... please, I would feel better if I could sit up.” she weakly implored, gazing into his beautiful eyes.
John could not resist her tender look of entreaty. “Very well, Miss Hale, but please let me help you.”
He carefully placed one arm securely about her waist and raised her toward him. A slight shiver ran through him as her hands rose to cling to his arms. In one gentle movement, he positioned her so that her back rested comfortably against the sofa while her feet came to rest upon the floor. Trembling, he let his arm slip from around her slight waist. For a heartbeat longer, Margaret held onto his arm before her hand dropped into the folds of her gown.
“Thank you, Mr. Thornton.” Her words were softly spoken into his ears. He sat beside her and sighed as she once more closed her eyes, a soft smile playing about the corners of her sweet mouth.
For a moment, John wondered if that little smile was for him. His heart leapt at the thought; did he dare hope? Before he could entertain the idea further, Jane quietly entered the room. Placing the tea tray in front of Mr. Thornton, she started to pour a cup of tea when her movements were halted by Mr. Thornton's curt words, “That is all Jane. You may go.”
Jane stared at the tea service, then glanced at Mr. Thornton and Miss Hale before her eyes rested on the basin. She picked it up and swiftly left the room. Fanny did not see her for the remainder of the day.
“Miss Hale,” John implored. “Jane brought you tea.”
He watched as Margaret roused herself and sat up on her own. She reached for the teapot and he lightly brushed her hand away. “No, Miss Hale. I'll prepare your tea. Please rest.”
A protest formed on Margaret’s lips, but John had already reached for the pot of tea. She held her protest at bay and settled herself against sofa cushions.
John concentrated all of his effort on handling the full teapot and delicate cup and saucer, so that Margaret was able to study him unobserved. He was as handsome as she remembered him to be. His face was thinner, giving his features a more aquiline appearance. She loved his azure eyes best and fought back a slight smile as they flashed in frustrated irritation as tea spilled over the cup's rim onto the saucer and his fingers. But her little smile turned to wonderment when she saw him pour just a hint of cream into her tea exactly the way she liked it before he placed the cup in front of her. “I believe I remembered correctly, Miss Hale, that you don't care for sugar in your tea?” He raised his eyes to hers and her heart caught.
Margaret found she couldn't hold his intense gaze. Picking up the cup, she replied softly, “No, no, I don't care for sugar, Mr. Thornton, thank-you.” She could feel his eyes studying her but daren't look at him; instead, she took a sip of the strong, hot tea, puzzled by this strange manner of his. It caused her to tremble within. ~ What can he mean by his kind actions? I know he does not care for me...what does he mean? ~
After a second cup of tea poured perfectly by Mr. Thornton and two teacakes that he insisted she eat, he noticed a marked improvement in her coloring and strength.
Setting his cup down, he ventured to ask the one question that had tormented him since he first beheld her lovely face.
“Miss Hale....” His words trailed off as her beautiful cerulean eyes met his.
“Yes, Mr. Thornton?”
“Miss Hale, why are you in Milton? How did you come to be here” He cast his hand about the room to indicate Fanny's home.
Her response was brief, almost matter of fact.
“I came to Milton on a matter of business that I wished to speak to you about, Mr. Thornton.” Margaret now struggled to keep a quaver from her voice. “I was at Marlborough Mills earlier today and I awaited you in your office. I was informed that you were not available, that you were late for a meeting.”
“I see.” His heart caught; Margaret had come to talk with him! He was struck with the sudden realization of just how close he had been to her. Why had he not been informed of her presence at the mill? The thought of being kept from Margaret caused a surge of anger to shoot white hot through him. Had he known she was waiting for him in his office, he would have defied Mr. Latimer, and that cursed meeting be damned! He would have run the whole length of his mill with such a fury just to have a glimpse of her beautiful face.
Margaret watched as emotions played across his features in an instant, causing his ice blue eyes to burn with intensity. She trembled within, not fully understanding why such a look set her heart to racing when she knew he did not care for her. Finally she looked away from him and, with a trembling hand, set her teacup down, resolving to focus on the reason she had returned to Milton.
Fire still smoldered in John's eyes when Margaret looked at him once more. His expression caused her to clasp her hands together in an effort to keep them steady. When at last she finally spoke, her words were halting, “I have a matter of....” She paused; she had to get this right. “A matter of business... Henry, I mean Mr. Lennox, drew up some documents, oh where are they?” Margaret started unclasping her hands in an agitated manner as she looked about the room.
Fearing that she might become faint once more, John gently placed a hand over both of hers in the hopes of calming her. “Miss Hale, please just rest a moment,” he implored, his voice thick with concern.
Margaret felt a calm wash over her at his tender touch; it was so warm upon her skin. She found herself staring admiringly at his long elegant fingers as she marveled at how such a rugged hand could be strong yet graceful in movements, while gentle in touch. His hands were beautiful. For a wild flash of a moment, she was seized with the desire to draw his hand to her lips.
Her face was half hidden from him, but he could feel her soft hands relax under the touch of his rough, course ones, and his anxiety ebbed away. He ached to gather her within his arms; instead he delicately stroked the back of her hand.
“Shall I prepare you another cup of tea, Miss Hale?” he quietly asked?
Margaret's heart fluttered as she dared to glance at him. His smile held all the warmth of a Helstone summer, and his affection shone from his eyes. She felt a warm glow rise in her cheeks.
“No, Mr. Thornton. Thank-you for your thoughtfulness, but I am well.” She offered him a small smile, then quickly looked away. Her eyes caught on her small leather portfolio lying upon a near-by table beside her reticule. She started up, “There they are, the papers I need...in my portfolio, let me just go...”
With a soft touch of his hand upon her arm, John stayed her movement. “No, Miss Hale. I will bring them to you”.
Before she could utter a single word, he moved across the room and returned to her side. He watched as Margaret fumbled with unsteady hands to undo the leather cord that closed her portfolio. Once it was opened, Margaret shuffled through the papers in a trembling, hurried, manner trying to find the exact document that explained her proposal. In her frustration, she exclaimed “Oh, I wish Henry were here! He could explain this all so much better than I can.”
“No Miss Hale,” John broke in with a voice thick with tender passion. “you don't need Henry to explain.” He gently took the documents and portfolio out of her hands and set them to one side.
The barrier holding her emotions in check finally broke free; Margaret lacked the strength to contain her words. As she gazed at John, the man she would always love, she spoke with a sure voice, “Mr. Thornton, I currently have some eighteen thousand and fifty-seven pounds lying in a bank. It is earning me very little rate of interest. My advisers suggest that if you take this money and use it to run Marlborough Mills you could bring me a much better rate of interest. So you see,” Margaret continued, “it's just a matter of business. You could redeem – more than redeem what you have lost. You would not be obliged to me in any way, Mr. Thornton. It would just be a business matter, that is all.” She broke her gaze from his and looked down upon her clasped hands.
Silence ensued. He did not speak, yet she could feel his eyes upon her. Margaret was fast growing afraid that he might reject her proposal when her heart all but stopped at the low quivering tone in which he spoke her name.
“Margaret.”
She would not look at him.
Again, a second tremulous call upon her name. “Margaret.” He leaned closer and she could feel his warm breath upon her ear, sending waves of shivers through her.
Trembling, Margaret dared to glance up and saw passion smoldering within the blue depths of his eyes. This passion set her heart ablaze so that she quickly closed her eyes, hiding her face from him. Gently, he reached out and stroked her red stained cheek, then cupped her face within his large hand raising it slowly to his as he panted out, “Take care – If you do not speak – I shall claim you as my own in some strange, presumptuous way.”
Slowly she opened her eyes. Her gaze was held captive by John's impassioned eyes, so that her breath caught. Everything dissolved around her as he searched the luminous depths of her eyes. Margaret was almost certain that he could see into the furthermost reaches of her soul to read her innermost thoughts and desires. Her heartbeat quickened, and in that moment all rational thought fled away as her heart took over. She impulsively placed her hand upon his.
John had to will himself to keep control as Margaret slowly turned her head, thus allowing her delicate lips to brush across his rough palm as she pressed a kiss therein. Somewhere in the recesses of John's mind he recalled that in ancient times this was considered a lover's kiss. He trembled to the very core of his being at thought. After several moments of delicious silence ,John raised her beautiful face level to his and stared in wonderment.
From childhood, John had been told the story of how the sun had remained motionless in the sky, stopping time. He had never quite believed this Biblical tale until today. At this moment, time did seem to stand still as he held Margaret's face within his hand. Ever so cautiously, he slowly lowered his face to hers. Pausing for a heartbeat, he was uncertain if he should continue. But like Homer's sirens, she called out to him, drawing him ever so closer until he willing surrendered and gently touched her soft lips with his. That single kiss was his undoing.
He could no longer recall the number of nights he had lain in his dark bedchamber, dreaming of her. As precious as those dreams had been, they paled comparison to this moment, leaving him ill prepared for the intensity of sensations that now assailed him as Margaret returned his kiss. John's senses were alight and his heart hammered rapidly against his chest. He could scarcely believe that she actually returned his affections, yet it was true.
Her lavender scent mingled with the slightest hint of honey-suckle warmly enveloped him, curling and entwining its way around his very being to pull him ever so closer. A long suppressed fire smoldering deep within his soul ignited at the sweet taste of her mouth and soft feel of her lips pressed against his. He felt he was no longer able to suppress his desires,nor did he wish to control them.
Without conscious thought, he framed her delicate face within both his hands. With gentle firmness he deepened the kiss, pressing his lips fully to her mouth. John felt her small hands rise to cling to him, and he completely lost himself in the moment, savoring the feel of her slight hands grasping his arms, and the taste and feel of her warm soft lips kissing him. He felt as a man starving for food would feel. One kiss, nay, two kisses were not nearly enough to satisfy him. He had to feel the sweet softness of her lips one last time before he let her go.
With each soft touch of John's lips upon hers, Margaret forgot her endless worries as a strange, wild bolt of new sensations coursed through and she melted into his kiss. The world faded away, as she clung to John,knowing that as long as he was there in her life she would be forever save and certain of his love.
When he finally freed Margaret he drew back half shuddering, half smiling at the dream-like expression she wore. The very thought that this woman before him actually loved him and had kissed him threw whatever rational thought he had out of his whirling mind. When her eyes opened, his heart all but stopped at the sight of her glowing eyes filled with love. All he could do was stare at her. Never in all his years had he ever had anyone bestowed such a look of pure, ardent love upon him.
Margaret found herself transfixed as well; the brilliancy that shone from his blue eyes rendered her incapable of sensible speech. It was beyond her realm to believe he actually cared for her still, yet the lingering feel of his firm lips pressed warmly upon hers left her senses spinning in a turbulent rush. All she could think to do was reach up and twine her arms around his neck, clinging to him as she had the day of the riot. This time, she would not let go.
John gave a ragged sigh as he felt her delicate arms slide around his neck, and he in turn enveloped her within his hold. A clock chimed the hour but they remained in a close embrace. When the door presently opened then slowly closed, they still clung to each other, unaware of anything but the unspoken love they felt for one another.
After several moments, they reluctantly pulled apart, and John saw a single tear glide down Margaret's cheek. He tenderly wiped the tear away, but another took its place. Brushing that one away as well, he softly asked “Margaret, my love, why do you cry?”
She would not look at him, but only whispered, “Oh, Mr. Thornton, I am not worthy of your love.”
Wiping away another stray tear, he placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up so that her eyes met his.
“Margaret, my sweet Margaret, don't talk so. I am the one not worthy of you.”
“But you do not understand,” she pleaded, alluding to the day that he had proposed. “I have been so cruel to you, and caused you so much pain, then I lied....”
He broke in before she could utter another word. “Margaret – ”
“Please, Mr. Thornton, let me continue,” she hastily implored, placing her hand on his arm.
“Very well, my love, he replied, stroking his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the remaining tears from her dark lashes.
The touch of John's hand grazing her cheek along with the words my love spoken in his low, rich voice caused a surge of warmth to flow through Margaret. However, she was still convinced of her unworthiness so she dropped her gaze once more. When she finally spoke, her soft voice quivered.
“I have wanted to tell you...oh, for so long, I wished to tell you... the truth about Fred.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “Mr. Thornton, the man you saw me with at...at the Outwood station that awful night was my brother...my brother Fred....”
“Your brother?” John interrupted breathlessly. “He was your brother?”
“Yes. Fred, I mean Frederick, came to us when mother was dying. We had to keep it a secret; you see, he was in trouble...”
Thus, the whole story unfolded. John sat quietly as Margaret explained to him about her brother's time in the Navy, the mutiny, and all of the events that had led up to the scene at Outwood station. All of the pieces tumbled into place; it made perfect sense to him now.
“So you see,” Margaret continued “that is the reason I lied. I wanted to explain it all to you, but I was afraid for Fred's sake. Yet, despite my deception, you saved me from the inquest without knowing the truth. Oh, what you must have thought of me.” Margaret turned her head away in shame. Hastily John gathered her hands into his own and raised them to his lips, tenderly kissing them. Opening one of her delicate hands he repeated Margaret's earlier gesture by placing a kiss within her palm.
After several moments, he looked at her and his voice was thick with passion as he spoke. “My love, do you remember the insolent words I spoke on that day so long ago when we both stood alone in this very room?”
Margaret nodded, recalling the pain her scathing words had caused and the gleam of tears in his eyes.
His voice dropped to a tremulous whisper, “I told you that I loved you as no man ever loved a woman before and that I would always love you. And I have, Margaret, even when I dared not ever hope of calling you my own. I have loved you and I always will!”
With these last words he leaned in closer and rested his forehead lightly upon hers. Staring deep into her eyes as if burning the words upon her soul, he sealed his love and devotion forever within Margaret's heart. This was the way he would always feel about her, about the two of them together.
“John, I love you,” she whispered so softly that he trembled within. “I have always loved only you, John.” She smiled upon him with a brilliancy that dimmed the noonday sun. John could not help placing a warm, tender kiss upon her lips before gathering her into his arms once more.
Of all his memories with Margaret over the life time they would share together, it would be this day, the day Margaret came home to him, that he would remember as he drew his last breath in this world.
~~~~ ©2011, leah147, All Rights Reserved.