Sunlight streams through the window of our bedroom.

"I think I'll go to the cottage today. It's only a few days early for Elinor's wedding", I say, rolling over to face Christopher.

"Hmmm...sure, but why?"

"You'll be hunting all day with Sir John at Barton Park, remember?"

"Oh...yes... I forgot. Okay, I'll drop you at the cottage and hunt with Sir John, who will have a million questions about last night", he moans, rubbing his forehead.

"Company, Company, where would we be without Company?", I repeat Sir John's words. Christopher laughs.

"He's a busybody."

"He's an angel compared to Mrs. Jennings", I comment. "You don't know because she's not brave enough to pump a man for information. And she's in love with you of course."

He laughs and buries his face in the pillow. "In this case, I'm happy to leave that particular hardship to you", he howls.

"Oh thanks", I comment.

"Can we be late?", he asks, rolling on top of me. It feels glorious.

I laugh. "I hope so."

Colonel Brandon POV

I load my old Baker rifle, the one I carried with me in both India and France, and fire quickly at a fleeing bird. It falls from the sky. I whistle at my spaniels, Riley and Wiley, and they take off like bullets to bring the soft bird back to me, undamaged.

"It makes me crazy", Sir John starts, smashing the powder into his musket too hard, "That you seem to never miss."

"It was my job", I joke and smile back.

He fires and misses a rabbit by two and a half feet, the bullet smacking into a tree.

"Devilment! So...Brandon...what was all that about last night..."

I knew it was coming.

"You seemed so angry with Miss Marianne", he comments.

I give him a firm look, but smile. "I mean Mrs. Brandon", he corrects. Good. She's to be addressed with respect. She would not be in my bed if she were "Miss" anything.

"It was a misunderstanding. My former rival has reappeared. He bought Hattan near Delaford, and has spoken with Marianne twice", I tell him. "His aunt has taken him back in her good graces, and he has already abandoned the former Mrs. Willoughby. God knows what has become of the poor woman", I inform him, though I probably should not.

"Surely he wouldn't challenge you, he's not a fool", John offers.

"Who is to guess what such a man would do", I say, reloading, wiping the black powder stains on my long duster. "But he's made it clear he wants Marianne back."

"And what do you plan to do?", he asks.

"I don't know. I hope he stays away. She asked me not to challenge him..."

"Why? Surely she doesn't still have feelings..."

"Honestly...I don't know. She offered what I suppose is a reasonable explanation, but it doesn't ring true", I offer. "Of course I know less than I would like about the fairer sex. Their thinking would be bound to shock us."

"Indeed", Middleton adds. "If it could be called thinking at all."

I roll my eyes at him. "You know I do not abide such talk."

"But you put them all on pedestals, Brandon, having loved once, and lived with only men, then served with only men for so many years", he observes. "You have no experience of the duplicity that is natural to them."

"They belong on pedestals. Curing our baser nature with nothing but a smile. They are angels without wings", I observe, smirking at Sir John while he rolls his eyes.

"You know what your problem is...", he starts.

I level my rifle, pointing directly at a quail who has failed to notice us.

"You love her too much", he observes.

I fire and the bird falls. "I know", I respond.

Marianne POV

Hours later, I'm at Barton Cottage, helping Elinor try on her gown. It's very modest, with a higher neck and longer sleeves than mine. But of course, she is to be a pastor's wife.

"Are you excited?", I ask, knowing the answer.

"My heart is in my throat!", she insists, while mother takes a final measure of the hem.

"You look beautiful, Elinor, you will make a more proper bride than I did. And a lovely one."

"I'll check on the flowers", mother says, and leaves. She knows when we need to talk, just we two.

Elinor clutches my hands, "Marianne, I'm all nerves. What if something goes wrong?"

"You should not be afraid of the wedding night", I whisper back to her, "It's painful and uncomfortable for a bit afterward, but within a few days, it's great fun!"

"Well thank you, Marianne, but that wasn't my concern", she says in that voice of hers she's turned on me all her life, dripping with sarcasm and rebuke. "How can we afford all this? What if I trip going down the aisle? What if the deal on the house falls through?"

"Elinor, the Colonel will take care of any expenses and he'll make sure you get your house. As for the tripping, I'm the one who's made a career of falling in the rain", I comment with a smirk.

"You know what, you're right", she smirks back. She embraces me.

"How are you and the Colonel?", she asks.

"Good, good..." I stare at the rug.

"Marianne...I diapered you. Now what's going on? I can't imagine Colonel Brandon being ungallant", she says, concerned.

"He's not, he's a perfect gentleman. It's..."

"What?" Now she sounds scared.

"It's Willoughby."

"Willoughby?!", she hisses and drags me into a corner as if we'll be overheard by someone.

"Marianne, please don't tell me you've been...that you're still interested... that you're pursuing...!"

"No! I'm not. But that didn't stop him from buying Hattan, within a stone's throw of Delaford. Or from showing up and harassing me on walks when I'm alone. His aunt forgave him, made him heir to Allenham again, and he divorced Isabel Grey", I moan.

"And after you told the Colonel? Did he call him out?"

"That's exactly what I DON'T want to happen, Elinor. That's why I didn't mention it...but Christopher's man saw me talking to him so..."

"Oh God, Marianne. Don't keep secrets from him!"

"I can't risk anything happening to him. I know he's a trained soldier, but a duel isn't battle. And Willoughby alluded to him "being ready this time" or something. I'm scared", I confess.

She hugs me close and I bury my face in her shoulder. "Fix this for me, big sis?"

"I wish I could. Keep an open channel of communication with the Colonel. I suspect he could take anything when it came to Willoughby, but not much when it comes to you. Make sure he's completely clear that he's the one you want", she advises.

"I have told him so!", I insist.

"Good...now let's see what's holding up mother with the flowers." The Colonel had provided armfuls of lavender and white orchids, wildflowers, and bluebells.

The ceremony is at the same little church where Christopher and I were married—Edward's parish. He and my sister are married by the retiring pastor. Their home, a cute farmhouse next door, is already filled with their possessions and ready to move into tonight. A load of chickens, two pigs, and a milk cow already installed in the barn, game and vegetables in the larder, bread on the table, again, thanks to Christopher. Edward was somewhat embarrassed to be the recipient of such largess, but he also knew it was really all for me. I know it too.

Edward would provide spiritual succor to all the residents of this part of Devonshire. Though neither the Colonel nor myself are particularly religious, we certainly plan to come to his first sermon next Sunday.

During the ceremony, I sit next to my husband, clutching his hand tight. He studies me a couple of times to see if I'm okay. But I just want a new start. Both Elinor and I married and settled, and not overly far from each other, or from mother and Margaret. Elinor can walk to them daily.

We sit outside at tables made of long wooden planks and wooden horses. We enjoy simple fare of game, pigeons, venison, and root vegetable pottage.

Elinor's way of life would be different than it was as a lord's daughter, and part-mistress of Norland, but she seems nothing but happy with Edward and her new life. I'm doubly jealous of her perfect skin and incredibly high cheekbones today.

We dance to the sounds of a violin, and I politely refuse to entertain them inside on the pianoforte, to the consternation of Mrs. Jennings, whom, after her 4th glass of wine, comments on the size of the Colonel's bottom as she devours a chicken leg. I try to forget she's probably imagining biting my husband's thigh. He's already put on a pound or two in that lovely location. Married life.

I get up and corner him, pushing him into the church where we were alone.
"What are you doing?", he complains for moment, then I get on my tiptoes and kiss him, sucking gently on his full lips, cupping his softening chin, hidden by the cravat.

I squeeze his bottom, his thighs, and push him into a corner. My hips press hard against his. "Oh my God", he gasps. "Marianne, don't do this here, don't do this here..." I'm flat against him and feel his engorged cock pressing hard against me.

"Sorry, sweetheart", I whisper.

"Don't be sorry, it's just...", he says breathlessly. "You're going to have to give me a minute before we can go outside."

I wish I could satisfy us both right here, but it's impossible.

"Go outside, you're not helping", he orders with a joke in his voice.

I laugh and go out. The sun is going down. I embrace my sister, and kiss her cheek. Then I do the same with Edward.

"I know you'll be very happy. Welcome, my brother", I add to Edward.

"So when do I get to come to Delaford?", Margaret asks.

"Whenever you like, but what if I brought you some peaches and strawberries?", I say, smiling.

"That would be better", she confirms and I hug her.

"Now Margaret, behave yourself. Two of three daughters married, I...feel old suddenly", Mother says, and I throw my arms around her.

"You're anything but. You were father's child bride." She rolls her eyes at me.

As night falls, I wander away from the party, knowing Christopher is probably looking for me and ready to leave, but I want a minute to myself.

I loved living here in so many ways. The church also overlooks the sea as the cottage does. I raise in my arms in the air and let the warm night air surround me, and the cool sea breeze cause child bumps on my arms. I feel like the breeze could lift me right off the ground, and I could fly over the rocks and the sea, and go wherever I like.

I feel very strongly that Willoughby is not out here. He would call it our connection, but I think it's self-preservation that I can feel him before I can see him, and he's back at Hattan wondering why Delaford seems deserted.

I feel like it might be fun to fly away. To jump right off the cliff and soar above the ocean, to visit France, and Germany, and maybe even America. To get away for a while. I married too young. But I cannot fail to appreciate the true man I have as my husband.

I smile, inhale deeply the fresh air, and walk back to find Christopher at our carriage.

"I was worried about you", he says, when he sees me.

"I'm sorry. I was just enjoying the sea air."

"It's hard to resist", he agrees.

"Now let's go home and finish what I started", I flirt. He picks me up in his arms, kisses me, and plunks me down in the carriage. We kiss all the way home.