The castle is a wonderful place. After spending two weeks in Paris they traveled again, father into the countryside, and now she finds herself in front of a gorgeous stone fort that almost reminds her of her home in Scotland. The grounds are lovely even in winter, seeming out of a fairy tale. They have only just arrived, and the servants unloading their things give them a little time to explore. She holds Francis' hand the entire time they walk around the gardens, and there's an almost permanent smile on his face. It's a look she rather loves on him.
"So what do you think, wife?" He asks her with a grin. "Do you like it?"
"Yes. It's gorgeous here." But not as amazing as it is to hear him calling her wife, she thinks. He's used the title as much as possible since it became official, and she finds the word husband to be new and sweet in her tongue as well. They might just forget their given names for a few more days yet. "I love it." She tells him, a smile playing at her lips as she reaches up to run her hand through his curls, not able to keep herself apart from him for more than a second.
He kisses her fast then, whispering, "Let's go inside." Against her lips, and she nods, the snow covered garden no longer holding her attention at all. He pulls her into his side, his embrace warming her from the chill as they rush back to the castle, walking inside through a side door they find open.
They minute they step inside the door he pulls her into his embrace, his lips seeking hers almost like second nature. They do not even realize that they have stepped into the kitchens, or have any care for the servants that observe them with smiles, noting that they have been there for barely an hour. They are far too drunk on their happiness to notice a world exists outside the circle of each other's arms.
Her hands travel down his shoulders, and then wrap around his body. She grabs his backside to pull him even closer, and the sound of a giggle makes her step away. She realizes where they have wandered into when they suddenly pull apart, and Mary is so embarrassed at getting lost in the moment and not noticing their audience, she swears her face will never be a color other than red.
"Umm, excuse us." She says quickly, to the amused faces of half a dozen servants, and then walks back out as fast as her legs will carry her and her long skirts will allow. Francis follows her suit and it's clear he's not nearly as ashamed as she is, since there's a smile on his face. The flames blazing in her cheeks don't abate at the thought of what everyone inside witnessed. They walk out into the gardens once again, just in time for Francis' smile to break out into a full on laugh, and she turns around, frowning at him.
"Francis! Stop it," she tells him "it's not funny." She reprimands him, having to cover her mouth to hide her smile, though, the hilarity of the situation catching up to her, even if she will never admit that, embarrassment still at the forefront of her mind. Besides she won't give him the pleasure this time. He finds it an infinite source of amusement how she often forgets there are other people in the same castle as them. Or in the same country.
"I'm not laughing." He says, but that is a huge lie, for a goofy grin lights up his face. She knows it has everything to do with the way she can't seem to keep herself together when he touches her. She tries to resist the smile fighting its way onto her face, and says as seriously as she can manage. "I'm going to go have a bath now, wash off the journey here."
"All right." He says, leaning down to brush his lips with hers just faintly, and she can't even think about refusing on account of his laughing, her mouth responding of it's own accord. "You seem awfully distracted though; try not to drown in the bathtub."
"Francis!" She calls him out on his teasing, for what a husband she's been gifted with. But at the lovely glint of happiness in his eyes she is thankful for it all, even him making fun of her.
"I'm joking!" He tells her, his hands going to cup her cheeks. "Go enjoy your bath, I'll make sure our things are settled and that dinner it's on its way. And you won't have to face the servants for tonight at least." He tries to control the amused smile pulling at the sides of his mouth, and she can't help but giggle.
"That was mortifying and you make fun of me." She says, her hands holding on to the lapels of his coat. "You're terrible."
"You love me." He tells her, his hands settling on her waist.
"I do." She nods and doesn't try to hide the smile that takes over right then, as he pulls her in for a lingering kiss. His lips are warm despite the cold, and so sweet against hers. She pulls away after just a moment though, not planning to give the servants another spectacle any time soon.