It was all Margaret could do not to trip over her own feet in her attempt to keep up with him. Over the morning, she’d come to realize who he was. Of course, she’d begun to suspect last night, when he’d called her brat while playing that game, and she was now hoping to prompt him into a confession. Only he seemed so intent upon continuing this farce. What, precisely did he want from her?

“Just a bit further,” he urged.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see,’ he said, tormenting her with his elusiveness.

“I must be mad,” Margaret said. It had been years since she’d ventured this far onto their parklands—not since she’d been a child—with Gabriel.

He brought her to the crest of a hill, then laid down the pasteboard he carried in his hand.

“Now sit on it,” he demanded.

Margaret stared at him in disbelief. “I mean to say, I think you must be mad. Why should I wish to sit on that?”

Gabriel winked at her, grinning. “Only humor me,” he suggested. And then persisted, “Sit down, please?”

Margaret frowned. She could scarce refuse him when he looked at her so... so... engagingly...

The sun glinted off his hair, like spun gold, and the scent of wildflowers filled her senses.

“Very well,” she relented, if grudgingly, tiring of this ruse. She sat down on the pasteboard, feeling like a silly goose. “Now what?”

He began to laugh.

Margaret peered up at him in sheer exasperation, her hands going to her hips in outrage. “Did you, perchance, drag me all this way to force me sit on your piece of cardboard, only to snicker at me like some ungracious oaf?”

To her dismay, he continued to cackle, and Margaret decided she’d had enough. She made to rise. “I thought I heard you say you wished to show me something,” she said. “Apparently, I was mistaken.”

“No.” he said, thrusting out a hand, urging her to remain seated. “Ah, but, Maggie. Tis that you look...” He shook his head. “So….” He began to laugh again. “You have no idea what good it does my heart to see you.”

“You mean to say I look a merry-Andrew,” Margaret countered, wholly vexed with his amusement at her expense. “Look at you.” she said, waving a hand at him. “I did not laugh at you, sirrah, when you came to me looking like... that.” She waved a hand in disgust and made again to rise. But, for the first time, she noticed his feet. “You’re not wearing shoes,” she said. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

He knelt down beside her, chortling as he placed a hand to her shoulder to soothe her. “Hold still,” he said, and groped about her, feeling for the pasteboard at her back.

He moved his hand to her sides and Margaret slapped his hand in scandalized horror. “I beg pardon,” she said, pinning his hand under her own and glaring defiantly. “What is it you think you are doing?”

His grin was infectious, but Margaret had no intention of allowing it to disarm her. “I simply need to see how much room is left on the pasteboard.”

“Why?”

His eyes twinkled with a devilish light. “You’ll see.” He tilted his head, once again giving her that little-boy glance and smile that melted her will. “Trust me,” he said.

He wasn’t playing fair, Margaret decided. How could she refuse him when he begged so sweetly? She lifted her hand, freeing him, but gave him a warning glare. “Very well,” she relented. “Do what you will.”

Like a boy, his grin returned, brighter than before, and the sight of it melted Maggie’s heart.

“Now scoot forward,” he demanded.

“Scoot?”

“Yes, Margaret, scoot.” He placed a hand behind her, and quite boldly shoved her bottom forward on the cardboard when she didn’t respond quickly enough.

“Oh!” Margaret exclaimed.

He sat behind her suddenly, and before Margaret could think to protest, he wrapped his legs around her, trapping her between them.

“Now,” he commanded, “close your eyes!”

“This is preposterous,” Margaret protested. “What in the Queen’s name are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” he said. And then again, “Trust me, Maggie.” And he took her hands into his own, and said, “Hold tight.”

Margaret didn’t even have time to ask why. Within an instant Gabriel had shoved them forward, down the hill. She squealed as they went flying, and for an instant, she was horrified, but Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and held her close. And then suddenly they were racing down the steep hill on his pasteboard, the wind sweeping her face.

Margaret couldn’t contain a peal of laughter. It was glorious! Freedom! She opened her eyes and watched the horizon fly by and giggled madly.

They ended at the bottom of the hill in a scattered heap, laughing uncontrollably.

Neither could seem to stop for the longest interval, and Margaret lay with her head on his chest, wholly oblivious to propriety, laughing like a girl. “Oh, my! That was unspeakably delightful,” she confessed.

He hugged her, a smile in his voice, and his chuckles subsided. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that with you, Maggie.”

She peered back at him, tears shining in her eyes. “Your name isn’t truly Morgan, is it?”

He shook his head, with a smirk. “Neither is yours.” And then, once again, both together, they began to laugh, and couldn’t stop for the longest time.

Finally, Maggie opened her mouth to speak and Gabriel put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh,” he said, and sat up, turning her about to face him, looking her straight in the eyes. “I still love you, brat. I never stopped. I told you I’d never forget, and I never have.”

Margaret’s brows slanted as bittersweet memories accosted her. She peered around at the familiar landscape… the bright blue skyline... the circle of trees... the hill they’d come racing down... the windflowers swaying with the breeze… and her heart began to hammer, because this was the very spot where they’d said their goodbyes.

“It’s true,” he said, and time slipped away.

She choked on a sob, casting herself into his arms. “Oh, Gabe!” she said, clutching at his dirty shirt, and Gabriel reached out to do what he hadn’t had the nerve to do all those years past. He took a wayward lock of Margaret’s hair between his fingers and brushed it away from her beautiful face, and then he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too” she cried.

“I know, sweet Maggie. I know.” And he bent to seal their avowals with a sweet, if slightly muddy kiss.

“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the curve of her breasts with a finger. He reveled in the feel of her supple flesh beneath his greedy hands. “I would like to discuss a renegotiation…”

“Renegotiation?”

“Yes, dear.”

Maggie grinned. “I stand firm on the matter of gambling,” she revealed.

“Not a problem.” After all these years, it was difficult to believe she was truly his—at long last—with her glorious hair all mussed from their play. He reached out to thread his fingers through the shining mass and sucked in an awe-filled breath.

“No separate quarters,” he whispered, as he kissed her mouth. She closed her eyes, but her desire was more than apparent on her face, and Gabriel rejoiced in it. He wanted to please her for the rest of his days. He wanted to shower her with affection, make up for lost time…

And more than anything else in the world, he wanted to make her laugh.

“If you insist.”

He did insist—yes, indeed, he did.

Everything he now had, he wanted to give his sweet lady—and this moment, he wanted to give her his body and his soul. He rolled over, atop her, looking down into her face, and whispered, “Margaret... do you understand what it is we are about to do, my love?”

It took her a long moment to respond, and then she said, “I rather think I do… we are consummating our marriage,” she said with a whisper, and Gabriel grinned.

“Yes, we are,” he said. “Indeed, we are.”

And there at the foot of their favorite hill, they did precisely that.