Bridegroom Wore Plaid
“Such wonderful, soul-deep comfort, to be held by a man who was easy with the embrace, not stiff and reluctant, not rendered silent and resentful by the prospect of a woman surrendering to her emotions. Ulysses deserved tears. For years, he’d been her friend, her only link with a happier time, her only tangible proof those times existed outside her imagination. She blotted her eyes with Lord Balfour’s handkerchief, catching another whiff of the clean, outdoor scent of the sachets his sister used... to freshen the laundry. She should move.His hand gently pushed her head to his shoulder, and Augusta allowed it. She stayed right where she was, sitting beside him, letting his heat and strength seep into her bones. “I’d forgotten how grief makes the body ache,” she said. “It’s curious.”“It makes the head ache too, when you try to drink your way through it.”He said nothing more, though his words were enough to acknowledge he’d known loss too. Both parents—like Augusta—grandparents, stepparents, and very likely his older brother.MoreLess
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