April 18

Tomorrow we shall marry.

When I gave birth to Henry, I gave up all hope of one day becoming a proper wife. But worse than that, I believed that my actions had robbed my son of the opportunity of ever having a good father, one who would love and accept him as his own and care for him the way he deserves.

Then you came into our lives, and everything changed.

You make it very evident that neither the fact that Henry was conceived out of wedlock nor that he is not yours by blood mattes one whit, and that means more to me than anything I could ever wish for myself. He adores you-wants to be more like you, has even asked me if he can start calling you Papa immediately after the wedding.

You have no idea what that means to me.

Well, perhaps you do, for you have told me repeatedly how you feared that no woman would accept and raise Liza as her own because of the circumstances of her birth. Yet loving that little girl requires no effort at all, and when she reaches those pudgy arms of hers out to me and snuggles into my chest, I forget that I didn't give birth to her. Parenting is a choice, and becoming a mother to your two precious children is an honor I do not take lightly.

From this time tomorrow, they shall be mine just as assuredly as Henry is.

Can I tell you again how strange yet wonderful it is to know that you do not view me as a fallen woman worthy of censure but rather as a woman with whom you have chosen to spend your life and to mother your children? That when you caress my cheek or kiss my lips, all of the shame of my past seems to melt into a puddle at my feet? That strolling through town on your arm makes me feel as though I've just emerged from a cocoon of censure and am allowed to spread my wings for the first time in my life?

I am so giddy with happiness I fear I may not sleep tonight.

It's difficult for me to believe this is truly happening, that tomorrow night I shall be sleeping in your bed rather than here in Widow Lucas's guest room, that your body will provide me with a warmth far more intimate than that any quilt can provide. Of course, after the way you kissed me earlier this evening, I have to wonder just how much sleep I shall actually be granted on our wedding night.

I somehow think the answer to that is very little.

My skin is still tingling in wake of your caresses, my lips still burning from the imprint of your own upon them. You draw feelings out of me I've never known, Robin, sensations that stagger me with their intensity and persistence and carry me into dreams from which I am loath to wake. Would you be shocked to know that I touched myself last night in order to quell the ache that wouldn't let me rest? Would you be scandalized to learn that my own hand brought me pleasure even as my lips breathed your name, that I trembled in the darkness, imagining what it will be like to feel all of you inside my body while your lips explore me in places some would deem perverse?

I somehow doubt you would, and for that, I am thankful. I am weary of living under the self-righteous judgment of those who prefer condemnation to grace and deem our bodies as shameful. I am ready to live freely with you, to be your wife in every way without reservation, to finally be at peace with who I am.

Dearest Regina,

Today is the day.

In a matter of hours, we shall speak vows and bind our lives together. I shall look into your eyes and be able to call you my wife rather than my intended. I shall be able to kiss you in places on your body that have been hidden to me, places I look forward to revealing in all their splendor and beauty.

I cannot wait to bring you home tonight.

Home. How different the word feels as I write it in my journal, how it dances from my quill to the page, how it warms me in a manner I'd nearly forgotten after I lost Marian. This home will feel complete again with you and Henry inside it, for as much as I love my children, there has been an emptiness that can only be filled by a life companion. How thankful I am that my new life companion will be you.

How thankful I am that I actually placed that advertisement for a wife.

I nearly talked myself out of it, you know. Several times, in fact. But as I rocked and walked with Liza for hours one night, as I heard Roland stir fitfully in his sleep, I decided I would take a step into the unknown for the sake of my children, if not for myself. I did so with trembling hands and a dry mouth, and the day that your letter arrived, I very nearly refused to open it out of absolute fear.

How thankful I am that curiosity combined with fatherly determination triumphed over nerves and prompted me to open and read your response. The tightness in my chest eased, my breathing steadied somewhat as your letter took root and began to blossom in what I had feared to be barren ground.

Now, because of you, Dearest Regina, what was once frozen has sprung back to life.

I must stop writing now and get the children and myself ready, for we have a wedding to attend this afternoon, one I have no intention of missing. Until then, Regina. I know you will be the most beautiful bride for whom a man could wish.

I shall meet you at the altar.

April 19

I am your wife.

I am struggling to find words adequate enough to describe the emotions bubbling over inside my chest this morning, but as I sit here and watch you sleep, I must try, for this is a moment I want to press into memory forever. It is odd, feeling somewhat sore and stretched in places rarely discussed, but God in heaven, such tenderness is a small price to pay for the ecstasy that brought it about and one I will gladly pay again and again.

My God, Robin. How you made love to me last night.

Parts of our wedding day are a blur, I must confess, regardless of the small audience in attendance and the tiny yet perfect details seen to by Widow Lucas. The wedding cake, the flowers, the fact that Marco is quite an adept fiddler, each individual item in itself was far more than I could have ever imagined. Henry and Roland looked so handsome in their suits, although I must admit to missing my youngest son's floppy curls that were trimmed into as much submission as much as they could be.

Have I mentioned how much I love the fact that I can now officially refer to Roland and Liza as my son and daughter? There is such a rightness to it that warms me deeply. My family feels complete now. Actually, I suppose it would be more appropriate to say our family.

Ours. What a powerful word. How it changes absolutely everything. From my shame to our marriage, from my illegitimate son and your illegitimate daughter to our children, from my solitude to our family, from my loneliness to our love.

I do believe that our is the most beautiful word in the English language.

Speaking of our baby girl, Liza looked absolutely adorable in her new dress, even if her unruly locks kept trying to take center stage and made it look as if we did not even bother to comb her hair. Mr. Nolan dotes on her, as I am certain you've noticed, and after the ceremony he referred to her as a burst of wildfire. It is almost frightening how accurate his assessment of both her hair and personality is.

Speaking of Mr. Nolan, I think he may be sweet on my Aunt Mary Margaret.

The fact that you secretly arranged for her to be here for our wedding, that you both paid for and booked her passage, that you arranged for her to stay with Widow Lucas for a few weeks so she can get to know you and the children might be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. Well, besides Aunt Mary Margaret taking me in and giving me a place to live after I discovered I was expecting Henry. I was so surprised to see her when I walked into the church, I nearly squealed as I walked down the aisle.

Have her here means the world to me. But I believe you already know that. You seem intent upon seeing to my happiness, and that is something I've never before experienced.

Now I get to experience it every day of my life.

When you took my hand within your own, when you repeated the vows spoken by Reverend Hopper and gazed into my eyes as if you could see forever, I had to keep reminding myself that this was really happening, that maybe, just maybe, I shall be given a chance at a happy ending after all.

It still seems somewhat unreal to me, but then I look over to the bed-our bed-and see you sleeping peacefully, your bare chest on full display for me to both view and appreciate. I remember how it felt beneath my fingertips, how the smattering of light hair on your chest tickled my breasts as our bodies pressed together when you were buried inside me. I can still taste the salt of your skin on my tongue, can feel the stirrings of fresh desire as they tingle and tease my inner thighs and nipples, and I am tempted to lay my quill and journal aside and return to your side beneath the quilts.

How would you react if I awakened you with my hand? Would you be scandalized by your wife initiating sex, or would you grin that devilish grin of yours and let me have my way with you? I am fairly certain I know the answer to that, and so I shall abandon this entry and return to your side to test this theory so I can know for certain.

April 19

You're a minx, Regina Locksley. And by God, I love you for it.

How thankful I am that Widow Lucas and your Aunt Mary Margaret volunteered to watch the children last night. It was lovely to have some time to ourselves without having to worry about little eyes seeing something they shouldn't or little ears hearing the sounds you coaxed out of me this morning when you woke me up in the most incredible way possible. I adore the fact that you feel comfortable enough to explore my body the same way I've already come to love exploring yours, even though we've been husband and wife less than twenty-four hours.

You have initiated a craving inside me I fear may never be sated as long as we both shall live.

For you are exquisite, Regina. Every plane of your body, every small expanse of skin, every freckle, every hair, even the marks left by childbirth you feared I would find unattractive. You are a feast for a starving man, a goddess worthy of worship and adoration, a woman who has suffered much yet possesses an incredible capacity for love and tenderness.

The trust with which you honored me by placing your heart and body into my keeping humbles me to my very core. Kissing you feels like coming home, and being inside your body completes me in a way I find nearly impossible to put into words. Watching you respond to my touch, feeling you come apart around me….I have no words for the fire you've so expertly kindled

and now stoke with each glance and every touch, regardless of how innocent in nature it might be.

And as I watch you slumber after our morning love-making, I relish simply being able to gaze at you openly without fear of censure or reproof. I love that I can slide in the bed beside you and cradle your nakedness, that I can touch what before remained hidden and openly confess the thoughts I have held at bay.

For I love you, Regina Mills Locksley. Within a short time, you have become a trusted friend, a mother for my children, a lover, a partner, and a confidante. And I count myself the most fortunate man on earth that I now have the privilege of calling you my wife.