Her fourth husband was late. Not in the same way as the first three, at least not as she knew. There could be no telling until he arrived.

“Milady?” A servant paused with a pitcher held above her crystal goblet. Unlike at the Masten estate, this gentleman could meet her eye without fear.

“Thank you.”

Their wine was rich, dark, and not her favorite. As her fingers brushed the stem, her son’s hand touched her forearm.

“May I have a taste?” His face was sharp and his skin, tanned, like hers. But his dark green eyes were his father’s. Her second husband loved his wine rich and never went a day without a glass. But he was as tempered with that as he was all things.

Even as sickness took him, he was patient, wise, and calm. She slid the goblet to her child, their hands touching as he reached for the bulb.

“Just one.”

He drank all this kingdom would willingly give him. But he would have her love, his siblings, and his own life. The world would be beautiful.

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[Copyrighted © July 10 2015, J.M. Blute]