“This is not how things are done,” Reverend Strife complained. He rose up to his full height, which hit right around Gideon’s ribcage. “Gideon Mars,” he started again, eyes flashing as if daring Gideon to interrupt him again. “Do you take Sadie Geoghegan to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better and for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her”—the reverend inhaled, and in a solemn, echoing voice, intoned—“until death do you part?”
Gideon paused, and my heart began to rattle. Stormy blue eyes met mine. He studied me for an endless moment, and the breath in my lungs turned solid. Despite the application and the forms and the interviews that had led me to this moment, all the hours of packing and planning, it was only now that things felt truly real.
Today was my wedding day.
After everything—all the chaos and the heartache and the pain—I would be married. The vow’s words echoed in my mind. Until death.Until death. This wasn’t just a promise for a week or a month or a year. It was a promise for life.
That meant something to me.
Finally, in a low rumble, Gideon vowed, “I do.”
Breath slid past my lips in a rush. I blinked rapidly, hand tightening around Gideon’s. His eyes searched mine, a slight frown etching lines in his brow. His thumb made a slow sweep over the back of my hand, the touch so gentle that I almost thought I imagined it. Then his scowl deepened, and he turned to glare once more at Reverend Strife.
“Sadie Geoghegan,” the reverend boomed, my name echoing around the church. “Do you take Gideon Mars to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He repeated the vows, and they swirled around me, settling over my shoulders like a weight.
I was promising Gideon eternity, and he was looking at me like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. That had to be inviting some sort of cosmic curse into my life. But how could things get any worse than they already were?
Gideon watched me, as if he were suddenly not bothered by the minister’s theatrics or the low rumble of the organ accompaniment. “Having second thoughts?” Gideon murmured, a little mocking and a lot bitter, his voice so low that only I and the minister could hear.
I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking the resigned, unsurprised note in his voice. He sounded like me backing out was exactly what he expected. Because of his scars, I gathered. I was so superficial and shallow as to leave him at the altar becausehis skin wasn’t a perfect, unblemished canvas. Did he think so little of me?
I swallowed past the boulder in my throat and lifted my chin. When I spoke my vow, it was with a strong voice that rang clear and bright over the assembled crowd: “I do.”
“The rings,” Reverend Strife prompted, and Gideon turned to his brother, who produced two simple gold bands. Behind the best man, two other brothers—had to be, with all of them being tall, broad, and handsome—peeked their heads around the first brother’s shoulders to watch. My left hand only trembled a little as Gideon took it in his.
The gold band slid past my knuckle. A perfect fit. I’d filled in my ring size on one of the endless forms that had been sent to me, but it still surprised me when the ring slid on so easily. The gold warmed against my hand within moments.
I took the bigger ring, noting the clenching of Gideon’s jaw as he lifted his left hand. His wrist was mottled with scar tissue on one side, and it crawled all the way up along his pinky and ring fingers. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if challenging me to touch him.
I resented that. I wasn’t afraid of a few scars. He’d soon learn that my body wasn’t exactly perfect, either. Maybe. If we ever made it that far. If, by some chance, Gideon had lied on his application too.
Clenching my jaw, I shifted the ring to my left hand. With my right, I held the scarred side of his hand to angle it so I could slide his wedding band on his third finger. As soon as my skin touched his, he stiffened. I gentled my touch, but I didn’t let go, even when he tried to pull away.
The ring fit perfectly as it slid onto his finger, and before Gideoncould move, I slid my hands into both his palms and held him there.
I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me. I’d made a vow; I was all-in.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Strife announced. “Gideon, you may kiss the bride.”
My pulse took off. There was a creak from the pews, as if everyone had leaned forward at once. The air seemed to still, and even Marigold’s organ remained silent for one single, pregnant moment.
Gideon pulled gently on my fingers, and I leaned toward him. He angled his head, and I parted my lips. His body blotted out the light behind him, the stained glass painting his scarred side in pink and blue and green. Some of the coldness left his eyes as he dipped his gaze to my lips, and I swallowed convulsively.
Gideon Mars wasveryattractive. It hit me again, all at once, in that moment where our heads angled in preparation to fit together. I didn’t think he knew the effect he had, and I was sure it wasn’t just me. He looked dangerous and strong. He looked like he could face down any enemy without flinching. A warrior. A survivor. And in that moment, right before our first kiss, when he softened…
My heart fluttered. The scent of his skin filled my nose. Spicy and woodsy and male—intoxicating.
The last person to kiss me had been Henry. And he’d been nothing like Gideon. He had none of the raw, powerful energy that my new husband possessed. None of the potent maleness that seemed to press against me like a physical weight.
This kiss wasn’t just ceremonial for me. Desire spread overmy lower abdomen like warm butter, the feeling as unfamiliar as it was heady. A low, flickering fire continued to build in the pit of my stomach.
Gideon leaned in. I felt his breath on my mouth, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head up to accept the kiss…
Only for Gideon to angle his head at the last minute, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of my lips. He angled our heads to block the guests’ view of us, so it looked like he was actually kissing me. As a cheer went up, Gideon moved his lips to my ear.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and pulled away. For not kissing me for real? His eyes were as hard as ever, a challenge blazing in them.
I narrowed my eyes before I remembered we had an audience. A familiar, bright smile stretched over my face—my best armor against the world—and I turned to face the crowd of strangers that had just witnessed my wedding.
