Caleb smiled, offered Anna a warm nod, and led the reverend toward the gate.
Mrs. Pembroke looked at Anna, followed by Nathaniel, and her expression softened. “Five minutes,” she repeated, then went inside.
For the first time, Anna and Nathaniel were alone as husband and wife. The thought nearly stole her breath.
Nathaniel turned to her. “Anna…”
The sound of her name in his voice was different. Sacred, somehow.
“Nathaniel,” she said.
He smiled, and the sight of it went straight through her. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he said. “My friends call me Nate.”
“I’ve said it in my head,” she confessed. “Though not the shortened version…”
“Have you?”
She heaved a sigh. “Usually when I was vexed with you.”
He laughed. “That seems fair.”
Anna giggled, and because she was his wife, stepped closer and placed her hands against his coat.
Nathaniel stilled and swallowed hard.
“Can you kiss me?” she whispered.
His answer was to cup her face with gentle hands and lower his mouth to hers.
It wasn’t a long kiss. It was, however, sweet and gentle. A promise made in silence to accompany the promises already spoken aloud.
When he drew back, Anna’s heart was too full for her chest.
“I love you,” he said. The words came low and steady, as if he’d carried them a long way and was grateful at last to set them in her hands.
Anna smiled through her tears. “I love you too.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted to give you more than this.”
“You gave me yourself.”
He ran a hand down her back. The sensation soothing. “It may not be an easy life.”
Anna snuggled against him. “I know.”
“I might have to leave tonight.”
She drew back at his words and looked up at him. “I know that too.”
He gently brushed his thumb beneath her eye. “You are my wife.”
“And you, my husband.” The words steadied her. They didn’t erase the danger he could run into but were something stronger to stand on while facing it.
From inside the house, Mrs. Pembroke called, “Four minutes, and I am being gracious!”
Anna laughed against Nathaniel’s shoulder. He kissed her forehead. “I will come back to you.”
“You’d better. Mrs. Pembroke dislikes wasted arrangements.”
