Her eyes were vulnerable and grateful. He had meant only to help her through the moment. Nothing more. But as the ceremony began and Hazel lifted her gaze toward him again, more of that warm tidal wave washed over him, settling somewhere beneath his ribs.
The officiant cleared his throat, and the murmurs in the hall fell into reverent silence.
“Dearly beloved…”
Greyson’s jaw tightened not from nerves, but from the weight of responsibility settling formally, publicly, on his shoulders.
Duty, he understood. Duty he excelled at.
But marriage? He would handle it with the same iron discipline.
If Hazel sensed his internal resolve, she gave no sign. She stared straight ahead as though she were reminding herself to stand tall, to breathe, to survive this.
The officiant’s voice rose again.
“We are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”
Hazel inhaled sharply as the ceremony began, but she did not falter. She was strong. Steady in ways people overlooked. Trembling fingers or not, she met the moment with quiet fortitude. He respected that more than he had expected.
The officiant turned slightly. “If anyone here knows a reason these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now…”
Greyson nearly snorted. No one would dare to. No one dared to even breathe louder than necessary.
“Very well,” the officiant said. “Let us proceed.”
He spoke to Greyson first. “Your Grace, will you have this woman to your wedded wife?”
Greyson looked directly at Hazel. Her lashes fluttered. Her throat bobbed with a swallow.
He answered firmly. “I will.”
Hazel’s breath hitched, but only Greyson caught the sound. Then the officiant turned to her.
“And do you, Hazel Thorne, take this man to be your wedded husband?”
Hazel’s lips parted. For one terrifying second, Greyson wondered if she would speak at all, or if her nerves and her uncertainty would weigh more. Then she looked up at him, and her voice filled the space between them.
“I do.”
The officiant nodded, smiling now.
“Then I hereby pronounce you husband and wife.”
A murmur swept through the hall, an amalgamation of excitement, admiration and curiosity.
“You may seal your union with a kiss.”
Greyson felt Hazel stiffen. Her breath caught. And he remembered his promise.
So, he lowered his head slowly, giving her time and watching her eyes widen behind the veil. She looked fragile in that breath of silence, fragile in the way of someone bracing for impact, someone expecting to endure rather than to be cherished, which was what someone like her deserved.
He swallowed heavily. He would not be the man she feared or the man who would repeat the sins of others. He would not harm her, not even by accident.
Ever so slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed the edge of her veil aside, clearing a path to her cheek. His fingers did not touch her skin. They hovered just near it, careful and asking permission without words.
Hazel’s breath trembled out in a tiny exhalation. She didn’t step back. So he bent toward her, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin through the veil. He could see her entire body still like a deer poised to flee.
Then, his lips met her cheek with a care he didn’t even know he possessed. It was just a whisper of a kiss, barely a touch. It was a kiss with no claim, no demand and no passion. It was only a promise.
