He hovered the ring over my finger before raising a single eyebrow.
Right, breathing.
Probably because I would have done anything he asked, I forced the air into my lungs, and my pirate rewarded me with words that felt more like worship than a promise.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship,” the way his eyes held mine, the words were practically indecent, sending a shiver up my spine. “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The ring fit perfectly on my finger, and though I wasn’t used to its presence, it felt right. I repaid him by placing his ring on him and loved the way he flexed his hand as if adjusting to this new world.
With the exchange of rings, it wasn’t just him and me any longer. It was a we now, and I was prepared to hold him to it.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The words were barely out of the priest’s mouth before I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me. I loved the way his light laugh felt against my lips, so I pressed against his. Soft and far too chaste. I slipped my tongue against the seam of his lips, and he made a sound low in his throat that shouldn’t have been made in a church lest we goto hell for it. He pulled away, and god, the way his eyes dug into mine, accusatory and hungry, had my toes curling.
Cheers and applause rang in my ears, but I only saw him, only felt the pull of him.
His chest lifted with a long breath as he offered me his arm. I gladly took it and was grateful when he whispered an admonishment that sounded like telling me to behave, but it was hard to hear with the roaring in my ears.
We walked through the eager eyes that catalogued our every movement. The air outside was like freedom against my too-hot skin.
Of all the impulsive things I’d done in my life, this was one I struggled to wrap my mind around. Even when Bash helped me into the carriage that would take us back to Fairview, all I knew was that the world was moving.
I’d married Sebastian Flynn, Captain of the Sea Wraith. He was my husband.
I settled into the carriage much like a board of wood stood stock straight. Vaguely aware that Bash followed and tapped the side for the driver to go on.
“Rose,” he said, voice raspy and delicious in the best way.
I turned my head to face him, hands clutching the bouquet tight enough to cause pain. God, I loved the way he was watching me. Always the predator, except that the rules of this game were changed.
“Yes?” I asked.
The corner of his lip pulled up.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
In those three words was a vulnerability not one other person on earth was privy to. A pirate captain, heir to London society, is my husband.
So I did the only thing left to do.
I kissed my husband.
Chapter twenty-four
With My Body, I Thee Worship
Bash
The Mysterious Deep teaches symbiosis better than any scholar could: the remora and the great shark, the anemone and her clownfish—each thriving only because the other does. On land, they call such balance by another name: a well-matched marriage.
— The Mysterious Deep: A Comprehensive Understanding
My wife tasted like cinnamon and coffee, and I couldn’t think of a better fate than to drown in her. Two seconds ago, I was nursing concerns that she regretted her reckless plan, but I should have known better. Rosamund was a storm, and I was helpless in the wake of her.
She murmured her approval as I slid my tongue against her lips like I’d wanted to back in the church. Her hands tightened around my neck, and there was a hunger in the way the world narrowed down to just her. Unable to give a single damn reason why I shouldn’t, I wrapped my arm around her and lifted her somewhat clumsily onto my lap. These were the moments I hated my wooden arm more than anything. Because the need to touch her like I used to was burned into me. I was half of what I was.
“Eyes on me, Husband,” she said, cutting through my self-loathing.
