"You doubted?"
"Just a little," his lips curved in an almost smile. "Until this moment."
Reverend Michaels cleared his throat pointedly, looking down his nose at the couple below him. "Shall we begin?"
The ceremony passed in a blur. Hanna heard herself repeating vows, promising to love and honour and obey. HeardAlaric's deep voice echoing the same promises, his words steady and sure.
Maria sat at the back of the chapel with James on her knee, hushing the child now and then as the priest droned on.
Then came the ring.
Alaric produced a simple gold band from his pocket. "It was my mother's," he said quietly as he slipped it onto Hanna's finger. It was slightly too large, but he folded her hand closed, holding it in both of his.
"I'll have it sized properly. But I wanted you to wear it today."
Hanna's eyes stung with unexpected tears.
Hismother'sring. Not some cheap band purchased for convenience, but a family heirloom. It felt like a sign that this marriage, hasty as it was, mattered to him.
The reverend's voice broke through her thoughts. "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Alaric's hands came up to frame her face, his touch gentle. For a moment, he just looked at her, and Hanna saw something intense in his expression.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
It was nothing like the seductive kiss in the shelter. This was tender, reverent, a covenant sealed between them. His lips pressed softly against hers, asking rather than demanding, and Hanna found herself rising on her toes, kissing him back.
When they finally parted, Alaric rested his forehead against hers.
"Mine now," he whispered, just for her.
And Hanna, for the first time in what felt like forever, felt something unfurl in her chest. Not quite hope, not yet. But the possibility of it.
"Yours," she agreed softly.
Alaric’s eyes blazed, and he kissed her again, harder this time, with more of that leashed hunger she'd glimpsed before.Then he pulled back, composing himself, and turned to offer her his arm.
"Come, wife. Let's go home."
Home.The word echoed in Hanna's mind as they walked out of the church into the pale autumn sunlight. Maria followed behind with James in her arms.
She was Hanna Wolff now.
HANNA
Hanna lay still and quiet, cocooned by the dark as she tried to relax. It was her first night lying beside Alaric as his wife, and everything was as it should be.
Or at least, it was somewhat as she had expected.
Little James had taken to Alaric immediately, and Maria was ensconced in the downstairs bedroom. All should be well in Hanna’s world.
And yet, she felt restless.
James fussed in his sleep from across the room, safe in his crib near the warmth of the fireplace, screens protecting him from errant drafts. Hanna sighed and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Come here, woman,” a voice growled, and a strong arm scooped underneath Hanna and pulled her close against a warm, lean body.
Hanna stifled a gasp as that arm banded across her chest and a hand came to rest on her waist, holding her tight against the chill of the night under the blankets.
