She turned to look at him, still in his wedding finery, his hair slightly mussed from the day's activities, his scar prominent in the firelight, and felt her heart swell with so much love it almost hurt.
“The ceremony is concluded, and the attachment now complete.” she said.
"Indeed it is," he confirmed, moving closer. "You're my wife. I'm your husband. It's legal and binding and irreversible."
He started removing the pins from her hair, letting it tumble around her shoulders in waves. "I've wanted to do this all day."
"Destroy Mary's careful work?"
"Free you from constraints. The pins, the proper dress, the public behavior…all of it."
"And now?"
"Now you're just Clara. My Clara. My wife Clara who I can kiss whenever I want without scandal."
"There will always be scandal with us."
"Yes, but now it's matrimonial scandal, which is slightly more respectable."
"Slightly."
He kissed her then, soft and deep, taking his time because they had time now, all the time in the world. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing unsteadily.
"I love you," Clara said. "I loved you as a child, I loved you as a broken man hiding in his estate, I love you as my husband. I will love you tomorrow and next year and when we're old and even more difficult than we are now."
"I love you too," Gabriel said. "I loved you when grafted our rose. I loved you when you climbed my wall in stolen boots. I loved you when you looked at my scars and didn't flinch. I love you for entering into matrimony with me despite my demonstrable unsuitability for human companionship."
"You're perfectly suitable for my companionship."
"Only yours."
"That's all that matters."
They stood there in the firelight, holding each other, wedded, legal, and permanent in a way that should have been terrifying but was instead perfectly right.
"Clara?"
"Mmm?"
"What would you say to leave our dinner and letting me remove that dress very, very slowly?"
"I'd say that sounds like an excellent use of our matrimonial night."
"Our first night as husband and wife."
"The first of thousands."
"Ambitious."
"Realistic."
"For better or worse."
"Till death do us part."
He began working the buttons of her wedding dress with the same careful attention he'd shown that first night three weeks ago, except now there was no desperation, no fear that this might end. This was forever, and they could take their time.
"The staff is probably placing bets on how loud we'll be tonight," Clara observed as the dress pooled at her feet.
