Page 53 of Mail-Order Viscountess

Then he repeated the words the sheriff gave him. “With this ring, I thee wed.” His voice was low, meant only for her. “And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”

The metal sat cool against her skin, foreign and strange. She could only stare at it—this small circle that symbolized how much everything had changed.

“By the power vested in me by the Territory of Montana and in the presence of these witnesses,” the sheriff declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Husband and wife.

The words echoed in the sudden stillness.

“Thomas, you may kiss your bride.”

Thomas turned to face her fully, and his eyes met hers, a question flickering in their depths.

Permission. He was asking for permission even now, when tradition and propriety gave him every right to claim the kiss without hesitation.

The consideration in that silent question made something crack open in her chest.

She gave a tiny nod.

One palm came up to cup her face, and the gentleness in his touch made her throat ache. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. The knot at his throat worked.

He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t.

His kiss was soft. Careful. The barest brush of his mouth against hers.

But heat bloomed through her like a match struck in darkness—unexpected, undeniable, terrifying. Her hands rose to rest on the lapels of his jacket without her permission.

He made a small sound against her lips, almost surprised, and deepened the kiss just a fraction—just enough for her to taste the promise of more.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Every wall she’d built, every defense she’d erected, trembled at its foundations.

Then he drew back.

His eyes had darkened, the brown overtaken by deeper green. His chest rose and fell with a quickened breath. For a single moment, he wore everything on his face—wonder and want and something that looked almost like fear.

This was real. Her heart pounded even harder. This was far more than real.

The room behind them erupted into applause and well-wishes, shattering the moment. Thomas’s expression shifted back into that easy smile, though the heat in his eyes remained.

Kate turned to the others as her own face burned.

Clara reached them first, pulling her into a hug that nearly toppled them both. “You’re married,” she whispered against Kate’s ear. “You’re really married.”

Kate could only cling to her, burying her face in Clara’s hair as she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in. All the familiar scents—Clara’s lavender soap, the hint of rose water she’d sprinkled on her collar that morning.

And underneath it all, simply Clara. Her sister. Her constant through every storm.

Clara was safe now. They both were.

She glanced at Thomas, who was nearly surrounded by his brothers. Yet even with James speaking to him, Thomas was watching her.

His eyes locked with hers, and one corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile that made her stomach flip.

She’d made this choice. They both had. And whatever came next, they’d face it together.

For better or for worse.

CHAPTER 18