Wildly, Boldly (Return to Culloden Moor #4)

Chapter 42

CHAPTER 42

#AlaskaLife #GhostHunting #HappilyEverAfter #HauntedHoneymoon

S ophie stood in the small antechamber of Skagway’s historic church, watching the late afternoon sunlight slant through the stained glass windows. October 14th. Her wedding day. Three weeks engaged, and here she was, about to become Mrs. Wyatt Boone. The whirlwind romance had surprised everyone—except maybe Wyatt, who’d been the one pushing for the quick wedding date.

They’d scheduled the ceremony for 5:30, knowing the sun would set by 6:45. She’d briefly considered Halloween, but Wyatt had shaken his head. “That’s your busiest night for ghost hunting. Besides,” he’d added with that quiet intensity of his, “I don’t want to wait that long.” Sophie had been elated—October was already steeped in mystery, and now they’d have their own enchanted night. The crisp air, the fire-colored leaves, the early twilight when the world blurred between the living and the dead. It was the perfect time for a ghost hunter to promise forever, in a season when whispers carried on the wind and unseen eyes might be watching.

Her mother had surprised her by throwing herself into the whirlwind planning the moment Sophie called with the news. She’d flown up immediately, insisting they find the perfect dress together. They’d crammed what should have been months of shopping into two whirlwind days in Juneau, ordering room service and talking late into the night. The dress had been worth the mad dash—classic and elegant, with just enough detail to make it special without overwhelming her small frame. Even her mother, who normally spent months planning every detail of any event, had teared up when Sophie stepped out of the dressing room.

They had the same auburn hair, though her mother’s was expertly styled in a way that probably cost more than Sophie’s dress. At fifty-five, she looked forty thanks to the best plastic surgeons in New York, elegant and polished in a champagne-colored dress she’d somehow managed to have rush-ordered.

Through the doorway, she could see into the church sanctuary, where her mother had worked alongside Whitney and Audrey to create something magical despite the rushed timeline. Her mother had immediately taken charge of the decorations, having boxes of white roses and baby’s breath overnighted from Seattle. The flowers now adorned each wooden pew end, tied with flowing ivory ribbons that her mother had personally selected. Countless tiny lights twinkled overhead—her mother’s solution to the early sunset—while pine boughs and more flowers arched over the altar. Hurricane lanterns cast a warm glow along the aisle, and the historic stained glass windows filtered the fading light, creating patterns that danced across the century-old wooden floors.

“Hold still, darling,” her mother said, adjusting the delicate lace veil. “The pearls aren’t sitting quite right.”

Sophie touched the strand at her throat—her grandmother’s pearls, handed down through generations of society brides. Her mother had overnight-mailed them the moment Sophie mentioned wanting something old, along with a note that had made Sophie cry: “Something old, from our family to your new one.”

Her mother stepped back, surveying her work with the critical eye that had planned countless society events. But instead of her usual cool assessment, her eyes were soft. “I know this isn’t the wedding I always imagined for you,” she said quietly. “But somehow it’s perfect.”

Sophie blinked back tears. “Even with the rush?”

“Especially with the rush.” Her mother smiled. “You’ve found your place here. I can see that now.”

Through the doorway, she caught glimpses of Pastor Mike greeting guests. He’d known Wyatt since he was a boy, and despite the rushed timeline, he’d made time to meet with them twice for counseling, his gentle wisdom and quiet humor making Sophie feel like she truly belonged here. The small church was full with their thirty guests—just the people who mattered most. Later, they’d all head back to the lodge where Whitney had worked miracles, somehow transforming the space in less than three weeks with twinkle lights, flowers, and elegant table settings that would make even her mother approve.

Her father had arrived yesterday, his white hair and impeccable suit standing out among the more casual Alaskan attire, but his genuine warmth evident as he’d spent the evening getting to know Wyatt’s family.

A knock at the door preceded Darrow’s entrance, looking surprisingly dapper in his suit, though his eyes still held their usual mischief.

“Ready to make an honest man of our ranger?” he asked, grinning. “Never seen him so impatient these past three weeks. Like a bear with a burr under his saddle.”

“I don’t know,” Sophie teased back. “That window’s looking pretty tempting. I could probably make it to Juneau before anyone noticed.”

“Ach, don’t you dare. That man would track you down before you made it a mile.” Darrow’s expression softened. “You know, lass, marriage is like those northern lights out there—sometimes bright and blazing, sometimes soft and subtle, but always something magnificent if you just take the time to look up and see it.” He winked. “Though between you and me, I’d say you and Wyatt have already got that part figured out. When you know, you know.”

Her mother kissed her cheek. “I’ll go take my seat. You look beautiful, darling.”

When she’d gone, Darrow offered his arm. “Shall we go find your father and get you married? Unless you’re still considering that window...”

“No,” Sophie said softly, looking out at the lights dancing across the Alaskan sky. “No, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Her father was waiting in the church vestibule, looking distinguished in his tailored suit, his white hair gleaming under the stained glass windows. When he saw her, his usual reserve cracked just a bit. “You look lovely, sweetheart.”

The music started—a soft violin piece that made her chest tight. Through the windows, she could see the northern lights strengthening, as if nature itself approved. Their small gathering of closest friends and family stood as the doors opened—the Kirkhams, Wyatt’s siblings Thane and Kelsey with their families, his closest ranger friends, all the people who had become such an important part of their lives in such a short time.

Her father patted her hand as they walked down the aisle. “You know,” he said quietly, “we always knew you’d do something extraordinary. Even if we never quite understood it.”

Sophie laughed softly, because it was so perfectly them. And honestly? That was okay.

When she reached the altar, everything else fell away. Because there was Wyatt, looking impossibly handsome in his dark suit. But it was his expression that made her eyes fill—like she was something rare and precious and absolutely real. Like she was everything he’d been waiting for.

Pastor Mike smiled warmly at them both before beginning the ceremony. His words were personal, filled with gentle humor and wisdom earned from watching Wyatt grow up and getting to know Sophie these past weeks. When he spoke about love and commitment, about building a life together in this wild, bold, and beautiful place, Sophie felt tears threatening again.

Their vows were simple but heartfelt. Wyatt’s voice was steady as he promised to love her, protect her, and always come find her when she chased her stories into the unknown. He promised to be her anchor, her safe harbor, while never clipping her wings. Sophie’s voice shook just a little as she promised to love him, to honor his quiet strength and steady heart. To make their corner of Alaska her home and hunting ground—because she’d finally found the greatest adventure of all in building a life with him. She promised to remember that his silences meant as much as other people’s words, and that sometimes the best stories were the ones they’d make together.

When Pastor Mike pronounced them husband and wife, Wyatt’s kiss tasted like promises and forever.

The drive to the lodge was short but perfect, the northern lights painting the sky above them. Her mother and Whitney had somehow managed to transform the main room in just three weeks—the furniture rearranged to create space for dancing, twinkling lights casting a warm glow over everything, white flowers and pine boughs adding elegance to the rustic space. It looked magical, like something out of a fairy tale, blending her mother’s sophisticated taste with the lodge’s natural charm.

As they shared their first dance, Wyatt pulled her close. “Still glad we didn’t wait, Mrs. Boone?”

“Not a single regret,” she whispered back. “You?”

“Only that I didn’t ask you sooner.” He grinned. “Though I’m still not sure about spending our honeymoon in Juneau’s most haunted hotel.”

“The Gold Room at the Baranof? Please. Those ghost stories are absolutely legitimate.” She kissed him softly. “Besides, I promised no ghost hunting equipment for at least the first three days.”

“Trust me,” he murmured against her ear, “you won’t even remember where you packed that equipment for the first week.”

Before she could respond, he dipped her low and kissed her with enough heat to draw whistles and applause from their guests. When he finally set her upright again, he looked so pleased with himself that she had to laugh. She caught glimpses of their new life together—adventures waiting to be had, a love story still unfolding. She’d spent so long looking for her place in the world, never knowing that what she really needed was right here.

A home.

A family.

A ranger who loved her exactly as she was.

The aurora continued to dance across the sky, blessing their union in its own wild way and Sophie couldn’t wait to start recording their next chapter.