Chapter 2 #3
After everything—all the chaos and the heartache and the pain—I would be married. The vow’s words echoed in my mind. Until death. Until death. This wasn’t just a promise for a week or a month or a year. It was a promise for life.
That meant something to me.
Finally, in a low rumble, Gideon vowed, “I do.”
Breath slid past my lips in a rush. I blinked rapidly, hand tightening around Gideon’s.
His eyes searched mine, a slight frown etching lines in his brow.
His thumb made a slow sweep over the back of my hand, the touch so gentle that I almost thought I imagined it.
Then his scowl deepened, and he turned to glare once more at Reverend Strife.
“Sadie Geoghegan,” the reverend boomed, my name echoing around the church. “Do you take Gideon Mars to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He repeated the vows, and they swirled around me, settling over my shoulders like a weight.
I was promising Gideon eternity, and he was looking at me like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. That had to be inviting some sort of cosmic curse into my life. But how could things get any worse than they already were?
Gideon watched me, as if he were suddenly not bothered by the minister’s theatrics or the low rumble of the organ accompaniment. “Having second thoughts?” Gideon murmured, a little mocking and a lot bitter, his voice so low that only I and the minister could hear.
I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking the resigned, unsurprised note in his voice.
He sounded like me backing out was exactly what he expected.
Because of his scars, I gathered. I was so superficial and shallow as to leave him at the altar because his skin wasn’t a perfect, unblemished canvas. Did he think so little of me?
I swallowed past the boulder in my throat and lifted my chin. When I spoke my vow, it was with a strong voice that rang clear and bright over the assembled crowd: “I do.”
“The rings,” Reverend Strife prompted, and Gideon turned to his brother, who produced two simple gold bands.
Behind the best man, two other brothers—had to be, with all of them being tall, broad, and handsome—peeked their heads around the first brother’s shoulders to watch.
My left hand only trembled a little as Gideon took it in his.
The gold band slid past my knuckle. A perfect fit. I’d filled in my ring size on one of the endless forms that had been sent to me, but it still surprised me when the ring slid on so easily. The gold warmed against my hand within moments.
I took the bigger ring, noting the clenching of Gideon’s jaw as he lifted his left hand. His wrist was mottled with scar tissue on one side, and it crawled all the way up along his pinky and ring fingers. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if challenging me to touch him.
I resented that. I wasn’t afraid of a few scars. He’d soon learn that my body wasn’t exactly perfect, either. Maybe. If we ever made it that far. If, by some chance, Gideon had lied on his application too.
Clenching my jaw, I shifted the ring to my left hand. With my right, I held the scarred side of his hand to angle it so I could slide his wedding band on his third finger. As soon as my skin touched his, he stiffened. I gentled my touch, but I didn’t let go, even when he tried to pull away.
The ring fit perfectly as it slid onto his finger, and before Gideon could move, I slid my hands into both his palms and held him there.
I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me. I’d made a vow; I was all-in.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Strife announced. “Gideon, you may kiss the bride.”
My pulse took off. There was a creak from the pews, as if everyone had leaned forward at once. The air seemed to still, and even Marigold’s organ remained silent for one single, pregnant moment.
Gideon pulled gently on my fingers, and I leaned toward him.
He angled his head, and I parted my lips.
His body blotted out the light behind him, the stained glass painting his scarred side in pink and blue and green.
Some of the coldness left his eyes as he dipped his gaze to my lips, and I swallowed convulsively.
Gideon Mars was very attractive. It hit me again, all at once, in that moment where our heads angled in preparation to fit together.
I didn’t think he knew the effect he had, and I was sure it wasn’t just me.
He looked dangerous and strong. He looked like he could face down any enemy without flinching.
A warrior. A survivor. And in that moment, right before our first kiss, when he softened…
My heart fluttered. The scent of his skin filled my nose. Spicy and woodsy and male—intoxicating.
The last person to kiss me had been Henry. And he’d been nothing like Gideon. He had none of the raw, powerful energy that my new husband possessed. None of the potent maleness that seemed to press against me like a physical weight.
This kiss wasn’t just ceremonial for me. Desire spread over my lower abdomen like warm butter, the feeling as unfamiliar as it was heady. A low, flickering fire continued to build in the pit of my stomach.
Gideon leaned in. I felt his breath on my mouth, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head up to accept the kiss…
Only for Gideon to angle his head at the last minute, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of my lips. He angled our heads to block the guests’ view of us, so it looked like he was actually kissing me. As a cheer went up, Gideon moved his lips to my ear.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and pulled away. For not kissing me for real? His eyes were as hard as ever, a challenge blazing in them.
I narrowed my eyes before I remembered we had an audience. A familiar, bright smile stretched over my face—my best armor against the world—and I turned to face the crowd of strangers that had just witnessed my wedding.
Just because I knew it would annoy him, I gripped Gideon’s arm and pressed myself up against it. And, fine, it wasn’t just to annoy him. His biceps were magnificent, and the clench of his hand against mine was delicious.
Then the doors to the church burst open, and an old, balding man stood in the entryway, breathing hard.
He had stringy brown hair clinging to the sides of his head, and he wore a short-sleeved button-down with wet patches under his arms, evidence of the sweltering July sun still beating down on the town outside.
The congregation turned to stare. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of everyone looking at him.
Marigold pounded out a dramatic chord on the organ, and the man straightened. “Mr. Titty,” he said between pants, when the organ had quieted down. “Mr. Titty struck again. Got the front of the church.”
I got so far as to ask “Who’s Mr—” before the force of a very small, round man barreling down off the dais knocked me off my stiletto heels.
It was only Gideon’s arm wrapping around my waist that stopped me from falling to the base of the stairs and being trampled by all the elderly people rushing to get outside in their orthopedic shoes.
I clung to the front of his suit, got my feet back under me, and looked over my shoulder as the doors swung shut behind the last guest. Silence fell like a sack of bricks.
My pulse was beating hard, and my breath sounded too loud in the empty church.
I lifted my gaze to Gideon’s, watching the way the high, flickering chandelier’s lights kissed his unblemished right side.
His stubble had been shaped to highlight his jaw and cheekbone, and I knew that he must have been incredibly handsome before the event that scarred him.
Then he turned his head to meet my gaze, and the other side of his face came into view.
He was still handsome, just…different. And really, I wasn’t one to judge. My problems were internal, but they still shaped my life the way I imagined Gideon’s marks had shaped his.
He watched me scan the scars, and his gaze went hard. Again. I wanted to scream, explain that I wasn’t judging him, I just—they were part of him! I was captivated. But I already knew he wouldn’t believe me.
I gulped. His arm was still around my waist, my own hands pressed up against his chest. Just like the first time, my world narrowed to the space between us.
The points of contact between his hard body and my much softer one.
This was the closest I’d been to a man—to anyone—since Henry.
I’d forgotten how good it felt to be in someone’s arms. Forgotten how blank my mind could go when I felt comfortable and at peace. When I felt safe.
It was a brain malfunction to feel safe with a man who so clearly didn’t want this.
I should’ve been guarded and hesitant. I should’ve pulled away.
Gideon’s pale eyes were flinty, but his touch was warm.
He held me softly, his palm flat against the back of my hip, his fingertips grazing the curve of my waist.
That warm-butter feeling spread lower, dripping along the insides of my thighs. I swallowed, index fingers tracing the edge of his collar while my other fingers remained curled in his lapels, body leaning toward his.
There was something here. The way he’d looked at me…the flashes I saw in his gaze… He was attracted to me, at least a little. Wasn’t he? A one out of ten wasn’t a zero. Maybe—
“You’re wrinkling my suit jacket.”
I jerked back. “Oh. Sorry.”
He used his big, rough hands to yank at the lapels to try to smooth them out. Without looking at me, he said, “This is our best opportunity to slip out of here before the reception.”
“You don’t want to go to your own wedding reception?”
He gave me a flat look.
I blinked at him, then at the empty church.
I was at a loss, trying to come to terms with the dawning horror of being very attracted to a man who was definitely not attracted to me.
A man who was now my husband. I gulped, eyes landing on the big wooden doors at the other end of the aisle. “Who’s Mr. Titty?”
GIDEON
She did the one thing that people had been afraid to do since the fire: She looked at me and didn’t hide it.
There was no furtive glance that bounced away the minute I noticed. No pity. No barely-hidden disgust. No pretending the scarred area didn’t exist, avoiding it so completely that it only made me feel more self-conscious about the marks on my skin.
No. Sadie saw me, all of me, and I suddenly felt human again after living five long years as a ghost.