Not because she was desperate to be rescued.
Because after years of having decisions made for her, she wanted this one to be hers.
They married before a storm.
When the minister asked whether she took Caleb Mercer as her husband, Eleanor's voice trembled.
“I do.”
Caleb answered so quietly that the minister asked him to repeat himself.
“I do,” he said again.
Then he looked at Eleanor.
And smiled.
A small, disbelieving smile.
As though the most extraordinary thing in the world was that someone had chosen to come home with him.
Now, four hours after the ceremony, Eleanor stood before that same man while he held a silver pendant from her childhood.
The realization was almost too great to understand.
She looked at his face again.
Beneath the beard and the years of hard mountain living, she began recognizing things she hadn't noticed in town.
The pale-blue eyes.
The straight nose.
The shape of his mouth when he struggled not to smile.
He had changed from a thin, frightened boy into an enormous mountain rancher.
But the eyes were the same.
“The river,” she whispered. “You pulled me out.”
Caleb nodded.
“I remember the bridge breaking.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“I remember you trying to push me onto the ice.”
He closed his eyes.
“I couldn't get enough purchase. The current kept pulling us toward the broken supports.”
She nodded.
“You were bleeding.”
His hand moved toward the scar.
“The timber struck me when the bridge collapsed. I didn't understand how badly I was hurt until later.”
Eleanor began crying again.
“I gave you my mother's pendant.”
Caleb opened his hand.
The silver heart rested against his palm.
“I kept it.”
“For nineteen years?”
He nodded.
“Every day.”
Her breath caught.
Caleb looked toward her.
“I didn't know your name. The men who found us carried you away before I could ask.”
Eleanor stared.
“They told me you were dead.”
His expression darkened.
“My father arranged that story.”
“Why?”
For a moment, Caleb looked toward the window.
Then he moved toward the wooden chest.
It was enormous, bound with iron straps and positioned beneath a wide staircase leading to the loft. Dust rested along the lid, but the lock was clean, as though he'd checked it regularly.
He crouched.
Then looked back at her.
“Before I show you, I need to ask something.”