He kissed her.
This time no graves stopped him.
They existed.
Always would.
But love for the dead did not require refusing the living.
They married in spring.
No saloon gossip.
No dramatic crowd.
Samuel.
Thomas.
A preacher.
Seven graves beyond the fence.
Penny wore a simple cream dress.
Not delicate.
Not designed to make her look smaller.
She had spent enough years attempting that.
Declan wore dark trousers and a clean white shirt.
He stared at her through nearly the entire ceremony.
Samuel noticed.
Whispered:
“At least someone appreciates the dress.”
Penny elbowed him.
When the preacher instructed Declan to kiss his bride, Declan paused.
Penny raised an eyebrow.
“Don't you dare get shy now.”
The preacher coughed.
Samuel looked toward the sky.
Declan laughed.
Then kissed her.
Longer than the preacher probably intended.
Thomas cleared his throat loudly.
Penny ignored him.
Their wedding night belonged entirely to them.
No poison.
No investigation.
No test.
No curse.
Declan still hesitated at the bedroom door.
Penny stood beside the bed wearing a lightweight cream nightgown.
Her hair loose.
Declan had changed into trousers and a linen shirt.
He looked as though he might sleep outside.
Penny stared.
“No.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You are not sleeping by the fire.”
“I wasn't—”
“You were thinking about it.”
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
“Absolutely not.”
Declan entered.
Penny sat on the bed.
He remained standing.
She laughed.
“Seven marriages and you're nervous.”
“They were not you.”
That quieted her.
Declan approached.
He knelt in front of her.
Placed both hands gently on her knees.
“Penny.”
“Yes?”
“If at any point—”
“I know.”
“I need to say it.”
She softened.
“Then say it.”
“If you want me to stop, I stop.”
“Yes.”
“If you change your mind, that is enough.”
“Yes.”
“If—”
Penny leaned down and kissed him.
When she pulled away:
“Finished?”
Declan looked dazed.
“No.”
She kissed him again.
This time he laughed against her mouth.
Later the fire burned low.
Snowmelt ran from the roof.
The dangerous water tank had been torn out and thrown behind the barn.
The well had been sealed.
A pipe now brought clean water from a high spring.
Penny had personally tested it three times.
Declan teased that she trusted chemicals more than husbands.
Penny answered:
“Chemicals lie less.”
He pretended offense.
Their intimacy developed slowly and warmly.
Not because either lacked desire.
Quite the opposite.
Declan’s fear took time.
Penny’s body shame did too.
The first time he saw her hesitate while changing, he understood immediately.
He did not make a speech.
Did not tell her she was foolish.
He simply looked.
Penny became self-conscious.
“What?”
Declan shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He walked closer.
His eyes moved over her body.
Not evaluation.