“Marriage is legal.”
Lucien stepped forward.
“If she wants it undone, I’ll help.”
The crowd went silent again.
Sadi looked at him.
Lucien did not look back.
His eyes remained on Cobb.
The mayor laughed nervously.
“You would allow that?”
Lucien turned.
His gaze met Sadi’s.
“She isn’t mine to allow.”
Something inside her broke.
Not painfully.
Like ice finally giving under sunlight.
Sadi had spent ten years being useful to everyone.
The boarding house.
Mayor Cobb.
Travelers.
The church kitchen.
People who knew exactly how much labor could be extracted from a woman without family.
Now Lucien Holt had crossed three frozen days to bring her back to the town that traded her away only so he could tell them she belonged to herself.
She hated how much she loved him for it.
Cobb saw the expression on her face.
He tried one last tactic.
“If you leave him, you have nowhere.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened.
Sadi lifted her chin.
“I have somewhere.”
Cobb smiled cruelly.
“Where?”
Sadi looked at Lucien.
He stood completely still.
Not asking.
Not expecting.
She walked toward him.
Stopped beside him.
Then took his hand.
Lucien looked down.
Sadi said:
“Home.”
The word silenced the entire street.
Lucien’s fingers closed around hers.
Carefully.
Cobb disappeared inside the town hall.
Nobody stopped him.
They did not leave Oak Haven immediately.
Sadi had another matter.
Back wages.
For ten years, the boarding house had paid Mayor Cobb’s office directly for Sadi’s room and “maintenance” because he had placed her there after her mother died.
Sadi had always been told the arrangement balanced.
Mrs. Finch looked horrified when Sadi asked for records.
“I thought he paid you.”
Sadi stared.
“What?”
Mrs. Finch produced ledgers.
Every month, money had been deducted for Sadi’s labor.
Laundry.
Cleaning.
Cooking.
Coal hauling.
Guest rooms.
The boarding house sent most of that money to the town guardianship fund until Sadi turned eighteen.
After eighteen, Cobb continued collecting.
Three additional years.
Sadi’s earnings totaled more than four hundred dollars after expenses.
She had received almost none.
Lucien sat beside her while she calculated.
His expression grew darker with every page.
Sadi looked over.
“No murder.”
“I know.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“I’m thinking about weather.”
“You’re thinking about where a body disappears in weather.”
Lucien almost smiled.
“Possibly.”
Instead, they took the records to Judge Matthew Kell, the circuit magistrate visiting Oak Haven two weeks later.
Cobb argued administrative misunderstanding.
The judge disagreed.
Sadi received a judgment for unpaid earnings plus interest.
Cobb had to sell two valuable horses.
The town council removed him from the relief committee.
He remained mayor only until the next election.
Then Oak Haven elected the blacksmith.
Sadi found that deeply satisfying.
When she and Lucien finally rode home, she carried a bank draft worth more money than she had possessed in her entire life.
At the edge of town, she stopped.
Lucien turned.
“What?”
Sadi looked back.
The boarding house.
Church.
Town hall.
Laundry shed.
Ten years.
She expected grief.
Instead, she felt light.
“Nothing.”
They continued north.
The second arrival at Lucien’s cabin felt completely different.
Sadi opened the door herself.
The fire had gone cold during their absence.
She immediately began rebuilding it.
Lucien brought in saddlebags.
For several minutes they worked naturally around one another.
Then he said:
“The marriage.”
Sadi stopped.
“What about it?”
“You heard what I told Cobb.”
“Yes.”
“If you want an annulment…”
She turned.
Lucien stood near the table.
His face was unreadable.
Sadi suddenly realized he had probably been dreading this conversation for days.
She walked toward him.
“Do you want one?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
She smiled slightly.
“Good.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Sadi.”
“I heard you.”
“You need to decide without pressure.”
“I am.”
“You have money now.”
“I know.”
“You could live in Red Creek.”
“I know.”
“Buy a room.”
“I know.”
“Travel east.”
“Lucien.”
He stopped.
Sadi placed both hands on his chest.
The muscles beneath the shirt tightened.
“When Cobb said I had nowhere, I chose this place.”
“You chose it angry.”
“I’m still angry.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Mostly him.”
“Some of Oak Haven.”
“Also Shakespeare.”
Lucien frowned.
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“I choose the cabin.”
His breathing changed.
“I choose the mountains.”
She stepped closer.
“I choose the ridiculous man who bought me a children’s primer.”
His eyes softened.
“And?”
Sadi looked up at him.
“I choose my husband.”
Lucien closed his eyes for half a second.
When they opened again, something raw had entered them.
“Say it again.”
She smiled.
“My husband.”
His hand lifted.
Stopped before touching her.
Sadi noticed.
Still asking.
Even now.
She took his wrist.
Placed his hand at her waist.
“Yes.”
Lucien bent and kissed her.
Not cautiously this time.
Still gentle.
But no longer uncertain about whether she wanted him.
Sadi leaned into him.
His other arm surrounded her.
The size of him should have frightened her.
Instead it felt like standing inside shelter.
When they separated, both were breathing differently.
Sadi whispered:
“You still planning to sleep on the floor?”
Lucien stared.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the bed.
Then back at her.
“Only if you want.”
Sadi smiled slowly.
“I am beginning to think you enjoy those bearskins.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I don’t want you waking tomorrow wondering whether staying meant you owed me something.”
The answer was so painfully Lucien that she loved him for it.
She touched his beard.
“Then perhaps we should make one thing very clear.”
He waited.
Sadi moved close enough to whisper near his ear.
“I stayed because I wanted you.”
Lucien’s entire body tightened.
She continued:
“And tonight, I want my husband beside me.”
He exhaled.
“Sadi.”
“Yes?”
“If you keep speaking like that…”
“What?”
“I’m going to forget every decent sentence I prepared.”
She laughed softly.
“Good.”
Their second wedding night belonged to choice rather than ceremony.
There was no audience.
No mayor.
No starving town.
No meat wagons.
No bargain.
Only firelight, snow, two adults who had finally spoken honestly, and Lucien asking more questions than Sadi believed one man could possibly ask.
Is this all right?
Here?
Closer?
Stop?
Continue?
At one point Sadi covered his mouth with her hand.
Lucien looked alarmed.
She laughed.
“You are allowed to breathe without permission.”
He kissed her palm.
“Learning.”
They took their time.
The giant mountain hunter remained astonishingly careful until Sadi finally told him that gentleness did not require treating her like glass.