Charles Edmund Blackwood, the priest said. Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?
Charles's voice was steady. Clear. Absolute. I do.
Emma Catherine Ashford, Thornhill, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?
Emma looked into Charles's eyes. Saw everything they'd survived reflected there. The pain. The separation. The fight. The love that had endured it all. I do.
Charles exhaled shakily, relief flooding his face. The rings, please. Thornhill stepped forward with two simple gold bands. No diamonds. No ostentation. Just solid enduring gold.
Charles took Emma's ring, his hands trembling slightly as he slid it onto her finger. With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and all my worldly goods with thee I share. His voice cracked on the last words. Emma squeezed his hand, anchoring him.
She took his ring, sliding it onto his finger with steady hands. With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and all my worldly goods with thee I share.
The priest smiled. By the power vested in me by God and the Church of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife. He paused, his eyes twinkling. You may kiss your bride, your grace.