This was what it was supposed to feel like. Palms sweating. Heart racing. Chest tightening until it was difficult to breathe. Complete adoration in the eyes staring at me. Electricity racing through my body from the point where our hands touched.

Not the casual, half-assed, “so I suppose we should get engaged for real this time” that I'd gotten from Bruce. Even his impulsive proposal after we'd slept together had been more romantic than the one that had actually gotten a ring on my finger.

Both times with him, I'd said yes, but I'd never felt the butterflies in my stomach, the tears welling up in my eyes. I'd said what was expected of me, what I thought I was supposed to say.

This time, I had no doubts, no questions about whether or not this was a good idea. I simply threw my arms around Gracen and squeezed a whisper past the lump in my throat.

“Yes! Of course, yes!”

His embrace was solid, comforting, making me wonder how I'd survived without it, how I'd survived without him. I didn't belong in this time, but I belonged with him. I had no doubt of that. I didn't care where or when I lived, as long as I was with him.

A gunshot in the distance snapped us both back to reality. It wasn't close enough for us to panic, but it was closer than I was comfortable with.

“We should go.” Gracen sighed. “Better to keep moving.”

“Moving where?” I asked.

“Away from Boston for now.” He looked down at me and frowned. “Did you bring additional clothing?”

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. “You do realize that your clothes look as bad as mine, right?”

He chuckled, an easier sound than I'd ever heard from him. He held out his hand to me and pulled me back to him again. “I would like to be able to walk with you and have people know that you are my fiancée, not my steward.”

For another few seconds, I didn't realize what he meant...and then it hit me. I was trying to pass as a man. While not exactly commonplace in my time, any hint of impropriety between two men during this time period was a punishable offense. All it would take would be one wrong look or touch, and we'd be in serious trouble.

“I have a dress.” I reluctantly stepped away from him and reached for the pillowcase I brought with me.

I reached for the hem of my shirt again and chuckled when he turned around. Such a gentleman. I swapped my uniform for the dress, frowning as I pulled it on. While I'd miss running water and some technology, the biggest thing from my time that I'd miss – aside from my family and friends – would be the clothes. Army uniforms weren't always the most comfortable things in the world, but they were a hell of a lot better than the shit women had to wear now.

When I turned back around and saw Gracen watching me, however, I knew that being with him more than made up for the things I would no longer have.

I held out my hand to him, smiling at the look of warm surprise that crossed his face. He took my hand, and I threaded my fingers between his.

“Lead the way.”

We walked for a few minutes before he spoke. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course.” I had a feeling he'd want to know things about the future. I would have if I'd been in his place.

“That was your uniform?”

I nodded.

“Do all women in your time dress as men, or only ones in the military?”

I laughed and squeezed his hand as I tried to explain modern fashion, or at least my limited knowledge of it. I was always the kind of person who went by what I liked, both for comfort and style, rather than designer name or popular trends.

From there, we went around to other topics, prompted both by questions from me and ones from him. We spoke of our families and how we'd grown up. He told me more about Silva, and I told him about Bruce, though his answers were far more complimentary than mine. We talked about things to come, though my basic knowledge of history wasn't even close to enough to answer all of his questions.

We'd been walking for most of the afternoon when we found a small town. Well, in my time it would've been small. Here, it was a thriving community. Houses, a church, an inn, some small shops. I knew the city of Boston, as well as many others, would end the war with physical scars. This town appeared to be untouched, and I didn't know if it would stay that way.

A group of about half a dozen young children ran by, and I hoped that things here would stay as calm and innocent as they appeared right now.

“I want to marry you today.”

The announcement, understandably, caught me by surprise. He turned toward me, his eyes blazing.

“Today?” I stared at him. I didn't know the usual procedure for wedding planning in the eighteenth century, but I assumed some things remained the same. Like who would normally be a part of such a day. “Don’t you want your family there?”

My heart twisted at the question. No matter how long we waited, my family would never be there for my wedding.

“I only need you.” He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. “Why should we wait another minute? I want to make you my wife today, before anyone tries to stop us.”

He was right, I realized. If we waited, things would come between us. His father. Clara. This war. Whatever it was that had brought me here. There were so many things that could stop us from being together. And no reason to put it off. Whether it be today or thirty years from now, I couldn’t imagine loving anyone more, or having anyone love me more. I'd already decided to stay for him. This was only making it official.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

His entire face lit up at my words, and his eyes shone. I could get used to gazing into them. Losing myself in his eyes. He gave me a quick, breathless kiss.

“Wait here a moment,” he instructed as he headed toward the building I'd already identified as the church, though what kind, I couldn't say. Considering when and where we were, I felt comfortable assuming it was some sort of Protestant denomination.

I'd seen similar things in Iraq. In the middle of a desert where houses were covered in dirt or sand, worn down, the places of worship were always gleaming, looking essentially brand new. The people cared for the temples with a respectful reverence I'd rarely seen in my own country. I pushed aside the thoughts before they could take hold. I didn’t want to think about Iraq now, not on my wedding day.

My wedding. Even after years of being engaged to Bruce, it still sounded weird to think those words. I'd never been the kind of girl who spent hours daydreaming about her wedding, not even after Bruce and I had gotten engaged. My mom would occasionally ask me questions about if we'd set a date or thought about venues, and I'd seen her confusion every time I said we hadn't.

I pushed those thoughts aside too. If I thought about my mom, I would cry, and I didn't want to do that. Fortunately, Gracen was coming toward me, and that was enough to distract me. He wore a fierce, proud expression, and every step he took in my direction was a commanding one. Walking a few paces behind him was a man, and as they drew closer, I realized he was carrying a Bible. The minister. Who didn't look entirely too happy about being there.

As they got closer, Gracen started pulling at his clothes and hair, dusting off the dirt and trying to pull his hair back. It was such a stark difference from the coat and blue cravat he'd worn when his engagement with Clara had been announced.

I suddenly felt self-conscious as I realized that I was about to get married in a dusty, wrinkled blue dress. Without time to do something with my hair, it just hung down to my shoulders, as plain as always. I bent down and plucked a couple of flowers, as much to keep my hands busy as anything else.

Gracen smiled at me, an understanding look on his face. It occurred to me that while I'd never been married before, he had.

“I love you, Honor, and I wish to marry you today, but I understand if you don't want to. We can wait for something a little more…well, more.” His tone was soft as he cupped my chin.

It took me a moment to realize that he thought I was regretting my decision because I wanted a big wedding. The truth was, I wasn’t hesitant to marry him this way at all, just nervous. Marrying him just made everything more real. Made me acutely aware that I wasn't going back to my time. That I'd left it all so I could be with this man.

“I want to.” I returned his smile. It didn't matter to me where we got married. Hell, I would've followed him to the ends of the earth if I had to.

He dropped his hand from my face to link my fingers with his, and we both turned to face the minister. The entire ceremony went by in a blur, and before I knew it, I had a beautiful silver ring on my ring finger and a new last name.

We'd gone straight to the inn to order some food and get a room for the night, and now we were sitting at a back table with two bowls of fairly suspicious-looking soup and some excellent bread. It was strangely awkward to be sitting at a table with my husband.

Hell, it was awkward to realize that I now had a husband.

Things were moving so fast that my head was spinning.

“Honor?” Gracen questioned, clearly concerned. “Are you well?”

“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking about things,” I smiled at him, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. I changed the subject before he could ask about it. “How did you get the minister to agree to marry us on such short notice? I don't know about now, but in my time, it usually takes some time to get a marriage license.”

Except in Vegas, I thought. But I wasn't about to go there.

“Money can do wonders.” He looked slightly embarrassed.

“You bribed a minister?” I put down my spoon.

I'd been taught from an early age the importance of fair play, of how people should be treated equally regardless of where they came from or who they were. I'd always despised stories of rich kids getting away with things when poor ones wouldn't have had the chance, and now I was married to someone who'd used his position and wealth to do exactly what I loathed.

“That’s just the type of thing your father would do. Use money to get what he wanted.” The words came out more harshly than I intended, and I regretted them as soon as he looked up at me, hurt in his eyes. I softened my tone. “I’m sorry. I just feel strongly about people not using their influence to get special treatment.” I reached over and lightly touched his hand. “Even if it is done with the best of intentions.”

“I only wanted to take care of you,” he protested.

“I know.” I tried to keep the frustration from my voice. “But I can take care of myself.”

“I am aware of that.” He lowered his voice, the admiration clear. “You've proven it a hundred times over.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, “But you are my wife, and I want to take care of you, which is exactly what I will do. Because I can't lose you. I need you as much as you need me.”

“Yes, husband,” I said with a smile. It might've been old-fashioned, but I secretly loved the way “husband” sounded when I said it aloud. And I loved even more knowing that he thought of us as an equal partnership.

A comfortable silence fell as we finished our meal, but near the end, I found him watching me with a strange expression on his face. Like he had something he knew he had to say, but he knew that I wouldn't like it.

“Out with it,” I said.

“What?”

“Whatever it is you don't want to say. Just say it.”

He sighed as he took my hand. “We have to go back.”

“Go back where?” I really hoped he wasn't suggesting what I thought.

“Back to my home to explain everything to my father.” He gave me a partial smile. “And to introduce you as my wife.”

Yeah, that was going to go over well.

And there was something else.

“You know at some point we’ll have to take a side?” I said it as gently as I could. “And with what I know, there's only one side we can take.”

He sighed. “I know.” His smile widened. “But not tonight, because tonight is our wedding night. Any decisions we have to make can wait.”