Page 94 of Seven Nights with the Wicked Duke

It was perfect.

She stepped into the holy room. And she found him. Theo. He was standing at the front, and his gaze found hers almost immediately.

His breath held at that moment. He couldn't believe his eyes.

She was radiant.

His wife to be was not just beautiful, she looked otherworldly. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. His hands were clenched tightly together to keep them from shaking.

"You're crying," Edwin whispered beside him, elbowing him slightly.

"I'm not," Theo replied hoarsely.

"Your face says otherwise."

"Shut up."

But the tears weren't the splashing sort. Just a warmth in his chest, rising until it flooded quietly.

As she stepped closer, Cecilia's lips parted slightly at the sight of his teary gaze. Her eyes flicked down to his stretched hands, and a blush rose to her cheeks before accepting his hands.

When it was time to speak the bows, they were simple, intimate, and worthy of every word.

And when the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Theo didn't wait for permission, his action causing everyone in the room to laugh.

"Come here, you angel," he had said before pulling her close and kissing her like the world depended on it, like their names were written in the stars and this was merely them catching up.

The chapel stood up with applause, everyone cheering and jubilant. And throughout every moment, Theo didn't let go until she was breathless.

He leaned in close, whispering into her ears. "Didn't forget to say I love you, did I?"

She smiled, dazed and joyful. "I'm sure you did. Countless times. Even without words."

The evening of the wedding was calm in contrast. Eventually, Cecilia and Theo were alone to enjoy their night together.

Standing on the balcony of their estate, there was nothing more beautiful to her. Her handsome husband had his shirt unbuttoned under the moonlight, his hair mussed, with a glass of wine in hand.

He looked like something out of one of her forbidden novels. Dangerous. Beautiful. Hers.

That idea alone was fantastic.

She slipped out beside him, arms wrapping around his waist from behind. "Well, husband."

He turned in her arms, smiling lazily. "Wife." He was getting used to that.

"I believe I'm owed one promise before we begin our life together."

"Already making demands?" he teased, setting his glass aside and turning to face her fully.

"I'm a duchess now. It's part of the package."

He tilted his head, amused. "And what promise am I to make, my fierce little duchess?"

"That you'll never return to those wretched illegal boxing matches."

He blinked. "Pardon?" His smile never tore away.

"You heard me." Her tone sounded both defiant and playful.