Despite her sore posterior, her bruised feelings and the anger she bore for her father, Abigail held her head high. She planned to go into her marriage with the same haughtiness she had for life itself. Nothing at that moment would tame her, and getting out from under her father's rigid sensibilities suddenly felt like freedom, a lush exuberant freedom to celebrate as much as she was celebrating a marriage.
Aaron took her breath away. Standing at the chapel's alter he wasn't smiling at her. In fact, his expression was a little grim. That was the way he naturally was. Serious. Though he could laugh and smile and frolic, his basic nature was solemn, not in any severe way to make him morose or surly, but solemn in a calming, reassuring way. Sometimes she looked at that as an asset; other tim
