Her eyes and fingers ran over the scar from his bullet wound, faded now, but still visible. It was what had ended up bringing them together. If Jim had never been shot, he never would have met her. Mary had never been so thankful for a gunshot wound.

Her lips moved across his collarbone to where he still had scar tissue, while he unbuttoned the back of her dress. Underneath, he would find a corset worn specially for her wedding day.