As she neared, Robin was able to see her better through the gauzy veil; and if his attention had been riveted on her before, being able to make eye contact held him spellbound. He was overwhelmed by how very much he loved her, and by a fierce pride that she was his. There had been several times, mostly back at home but occasionally here, that he had been more than a little uncertain as to whether they would be able to get to this point. When he left her to join the king on Crusade, he had thought that she would be married to another by the time he returned-- if he returned. Then, in the first few months after he was back, things were often prickly, at best, between them. He could not entirely blame her, but it had still hurt. And then, she had nearly married Gisborne, right after having been briefly dead... and none of that was to mention the year following that, some of which he would really rather not think about.
Actually, he would not have been able to think of it now, even if he wished to. Those reflections had occurred to him the night before, but now the memories that flitted through his mind as he watched her walk toward him were all good ones. He remembered running through the fields around Locksley and Knighton as children... the expression on her face as he opened his eyes after their first kiss... how nervous he had been and how pleased she had looked when he proposed to her (both times)... the sense of relief he had felt at finding her unwed upon his return... discovering that she still cared enough to save his life, when he was getting himself outlawed... finding her attempting to feed the village of Clun, so magnificent in the face of the threat those guards had posed... the way she grinned when he rode up outside of Locksley chapel...
...and before he could think much further, she was standing beside him in the front of this church, greeting him. "Hello," he murmured in return, wondering if he was succeeding in hiding any of the mischievous impulses that suddenly seized him. He probably was not, at least from her; Marian could read him too well. So, it was likely that she could at least guess that only a bred-from-birth sense of propriety was keeping him from giving the bride a kiss before the ceremony, rather than after it; or from asking that Father Carter "get on with it," as had been done in a couple of movie versions of their story which they had seen.
And in fact, the priest had started talking, so Robin tried to listen to what was being said, although it was awfully difficult to turn his attention to anyone other than Marian.