He had noticed the lighting, and was planning to ask her about that, and about the conveyances outside; but he could do that later. Right now, the way she sank against him slightly was very nice.
Her words, however, hit him harder than a physical blow; he could not decide whether to laugh or cry. Of course; this Marian had never been mortally wounded, so there had been no deathbed wedding. It went without mention that he would never trade this reunion for a million chances at reliving those nuptials, but he had spent the last four months as a married man. As a widower, mourning the loss of his wife. How could he go back from that?
She was smiling up at him, and he knew he had been silent too long. As evenly as he could, he explained, "In the time I come from, we are married."