The Blacksmith's Wife. Elisabeth Hobbes

      There was stillness and the churchyard filled with an expectant hush. Finally Joanna raised her eyes to meet those of her husband.

      ‘I believe a kiss is customary,’ Hal said quietly.

      ‘Oh! Of course.’ Joanna obediently raised her face.

      Hal hesitated before stepping towards her. He put his hands at either side of Joanna’s face. They were warm and rough. The hands of a craftsman, not a noble. His fingers spread wide so that his thumbs caressed her cheeks and the little fingers brushed against the base of her skull. He leaned down, closing his eyes as he moved towards her. Much gentler than Joanna had expected he brushed his lips across hers.