“Holding my hands in his, David kissed my knuckles before he swore to me, “I will love every day of the rest of my life.”

“You're my lifeline," he whispers, and he kisses my knuckles before pressing my palm against his.”

“Am I to die?” I asked, and he stopped, raised our joined hands to his mouth and gently kissed my knuckles. “You are, my love, and in your sleep, you will become Death’s bride.”

“don’t make me walk back without being beside you, holding your hand.” He lowered one arm from my waist to draw my hand to his lips. “I’ve lived for two hundred years with only the imagination of what it would be like to touch this,”—he moved my hand over his mouth, kissing each knuckle—“to hold this . . .” When my breath became weak, he lowered it from his lips, but kept it firmly in his hand. “Please allow me to escort you back to the house?”

“It’s….my God, it’s amazing,” I whispered as he took my left hand in his.“Can I put it on your finger?” he asked, peering up at me. When I nodded, he pressed his lips together, sliding the silver band over my knuckle, holding it in place for a moment before letting go. “Now it’s amazing.”

“You will get no poetry from me, nor songs of love. But I will love you, every day for the rest of my life.”