Gomez couldn't stop taking deep breaths. It had been years since he had been free of allergies, but the very presence of this raven-haired beauty seemed to cure them.
She looked exactly as he had always dreamed his bride would: her face pale as that of a corpse, her perfect figure flaunted by the tight black dress, one dainty hand clutching a bouquet of thorny stems, the gaudy blossoms having been tastefully snipped off and thrown away.
"Do you, Morticia, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part, as long as you both shall live?"
She gave him a sidelong smile, the look in her eyes possessive. "Oui," she purred.
At the word, Gomez's hot Castilian blood turned to fire. He kissed the bride, fiercely, ravenously, without waiting to be told that he might.
He never sneezed again in his life.