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She raised an eyebrow. “Christmas is a time of giving and receiving presents. I can't ever remember it being a time of twenty questions."
"Not twenty questions, just one.” He withdrew the velvet box from his pocket and offered it to her. She went still, her gaze darting from the box to his face and back again. She reached out, taking it from his palm then carefully opening it. The band inside was simple, plain. His family had been poor farmers, and had the simple tradition of taking the stone from their homeland to fashion it into rings for those that they loved. His grandfather had done it for his grandmother, his father for his mother. And he, who had outlived them all by many centuries, had finally fashioned a ring of his own for the woman he loved. Disbelief, excitement and love surged through the link, burning his senses, encasing his heart. He didn't really need to ask the question, because he had it right there in that rush of emotion. In the tears and affirmation that glittered in her beautiful eyes when her gaze rose to his again. But he asked it anyway.
"Nikki, will you marry me?"
