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“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.”
His hand slipped down her arm to tangle his fingers with hers. “Then come this way.”
He led her through the house, avoiding the broken boards in the corridor between the drawing room and the morning room. When they reached the double doors leading to what had once been a dining room large enough to hold a table for sixteen, he stopped.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“Do you have a surprise for me?” she asked.
“You won’t find out unless you close your eyes, will you?” he teased.
Lavinia shut her eyes tight. A door in front of her creaked on its hinges. Squeezing her hand, he helped her take a few faltering steps forward.
“Right here,” he said, his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Now you may open your eyes.”
The room was lit up with lanterns, and she blinked against the sudden infusion of light. The room was exactly as she remembered it, except for the addition of a straw-stuffed mattress and a pile of blankets.
“It’s not much . . .” Andrew started.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
This time it was Lavinia who grabbed him by the hand and led him over to the blankets. They’d argued about this. She knew he’d been as horrified as he was intrigued when she’d told him that she wanted him to make love to her before he left Eyemouth once again, but she’d been persistent. She trusted him. They were in love. They’d kissed and touched and done so many things that everyone said a young couple mustn’t do before they were married. Except this.
Her skirts pooled around her as she sank down onto the mattress. She patted the spot next to her. “Come.”
But Andrew hesitated. “You’re really and truly sure?”
“I’ve never been uncertain of anything when it comes to you, Andrew.”
He nodded stiffly and then bent on his knees. But he didn’t kiss her. Instead he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began.
“Always a dangerous prospect,” she said with mock solemnity.
A slight smile touched his lips. “I have two weeks before I sail again.”
“Two weeks we have to make the most of,” she said.
“I love you. I would understand if you didn’t want to wait for me but”—he pulled his closed right hand out of his pocket—“Lavinia Malcolm, would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
Her hand covered her mouth as her heart pumped so fast it threatened to burst. “Oh my.”
He opened his hand. In the center of his palm lay a small gold ring. “It isn’t much—”
“It’s perfect,” she breathed. “Oh, Andrew, yes.”
She launched herself into his arms, kissing him over and over again until he pulled back, laughing. “I’d hoped you’d say yes.”
“How could I say anything else?” she asked, watching the glint of gold in the lantern light.
“I know I should’ve asked your father’s permission first, but it didn’t feel right. You should be the first person I ask.”
He also knew, as she did, that her father would never say yes.
“I’ll buy you a new one in a few years. I’ll even buy you this house if you like. When I’ve made my fortune,” he added.
She bit her lip. His fortune. She’d been telling him for the last year whenever he was home and in the letters she wrote that she didn’t care what money he made or that he had to work for it. She’d rather have him here with her, a ferryman’s son, than out on the dangerous seas, risking his life in the pursuit of a mythic wealth. Andrew, however, would not be deterred.
