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He paused, running his hands over her shoulders and down her back until they were tucked beneath the cropped jacket at her waist, thus utterly negating the words he had just said.
‘Siena,’ he murmured, loud enough for her ears only, ‘sweetheart, stay with me. Live with me. Be with me. Marry me.’
Marry me. Had he really said marry me?
‘Did you really say …?’
He slowly brought a hand to either side of her face, making sure she was looking at him, into those deep grey eyes of his. ‘Siena, you must know how much I love you.’
I do now, she thought, her mind and heart and soul reeling and tripping and giddy. But instead she said, ‘I love you too.’
Then, in one fluid movement, they moved to kiss one another.
And Siena knew that, after all her years of flying the world, she had finally come home.
