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“But it’s September,” she whispered inanely, unable to absorb the enormity of what he’d done for her. “It’s too early …”
“No, it’s years too late.” Trenton framed her face between his hands. “You haven’t had a Christmas in nearly a lifetime. I think it’s permissible for it to come twice this year. Besides …” He kissed her again, softly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to spend Christmas at Spraystone? This way we can enjoy the holiday at both our homes: the one I built, and the one you built for me.”
“Trenton …”
“I love you, misty angel,” he finished for her. “I’d give you the world … and your childhood back … if I could.”
“You’ve given me everything,” she breathed fervently, love shining in her eyes. “There’s nothing more I could want.”
A shrill cry from the skies reminded Ariana that she was wrong.
Overhead, heralding their holiday and their miraculous love, came nature’s own miracle: the messenger nature and fate had together devised to bring together the Duke and Duchess of Broddington.
And, like their love, the owl soared.
