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“A miracle,” he said, taking another pin from her hair, then lowering his mouth to hers. His lips were chilled and tasted of Scotch. They fit across her mouth perfectly. With strong arms he pulled her so close she could scarcely breathe. He tugged at the zipper of her dress, and she felt the breath of wind touch her bare back as the silk parted,
She wound her arms around his neck, and he lifted her deftly from her feet. One shoe dropped on the bank, but she didn’t notice. He carried her to the base of the very tree where so long ago they had made love.
Tenderly he laid her on the ground, her dress falling off one shoulder, her skin shimmering like pearls in the night. “I love you, Cassie,” he whispered roughly. “I think I always have.”
Her heart thrummed wildly, but she attempted to hang on to some tiny shred of her common sense. Placing a finger across his lips, she whispered, “Shh. You don’t have to say anything.”
“Wrong, Cass. I should’ve said what I’ve felt for a long time.” He kissed the finger touching his lips and shuddered when she traced the outline of his mouth. “I didn’t want to love you eight years ago. God knows I fought it. But I lost.”
“No—”
“Yes.” He tangled his hands in the wild strands of her windblown hair. “Why do you think I’ve been running away, Cass? Why haven’t I married? Settled down? Had a family?”
She held her breath.
“Because of you,” he admitted, his lips brushing over hers as her pulse quickened crazily. “Only you. Oh, I denied it,” he conceded, “wouldn’t even admit it to myself, but deep down I knew.” With his tongue he tasted her lips, then forayed between her teeth, delving deep, tasting and explori
ng.
Cassie gave into the swelling in her chest, the ache burning hot and deep inside, the quiver of her skin as he brushed his hand across her breast.
“Marry me, Cass,” he pleaded, nuzzling the hollow of her throat, moving his hands slowly across the red silk still draping her breast. “Say yes.”
A thousand questions raced through her mind, a thousand questions without answers. “Shh,” she whispered, searching beneath his shirt for the muscled wall of his chest. “Don’t talk.”
And he didn’t, not until they were lying side by side, sated and sighing, arms and legs wound together as they watched a hawk circling in the moonlight. “I’m serious, you know,” he said, levering himself up on one elbow and twirling one long strand of her hair around his finger. “I want you to marry me.”
Cassie laughed. “And where would we live,” she teased, “Beirut or Seoul?”
“Somewhere around here.”
Shaking the pine needles from her hair, she eyed him thoughtfully. “And you’d be happy ranching?” She didn’t believe him for a second.
“No. But I might be happy doing freelance work in the area.”
“I hate to be the one to break the news to you, Colton,” she teased, “but there hasn’t been a major war around here in years.”
“Maybe it’s time I slowed down a little—”
“Ha!”
“—worked on stories stateside.”
“You’d be bored,” she said, wishing it weren’t so. Unconsciously she traced the tiny purple scars on his shoulder.
“You wouldn’t let me get bored,” he insisted, throwing one leg across her and pinning her to the earth. “I know it won’t be easy, because I won’t be working an eight-to-five job, but I’ll travel as little as I can.”
“Why?”
“Believe it or not, I’m tired of covering my . . . butt.”
“Are you?”
He seemed so sincere. His eyes were dark and serious. “I mean it, Cassie. Say you’ll marry me.”
His expression was a mixture of determination and love. For the first time since she’d seen him in the middle of her father’s kitchen, she didn’t doubt that he cared. “You’re not kidding, are you?” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.
“No, Cassie, I’m not. I want you to be my wife.”
