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“Even so,” I said quietly, “this is complicated. I don’t have the kind of life that can be easily uprooted. Nor do you.”
“I’ve given that some thought,” he said.
“You have?” I was pinballing between exhilaration and sheer panic.
“Lots of people have two homes. Why couldn’t we spend six months in Atlanta and the rest of the year here? Could we make that work?”
“Six months away from the heat and humidity? Um, yes. Sign me up for that.”
“And we can avoid the Scottish winter by living in balmy Atlanta. Sounds like a win-win.”
I nibbled my fingernail, a habit I’d given up years ago. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Finley. My falling in love with you isn’t your responsibility.”
“No,” he said soberly. “It’s not.” He took both my wrists and reeled me in, sliding one arms around my waist and stroking the back of my head with his other hand. “Your falling in love with me is like being anointed with fairy dust. It’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s that unexpected, unbelievable, bloody amazing feeling of winning the lottery.”
I looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “You really love me? I don’t want you to say it if it isn’t true.”
Without warning, he released me and went down on one knee. The alley was clean as alleys go, but there was no telling what was underfoot.
“Finley,” I cried.
He frowned at me. “Hush, Duchess. I’m being romantic.” He paused, and I saw him swallow. That he could be nervous stunned me. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a turquoise box with a white ribbon.
I sucked in a startled breath. “Where did you get that?”
“Turns out, my return flight to London connected in Atlanta with a four-hour layover. And as it happens…” His grin was pure bad boy.
“There’s a Tiffany’s in Atlanta.” I whispered the words, feeling my legs get wobbly.
Finley untied the ribbon and flipped open the lid. “McKenzie Taylor. Will you marry me? I’m no’ a real Scotsman, but I’ll love you from this century until the next, no matter where we may be, no matter what life has in store for us. So help me, God.”
“Get up,” I begged. “We’re gathering a crowd.” It was true. Passersby had begun to congregate at the end of the alley, sensing drama in their midst.
Finley did as I asked. Taking the ring from the box, he held it out to me. “I won’t put it on your finger until you say yes, Duchess.”
The ring was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A huge Asscher-cut solitaire that splintered the afternoon sunlight and sent it bouncing and sparkling in a million different directions.
“Yes.” I had a hard time forcing that single syllable between my lips. I was disorientated and relieved and filled to the brim with incredulous joy.
“Yes, what?”
“I will marry you, Finley Craig. For now, for always.”
When he slid the ring onto the third finger of my left hand, we both sighed. It was a perfect fit.
Finley lifted my chin with two fingers and kissed me gently. “Now I suppose I have to call you my Duchess fiancée.”
I fretted, even then. “It kills me to think we might have missed each other. What if I hadn’t wrecked in that ditch? What if Cedric’s house had been perfect in every way?”
He held my hands in his. “I would have found you, McKenzie. I have no doubts at all.”
I held out my hand out to admire my new ring. “I suppose we should go back inside and tell the others.”
Finley chuckled, holding me close. “I think they already know.”
He cocked his head toward the end of the alley. Not only the curious had stopped to stare. Hayley and Angus, Willow and Bryce, had joined the throng.
Hayley waved. Willow blew me a kiss.
My heart was so full I could barely speak. “We did it,” I whispered, so low I don’t think even Finley heard me. “We found our own true loves…”
