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So maybe he wasn’t going in a circle—
Shae touched his face. “Ned.”
He looked at her, and for the first time really saw the bruises on her face. He ran his thumb over her cheek. “They sent me a picture of you like this, and…did they beat you?”
“I got into a fight.”
He frowned. “You didwhat?”
“It was the only way Judah could get the blasting powder into the kitchen, although with the explosion, maybe he put it near the propane tanks.” Her eyes widened. “Vikka was smoking—I’ll bet she put the cigarette in the blasting powder.”
Ned just stared at her. “Who are you?”
She grinned. “Not a victim.”
He laughed. “No, no, you’re not.” He cupped her face with his hands. “You are not.”
Then he kissed her. Not a crazy kiss, nothing of desperation, but the kind of kiss that said maybe he’d underestimated her. A kiss of respect and appreciation, one that spoke of partnership and maybe, yes, a little need.
More need, the longer he kissed her. She tasted of the toothpaste she’d used, and smelled of the earth, and he wasn’t repulsed in the least by it. In fact, maybe he smelled a little rough too, but she still wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, kissing him right back.
Maybe a growing need in her touch too.
He turned and drew her up against himself, pulling her closer, deepening his kiss. The boat’s motor hummed, the sea rough, but right here, with Shae in his arms…
Maybe this was safety. Maybe it wasn’t about tucking her away someplace without problems or trouble but knowing…knowing that they could face it all together.
Maybe it was about trusting her. Just like she trusted him.
Not independent people, but one flesh.
At least in his heart, and someday soon, in body.
And most of all, both of them trusting God.
He leaned up, met her beautiful eyes, searching them. “I still have that ring.”
“What? Here? I thought it was in Alaska.”
“Fraser brought it.”
A beat. Oops.
“He’s alive?” Her eyes filled. “Oh, Ned.” She reached for him, her body wracking a little with what he guessed was relief.
She finally leaned back, and he unzipped his jacket. Then he opened his utility shirt to reveal his vest and ripped open the Velcro.
And inside that, in a plastic pouch, he dug out the ring. A beautiful one carat solitaire, no frills, just the simple beauty of an almost flawless diamond.
He held it out to her.
“Yes.”
He put it on her finger. She nodded. “It never comes off again.”
The boat rocked hard as it fell into a trough, and she gripped his jacket, holding on.
He put his hand on the wheel. “It’s getting rougher out there.”
