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“Yeah, I am,” Yordan said, his voice low. “I can’t believe I ever thought what I feel for you is a fairy lie. It’s love, Kit. I love you, and I want us to be together forever.”
Kit shook his head as he looked up at Yordan towering above him. “You know, that is not how a man proposes to the love of his life,” he drawled, his brogue heavy and sweet.
“Fuck you, kitten,” Yordan said. “That’s how I propose.”
“Obviously.” Kit got out of his chair, one hand shoved into his pants pocket. “But the way you’re supposed to propose is on one knee.” With those words, he dropped down before Yordan and held up a velvet box. “I love you, Yordan. Please say you’ll be mine forever.” Then he arched his brows. “Now that’s how a man proposes to the love of his life.”
Yordan reached down and popped open the box to see a polished wooden ring. He pulled it out and slid it on. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. As did Kit’s when he slid on his gleaming metal ring. Then they both held up their hands until the rings clicked against each other.
“So I guess that’s a yes, huh?” said Kit, his voice ringing with happiness.
“I guess so.”
“And you want to get married in Scotland?”
“Why not? Don’t you want your clan all around you?”
Kit rocked back on his heels, apparently considering. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I do. But all I really care about is seeing you in a kilt as we say I do.”
Yordan snorted while happiness bubbled up inside him. “Not going to happen, kitten.”
“Wanna bet?”
“No. Never. Not going to do that again.”
Kit laughed. “Agreed.”
“But maybe, if you put on your short, tight, little skirt—”
“It’s called a kilt, you Neanderthal.”
“Then maybe, I’ll take it off you.”
Kit melted forward just as Yordan did the same. They met in the middle—as always—and the kiss was so magical it made everything else disappear.
“But,” Kit finally said as he pulled back, “what does this have to do with Gummy’s pack?”
“It’s so he can be close if there’s a problem here while we’re checking out your kilt.”
“New York isn’t that close—”
“Yeah, it is. Because after a night of his mother’s pasta, Gummy will be in a great mood and will happily come back here and train the new recruits.”
Kit frowned. “He will? That’s a six-week job.” And one that he and Yordan usually did.
“Never underestimate the power of pasta.”
That had to be some pasta. But it would be an even better honeymoon.
Kit waggled his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to introduce you to haggis.”
Yordan groaned. “It’s a good thing I love you.”
“Yeah,” Kit agreed, his voice thick with that brogue Yordan found so sexy. “Because you’d be lost without me, my sweet, bonnie love.”
He was right, and Yordan didn’t mind one bit.
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