"A long time?" The wry smile he loved lengthened her lips. "We’ve only known each other a week."
"Two actually."
"Well, two."
"In fact, I was in the middle of phrasing my proposal, when we suffered the inconvenience of crashing into a ditch."
"Oh, Brock…" He watched her struggle to recall the conversation. So much had happened since, he couldn’t blame her for being a little fuzzy on the details.
"I asked you to stay with me."
"You did. I thought…"
"That I was talking about more of what we’d already done."
"But that was so wonderful."
"Yes, it was. But I’d already decided that I want more. I want to sleep beside you every night for the rest of my life. I want to see you grow large as you carry my baby. I want to share life’s sorrows and joys with you. I want to see how you change through the years ahead. I want you to go through those changes at my side. In short, I want you as my wife, not my mistress, however exquisite a mistress you make." He frowned. "Now what the devil have I said to make you cry, you lunatic woman?"
With another choked laugh, she wiped her eyes. "If I didn’t already love you, Brock, I’d love you after that beautiful speech."
His hold tightened. "Do you love me enough to call me husband? I haven’t led a conventional life. I’m a wild and wicked reprobate. I’ve committed more sins than I could list in a month of Sundays. But through all that, for what it’s worth, I’ve remained a man of my word. I give you my word, Selina, that from now on, you’re the only woman in my life. You’ll hold my heart forever."
She drew his head down for another kiss that felt like a silent pledge of fealty to match the spoken one he’d just given her. "I love you, Brock," she whispered when they drew apart.
"So does that mean you’ll take me on?"
She smiled, and her voice emerged with an immovable certainty that seized hold of his longing heart and opened a vista to the golden future ahead. "I’d be honored, my lord."
Epilogue
Bruard Castle, Western Highlands of Scotland, June 1824
Selina stirred from a light doze. She was warm and comfortable – and something seemed to be tickling her nose. She opened heavy-lidded eyes to see that Brock teased her with a buttercup.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmured, discarding the flower. He was stretched out beside her and leaning on one elbow so he could watch her.
"I’m sorry. I must have dropped off."
They were high on a hillside, overlooking the medieval splendors of Bruard Castle in the glen below. The summer sun shone down with almost Mediterranean heat, and the remains of a lavish picnic surrounded them.
Below, she could see figures moving around the massive keep as the household readied itself for tonight’s visitors. The Laird of Achnasheen, his lady, and their three children were traveling from the coast to spend the next week at Bruard.
As Selina drowsily surveyed the activity, two people in particular captured her attention. Plaistow now worked at Bruard and trained to take over the steward’s position when the current man retired at the end of the year. Since his arrival, Plaistow and Kitty had developed an understanding. At this distance, it was hard to tell, but she thought they just might be holding hands.
Brock bent his head toward her, then paused as she gave a great yawn. Followed by the sort of giggle Roderick Martin’s downtrodden wife would never have permitted herself.
Expressive eyebrows arched. "You’re dropping off a lot in recent days."
It was true. She was revoltingly somnolent. Most of the time, she found it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. "I’m sorry. It can’t be very entertaining for you."
A wicked light entered his dark green eyes, turned them gleaming emerald. "You’re entertaining enough when you’re awake to make up for any amount of sleeping."
"That’s a relief," she murmured and tunneled her hand through his hair, bringing him down for the kiss she’d been so rude to delay.
By the time he raised his head, they were both breathing unsteadily.
"Do you have something to tell me, Selina?" he murmured.