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“I would be honored.”

He’d thought it was only the female sex who experienced skipped beats of the heart. But he’d just been proven wrong.

“But I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Because my mind would take over and try to perfect what’s in my heart if I commit it to pen and paper. And I don’t want that. What ishere”—she pressed her palm to her chest—“andhere”—she pressed her other palm to his chest—“isn’t in need of perfecting, for it’s the poetry writ upon my heart by yours.”

He nodded.

“I tend to think about matters too much,” she continued. “I’m always searching for the perfect words. But with you, Rory, none of that is necessary. With you, I’m allowed simply tofeel—in my body and in my heart. My mind has naught to do with you and me. With you, I can simplybe.” Uncertainty entered her eyes. “But in truth, I don’t understand what benefityouget out of the bargain.”

Though they weren’t standing in a grove of olive trees in the sun-drenched Tuscan countryside, but rather in a sodden stand of oaks, Rory spoke the words he should’ve said two years ago. “You look like someone.”

Juliet’s eyebrows drew together. “And who is that?” she asked, wary.

“Like the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh, Rory.”

“You, Miss Windermere, are beautiful and intelligent and talented and wickedly funny—and wicked other places, too. You listen to me. You take me seriously. Many don’t.”

“They should,” she said, near ferocious.

“See?There.”

“What?”

He chuckled and tucked his thumb beneath her chin, tipping her head back. “You have a bit of the she-wolf about you. That bodes well.”

“For what?”

“Life in the Scottish Highlands.”

He had yet more to say—and a question to ask.

“I love you, my bonny lass.” His hand slid around to cradle the nape of her neck, drawing her toward him. “Will you consent to be my bride and spend all the rest of your days with me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes watery with unshed tears.

“How do you feel about a small wedding?”

“Of two?”

“Three,” he said. “We’ll need the smithy.”

“Perfect,” she said, the Windermere daring streak running through her emerald eyes, and then she surrendered to his kiss.

Life would never be boring with his wild Windermere bride.

And Rory wouldn’t have it any other way.

Epilogue

One month later

Maiden of windand sky…


Tags: Sofie Darling Historical