Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(103)
Her gaze turned questioning. “That was good?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes now affixed to her lips, my favorite color. “It opened up other possibilities for its use.”
Her mouth curved. “Such as?”
I stood slowly, unhurriedly toeing off my shoes, pulling off my shirt, and then reaching for my belt to unfasten it.
She swallowed, her smile fading as she watched me watch her.
“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked, her voice a little breathless as I unzipped my fly.
“Take off your clothes.” I slipped my hand in my pocket, gripping the velvet box.
Her lashes fluttered. “Why?”
“Because I prefer to show you.”
A flare of heat ignited behind her eyes and she complied, biting her lip while removing her shirt and bra first, and then slipping off her pants. I surrendered to my desire, to look at her, to watch her undress, to hold her gaze and not look away. For so long, I hadn’t been allowed even a look. But now she was spread before me like an offering, her beautiful, seductive body completely bare on the bed.
Hunger for her on my tongue, I whispered, “Scarlet, has it been over twenty-four hours since we made love?”
Her nose wrinkled just slightly, her gaze losing none of its heat. “You’re right, it’s been too long.”
She didn’t understand what I was asking, so I lowered to my knees in front of her, pulling out the box. She’d turned her head to watch me, but when I put the box between us and opened it, she didn’t seem to see it. Her eyes were fastened unwaveringly to mine.
“Scarlet,” I whispered.
“Yes?” she whispered back.
I plucked the ring from the box and lifted it between us until her eyes refocused on my offering.
“Will you marry me?”
I don’t know why this was the moment. I don’t know why none of the others that came before would do. Maybe because I hadn’t shown her our cabin yet? Or because I simply wanted us to be here, where it had all started and I’d fallen irrevocably in love with her.
But I did know my suspicions in Tuscany had been proven right. Every moment with this woman felt like an indulgence, especially the moment when her surprised eyes returned to mine and she cried, telling me that—yes—she would be my wife.
Scarlet was still the color of my soul. But now that we were finally together, she also painted my days and nights in the exquisite spectrum and uncontainable brilliance of her spirit.
Epilogue
Scarlet
“You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.”
Frederick Buechner
“Tiberius Monroe Winston, you pull your pants up right now.” I struggled to look angry and keep the laughter out of my voice. “If you must go, walk yourself to the bathroom in the camper. You do not just stop wherever you are and water the plants.”
“He did the same thing at Tommy Weller’s house, when we went to that pool party,” Bea leaned in to whisper. “Just walked to the edge of the screen and pulled down his swim shorts. It was horrifying.”
At ten years old, Bea seemed to be horrified by everything her little brothers did. On the one hand, I didn’t exactly blame her. They were adorably horrifying most of the time. On the other hand, she was a bigger rascal than all her other siblings combined.
Struggling with my lips to form a firm line, I made a note to send Hank Weller’s wife a letter of apology as I called to our third child, “Marcus, will you please escort your little brother to the bathroom?”
As much as possible, we did our best to encourage the two older boys, Marcus and Trajan, to take responsibility for the two younger boys, Constantine and Tiberius. Billy was adamant that Beatrice and Dulcinea be spared the kind of teasing that his sister had endured from her brothers.
However, sometimes I worried the pendulum swung too far in the other direction. Our twin girls had inherited more than just their uncles’ red hair and summer sky blue eyes.
“But he’s already finished.” Marcus, wearing his typical broody expression and currently setting up the tent with Dulci and Constantine, gestured to where three-year-old Tiberius was indeed finishing up. “Can’t we just—”
“Marcus Cash, please do as your mother says,” Billy’s voice interrupted and I turned, searching for my husband while our oldest son immediately complied.
“Y’all are back already?” I set my hand on my hip, glancing between the grocery bags Billy carried and Trajan running to catch up. “That was fast.”
Usually, whenever we camped behind the Winston house, Billy and whatever kids went along were gone for several hours at the store. This day in particular, the Friday of our annual Labor Day weekend camping trip, always seemed to be a mess at the Piggly Wiggly.
“They opened a new market down the road, where the Corner Shoppe used to be. Cut the driving time in half. Also, I ran into Patty. She says hi.” Wearing his barely-there smile, Billy stopped in front of me for a kiss, as was his habit. We always greeted each other with a kiss.
“Hi beautiful,” he said quietly, Tuscan glacial blue irises moving between mine.