A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(91)

“It’s all right,” she said. “I don’t need the words.”

“I brought some words anyhow.” He stared into her eyes. His gaze was a breathtaking, penetrating blue. “ ‘Love is composed of a single soul, inhabiting two bodies.’ ”

“Samuel, that’s . . .” Her voice broke. “That’s absolutely beautiful.”

“It’s Aristotle. I did some reading.”

Oh. He’d done some reading. Kate’s heart was doing some wrenching and aching.

“I never thought Greek philosophy could make a damn bit of sense to me. And most of it didn’t, but those words just seemed right. ‘Love is composed of a single soul, inhabiting two bodies.’ ” He took her by the shoulders, drawing her close. “It rang true for me, in a way nothing else did. Whatever soul I had, Katie, I think I placed it in your keeping twenty years ago. And now, it’s as if . . . every time we kiss, you give a little piece of it back.”

She nuzzled his smoothly shaven cheek, inhaling the rich fragrance of his skin. Shaving soap and his natural musk and just the slightest hint of cologne.

He raised his head. “But I don’t want you giving anything up for me. I want you to have this life. This family. Your birthright. You are a lady, and I’m no gentleman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she protested, feeling a sudden stab of panic. “It will never matter. You’re a good man. The best man I know.”

“You need a husband who is a gentleman. One who understands your new life, and all its demands. A man who can be your partner in society and help manage your inheritance.”

“But I don’t want any—”

“I mean to be that man, Katie. Or I mean to become him, as best I can.”

Her heart swelled in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“The waltzing was only a part of it. I’ve spent the past several days in London, with Lord Payne. He’s arranged for me to have some instruction from his land stewards at Riverchase. I understand game and horses and the run of the earth, but I need to learn how to manage crops, handle tenants. I thought you might have some property come to you, and I—”

“Eight,” she said. “Evan told me just today. I have eight properties, scattered all over England. I’m terrified.”

He swallowed hard. “I suppose I’d better learn fast.”

“I think we both had better.” She tried to smile.

He pulled away, putting distance between them, and withdrew something from his pocket, wrapped in a bit of black velvet. As he unfolded the small square of fabric, his fingers were unsteady. Finally, his thumb and forefinger closed on a slender edge of metal and he shook his treasure loose from one last fold of velvet.

He held it out to her. “I didn’t know what to choose for you, but I didn’t want another man choosing for you, either. So I just looked through the trays until I saw one that looked fine enough for your finger.”

She looked down at the gold band in his hand, embedded with small round diamonds. In the center was mounted a square-cut, faceted stone in the palest shade of pink.

“Will it do?” he asked.

“Oh, Samuel. It’s too much. This must have cost a fortune.”

“Not a fortune.” His mouth pulled to the side in a self-effacing way. “Just most of what I had left to my name, after the commission and this.” He indicated his new coat and boots.

“The commission?”

“A captaincy. Rycliff’s arranged for me to purchase one. He offered to pay for it himself, but I couldn’t accept that. Katie, I’ll give you everything I can—all that I am, and all I possess—but you must take me at my own worth.”

Kate found herself without words. His own worth? This man was priceless.

If she’d tried, she could not have written a more perfect ending to this evening. They would be married and stay in England. She would be able to live with Samuel and help her new family.

He went down on one knee before her. The ring glittered on his palm. His face was grim with uncertainty. “Will you wear it? Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She tugged off her gloves. “Put it on for me, please. My fingers will tremble.”

His hands were none too steady, either. But he took her hand and slid the gold band over her finger.

“It fits perfectly,” she said.

“And it looks almost deserving of you.” He took her hand in both of his and stroked it gently. “I’ve only ever seen one proper wedding. What’s that word, in the vows . . . to cherish? I will cherish you, Katie. Every day of my life. You’re the most precious thing I’ve ever held.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I will cherish every inch of you.”

With tender, careful brushes of his lips, he kissed each of her fingers. He turned her hand palm up and placed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the center. His lips brushed the pulse at her wrist, then worked slowly higher. By the time he progressed halfway up her forearm, she was trembling with pleasure and a lifetime of need.

“Samuel? If you wanted to stop cherishing and start ravishing . . . I’d be most amenable.”

He froze, lips pressed to her skin. “After the wedding,” he told the inside of her elbow.