Reuben obeyed, wishing she’d shown half as much interest in the diamond ring and the rest of his speech. Then he remembered he’d left out the most important part of all.
“I love you, Gladys,” he said, speaking from the heart. “I’ve spent the past five years unable to think of any woman but Lady Dawn, and it was you I was searching for all along. I love you more than I believed it possible to love anything or anyone. Please allow me to spend the rest of my life proving the depths of that love. Whatever you need, I want to provide. Whatever you desire, I wish to give. Starting with every breath I take, and every beat of my heart, which pounds only for you.”
Her eyes darted up from the book to meet his steady gaze.
“I mean it,” he said softly. “Let me prove to you and to the entire world that Reuben Medford is the luckiest man who ever lived, because Gladys Bell blessed him with a smile.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “You remembered my name.”
“I’ll never forget it, or anything else about you. I am yours, and I want you to be mine. Whatever it takes. I realize that you cannot yet love me in return—”
“Oh, for Count Whiskers’ sake, Reuben. Why would you still be here on my front step, if I didn’t love you?”
His brain erupted into colorful fireworks. “You love me?”
“I’d have shut the door in your face, if I didn’t still harbor a foolish hope that you might say something I wanted to hear.”
He held his breath, and proffered his grandmother’s ring. “And might you say in return, ‘Yes, Reuben, I’ll be your wife’?”
“Mm, close.” She held up the contraband leather volume. “Perhaps more like, ‘Thanks for the book; I’ll be busy for the next five hours whilst I—’”
He scrambled to his feet and reached for her.
She threw her arms about his neck. “I’ll consider your proposal on one condition.”
He crushed her to him, terrified to let her go. “Anything you desire.”
She tilted her head back to gaze up at him, eyes wide and twinkling. “Might I have a scoop of that ice cream now, please?”
“Now and all night long,” he growled as he carried her into the house.
Neither of them ended up reading a word that evening after all.
Epilogue
Three months later
* * *
Mrs. Gladys Medford lounged across her husband’s broad chest on a picnic blanket beside a gently burbling stream, and closed her novel with a happy sigh.
“Thinking of our wedding again?” asked Reuben.
“Our what?” she teased, hugging the not-yet-released copy of the latest book in her favorite dramatic gothic adventure to her chest. “The castle is haunted. When the walls began to crumble down around the heroine, the long-dead spirits of the castle’s previous victims rose from the rubble.”
“Mm-hm,” said Reuben. “It was a beautiful ceremony. Though I fear the addition of Count Whiskers might have been a bit much.”
“He was not much!” she protested, whacking her husband’s shoulder with the book. “He just wasn’t quite clear on what to do with the ring, that’s all.”
“I wouldn’t think ‘cough it up in a hairball’ was part of the plan.”
“Well, I didn’t hear you tell him not to. Next time, be more specific.”
“There is no next time.” He flung her finished novel onto the green grass, tossed her onto her back, and made growling noises as he nuzzled her face and neck. “There is only you and me, forever and ever. Say it.”
“All right, I’ll say it.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “It was bad ton of Count Whiskers to vomit up your grandmother’s ring onto the parson’s shoe.”
“The wedding breakfast went better,” Reuben agreed. “I was gratified to see you make up with your sister, though I’m glad you didn’t invite your parents. They don’t deserve you. Or our award-winning hospitality.” He smiled in remembrance. “No one honked up wet furballs onto my award-winning pudding.”
