For himself.
For her.
Forthem.
He was making an effort to be the man she’d always known he was.
He was meeting her more than halfway.
And now she must do the same.
She pushed off the door at her back and began to move toward him, unable not to for an instant longer, the magnetism between them too powerful to resist. She came to a stop in the bentside of the piano and rested her elbow on the fallboard, her gaze never once releasing his, as the vibrations of the music shook every cell in her body.
The final notes sounded and floated away on air bright with morning and the promise of a new day.
Not only that.
The promise of a new future.
But she didn’t know how to make that first step forward. What to say to a man who made a gesture as grand as this? “Do you need something?” she asked.
A half smile curled along one side of his mouth, but his eyes remained serious. “Yes.”
“What is that?” she asked, her mouth gone dry.
“You.”
“I thought we settled that.” It had to be said.
He shook his head and stood. “A fortnight ago…”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t ask you the correct question.”
“Oh?” she asked on a rasped whisper—all the sound she was capable of making.
He rounded the piano and reached out, taking her hands in his. Warmth stole through her at the feel of his long, masculine fingers wrapped around hers.
“And what is the correct question?”
The other side of his mouth tipped into that irresistible smile of his. Whatever he was about to ask, she would sayyesto. She wouldn’t lose this man a second time. “Will you marry me?”
A collective gasp echoed around her. Valentinaglanced around and noticed that more than half the village was watching the proceedings with bated breath.
For her part, Valentina hadn’t gasped; her breath was caught somewhere in her throat.
Archie continued. “Because I’m a complete and utter dolt, it only occurred to me last night that you and I can have it all.”
“And what is that?”
“Each other.”
Valentina couldn’t be certain, but she might’ve seen the grocer’s wife swipe a tear away. Valentina felt more than a few of those welling in her eyes.
“All I want is you, Valentina. Your mind, your body”—the village gasped again—“your soul, if possible. I choose light. I chooseyoubefore this village, before all of England. Let’s lead a life of our own creation, together.”
Though his words were everything her heart wanted to hear, her pragmatic side reared its logical head. “You see my town. You’ve met my family. I wasn’t raised to be the wife of a viscount.”
