His caution to mind her steps on the slippery bottom simply spurred her on, the chill felt clear to her spine. Holding her skirtsto her knees, she took a look over her shoulder. Now barefooted and bare chested, Rhys waded in after her. His rifle leaned against a rock, the furthest thing from her mind if not his.
He came toward her at the pool’s center, her breath catching at the strength of him, his shoulders and chest startlingly pale against the deep mahogany of his hands and face. In his shadow, she felt like a wildflower, as fragile as the bits of color clinging to the pool’s rim.
He didn’t touch her, but his tender gaze was full of a thousand caresses that left her lightheaded with longing. Still clutching her skirts above the water, she tipped her head back and took in the top of the falls, her voice barely heard above the water’s rush. “I’ll not forget this place.”
He reached out and brushed her damp cheek with the back of his fingers. He was near but not near enough. Their linen closet tryst seemed faded as old cloth. Would he not kiss her again? Instead he removed something from his little finger and held it out to her. Sun and mist struck gold and turned it glittering.
“Will you marry me, Mae ... for better or worse, richer or poorer, and all the rest?”
She stared at him, wondering if the waterfall had made a nonsensical mess of his words. He reached for her, sliding the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. It fit slightly snug, but she didn’t care. The ring, a miniature rosette, reminded her of the cockade she’d made for his hat.
His question hovered in the air between them.Will you marry me?
In answer she let go of her skirts. They pillowed atop the water before sinking as she studied the ring. Wonder turned to teasing. “I feel like I’ve passed some sort of test and been rewarded with a ring.”
“Mae...” he began, his tone riven with regret.
Her voice shook with emotion. “You well know my answer, Rhys.”
“Asking you was a long time coming.” He swallowed, clearly as moved as she. “Not because I had any doubts ... only because I wanted your best.”
“I never doubted you. And waiting made me realize how impatient I am.” Surely the Lord was teaching her in the waiting and making something more of her than she was.
She needn’t even ask the question that burned the tip of her tongue, for he said, “There’s a chaplain at Fort Montgomery, Israel Evans, who’ll wed us at the farm or fort. I want it to be memorable for you, the way you want it. When you want it.”
So she was to decide? Tongue-tied, she looked down at her soaked dress. She was up to her knees in water, the silk dark green now, as weighted as her spirits were soaring.
Taking her ringed hand, he tugged her toward the thundering torrent as it flowed over the rock face, only to take her in his arms and finally kiss her. So many kisses she lost count, the water running in rivulets off their skin.
She held on to him, her words half drowned in the deluge. “’Tis the sweetest moment of my life, even if I had to risk my life getting here.”
Slowly she became aware that the sun, at high noon when they’d arrived, now slanted west. They’d missed Sabbath dinner and would have to answer for their absence and wet garments. Or would they? He seemed to read her thoughts.
“We need to make the most of the hour given us,” Rhys said above the water’s roar. “And we don’t owe an answer to anyone.”
Mae all but tiptoed into the clearing, aware of James and Jon smoking their pipes on the porch. The half-mile walk from the falls hadn’t dried their clothes nor made them look any less bedraggled. Rhys seemed unconcerned, but Mae’s embarrassment mingled with her joy.
“Here come the lovebirds now.” James leaned forward with agrin, pipe in hand. “We did wonder what other reason would have you two fly the coop and miss such a fine Sabbath dinner.”
“Buttermilk Falls always wins,” Jon remarked with a knowing smile. “And on such a fine day one can’t help but enjoy the water.”
Mae stopped just shy of the porch, Rhys coming up behind. She held out her ringed hand, then pressed it to her bodice as words lodged in her throat.
Rhys came to a stop by her side. “I’ve asked Mae to marry me, and she’s said...”
She slipped her hand in his and squeezed his calloused fingers. “Yes—I do.”
“Such glad news!” Jon called for Joanna. “You’re welcome to hold the wedding here. We can have a small celebration—or a large one if you like, and invite all your riflemen.”
Joanna appeared, Phemie on her hip. Smiling, she seemed to sum up the situation in a glance. “I knew there was something between you the moment I first saw you together, and I couldn’t be happier.”
James winked. “Better start baking a wedding cake.”
“Not till I feed them. One can’t live on love alone,” she said, motioning Rhys and Mae toward the open door. “There’s plenty of fried fish and garden sass left over, even pepper cake.”
Mae started up the steps, her wet skirts dragging, and bumped into an open-mouthed Coralie.
Aghast, she stared at Mae’s gown. “What on earth? Your lovely dress—”
