The warmth of his gaze heated her cheek, and she finally made herself turn to him. To meet his eyes. The open roof of the barn allowed moonlight in so she could see their navy intensity.
“Thank you.” The words didn’t seem nearly enough. “That…would be nice.”
“Nice.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “My wife calls having our baby wherever she choosesnice.” The word rolled off his tongue with gentle teasing, but underneath lay something deeper. Something that made her pulse quicken.
“Your wife.” She tested the words, letting them settle on her tongue like honey. “I’m still getting used to that word.” Especially the wife ofthisman.
“Are you having second thoughts?” The question came quietly, but she caught the thread of vulnerability in his tone.
“No.” She turned fully toward him. “Never. It’s just…this morning I woke up a widow hiding from her past. Tonight I’m going to sleep as a woman engaged to marry the man she loves.” The admission slipped out before she could stop it. But she didn’t want to take the words back.
Something shifted in his expression—like a wall crumbling. “The man she loves.” He repeated the words like she had, as if testing them.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, letting him see the truth in her eyes. “I know I said it earlier, in front of everyone, but I wanted you to hear it when it’s just us. I love you, Enoch Balfour. Not because you’re protecting me, or because you’re willing to claim my child as your own, though those things mean more than I can say.” Her voice cracked, and she had to pause.
She had to find the right words to help him see who he really was. “I love you because you’re good and loyal and faithful. You’re a man of integrity. Of faith. You make me feel safe. When I’m with you, I feel like the woman I was meant to be. You seeme—not the role I’m supposed to play or the expectations I’m supposed to meet—but the real me.”
The moonlight caught the moisture gathering in his eyes, and her heart clenched at the raw emotion there.
His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin with reverent gentleness. “Mandie.” Her name was barely a whisper on his lips.
She let her eyes sink closed, leaning into his touch. “I was so afraid that what happened with Clayton had broken something in me. That I’d never be able to trust a man’s hands on me again. But with you…” She covered his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against her face. “With you, I feel safe. Cherished.”
“You are cherished.” His words came rough with emotion. “More than you know. More than I’ve been brave enough to tell you.” His other hand found her waist, drawing her closer. “I’ve spent so many years convinced I was better off alone. That caring for someone meant inevitable loss.”
“And now?” She opened her eyes so she didn’t miss whatever his eyes wanted to tell her.
“Now I realize the only real loss would be letting you slip away because I was too much a coward to fight for what we could have together.” His forehead touched hers, and his warm breath brushed her lips.
She let her hands rest on his chest, on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“I love you too, Amanda Beaumont.” He tightened his hold at her waist. “Love your strength, your courage, the way you see beauty in this wild place that’s become my sanctuary. You are extraordinary.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m terrified.”
“Of marrying me?” Her insides tightened, and she started to pull back to better see his face.
He held her steady as he shook his head. “Of being this happy.”
She eased out a breath, letting her nerves uncoil again.
“I keep waiting for something to destroy it. Some disaster to prove I don’t deserve this.” His thumb traced along her jawline. “But then I look at you, and I think maybe…maybe God means for us to have this. Maybe all the pain and loss led us both here, to each other.”
“Maybe it did.” She couldn’t help but smile as the idea formed shape in her mind. “Maybe that’s what healing looks like—not the absence of scars, but the beauty in their final form.”
His breath caught, and for a moment they simply stood there in the moonlight, foreheads touching, sharing the same air.
Willow shifted in her stall, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted through the pines.
Enoch spoke first, his voice a husky murmur. “Tomorrow, you’ll be my wife.”
She breathed out a smile. “Tomorrow, you’ll be my husband.”
The words settled between them like a promise, and now the space separating their lips felt unbearable.
She rose on her toes at the same moment he lowered his head, and when their mouths met, the tenderness weakened her knees.
The kiss deepened slowly, his hands threading through her hair as hers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. This wasn’t the desperate, urgent embrace of their first kiss, when they’d both been fighting against what they felt. Instead, it carried the weight of promises made and fears conquered. His lips moved against hers with gentle reverence, as if she were something precious he’d been entrusted to protect.
When he finally eased back, they both breathed heavy. Enoch rested his chin against the top of her head, and she sank against his chest, where the rapid beat of his heart thudded against her cheek. The solid warmth of him anchored her to this moment, to this life she’d chosen.
