Even the bitter wind seeping through the cabin walls couldn’t touch the heat spreading through her chest as James held her like he would never let her go.
His heartbeat thrummed steady against her ear—a little too fast perhaps, but strong. Real.
She closed her eyes. Let herself settle, sinking deeper into his embrace. Let the rhythm of their breathing flow together. The rough wool of his coat scratched her cheek—a reminder that this was real, that she was here, pressed close.
His scent closed around her, sweat and leather, and beneath that, something richer, something purely his. Not new to her but woven into her earliest memories. The best memories.
A scent that spoke of adventure. Not the kind that frightened. The kind that promised possibility. She let herself feel it, all of it, letting the comfort and excitement and memory wrap around her as surely as his arms did.
They should talk about what happened.
Talk about the letter even, and what Vincent had done to his mother. She should explain why she’d run. Apologize. But the words tangled in her throat, knotted together with exhaustion and fear and this warmth that felt so much like home.
Finally she forced herself to speak. “I thought you’d hate me.” The words slipped out barely more than a whisper against his chest. “When I told you about Vincent and your mother—the way you just stood there, not saying anything, I was certain you blamed me.”
His arms tightened around her, and his voice rumbled through his chest before the words reached her ears. “I could never hate you. Never.” His chest lifted in a sigh. “I was in shock. Trying to process that my mother might have been murdered, that Vincent had done it. But not once—not for a single second—did I think it was your fault or your mother’s.”
The tears came then, hot and fast, raging past her defenses and spilling down her cheeks. Years of carrying guilt for what Vincent had done—the power of it crashing over her until she could barely breathe. But James’s arms remained steady around her, anchoring her through the storm.
James’s hand moved to her hair, his fingers tangling in the matted strands. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
But it wasn’t just about being safe. It was about being seen—truly seen—and still being loved. Still being wanted despite everything Vincent had twisted and broken inside her.
“I should have stayed.” The words came out thick, choking her. “Should have trusted you to?—”
“You were protecting yourself.” His voice held no accusation, only understanding that made her chest ache. “After everything Vincent put you through, of course you ran when you thought I might turn you away. When I stood there like a rock instead of telling you what you needed to hear.”
She pulled back, just enough to look up at his face. The firelight from the stove caught the planes of his features, throwing shadows across the bruises already forming on his jaw. “What did I need to hear?”
His green eyes held hers, clear and steady despite the pain that must be tearing through his broken leg. “That I love you. That nothing Vincent did, nothing your mother did or didn’t do—not even anything you could do—would ever change how I feel about you.”
His hand rose to cup her face. His thumb brushed across her aching cheekbone with a gentleness that spilled fresh tears down her face. “You’re the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you how much you’re worth loving.”
The words poured into her heart, filling spaces she hadn’t realized were empty until this moment. She’d spent so long believing Vincent’s lies—that she was nothing without him, that no one would want her once they knew the truth of what she’d been.
But James looked at her like she hung the stars, like her scars made her beautiful instead of broken.
“I love you too.” The words rose from the deepest parts of her. “I think I always have. Even when we were children.”
A smile crept over his battered face, brightening his gray exhaustion. “Then marry me. Not because you need rescuing or because you have nowhere else to go. Because you want to build a life with me. Because you choose this—choose us.”
Marriage. A real life with James.
Not as his employee or his ward, but as his wife. His partner.
She searched his face, scanning for any hint of doubt or obligation. The only emotions there were warmth. Certainty. Love so fierce her tears started to well again. How could this man be so good? And how could he possibly be hers? Only God could give her a gift this overwhelming. Broken years could not be returned—but maybe they could be redeemed.
“Yes.” She could only whisper the word. So much love, so many years of longing. Finally finding their home in him. “I would love to marry you.”
His smile overwhelmed even the pain creasing beneath his eyes, and he pulled her closer.
His lips found hers. So gentle. A caress that wove all the way to her soul. A hint of blood flavored this kiss—his or hers, she couldn’t tell—but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except this moment, this promise, this man who’d broken himself trying to reach her. And the God Who’d brought them back together.
CHAPTER 32
The sound of hoofbeats pulled James from the edges of sleep where he’d been drifting, his body pressed close to Rose’s warmth beneath the scratchy wool blankets in this freezing old cabin.
