Adrian blinked. “You… what?”
“I concluded our arrangement this morning, much to his dismay.”
The room seemed to expand again, air rushing back into his lungs in a disorienting surge. Hope returned so abruptly it was almost painful.
“May I ask why?” he managed.
“Because in the end he was not the man I wished him to be.”
Adrian’s pulse quickened. “And what sort of man was that?”
She shook her head. “It is not a sort of gentleman.”
He waited, scarcely daring to breathe.
“It is a specific gentleman.”
Understanding struck with quiet force.
“Adrian,” she said, and there was no mistaking the steadiness of her voice now, “as you compared every lady to me and found them wanting, I have spent years comparing every gentleman of my acquaintance to you. They have all fallen short — some by inches, others by miles — but none have ever come close enough to make me forget you.”
The world narrowed to the space between them.
“I told myself it was foolish,” she continued. “That it would pass. That it must pass. But it did not. It changed shape. It quieted. It endured. And when I fully believed that you would never be mine, and I would never be yours, I discovered I could not accept a life built upon anything less than what I have always felt in your presence.”
Adrian rose before he was aware of moving. The velvet case was suddenly in his hand.
“I had meant to say something eloquent,” he said, voice unsteady despite his effort at composure. “I had meant to be rational and persuasive. But none of that signifies half so much as this: I love you. I believe I have loved you far longer than I possessed the courage to admit it. I cannot promise you a life free of disappointment or sorrow, but I can promise you my devotion, my respect, and every ounce of happiness I possess.”
He opened the case. The diamond caught the morning light and returned it in a quiet blaze.
“Eleanor Harcourt, will do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Her breath caught, and then she laughed — not delicately, not with restraint, but with a bright, irrepressible joy that seemed to lift the very air between them.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Adrian. Of course I will.”
For a second he simply stared at her, as though the word had struck him somewhere deep and he had not yet recovered. Then he let out a breath that might have been a laugh and might have been something very close to awe. He slipped the ring onto her finger with hands steadier than he felt.
“You’re certain?” he asked quietly.
“I have been certain for years,” she replied. “You’re the one who took your time.”
That did something dangerous to him.
He stepped closer. “May I?”
She didn’t answer with words. She simply looked up at him, and that was all the permission he needed.
He kissed her slowly at first, gently, as though afraid to startle the moment away. Her lips were warm and softer than he remembered, and when she leaned into him the contact deepened by instinct rather than design. His hand rose to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along the curve of her jaw as he tasted the quiet sweetness of her breath.
It might have remained tender, a promise sealed with gentle certainty, had she not drawn closer still. The small sound that escaped her — half sigh, half surrender — shattered the last of his caution. The kiss changed, deepening with a hunger that startled him even as it felt inevitable. He gathered her against him, one arm firm about her waist, and she came willingly, her hands gripping his lapels as though she had no intention of letting him go.
Years of restraint burned up in seconds. He had not known that tenderness could turn to urgency so quickly, nor that a single woman could undo him so completely. He only knew he wanted more — more of her, more of this, more of everything he had denied himself.
When he forced himself to lift his head, it was because he feared he would not stop otherwise.
They were both breathing harder than was respectable.
