“If I could lift my other arm, I’d wipe those away for you,” he said with a smile. “So just imagine me doing that, all right?”
Lara laughed, using her own hand to brush away the few tears that had leaked out.
“I want to stay here—with you—forever. I love this ranch, I love this family, I love you. I want to have a life with you. A family of our own.” He paused, his eyes tracing her face. “Will you marry me, Lara?”
The words caught in her throat. So instead, she nodded, and then she threw her arms around his neck, taking care not to jostle his arm. He wrapped his good arm around her, and little Joseph giggled at them from somewhere beyond the porch steps.
Lara pulled away, laughing, and then—heedless of the family she knew was watching her now—leaned forward again to kiss her soon-to-be-husband. Mitchell raised his hand to the back of her head, and Lara vaguely heard Belle shoo Joseph along.
They were alone again, for a moment, at least, and Lara lost herself in Mitchell’s kiss.
He pulled away for just a second. “I could do this all day.”
“I’ll count on that, then,” she said with a grin before he claimed her lips again. And this time, she lost track of everything except for him.
Her husband. Her family.
Epilogue
October 1895
The flowers were all wrong for a wedding.
Belle frowned at them, trying to arrange them as if shifting a few stems here and there would somehow make them brighter and more cheerful.
“At least we have some flowers,” Lara told her sister. “Especially considering how late in the year it is.”
“True.” Belle set the bouquet aside as a few more people entered the church and took seats. Joseph streaked down the aisle, Hannah chasing after him. “Hmm. I suppose I should help with that.”
Lara waved her sister on as Mitchell joined her at the rear of the church.
“Is the bride ready?” he asked.
Lara glanced at Isabel, who was resplendent in a light yellow dress. All she needed was her bouquet, as small and plain as it was. “I believe she is. How about George?”
Mitchell straightened his jacket, looking distinctly uncomfortable in such nice clothing. “He was ready three months ago.”
