“Take this,” she said brusquely, “for the pain.”
Thomas shook his head, mulishly pressing his lips together. “I’m not finished. I need to say this to ye, Emma. I never thought of myself as a cowardly man, but I can’t help but feel that if we don’t talk about this now, we never will.”
Emma bit her lip, nodding. “All right. Go on.”
He sighed, shuffling towards his pocket again. “Damn, I can’t get it out. Emma, there is a velvet box in that pocket. Can ye take it out, please? Don’t open it yet.”
“Of course.”
She reached forward, taking out the object in question. It was small, small enough to fit in her palm, and covered with rich, furry red velvet. She resisted the urge to rub it against her cheek, enjoying the softness of the material.
“Ye know that I tried to have Delphine dismiss ye shortly after ye arrived,” Thomas said suddenly, and Emma stiffened.
“Aye, I knew. But it’s water under the bridge.”
He nodded. “It was foolish, and I am sorry. But my reason for doing that, not that there was a good reason, was that ye made me feel strange.”
Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Strange?”
“Aye, ye heard me. Ye bothered me. Ye were on my mind when ye should not be. I found myself thinking about ye, going over our conversations in my head. I found excuses to go and speak with ye, and no other woman could hold my attention. Astrid found that out, which is why she was so jealous of ye.”
Emma considered this, nibbling on her lower lip. A flare of hope started up inside her, mingling with the gut-churning desire that swirled in her chest.
“What are ye saying, Thomas?” she asked softly. “Ye are Laird MacPherson. I’m just a healer.”
“Just a healer,” he repeated, chuckling. “Ye know what I think of thatphrase. I’m trying to tell ye that I am in love with ye, Emma. If ye don’t feel the same, I understand, but I need ye to know how much ye mean to me.”
She swallowed hard, her tongue seeming to stick to the roof of her mouth. “Are ye making fun of me?” she whispered.
“Take that box in yer hand. I bought it when I bought ye that necklace. I meant to show it to ye before, but… well, I’m showing it to ye now. Open it.”
Emma stared down at the box. Her fingers seemed to tingle where they touched it. She reached out hesitantly and opened the lid.
Inside was more velvet, formed into a tiny cushion. Upon the cushion sat a ring.
It was silver, the band carved into what looked like tree branches, twisted and twining around the single jewel in the middle. The stone was green, and upon closer inspection, it was made up of other shades of green, running through the jewel-like tendrils, for all the world like a piece of the woods had been made into stone.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” Emma managed, her voice stuck in her throat.
“They call it moss agate,” Thomas said. “I don’t know where it comes from. It reminded me of the forest, of all those herbs ye bring in. Ye ought to be proud of yer healer’s hands, Emma, even if they are green. So, I bought ye a ring to match.”
Emma touched the cold silver with a fingertip, hardly daring to breathe. She longed to slip it on. She could already tell that the ring would fit her perfectly.
“What does this mean, Thomas?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Thomas smiled lazily. “I am asking ye to marry me, Emma Gallagher. I love ye, and I never thought I’d be a man to fall in love. I can’t imagine life with another woman beside ye.”
Emma gave a choking, hiccupping laugh. “Ye truly mean it?”
“I love ye, Emma. I love ye more than life itself. What say ye?”
She dived forward, clumsily fitting her lips to his. He tasted like salt and sweat, along with the coppery tang of blood, but she didn’t care. He lifted his good hand weakly to touch her cheek, his fingertips lingering there.
They moved apart, their foreheads still touching.
“Is that a yes?” Thomas murmured.
Emma laughed. “Aye, it is. Now, for the love of God, eat one of these brass berries so ye can go to sleep and forget all of this pain.”
