“Dominic—” She was ready to demand he return and hold her, but then she got caught up watching him move. He was beautifully muscled, lithe and strong. And he seemed a man on a mission. He lit the lamp near the bed, then found his suit coat and dug inside a pocket.
Then he shot her one of those breath-stealing Dominic Prince smiles as he strode back to the bed.
Tess lifted her arms, so eager to have him beside her, atop her, below her, or any way she could have him again.
But he just held that maddeningly seductive smile on his lips and knelt beside the bed.
“I suspect propriety would dictate—” he started.
“We’ve trampled propriety almost from the moment we met.”
He chuckled low and deep. “We have, haven’t we?” He drew in a breath. “Very well. Then I can’t wait any longer.”
Tess swallowed against a lump in her throat, suspecting what came next, wanting it so desperately something pinched in the center of her chest.
He lifted a black velvet box, then sprung the latch and opened the hinged top.
A gorgeous emerald glinted among a rectangle of diamonds.
“Tess, will you do me the very great honor of being my wife?”
Tess licked her lips as she stared into his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of anything but sincerity, hope, love, in his dark amber gaze.
“Yes!” She reached out and clasped his shoulders, pulling him up, pulling him into bed again. He settled beside her, and Tess bent over him to kiss him. “Yes,” she whispered again.
He’d freed the ring from its case and lifted her hand to slide it onto her finger.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Reminded me of your eyes,” he told her, and he lifted her hand for a kiss. Then his gaze met hers, his brow slightlyfurrowed. “It’s not an antique. I considered selecting something for you from Princes. Something with a grand history.”
He stopped, licked his lips. “But I decided I wanted something that was uniquely ours and with a fresh history that we could write ourselves.”
“It’s perfect, Dominic.” Tess’s heart felt as if it would burst out free of her ribs. “And I love the idea of writing our own history.”
“I thought you might.” He bent and took her lips, then his hands were on her hips pulling her closer.
Tess settled over him, her legs on either side of his hips. She braced her hands on his chest, then bent to kiss him slow and deep.
She felt safe, loved, cherished, and as much as she adored history, her heart thrilled at the fact that their love story had just begun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dom woke early, scratching out a quick note to the Van Arsdales, informing them of his immediate return to Norfolk. They wouldn’t be pleased, but they could hardly quibble overly with him returning to the task they’d hired him to do.
More importantly, he wouldn’t risk Tess being put in an uncomfortable position where they were concerned.
By half past eight, they’d checked out of The Metropole and were aboard the train, the countryside rolling past in the pastel hues of early morning light.
Tess’s bare hand fit perfectly in his, her thumb tracing idle circles against his skin.
“Should I speak to them?” she asked.
“The Van Arsdales?”
She nodded, glancing at him. “About my post on the dig. Perhaps I was hasty—”
Dom squeezed her hand and shook his head. “I understand why you made the choice you did.”
