He stood, pulling her closer. Mira admired her engagement ring.
“Where did you get this? It’s beautiful,” she said.
“It belonged to my mother’s mother, Lady Catherine Clarke. And one of the stolen goods we happened to buy back from Sibyl.”
Mira laughed. “A family ring.” She held it out in front of her and it sparkled in the dwindling sunlight.
“I thought it was appropriate,” his gaze softened, eyes trailing over her features, “as you are to become Mrs. Byron Sherard.”
Her stomach fluttered, her pulse racing. “And here I thought we would be Mr. and Mrs. Byron Constantine.”
He leaned closer, voice barely a whisper. “We can be anything you like. As long as we’re together.”
Her breath hitched as his lips found hers, fervent and tender. Her legs fell limp beneath her, dizziness coming over her, but he caught her and pulled her closer to him with a touch on the small of her back. She fell deeper into his embrace and the heat of a thousand sunsets was nothing compared to the warmth between them. It was not their first kiss, nor would it be their last, but the memory would always burn within her.
