Page 58 of Cursed

Vince nodded encouragingly, his heart swelling as Edeena’s words echoed across the courtyard, everyone in the crowd of two hundred Garronois leaning forward now.

“And here I am, not a prince,” he said, “not even a nobleman of your own country. But I’d be a fool not to pledge myself to you, Countess. I’d be a fool not to offer myself to be your husband, your partner, your friend. To help you mend the fences broken by generations of misunderstanding and pain, pain that, maybe, no one even knows the reasons for anymore. I can’t offer you anything but the strength of my hands, the sharpness of my mind, and the stubbornness of an American who doesn’t know his place among such things as counts and princes and born nobility. But if you will have me, Edeena Saleri . . . if you’ll have me, I will be forever yours.”

“Vince, I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

The statement was so calm, so measured, that it took Vince a moment to realize it was coming from Edeena. But though gratitude and something approaching joy shown in her face, she was shaking her head. “It’s too much—too much of a sacrifice for you, too much of a change. You are to be commended even for offering, but the people of Garronia, they take care of their own. I will find a way to break the curse the way it was intended.”

“The way it was intended?” Vince squeezed her hands, knowing that she was trying to find some way, any way, to let him off the hook, to close this drama out without any permanent damage. As it was, the pageantry of the evening was assured, and no one would expect her to name some other suitor in the wake of his bid.

But Vince didn’t want to be let off the hook. With each word, he realized that none of this was merely a Hail Mary attempt to save Edeena from the machinations of her father. He did love her. He did want her. And he did wish for nothing more than to be a part of her future, of her family’s future. More than anything he’d ever wanted in his life . . . he wanted her.

And so, he did what generations of Rallises had done, no matter that they weren’t princes or noblemen or rich. He did what his own father had done all those years ago, the very first moment that he met his mother, and knew she was the one.

He dropped down to one knee, and then the other. “Edeena Arabelle Catherine Saleri,” he rumbled, “would you marry me?”

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