Page 87 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

“I’d rather not. That is, unless you brought me another dragon. Please tell me you didn’t bring me another dragon.”

He shook his head and paced to the futon and back, searching the floor like he’d lost something. “All right. This is fine. I mean…”

“If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

He stopped, forced a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Just…pending.”

I closed the distance and reached for his hands, but he pulled back. “Griffon?”

He pointed to a spot on the floor near the fire. “Stand here. Please.”

I did as he asked. He got down on his knees—no, just one knee—and I finally caught on. “Griffon?” All I could manage was a whisper.

“Lennon. When we first met—themomentwe met—I thought I was just like my father, that I had fallen for a woman. That I was meant to love a human, not a Fae. So I’ve been thinking how appropriate it would be to give you this.” He held out a silver ring with an oval emerald embedded in the top. “It’s old, of course. Late 16thcentury. And even though you’re not human—I mean, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re Fae—I still want to offer you the ring my father gave my human mother.”

He exhaled in a huff, like he’d just gotten something heavy off his chest. Then he looked up at me, expectant. Suddenly his eyes widened.

“And ask you to marry me! Oh, Lordie. I forgot the important bit!” Whether he realized it or not, he slipped the ring onto his own pinkie and started massaging my fingers as he had the night before, like he was worried about my circulation.

His nerves gave me the time I needed to compose myself. I barely remembered the faces of the three men from college I’d hoped to see on their knees, offering me a ring. They were part of a different life, a different world—a purely human world. At the moment, I was overjoyed that each and every one of them had disappointed me.

Finally, I pulled out of Griffon’s grasp and laid my hand on his cheek. “Griffon?”

He blinked.

“You really want to marry me?”

“I do. I want to know that, wherever I am, wherever you are, you’re mine. I want you bound to me, obligated to me, legally required to call me yours. In Fairy, in the human realm, in Moire’s Embrace. I’d marry you in all three if you’d allow it.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

* * *

When the skybegan to lighten, Griffon left on a snowmobile, to make arrangements, he said. He wanted a ceremony before we left Finland so we could think of the whole experience as our honeymoon.

Technically, he hadn’t asked what Kivi and I had done or why we were out so late the night before, so I hadn’t lied to him. I just kept the details to myself. And I felt horrible about it. All that talk about honesty vs. chivalry was bull. I was a hypocrite. I just didn’t know how long it would take to summon the courage to come clean.

I did keep my promise to take it easy while he was gone. Though I felt perfectly fine, I promised not to go riding that day. I cuddled up in a corner with that novel I’d started, snacked from the basket, and let the noise from the fire drown out the occasional hiss from the box of stones that was now wrapped in towels and tucked into a kitchen cabinet.

I’d told them they’d have to wait one more day, which shut them up for a while. But they couldn’t resist an occasional protest.

The sound of a snowmobile engine was music to my ears, and I hurried out to wait for Griffon on the porch. I hadn’t expected him back so soon, but I wasn’t complaining. I was disappointed, though, when the snowmobile was red and the tall man driving it was all in black.

Timo turned off his engine, lifted his visor, and waved.

I pretended to be cold by folding my arms and shivering. “Griffon’s not here,” I shouted, and hoped he’d go away.

“That’s all right. I brought more batteries.” He patted a bag hanging across his chest and dismounted.

Since I couldn’t very well bar him from his own cabin, I invited him in, playing along. But I wasn’t happy to have someone inside what was technically our honeymoon house. And I didn’t want another lecture, with that lilting accent, on how deadly the weather was.

“Sorry,” I said. “I haven’t made any coffee today.”

“No worries. Will you check the toilet to see if it is full?”

“Sure.” I slipped behind the screen before I rolled my eyes. It took a minute to find the gauge and figure out, in the shadows, that it was only half full. But already, by the time I stepped back into the room, Timo had removed his coat, boots, and ski pants. “Still half-empty. What are you doing?”

“You have to let the warmth reach the body,” he said, as if that was explanation enough. He carried his bag into the kitchen, then set it down to check the coffee pot. “Your husband must have made some. Still hot.” He pulled two mugs off the shelf and started pouring.

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