Page 56 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
“Raphael,” she breathes, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I slide from my chair to kneel before her, following the old traditions my grandmother described but I never thought I’d use. The position puts me closer to her height, my horns lowered in complete submission.
“In the old country,” I say, my voice steady despite my thundering heart, “minotaurs courted with strength and devotion. We offered our horns to show we would never use our power against our chosen mate.”
Frankie’s breathing has gone shallow, but she doesn’t look away.
“Francesca Baker,” I continue, taking the cup from her trembling hands, “will you accept my horns, my strength, and my devotion for the rest of our years? Will you marry me?”
The silence stretches for exactly three heartbeats before she slides from her chair to meet me on the floor.
“Yes,” she says simply, and then her mouth is on mine.
The kiss is deep and slow, and when she pulls back to look at me, her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
“The ring is beautiful,” she whispers, holding up her hand to watch the amber catch the candlelight. “It looks like…”
“Honey. I know.” I capture her hand in both of mine, the delicate band looking impossibly small against my massive fingers. “The jeweler thought I was insane, but I wanted something that reminded me of you.”
“It’s perfect.” She traces the stone with her thumb, then looks back at me with that mischievous smile I’ve learned means trouble. “So, does this mean I get to boss you around now? Since you offered me your horns and all?”
I laugh, the sound rumbling through my chest. “You’ve been bossing me around since the day we met. This just makes it official.”
“Good point.” She leans forward to press her forehead against mine, her hands coming up to frame my face. “I love you more than you know.”
“Even though I shed all over the furniture?”
“Especially because of that.” Her voice drops to that husky tone that never fails to affect me. “Though I have to admit, the kneeling thing is doing interesting things to my pulse.”
Heat flares in my chest, and I can smell the subtle change in her scent that means she’s aroused. “Is that so?”
“Mmm.” Her fingers trace along my horns, and I suppress a shudder at the contact. “Something about having all that power at my mercy…”
I growl low in my throat, but before I can act on the invitation in her voice, she’s pulling back with a grin.
“But first,” she says, standing and extending her hand to me, “I want to call Sage. She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out we’re engaged.”
“Now?”
“Right now. She made me promise to call her the second anything major happened, and I’m pretty sure this qualifies.”
I let her pull me to my feet, though I could easily resist if I wanted to. The sight of her wearing my ring, the knowledge that she said yes, that she wants to build a life with me… It’s almost too much to process.
“She can wait,” I say, sweeping Frankie up in my arms and carrying her toward the stairs. “Right now, I want to celebrate with my fiancée.”
“Fiancée,” she repeats. “I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll like the sound of ‘wife’ even better.”
By the time we reach the bedroom, the tea service is forgotten, the candles are burning low, and Frankie is making those soft sounds that drive me wild. I set her down beside the bed, my hands already working at the zipper of her dress.
“I love you,” I tell her as the blue fabric pools at her feet. “More than I thought I was capable of.”
“Show me,” she whispers, and I spend the rest of the night doing exactly that.
Later, as she traces the amber ring on her finger while lying against my chest, she begins musingly, “Raphael?”
“Mmm?”
