Page 83 of Love Me Forever
He stood close, much too close. She could smell on him the scent of the rich earth and the freshness of a winter’s day. How could he smell so delicious? And how could she be so hungry for him? She retreated a short distance since the hearth was directly behind her.
“There is nowhere for you to go, Brianna. You have no choice but to talk with me.”
She spoke softly. “You have always given me a choice; will you not do so now?”
“If that is what you wish, though first you will answer one question for me.”
She knew what he would ask and attempted to avoid it. ‘Tomorrow we shall talk.”
“You will answer my question first.”
He was adamant; she could tell there would be no changing his mind.
“I have been as patient as I can be.”
It was a warning and she heeded it. She turned her chin up, stuck her chest out, planted her hands on her hips, and waited.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and asked on a hushed whisper, “Will you wed me?”
She had been prepared for a different question, and his query startled her so much that her legs grew weak and she reached out for support. He grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her.
“Listen well, Brianna.” He stepped closer, his touch turning gentle and his words firm. “I love you and it matters not if you can bear children. I have missed you terribly, and I do not wish to live life without you. I want you as my wife now and always, so again I ask, will you wed me?”
She stared at him wide-eyed, unable to speak, for words failed her. She had expected him to ask her if she carried his child, and instead he asked her to wed him. Had he planned this all along? The thought helped her to respond.
“Had you always intended for the decision to be mine?”
His hands moved to her waist. “I could have it no other way. I could never force you to wed me. The choice has always been yours.”
“Then why insist on my word to wed you if I carry your child if the choice has always been mine?” She brought her hands to rest on his arms. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his linen shirt, and she ached to touch his bare skin. She had missed him so very much.
He grinned. “A good warrior always has a second plan of attack.”
A smile escaped her; she could not contain it. “You planned on being victorious?”
“I never lose.”
“You think I will wed you?”
“I prayed that you would,” he said with a hushed reverence, as though his words were a prayer in themselves.
She stared at him, attempting to understand this legendary warrior, this man who fearlessly entered battles, this man who solemnly prayed that she would wed him, this man who gave her choices.
“You look different,” she said, offering what explanation she could for her behavior. “I thought you different.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?” she asked, confused at his request.
‘Trust me and close your eyes.”
He asked for her trust and she gave it. She closed her eyes.
“Listen to my voice. Do I not sound as I always have to you? Do you remember when we first met and you screamed in fear, then when you woke again and I introduced myself?”
She nodded, recalling the moment well and remembering how caring his voice had sounded, just like now.
“I will introduce myself again if you wish me to.”
