Page 132 of Corrupted Deception

My lips parted. My heart pounded.

“Scary, right?” he said, like it was a perfectly reasonable question.

I nodded. “Um, yeah.”

He smiled. “I never pegged you as a woman to hide from what scares her.”

“I’m not,” I replied automatically.

“So, is that a yes?” he persisted.

“You’re serious.” That’s why there was no humor on his face. That’s why this didn’t feel like a joke.

He nodded and held out a ring comprised of intricate swirls of white gold, all surrounding a black diamond, like the eye of a storm.

“Marry me, Charlotte. I lost you once; I don’t intend to let that happen again.”

“What are you going to do?—put a tracker in the ring?” I joked, but when he smiled, I got the feeling this ring came with somethingextra.

His smile fell away, but he kept looking at me, waiting.

“Yes.” The word slipped out of its own volition, but when I tried to reach for it, to pull it back, I realized there was no part of me that wanted to take it back.

He slid the ring onto my finger. It caught the moonlight and twinkled at me, kind of like it was winking.

Then he kissed me. It was a kiss like at the pond, not rushed and heated, but thorough, like he had all the time in the world and he wanted nothing more than to spend eternity exploring me.

By the time he pulled away, I was breathless, and my heart felt so full it was close to bursting.Dear lord, that sounds cheesy.

“I’ll find the priest,” he whispered against my lips.

The priest? “You want to get married…today?”

He nodded.

Today. He wanted us to get married today. Right now. Here.Oh god.

“I think we need licenses or… something like that,” I blurted out. I didn’t actually know—marriage wasn’t something I’d ever considered.

He smiled a little sheepishly—that was new.

“I may have taken care of that already.”

“How?” Because surely, a man who’d been that certain I’d say yes needed to be taken down a peg.

He shrugged. “I enlisted help. If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you that we have your father’s blessing.”

I went very still. “You asked my father for permission?”

“No,” he said, and he shook his head for emphasis. “I asked for hisblessing. You’re a grown woman,tempesta—I know you don’tneedhis permission. But I knew you would want his blessing. He’s important to you—he’s good for you. I wouldn’t want to come between that.”

Well, damn. That kind of made it hard to stay angry with him.

“I love you,” I blurted out. But I did, and I was certain now that I would never do anything to jeopardize this.

He smiled. “I love you too—kind of why I asked you to marry me.”

“And I trust me,” I went on, which felt like the weirdest thing to be saying out loud.

---