“Will you marry me, Mr. Clark?” she asked.
His heart stopped. The world went silent. Might have stopped spinning. But all the blood rushing to his head and places more southern, apparently intrigued by a brazen woman proposing marriage in front of an audience, threw him off-balance. Glued feet to the ground. Steady. Steady. Then… “Pardon me, Miss Bell. I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she hissed, “Richard, you heard me.”
“I’m not entirely sure I did.” He couldn’t have heard her right.
Her mouth snapped into a smooth, stubborn line.
He draped an arm around her shoulder and turned her away from the crowd. “What are you playing at?”
“I’m not playing anymore. I would like to marry you very much. If your offer still stands, and if you’ll still have me.”
He looked over his shoulder where a few dozen people watched the unfolding conversation like a Drury Lane production. They seemed to hold their breath and lean even closer.
A poke in his ribs returned his attention to brazen Beatrice, scowly browed and hands on hips. “Your hesitation is somewhathumiliating.”
“Humiliating? Humph. Well then, I suppose I shall take you since no one else will.”
She squealed and bounced a little bit on her toes, and then she calmed herself to say, “No one will have me? It’s the other way around, Mr. Clark. No one will haveyou. I myself take you on only out of pity.”
“God, you she-devil,” he said around a grin, swooping an arm around her waist and yanking her close.
“Donkey.” She grabbed his lapels and pulled up on tiptoe.
“Hellcat.”
And then he was kissing her to the roar of cheers and applause.
And when the crowd grew tired of the kissing, still Richard clung to her, giving her everything he could through every touch and taste. And taking, too, her bravery, her passion, her wit.
John’s hand slapped onto Richard’s back as he cleared his throat, breaking them apart. “Congratulations, brother. But did you have to be so dramatic about it?”
“That was quite bold of you.” Evie hugged Beatrice. “Proposing marriage to a man in front of everyone.”
“Richard is the most loyal man I know.” Beatrice squeezed Evie’s hands. “And I am not at all afraid to let absolutely everyone know that he belongs to me.” She grinned up at him. “Shall you dislike having me as a neighbor, Evie?”
“I’m delighted!” Evie gave Beatrice another hug. And then Selena was there, wrapping the two of them in her arms, and Martin was slapping Richard’s back.
Richard, grinning wider than he’d ever grinned in his life, shrugged off their attentions. “Let’s get you married, John.” And then he walked arm in arm with his betrothed all the way to the church.
He settled into a pew beside Beatrice, a polite distance between them. But her skirt touched his trousers soon, and once the ceremony began, he would be able to slide over so that their thighs rubbed along one another, and people would think it in bad taste but would smile and say it was a love match.
And it was.
And this woman, more than anyone else he’d ever known, had chosen him and come to him and told everyone in the world that for her, he was it.
He’d not known how desperately he needed that until she’d done it.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You are a wonder, Beatrice Bell, and I love you.”
Her words were so low, he could barely hear them. “I love you, too.” Then she bobbed her head toward a stained-glass window at the back of the church.
There, peeping in through a clear square—Daniel.
“Go,” Beatrice whispered.
So Richard did, out the door and around the corner to where Daniel peeked through the window. Daniel glanced up at the first crunch of Richard’s boot.
