He growled and swooped in to nuzzle her neck, sending delicious shivers down her spine. “Well, don't you love me, too?"
Love him? Love him? She ached for him with every fiber of her being; she had suffered miserably thinking he—
That was it! The thing that nagged at the edge of her fuzzy mind—the valentine crushed between them. She struggled against him until he eased his hold, and lifted the package up for him to see.
"This is yours,” she said, the earlier pain returning. How could she have forgotten? Because he's skilled at seduction, Rosy. Rosalyn silently thanked the sane, reasonable voice for the reminder.
Instead of the embarrassment—at the most, shame—she expected to see, his expression remained soft and loving. He pressed a hot kiss on her mouth before taking the package and handing it back to her.
"It's not mine. It's yours. My father earned it—and I've telegraphed my grandmother and told her I know the truth about what happened.” A flicker of pain crossed his beloved features, then was gone. “I couldn't catch you, so I addressed it to myself in the hopes you'd bring it here."
Most of his words were lost as fury such as she had never known rose inside of her. He had deliberately tricked her, had deliberately allowed her to believe the package was from someone else! With a cry of rage, Rosalyn stepped back and threw the package at him. It bounced harmlessly from his chest and fell to the floor.
The puppies, who had grown quiet, promptly fell onto the package and began to play tug-of-war. Rosalyn watched through a shimmering blur of tears as they ripped the wrapper away. In fact, she had begun to feel vindicated when she caught the glint of red.
No. It couldn't be—it was! It was the ruby valentine! Quickly, she snatched it up, ignoring the hounds’ disappointment whimpers.
Christian cleared his throat in a pointed way.
Rosalyn couldn't look at him. She clutched the ruby valentine and bowed her head. Still, she hadn't forgiven him for playing such a cruel game with her.
A stern finger reached out and tilted her face. Liquid brown eyes gleamed with love and desire as they caught and held her gaze. Softly, he said, “I didn't mean to upset you, Rosalyn. I had no idea you would think what you obviously thought.” He shook his head as if impatient with his lack of foresight. “I guess I was so excited about giving you the valentine that I wasn't thinking clearly.” He pulled her unresisting body closer. “In fact, I haven't had a clear thought since I first set eyes on your sweet behind—er—face."
Heat crept up her neck, and she felt the blood flowing warm in her veins once again. Christian loved her ... was it true? Had he actually spoken the words? Did he mean them?
Was she dreaming?
"You truly love me?” she squeaked, searching his features for signs of the old Christian. This man didn't appear to be hiding his feelings. The guarded look was gone, and in its place was the most incredible tenderness.
"Have for quite some time, little Cupid. I'm afraid your arrow struck home."
"I thought I'd missed,” Rosalyn said with a shaky laugh. Hope and joy dared to creep into her heart. With trembling fingers, she stroked his brow, smoothing the lazy black curls away as she'd always wanted to do.
Christian closed his eyes, his expression one of complete acceptance. When she lay her head against his chest, he closed his arms tightly around her. His voice rumbled against her cheek and she sighed blissfully.
"They're waiting at the church."
Rosalyn jerked her head up with a gasp. “Who's waiting at the church?"
"Everyone.” He was struggling not to smile.
Rosalyn was struggling not to strangle him. “More secrets? Don't you think I've had enough?"
Christian threw back his head and laughed at her piqued expression. “Will you marry me, Rosalyn Mitchell—Cupid?"
"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you! I've always wanted to, you see.” She ducked her head against the solid wall of his chest once more, reveling in the sound of his beating heart beneath her ear.
"I see,” Christian mumbled tenderly.
And this time, he did.
A word about the author...
Sheridon Smythe is the writing team of Sherrie Kelley and Donna Smith. Best friends for over thirty years, they have written five historical romances and several contemporary romances under this pseudonym. Sherrie lives in central Arkansas and has two children and four grandchildren. Donna lives in the bootheel of Missouri and has three children. Her son, Marcus, is currently serving our country. The team enjoys brainstorming together and entertaining their readers with stories they hope will stay with the reader long after they reach ‘the end'.
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