“And then, Maryann, that dance . . .”
He released her hand and put both his hands on her waist, moving forward until she could feel his chin against the side of her face, his breath in her hair.
She inhaled slowly to prevent herself from gasping at the sensation of being this close to him. Timothy and the sea at the same time? Mercy.
“If you did not feel what I felt that night, then tell me to stop.”
She swallowed and spoke in a whisper back to him. “I don’t know what you felt, Timothy.”
His hands tightened at her waist. “I felt as though you and I were the only people in that room,” he said then dipped his chin and pressed his lips along the curve between her neck and her shoulder.
She did gasp that time.
“I felt as though we were moving in the same steps, connected through an energy granted by heaven itself. Everything about us in those minutes was so very right, and I felt as though it had always been there, only I had not known what to look for.” He trailed kisses from her shoulder to the base of her neck, and she feared her knees might give way.
He reached out his hand and took hold of her shoulder in order to turn her smoothly in the sand to face him. She was completely captured by those eyes. She no longer cared that he would see all she felt within hers. His hands slipped back to her waist; his eyes did not leave her face.
“That was the dance for me,” he said. “That is what this moment is for me as well.”
She thought he would kiss her, and her hands came up to his shoulders, but he made no movement toward her, only continued to hold her in the power of his gaze. “Am I the only one who felt those sensations, Maryann? Because I think you felt them, too.”
“I did,” she said and with those words went the last of her hesitation to believe him. “But I had known that I would.”
He pulled his eyebrows together, and she resisted the urge to press her finger on the worry line that formed between them. He didn’t understand.
“I tried for months to see you as a friend because that was all you wanted from me.” She blinked at the tears she could not hold back. “I tried not to compare myself to the women you pursued, I tried not to despise the parts of me that did not measure up to your paragon, and I tried, so very hard, to feel with another man what I felt for you.”
“I am sorry.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want an apology. What she did want was harder to determine. “I let down my guard with you in ways I can’t seem to do with anyone else. You listened when I spoke, you asked after me when our paths did not cross, you told me the truth when I asked for it. But even then, I was not what you wanted.”
“What I thought I wanted,” Timothy said again. His expression softened, and he brushed the tendrils of hair from her forehead. “I want you, Maryann. Now and forever. You have made me a better man already. Imagine what you could do with me in a lifetime.” He smiled, wide and free. The waves crashed and the birds called and the sun gilded the moment in dripping gold. “Trust the feelings that you’ve had all along and that I’ve only recently realized. Let us be happy together.”
Let us, she repeated in her mind. It was her choice, wasn’t it? He was not justifying his past decisions or making light of her pain. He was not insisting she see something his way. He was only asking that she be honest about the feelings she had. What she could say swirled through her mind, but none of the words felt right. Instead, she smiled at him and nodded, once.
It was all he needed, and when his lips met hers, the richness and warmth and power that had sizzled between them in Lady Dominque’s ballroom descended like a summer rain, soaking through her dress and skin. When he pulled her closer, she went up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her mouth burned beneath his.
When he pulled back, they both had to take a moment to catch their breath.
“Tell me you do not kiss every man this way,” Timothy said.
She laughed, throaty and too loud for the circumstances. “I have never kissed any man this way, Timothy.”
He kissed her again. “And you will never kiss another. Never.”
“Never,” she agreed, pulling him to her once more.
Again, he broke off the kiss before she was ready. “You love me?”
The soft wanting of those words made her want to cry. She thought of what she knew of his mother, his childhood, and what it must mean to him to belong somewhere. “Oh, Timothy, I do love you, and if you will have me, flaws and all, I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.”
He smiled his wide, beautiful, boyish smile. “I shall hold you to such a proclamation, you know.”
She went up on her toes again, feeling starved and drunk all at the same time. “I am counting on it.”
Timothy held his chin between his thumb and finger as he surveyed the remaining flower arrangements—elaborate displays of pink roses and peach-colored gardenias and, her favorite, daisies. A simple flower with deep meaning. “Set these last two on either side of the door,” he finally said.
“You’re sure?” Maryann asked, eyebrows raised. He’d already chosen three other locations before this one. Between Timothy, who loved any excuse for a party, and Deborah, whose own wedding had been simple due to their mother’s illness at the time, Maryann had stepped aside and let them create the wedding party of their dreams. For her part, she’d have married Timothy over an anvil once she finally accepted that, when all was said and done, she was his perfect woman.
He paused, but then nodded. “Yes, by the door. I am sure.”
Maryann nodded at the workmen who were waiting for her confirmation, and they each lifted one of the heavy vases. There was only so much decoration appropriate for a church wedding, but Timothy and Deborah had conspired to push the boundaries. A peach-colored cloth hung over the pulpit, and a garland of evergreens and daisies was draped across the balustrade. Timothy’s eyes were wide and bright as he surveyed the room.
“Are you pleased, Timothy?”
He nodded but did not look completely at ease as he gave the room another once over. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned toward him. “It is nearly ten o’clock. We are to be married in less than twelve hours. Can we agree that this is good enough?”
“I do not want ‘good enough.’ I want it to be perfect.”
“It is perfect,” Maryann said, using her free hand to turn his face to hers. “And do you know why?”
He smiled, the tension finally leaving his face as he reached up and tapped her nose. “Because you will be there, and I will be there, and together we shall promise each other the very moon?”
She laughed. He was such a romantic. “Exactly. So, can we return home? Your family is waiting for us.”
Peter and Julia would not be married for another month, and Maryann considered it generous of them to have made the trip so close to their own marriage.
Maryann and Timothy would live at her father’s estate until they were ready to build upon the land that would become Timothy’s upon their marriage. It might be years, she had warned Timothy when he agreed to the plan. He didn’t mind. Like her, he had fallen in love with the sea.
His hand suddenly slid around her waist. They were hardly ever in a room together where he was not touching her. A hand on her back, his leg against hers. And when they were alone . . . even closer contact.
“You know,” he said as he pulled her to him. “This is the last night we shall ever spend apart.”
“So we had best get some sleep, as I imagine we shan’t rest much come tomorrow.”
His grin turned wicked, and he winked at her before releasing her waist, but kept hold of her hand as he led her from the church.
Father’s carriage waited outside, and they climbed in, sitting side-by-side on one bench.
“I was thinking the other day,” he said as
the carriage rolled forward, “that had I simply married you right away for your money, we could have been just as happy as we are now.”
She laughed, loud as always. He no longer winced at it. “What a strange thought,” she said. She was still wealthier than he was, though tomorrow her fortune would become his as well.
“Not so strange,” he said. “But I wonder if I would have known the choice was fully mine if not for my uncle’s generosity.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
He shifted on the bench so he could look her in the eyes. “If not for the campaign, I think I still would have pursued you, and I believe I would have fallen in love with you, but I think I would always wonder if my feelings were truly my feelings or if it was your money I wanted more.”
“And I would wonder the same.”
He nodded. “Yes, you would. What a terrible burden that would have been.”
She snuggled into his chest and enjoyed the way he put his arm around her shoulders. On the surface, Timothy was fun-loving, perpetually cheerful, and at times even silly. But there was something deep and endearing and so very, very good about him. “Well, I am quite glad to have been the woman to put you in your place.”
He kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek against it. “In a few hours’ time, my place will forever be right here, beside you.”
She smiled and wove her fingers through his. He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers before returning it to rest upon his knee, no longer off-limits.
“I just hope,” he said, a hint of worry in his tone, “that everything will go perfectly tomorrow.”
“We’ve talked about this,” she reminded him. “Nothing is perfect.”
“We may have talked about it, but I am not convinced.” He kissed her on the top of her head again and gave her a squeeze. “Despite myself, it seems I have found it.”
This story was a joy to write. Thank you to Jennifer Moore (The Shipbuilder’s Wife, Covenant 2018) and Nancy Campbell Allen (The Lady in the Coppergate Tower, Shadow Mountain 2019) for helping me brainstorm it into life and to Jenny Proctor (Wrong for You, Covenant 2017) for reading the full manuscript.
Thank you to Lisa Mangum, my editor, and Heidi Taylor Gordon for championing the story, and Lane Heymont, my agent, for doing all the business work that goes into a published book. Thank you to Richard Erickson and Heather Ward for the lovely cover, Malina Grigg for typesetting, and Jill Schaugaard and Callie Hansen for marketing and promotions. I am so blessed to have this kind of team.
Thank you to my family for giving me purpose and readers for giving me encouragement and God for giving me a chance.
1.In this story, Timothy tends to look past the difficulties he experiences in life. How is this a strength? How is it a weakness?
2.Did you ever make a list of the aspects you wanted in a partner?
3.Did you have requirements that you later found not to be so important?
4.Who was your favorite character in this story?
5.Was there a particular scene that stood out to you in this story?
6.At the end, when Timothy confesses his feelings to Maryann, do you feel she was too hard on him? Too easy? Just right?
Josi S. Kilpack is the author of several novels and one cookbook and a participant in several coauthored projects and anthologies. She is a four-time Whitney Award winner—Sheep’s Clothing (2007), Wedding Cake (2014), and Lord Fenton’s Folly (2015) for Best Romance and Best Novel of the Year—and the Utah Best in State winner for fiction in 2012. She and her husband, Lee, are the parents of four children.
You can find more information about Josi and her writing at josiskilpack.com.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Landmarks
Cover
Table of Contents
Daisies and Devotion Page 25
