by Nora Roberts
“Not as a rule, no.”
“Cordina’s crown jewel. I’ve been catching up on some magazines,” he said when she stared at him. “A jewel has to have substance to keep its shine. You’ve got substance.”
“That,” she managed to say, “is the most flattering thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“That’s just because you’re used to men telling you you’re beautiful. And I like your family.”
“My family?”
“Yeah. Your mother’s an amazing woman. I like your brothers, your cousins. Still haven’t quite figured out—for sure—which is which, but, I like them. And your sister’s sweet.” He paused. “I meant that in a good way.”
“Yes.” Camilla smiled a little. “She is, very sweet.”
“Your aunts, uncles, they’re interesting people. Admirable. I guess that’s where you get it. Had some trouble with your father. But I figure if I had a daughter and some guy was … Well, it’s natural for him to want to kick my ass for putting hands on what’s his.”
“He likes you.”
“He’d like to roast me over a slow fire.”
“He thinks you have potential.”
Del snorted, paced, then glanced back at her. “Does he?”
“Yes. Of course if you make me unhappy, that slow fire could still be arranged. But I don’t mean to pressure you.”
“You’re a clever girl, princess. Sharp, sexy mind. I could get past that face of yours, but your mind kept hooking me in.” He gestured to the thick book on archaeology resting on her nightstand. “So you stayed interested?”
“Yes. I want to learn. I really loved working with you.”
“I know.”
“I find the work fascinating. Not just because of you, you know. I want to learn for me first. I needed something for myself. Something that pulled at me, from the inside. Something beyond what’s expected—must be expected of me because of my position. I wanted to find my passion, and thanks to you I did. I’m making arrangements to join Dr. Lesuer on a project in France.”
“Yeah, Lower Paleolithic.” Del shrugged. “He’s good. Hell of a teacher, too. He’s got patience. I don’t. It’d probably be less complicated to work with him. Then again, it’d be a shame for you to miss following through on Bardville.”
She took a deep breath. “Are you suggesting that I join the project?”
“I’ve been thinking about outfitting a new site trailer. The old one’s a dump. And I need to oversee a lot of lab work. It’d probably be practical to rent a house near the university. Maybe buy something.”
The pressure in her chest was unbearable. It was wonderful. “It’s understood in my family that when one of us takes a career, or makes a personal commitment, his or her official duties can be adjusted. Tell me.”
“Listen, I’m going to complain every time I have to gear up in some fancy suit—and you’ll probably throw my own title in my face when I do,” he said, walking to her.
“Naturally.”
“But I’ll carry my weight on what you bring to the deal, and you’ll carry yours on what I bring.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Are you asking me to ma—”
He cut her off with a quick, warning sound. “You’ve got some looks, don’t you?” He lifted her chin and cupped her face. “Some fabulous looks. You know, I don’t care how many times this face of yours is splashed over magazines. I don’t care about the gossip and bull written in them, either. That kind of stuff doesn’t matter to me. We know who we are.”
Tears clogged her throat, shimmered in her eyes again. Nothing, nothing he might have said could have told her more clearly he believed in her. “Oh, Delaney.”
“I don’t have a ring for you right now.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“I do.” Funny, he thought as he lifted her hand, studied those elegant fingers, that he would feel it was important. “I want you to wear my ring.” His gaze shifted to hers and held.
“If you don’t want me to cry again, you’ll hurry up.”
“Okay, okay. Try to give a woman a little romance.”
“You climbing down the palace walls is about all the romance I can take for one night. Thanks all the same.”
He grinned. “I’m crazy about you. Every bit of you, but especially your smart mouth.”
“That’s lovely. But I could probably stand just a little more romance than that, if you can manage it.”
“I love you.” He took her face in his hands. This time when a tear slid down her cheek, he didn’t mind. “Camilla. I love who you are. I love who we are when we’re together. I love the woman who mopped my kitchen floor, and I love the woman I waltzed with tonight.”
Joy soared inside her. “Both sides of that woman love all the sides of you. You make me happy.”
“Marry me. Make a life with me. You won’t always be comfortable, but you sure as hell won’t be bored.”
“I’ll marry you.” She touched her lips to his cheek. “And work with you.” And the other. “Live with you. And love you. Always,” she murmured as their lips met.
“Come back with me.” He pulled her close and just held on. “We’ll work out the details—whatever has to be done. I don’t want to go back without you.”
“Yes. I’ll arrange it.” She tightened her grip. “We’ll arrange it.”
“I’ll carve out some time off—whatever we need to deal with whatever we have to deal with.”
“Don’t worry.” Here, she thought, was her passion, her contentment and her love all wrapped in one. “We’ll work it all out. When there’s a question, we’ll find the answer.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, smiling as she felt his lips brush over her hair. The most important question, she thought, had been asked. And answered.
