He raised his head. “I never wanted to spend all those years yearning for you. But every time I tried to fit some other woman in my heart, I failed. There was no room for anyone else. You were already there.”
Her hands compressed around his, and her eyes shone. “Idiot,” she said with a little sniffle. “You’re going to make me cry. I wasn’t supposed to cry in your corporate office. I had planned to savor my victory.”
“Savor as much as you like. I’m on my knees.” He set his hand against her cheek and rubbed away a tear.
A woman didn’t save a man’s fortune and then lean into his touch without feeling a certain amount of affection. If he wanted, he could have her now for the price of an abject apology. A mere twelve hours ago, he would have grabbed at the chance and not let go. He would have pulled out his special license—somehow, it was still stowed safely in his coat pocket—and suggested they head for the nearest bed, diverting only long enough to get the vicar’s approval.
But he didn’t want her to marry the person who would do that to her.
He couldn’t bear it if Ginny married a man who took her love for granted, who saw her sacrifice as nothing more than proof that he could grab an advantage. That person would hurt her, and hurt her again.
He’d left her crying once. He wasn’t going to let it happen a second time.
“Ginny,” he said. “I want to ask you a question. A very important question.”
She nodded and straightened expectantly.
He adjusted her hands in his, and looked up into her face. “Ginny,” he repeated, “will you do me the very great honor of…”
She had begun to smile. “Of?”
He let out a deep breath. “Of letting me prove that I’m worthy of you.”
Another small town, five weeks later.
TODAY WAS THE FIRST DAY that Simon had seen Ginny in colors.
She stood almost fifteen feet in the air on a scaffold erected for the occasion, the full yellow skirts of her day gown rippling behind her in the breeze. One of the white ribbons that ringed her fitted sleeve had come untied; it flapped merrily in the wind, in cheery counterpoint to the murmur of the crowd.
Even from twenty feet away, she drew his eye. And it wasn’t just Simon who looked at her. The crowd was massed in the hundreds, and not a one of them was gawking at the steam engine that she was about to christen. They were all watching her.
And no wonder. The sun glinted off her dark hair, framed by her straw bonnet. The rays twinkled against the bottle of champagne that she held over her head. She smiled, and the entire throng seemed to hold its breath alongside Simon.
She was beautiful, lovely, charming, and the wealthy partial owner of the newest direct line to London.
And that was only what one could glean from the surface.
“I hereby declare this line open,” she said. She didn’t speak loudly, but her voice carried over the waiting masses. She smashed the bottle atop the train, and cheers washed over them. Behind them, the engineer gave a long blast of the whistle.
“God,” Andrew Fortas said beside Simon, with a shake of his head. “That woman.”
“That woman,” Simon agreed happily.
One of the many men who was nearby offered her a hand as she descended the scaffolding. No; not just one; four of them held out hands, practically falling over themselves to help her.
“Was that your idea or hers?” Fortas demanded.
Simon looked up. “The champagne was my idea. The rest of this was hers.”
“She’s a holy terror.”
This, Simon suspected, was as close to a compliment as Fortas would ever deliver.
“I know,” Simon said.
She had clambered down to the ground. He couldn’t see anything of her in the milling crowd—nothing except the bobbing silk flowers that adorned her bonnet. But he could mark her passage: The crowd grew dense around her, and people turned to look at her.
He almost felt sorry for the other men—thinking that Ginny was nothing more than a sweet, kind, lovely, wealthy woman. They didn’t know her strength. They didn’t know her stubbornness. And they certainly didn’t know how dangerous it could be when she smiled. By some obscene miracle, Simon had been given the power to make her smile.
He was never going to take it for granted again.
“She’s having you on,” Fortas grumbled. “It’s been weeks, now. How long are you going to have to court her?”
Finally, he caught a glimpse of her. Ten yards distant, but still surrounded by others.
“If I’m lucky,” Simon said, “the rest of my life. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
GINNY COULD TELL the instant that Simon joined the ring of admirers that surrounded her. He didn’t glower at the other men. He didn’t threaten them. He even greeted two of them by name and exchanged pleasantries. Nothing that he did signaled to the other men that he was in possession of her heart.
It was what she did. She could feel herself turn toward him like a lily seeking the sun, opening up in a broad smile.