Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Anything could have happened to him in the last seven weeks—or to her. She had him now and she was done denying herself, done fighting the reckless speed or the intensity of their connection. She’d take him in whatever ways he wanted to give himself.
“How long do I have you for?” he asked, his breath tantalizing the shell of her ear just before his lips did.
“How long would you like me?” Her grip tightened on his neck.
“Forever.” His hands flexed on her waist as he skimmed his teeth along the delicate flesh of her earlobe.
Lord, he made it hard to think when he did that.
“Good, because I’ve been reposted here,” she managed.
Jameson froze, then slowly drew back, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Are you displeased?” she asked, her chest clenching at the possibility. Had she been a fool? What if the letters hadn’t meant anything to him? What if he’d already moved on but hadn’t had the heart to tell her? Every girl back at Middle Wallop had made it clear they’d be happy to take her place, and she knew it had to be the same here.
“You’re here…as in here, here?” His eyes searched hers.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Constance and I asked to be reposted, and it was granted just a few days ago. I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case it was denied, and when it wasn’t, I figured I’d be here before a letter would even reach you. Are you disappointed?” She repeated the question, her voice hitching at the end.
“God, no!” He smiled, and the tension in her chest evaporated. “I’m…surprised, but it’s a great surprise!” He kissed her soundly. “I love you, Scarlett.”
“And I love you. Thank goodness, because I can’t just go and ask to be reposted back to Middle Wallop.” She tried to keep a straight face, but she simply couldn’t. Had she ever been this happy in her life? She didn’t think so.
“I don’t know how long the 71st will be here,” he admitted, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. “Squadrons move all the time, and there’s already talk that we’ll be reposted elsewhere.” Just the thought of it made his stomach curdle. Her reposting here was a temporary bandage on a hemorrhaging wound, but he was so damned grateful for whatever time they’d have.
“I know.” She turned in to his hand and kissed his palm. “I’m prepared for that.”
“I’m not. These months have been unbearable without you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I didn’t know how much I loved you until I had to wake up, day after day, knowing there was no chance I’d see you smile or hear you laugh, or hell, hear you shout at me.” He’d been incomplete, always thinking of her no matter what he’d been doing.
He’d been so distracted, he was surprised he hadn’t pranged an aircraft, not that he couldn’t fly one of those Buffaloes with his eyes closed.
“It’s been awful,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to his lips, then down the lines of his uniform. “I missed your arms around me, and the way my heart leaps whenever I see you.” She brushed her fingers over his lips. “I missed your kisses, and even the way you tease.”
“Someone has to make you laugh.” He nipped at the pad of her thumb.
“You do that quite well.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t want to spend another month like that, let alone two.”
His face tightened. “How are we going to avoid it in another few months when they decide the 71st is needed somewhere else?”
“Well, I’ve had a thought about that.” Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “But it would require you telling me your thoughts again.” She pressed her lips between her teeth.
He blinked. “My thoughts? I asked you to m—” His jaw dropped. “Scarlett, are you saying…” His eyes frantically searched hers.
“I’m not saying anything until you ask.” Her chest tightened, praying he hadn’t changed his mind, that she hadn’t gambled her entire happiness and dragged her sister across England to be refused.
His eyes flared. “Wait right here.” He stepped back, holding his pointer finger in the air. “Don’t move a muscle.” Then he ran from the room.
Scarlett swallowed and set her knees together, rearranging her skirt. Surely he hadn’t meant those muscles. God knew anyone could have waltzed in.
The mechanical ticks of the clock were her only company in the silence, and she did what she could to steady her heart.
Jameson slid back into the room, his hand gripping the doorframe to make the turn. Then he recovered his balance and shut the door behind him before approaching her.
“Better now?” she asked.
He nodded, nervously jamming his fingers through his hair before dropping to one knee before her and holding a ring between his thumb and forefinger.
She sucked in a breath.
“I know I’m not what you pictured when you thought of marriage. I don’t have a title, or even a country right now.” He grimaced. “But what I do have is yours, Scarlett. My heart, my name, my very being—it’s all yours. And I promise I will spend every day of my life earning the privilege of your love if you let me. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” His brows knit slightly, but there was so much hope in his eyes that it was nearly painful for her to see it, to know she’d made him question what her answer would be.