by Clare London
“There was a time you wouldn’t have been able to laugh at that so easily,” Matt said gently.
Joel shrugged. “I doubt that would have stopped Paolo from gifting it to us. That man has a wicked sense of humor.”
“No, it wouldn’t. But it might have made things more difficult for us.”
Joel’s gaze met Matt’s, his expression troubled. “Have I been difficult these last months?”
“No. But it’s taken you a while to trust me, I think. To relax. To believe things don’t always need an iron fist to keep them on track.”
Joel’s laugh carried more irony than amusement. “You’re referring to my parents as well, aren’t you?”
Matt didn’t want to hurt Joel—never! he thought with a ferocity that was triggered now only for the man he loved, and the business they were running together—yet he knew the importance of them facing these issues together. “I’m glad you decided to start visiting them. It’s good to keep in touch. When I thought I’d lost Dad….”
“I understand. I don’t think I’ll ever have that kind of relationship with them, Matt. But I’m glad you persuaded me to reestablish contact.”
Matt hadn’t gone with him to the prison, but Joel had told him about the visits. His parents still had time to serve, but they’d responded well to recent rehabilitation initiatives and were planning on a new business when they were released—a legitimate one. And they’d been pathetically grateful to see Joel again, even if they seemed a little scared of him. Matt knew that was control Joel still needed yet didn’t always enjoy. Maybe he’d learn to trust them again one day.
“And what about you?” Joel said with a smile to soften any implied challenge. “You wouldn’t have had time for sentimental teases like this, at one time. You’d have seen insult in it. Demanded you were treated with the proper respect by everyone, prince’s consort or not.”
“Nowadays I can see it’s a sincere gift, albeit a bloody mischievous one. I think I’ve learned that respect can still be shown in more casual ways.” He grinned ruefully. “Yeah. My world isn’t as grim as it used to be.”
“You mean you’re not as quick tempered as you were.” Joel’s caresses were getting impatient again. “I’m glad, for your sake as well as mine. My rough diamond is now a true gem.”
Matt snorted, hoping to hide the fact his eyes were stinging a little. “I guess I’ve mellowed. And… I guess that’s your influence.”
Joel sighed. “You’re my family, Matt. I’m happy with that.”
“Yeah? Even if all I do some days is argue with you?”
“Like I said, just like a proper family.” Joel flipped over the card that came with the gift. “Look, there’s another message here, in Prince Arthur’s handwriting. It says, ‘Best wishes for your own happy ever after.’”
“He’s a sappy fool.” Matt watched Joel’s expression out of the corner of his eye. Joel looked thoughtful, a little dreamy. It was critical that Matt chose the right time for what he was about to do, and yet… there were so few wrong times now with Joel that he didn’t worry as much anymore.
“Bed?” Joel murmured hopefully.
“Soon.”
Joel sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You’re looking a bit sappy yourself. All those croissants at breakfast disagreed with you?”
“I can’t help having a healthy appetite.”
“You didn’t have to eat eight of everything, though. See, we’re bickering again.” Joel shrugged. He truly didn’t seem concerned. He looked relaxed—gorgeous. Loving. Horny.
So… here goes.
“What you said,” Matt said slowly, “about being our own family.” He reached under the coffee table to the small shelf where they usually kept magazines and the remote controls. He fumbled with a small package he’d left there before they went to the wedding.
“Is it another gift? Too small for another bear.” Joel must have seen something in Matt’s expression to worry him. “Is something wrong? Tell me!”
“Nothing’s wrong. Not at all. I don’t know if you remember when I found that original pot in the dig. There was something inside it that I kept for myself. Gary was okay about it,” he hastened to add. “He’s not interested in jewelry, as you’ve seen by the fact he and Caro are still wearing cheap wedding rings they bought online when that was all they could afford.”
“I wondered about that pot,” Joel said slowly. “But I always assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. You have it with you?”
Matt didn’t answer, he just unwrapped the parcel.
Joel sucked in a breath; his eyes widened. “There was a ring inside it? Roman, I’d say. Yes? How splendid! Is it gold?”
Ever the professional, Matt thought with pride for his man. “Yes.” He’d treasured this since the day he found it, covered in dirt and badly scarred. But the thick metal had been so lovingly embellished he could imagine the emotion behind its creation, appreciate the pride and love when it was worn.
It was a ring for a man, a large size, with rounded edges. The front was flattened into the circular shape of modern signet rings, with two sturdy hands engraved onto the surface. It wasn’t the usual design for a status ring, for a landowner or politician, which implied it had been made for a more personal desire. The hands reached toward each other, leaving a central dip for a stone to be inset. That was long gone, but the careful etching of the strong fingers remained.
“They’re the hands of a man,” Joel said. His voice was quieter than it would usually be in his own home. “Slightly cupped to hold something precious.”
“Just one man? I think it could show two hands from two different men, meeting to clasp each other’s in the middle.”
Joel gazed at Matt, not the ring. His eyes were still wide and glinted with moisture. “It’s a lovely thought. I’ll believe it if you will.”
“I used it as a basis for my own design.”
“Your…? I didn’t know you were working on anything at the moment apart from Starsmith projects.” Joel didn’t sound accusing, just puzzled.
“I’ve been making something of my own. Of our own.” He reached under the table again and brought out a box. A jewelry box.
“Matt.” Joel’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He reached out and grasped Matt’s free hand.
Matt cleared his throat. Then did it again. His voice still came out hoarse. “What do you…? Would you…?” Oh shit, his nerve was failing him. These things always looked so much easier in the movies. “I mean, this is a shock. It must be. You’re probably annoyed I used company resources to make personal trinkets, though Lloyd worked on it in his own time for me—”
“Matt. Please. The hell I am. Let me see, for God’s sake!”
“This new, relaxed Joel Sterling… he’s damned impatient,” Matt quipped. It helped keep him calm, though he didn’t think anything could stop his heart racing like a train. He opened the box to reveal the two rings he’d been cherishing for several weeks now, trying to find the right time and the right way to share them. Men’s rings, in gold, with a single diamond in each, framed by the two hands from the original Roman ring. Yet unmistakably modern, unmistakably exceptional, unmistakably unique.
Unmistakably made with love.
“They’re marvelous,” Joel whispered. Yet he didn’t move to touch them. He took a deep breath but didn’t meet Matt’s eyes. “You know we’ve promised to be honest with each other, and there’s no reason to stop that now. I know you’re not a man to make empty gestures. If you’d like us to wear these rings as, well, a matching fashion statement—”
“What? When did I ever follow fashion?” Bloody hell, he should just call a spade a spade and get the declaration out there! “I’m asking you to marry me. I love you. I want to love you and be with you as long as I live.”
He dared to catch Joel’s eye again. Joel was grinning! His eyes were suspiciously damp, but he was still bloody grinning.
“You bastard! You knew what I meant all along, d
idn’t you?” Matt could feel his grin almost splitting his cheeks. He’d kiss the man to unconsciousness, if he didn’t thump him first.
“Of course. If you hadn’t proposed, I would have taken my chance to do it instead. But you… this….” Now Joel took one of the rings, with reverence, with wonder. “I could never have matched this.”
“Is it a yes, then? We may be able to have a service at Diss Parish Church. Caro knows the vicar there, but whatever you want, however we celebrate it, I don’t care.”
Joel paused for a long moment, his expression mild but his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know I love you, Matt, but maybe we should think carefully about such a step….”
“Damn you, there’s no sex until you answer!”
And then Joel had him by the collar, dragging him toward the bedroom, before Matt could even take another laughing, gasping, joyous breath.
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CLARE LONDON took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fueled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter-three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fueled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:
Website: www.clarelondon.com
Email: [email protected]
Blog: www.clarelondon.com/blog
Facebook: www.facebook.com/clarelondonauthor
Twitter: @clare_london
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/clarelondon
Bookbub: www.bookbub.com/authors/clare-london
By Clare London
DREAMSPUN DESIRES
ROMANCING THE…
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Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Romancing the Rough Diamond
© 2019 Clare London
Editorial Development by Sue Brown-Moore
Cover Art
© 2019 Alexandria Corza
http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64108-216-7
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-637-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019903598