Would he like them?
Would he wear them?
Would he even know what they were?
He took the odd bundle with a raised brow and unwrapped it to reveal a pair of boots that were similar to hers but in a much larger size.
“So your feet don’t freeze,” she explained unnecessarily.
“Are these what you’ve been making every night?” he asked with an odd look in his eyes.
Lucy nodded, feeling foolish.
“But the fire…” he said, a frown deepening between his eyes. “You didn’t have them when we came out.”
“I went back for them.”
“You did what?” he shouted, his eyes going wide before he stepped toward her and wrapped her up in a hug that lifted her off her feet so he could plant a heavy kiss on her mouth. Easing back just a bit, he murmured roughly, “You brave, unbelievable woman. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”
Lucy’s cheeks grew warm as she accepted another heated kiss.
When they drew apart, she could see a light in his eyes unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was beautiful and profound. She tipped her head in question and a reddish hue spread across his cheeks.
“The book is more than just an old favorite. There’s a passage inside I’d like to read to you, if you don’t mind.”
Lucy nodded, feeling a strange tightening in her chest and a wild flutter in her belly.
He flipped through the well-worn pages until he found the one he wanted. Looking at her from beneath surprisingly earnest brows, he said, “Would you sit? Please?”
She did, and he lowered himself to one knee before her. Then he cleared his throat, and the words of Robert Burns flowed from his lips in rich, lyrical Scots.
Ithers seek they ken na what,
Features, carriage, and a’ that;
Gie me love in her I court,
Love to love makes a’ the sport.
Let love sparkle in her e’e;
Let her lo’e nae man but me;
That’s the tocher-gude I prize,
There the luver’s treasure lies.
By the end, Lucy’s eyes burned with tears. She didn’t recognize more than half of the words, but she’d have felt the meaning in the roughened burr of his voice even if one word in particular hadn’t stood out above the rest.
George closed the book and lifted his head to look into her face. Seeing her tears, he sighed and reached to brush his thumb across her cheek. “Och, lass. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he muttered softly. “I just want you to know how I feel. I was hoping you might consider staying here. With me,” he added with a hopeful note. “Forever.”
Lucy’s thoughts were reeling, and her heart was filled near to bursting. But she couldn’t pull up any words through the thickness in her throat. All she could manage was a rapid shake of her head.
Seeing the gesture, a slight look of panic tightened his features. “It doesn’t have to be forever. We could just try it out. You need a place to stay for a while anyway, so why not with me?” He looked down at their joined hands, continuing roughly, “Ol’ Robbie Burns says it far better than I, but the truth is…” He paused to take a deep breath. “I’ve fallen in love with you, lass. And I just can’t fathom spending even a day of my life without you.”
Realizing he thought she was refusing him, Lucy forcefully cleared her throat and reached up to cup his face in her hands. Urging him to meet her gaze, she said, “I love you too. But I am not going to stay forever in a bunkhouse with who knows how many other people. We will wait until the spring thaw, and then we’ll build a cabin of our own. Close by…but not too close.”
George started grinning wildly halfway through her declaration, and by the end, his full-bodied laughter filled the room. Then with a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and tackled her back onto the mattress of his oversize bed.
A wicked gleam flashed in his gray gaze. “Just promise me the cabin will have a loft so I can have the pleasure of watching you climb the ladder every night.”
Lucy gave him a wicked look in return. “Only if you climb up every night to join me. And you have to make breakfast every morning,” she added quickly.
His laughter was warm and rich. “With pleasure, lass.”
About the Author
Amy Sandas’s love of romance began one summer when she stumbled across one of her mother’s Barbara Cartland books. Her affinity for writing began with sappy preteen poems and led to a bachelor’s degree with an emphasis on creative writing from the University of Minnesota Twin Cities. She lives with her husband and children in northern Wisconsin. Visit her website at amysandas.com.
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Longing for a Cowboy Christmas Page 42