Bride of the Tiger by Heather Graham (best large ereader .txt) 📗

Rafe, it—it’s magnificent. But it’s an engagement ring.”

She loved it when his lips curled just slightly at the corners. It reflected his ability to laugh at himself, at the world.

“Yes, it is an engagement ring. But if you’re not ready to make a commitment, I understand. I still wish that you’d wear it. For now.”

“Rafe, I’m sorry. I’m confused. You’re offering me an engagement ring…but you’re not really offering it to me?”

He laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t accept it.”

Belying his words, he took her hand. He flipped open the box with his thumb, took out the ring and slid it upon her finger. The fit was just the slightest bit snug.

Still confused, she searched out his eyes. His fingers wrapped around hers as he met her eyes, seemingly about to speak, and studied the ring on her finger again.

“Tara, I’ve been around the world a half dozen times; I know a hundred ports. I’m in love with you. I’m old enough, experienced enough, to know that I have never felt anything like this before in my life. I doubt if I ever will again.”

His expression was a little rueful when he looked at her again. “Really. Any man would know that you’re beautiful. Any man would want to touch you. Beauty has its own fascination. I don’t know where it changed. When it was exactly that I started to long just to hear your voice. When I thought about you from the time I awoke to the time I went to sleep, and then again in my dreams. I couldn’t breathe without imagining your scent. I couldn’t look anywhere without imagining you there. It wasn’t just the wanting anymore. It was the knowing—albeit not without more than a bit of an internal battle—that I would never get you out of my soul. I love you. The ring is offered in all sincerity—I want you to marry me. I’d marry you today, this very hour—this second. But I understand you, too, Tara. I think that you love me. I know that you’re frightened, and I don’t blame you. But I’m frightened, too. For you. I don’t know if it can help or not, but my ring will mark you as a woman who isn’t alone, and that may protect you, telling others that they can’t harm you with impunity.”

Tara stared at him, speechless, as his words fell over her like the softest, most enchanting velvet mist. He loved her; she believed it. No man could speak so tensely, so softly, so deeply from the heart—and be lying.

It was just so hard to believe in fantasy. In magic.

And they were coming closer and closer to Caracas.

He ran his thumb down her hand, then closed his fingers over it, encompassing. “Tara, say something. You’re making me feel like a fool.”

“I don’t believe anyone could ever make you feel like a fool.”

“You’re doing a good job, Miss Hill.”

She smiled, her throat constricting.

“Do you love me, Tara? Or are the things you whisper just lies in the dark?”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“Excuse me. I didn’t quite get that.”

“I love you.”

“Then?”

“I just wish…I don’t know. I wish you weren’t quite so rich. Or powerful. Or something.”

He smiled. “You’re not exactly poverty-stricken.”

She laughed. “Oh, but I am! My bank accounts were so low that I had to come back to work.”

“That’s because you give away more than you earn. I’d love to be your tax man.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Oh, but I do. I wasn’t born wealthy.”

“You weren’t?”

He grinned. “My father was actually a fireman in Glasgow. He had a penchant for the sea. He joined the navy, and he loved it. He found some backers and bought his first ship. He started in the Mediterranean. The first ship was successful, so he was able to fund another, and so on. Then he discovered that there was money to be made in gems and artifacts. By the time he died, well, he had gone from rags to riches. But I still remember the early days. He never forgot them, either. He left half a dozen trust funds to be used for scholarships and other incentive programs back in Glasgow.”

“Did he really? I’d love to have known him!”

“He was an all right guy,” Rafe murmured.

“That’s your accent!” she said suddenly.

“I don’t have an accent.”

“Only a slight one.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“I know. I don’t have an answer.”

“Tara…” He took her hand again, as if he was going to speak. Then he shook his head. “We’ve got to get back. The ship is going to sail.”

“Oh, yes! And we have a showing this afternoon!”

Tara jumped to her feet, making a move to take off the ring.

It wouldn’t budge. It was just that shade too snug.

“Divine justice!” Rafe laughed, taking her arm. “You see, you’re supposed to accept.”

“Oh, Rafe, I really can’t—”

“It seems you have to, for the moment.”

“But—”

He pulled her close. She felt as if she sensed everything around her acutely: the birds flying against the sky; soft clouds against the mountains; the buildings below them; the hawkers in the streets; the ships out in the sea; the ground beneath her feet.

His arms around her. She was in love. As she’d never been in love before. Knowing bliss just because they were together, because she could rest her face against his chest. She was dizzy with the feeling of it. The ring was stuck on her finger, where it belonged.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

Arm in arm, laughing over everything they saw, laughing just for the pleasure of it, they returned to the ship. He left her at her cabin door, since she had to go to work. The Galliard girls were skipping dinner that night; the fashion show was set to begin at ten.

Of course, Ashley instantly saw the ring, and of course, being Ashley, she broke into a spate of endless congratulations, gasping in an occasional breath of air. Tara was convinced that at least ten minutes passed before she could get a word in edgewise.

“Ashley, I don’t think I’m keeping it.”

“What