“He was right. They could have a whole conversation without exchanging a word. And the conversation they had right now went like this: Colin, shut it. I don’t think I will, M. Then I’ll make you. Really? How?I’m not certain, but it will be slow and painful. And I won’t leave any evidence.”

“Don’t you do that.” She turned away from the mirror, toward him. “Don’t you dare make a joke. It took a great deal of courage to say what I did. And you don’t have to speak a word in return, but I will insist you be man enough to take it. I won’t have you making light of my feelings, or making light of yourself—as if you’re not worthy of them. Because you are worthy, Colin. You’re a generous, good-hearted person, and you deserve to be loved. Deeply, truly, well, and often.”

“This Sir Alisdair fellow.” Her cheeks blushed crimson. “I’m just saying, he’s likely older than Francine. And less attractive.” “I don’t care! I don’t care if he’s ancient and warty and leprous and hunchbacked. He would still be learned, intelligent. Respected and respectful. He would still be a better man than you. You know it, and you’re envious. You’re being cruel to me to soothe your pride.” She looked him up and down with a contemptuous glare. “And you’re going to catch flies in your mouth, if you don’t shut it.” For once, Colin found himself without words. The best he could do was take her advice and hoist his dropped jaw.”

“We have the oddest conversations.” “I find this conversation more than odd. It’s positively shocking.” “Why? Because I understand the principle of a logarithm? I know you’re used to speaking to me in small, simple words, but I did have the finest education England can offer a young aristocrat. Attended both Eton and Oxford.”“Yes, but . . . somehow, I never pictured you earning high marks in maths.”

“I never thought Greek philosophy could make a damn bit of sense to me. And most of it didn't, but those words just seemed right. 'Love is composed of a single soul, inhabiting two bodies.'" He took her by the shoulders drawing her close. "It rang true for me, in a way nothing else did. Whatever soul I had, Katie, I think I placed it in your keeping twenty years ago. And now, it's as if...every time we kiss, you give a little piece of it back.”

“this native people he lived with, deep in the jungle—their language had dozens of words for rain. Because it was so common to them, you see. Where they lived, it rained almost constantly. Several times a day. So they had words for light rain, and heavy rain, and pounding rain. Something like eighteen different terms for storms, and a whole classification system for mist.” “Why are you telling me this?” His touch skimmed idly down her arm. “Because I’m standing here, wanting to give you a fitting compliment, but my paltry vocabulary fails me. I think what I need is a scientific excursion. I need to venture deep into some jungle where beauty takes the place of rain. Where loveliness itself falls from the sky at regular intervals. Dots every surface, saturates the ground, hangs like vapor in the air. Because the way you look, right now . . .” His gaze caught hers in the reflection. “They’d have a word for it there.”

“So I will just tell you I love you. I love you, Bram. I want everyone to see it, and I want you to know . . . you’re a part of this place now. No matter where duty takes you, Spindle Cove will always be here for you. And so will I.” He put both arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. “You beautiful, brazen thing.” Then he went silent, just holding her gaze for what seemed like eons. Nerves multiplied in her stomach with every passing second. She swallowed hard. “Don’t you have anything else to say?”“ ‘Hallelujah’ springs to mind. Beyond that . . .” He brushed a caress down her cheek. “Does this mean that if I proposed marriage to you right now, you might not make that twisty, unhappy face?” “Try me and see.”