He nodded. “Ours, I hope.”
Oh. Oh, this man.
The air went out of her. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You did say you wouldn’t mind a wedding in the middle of a field. Just so long as you loved the man you were marrying.”
And she did love him. She loved him so much, it hurt to breathe.
She cast a glance at Piers, who’d only just caught up. “You knew,” she accused him. “You knew the whole time. You truly are devious.”
The man shrugged. “I did owe you a wedding, after all that.”
“Believe me, you don’t know the half of his deviousness,” Rafe said. “We’ve been working on this for weeks now. He helped plan everything.”
Piers said, “That’s the duty of the best man.”
The two shared a look of fraternal conspiracy. If Clio hadn’t been so overjoyed to see them getting along as brothers, she would have tweaked their ears for torturing her this way.
“But what about prizefighting? The championship?”
“I’m not done with fighting,” Rafe said. “But Bruiser’s been negotiating with Dubose’s second. We might decide we can make more money with an exhibition.”
“An exhibition?”
“A series of them, more like. Champion versus champion. They’d be real fights, but legal ones. Conducted in proper arenas. With more rules and gloves, so it’s less dangerous.”
Clio liked the sound of this. “And would this series of exhibition fights need a sponsor? An up-and-coming brewery, perhaps?”
“It just might.” He cocked his head, indicating the nearby inn. “Now, go on. Daphne and Phoebe are inside with your flowers and gown. The wedding breakfast is waiting, too. Bruiser planned it, so brace yourself for the worst. But I did personally arrange for the cake.”
“What kind of cake?”
He leaned close and nuzzled her ear. “All the kinds of cake.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Clio, you are the match of my life. You’re the one who challenges me, who meets me blow for blow. Leaves me reeling and wanting more. You push me to be better. I want to spend the rest of my life doing the same for you.” He took her hand and slid the ring on her finger. “Marry me. In a field. In front of all these people.”
She looked at the ring on her finger, emeralds sparkling in the midday sun. Then she lifted her gaze to his, staring into those bold green eyes, full of fierce, unwavering love.
She put her hand in his. “What are we waiting for?”
Epilogue
Several months later
Could that be him?
From her perch in her sitting room at Twill Castle, Clio leaned close to the glass and stared hard through the window.
A cloud of churning dust appeared at the end of the drive, and as it neared the castle, the cloud transformed into a bay gelding with a dark, enigmatic rider.
It couldn’t be anyone else.
As he pulled his mount to a halt in the drive, she louvered the windowpane and waved to him.
He raised a hand in greeting. “I’ll just put up my horse.”
Goodness, he’d been gone for three whole days, visiting taverns and inns to secure their custom. Did he really mean to keep her waiting a half hour more?
As he started to head for the stables, she called out to him. “For once, let the grooms do it? I have something for you upstairs.”
“Well, then.” He made a suggestive bow. “As my lady commands.”
She bounced on her toes with impatience as his slow footfalls climbed the stairs.
“The room’s this way,” she called out. “Don’t get lost. Follow the sound of my voice.”
She was only teasing. After residing several months in the castle, Rafe did know his way to the bedchamber. In fact, since their honeymoon, they’d worn a deep path. She would need to replace the corridor carpet soon.
When he reached the doorway, he fell against the doorjamb, as though reeling from the sight of her.
A little smile crooked his lips as he looked her up and down. “Well, this is a fine welcome home.”
“I have a surprise for you,” she said, pulling him into the antechamber of their suite. “Three surprises, actually.”
“My day gets even better.”
She led him toward an elegant table for two, laid with the castle’s finest china, silver, and crystal.
“Now for the surprises. Here’s the first.” She whisked away a cloth to reveal an oaken cask, ready to tap. “The first official brewing of Champion Pale Ale. Are you ready to taste it?”
“Hell, yes.” His grin widened. “That’s brilliant.”
“Don’t say that yet. It might be terrible. But at least I feel a bit more certain that the second surprise will be tasty.” She removed a shining silver dome from its platter, revealing an iced toffee-nut cake. “What’s a beer without cake?”
“In this house?” he asked. “A sorry excuse for a beer.”
“Indeed.”
“You said there was a third surprise,” he said.
“There is. But it’s best if it waits until we’re done with these two.”
Sitting down to the table, Clio cut them each a thick slice of cake. Rafe hammered the tap into the cask and pulled two glasses of ale.
“I’m nervous,” she confessed, taking hers.
“The color is good.” He held it up to the light. “Not cloudy.”
There was only one way to judge. She gathered her bravery and lifted her glass. “To Champion Ale.”
“To Champion Ale.”
Their glasses clinked in a toast. Then they each took a cautious sip.
Followed by pensive silence.
“It’s . . . not bad,” he said, at length.
She laughed. “It’s not grand yet, either. But it’s only our first attempt. This needs to cellar a bit longer, and next time we’ll tweak the recipe.” She sipped the beer again. “Actually, the more I drink, the better it tastes.”
“Funny how that works.”
When she lifted her beer again, he reached out and stopped her from drinking.
“Wait,” he said. “Are you certain it’s healthy?”
She frowned into her glass. “It might not be the best ale in England—yet. But I’m fairly sure it’s not poisonous.”
“No. I mean, healthy for the . . . you know.”
She blinked at him. “I truly don’t.”
“Don’t play innocent. The third surprise, remember? I have a suspicion what it might be.”