They broke off, panting, gazing wide-eyed at each other. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. Cupping his lean cheeks between her hands, she poured her sudden joy into another fierce kiss.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I said it too late last time. I love you, and it’s the one truth that’s been in my heart all along.”
His smile was tender. “Tess, I’m sorry I was an idiot. Erica didn’t just set you up; she set me up, too. When Edward Bradford showed up and said all that nonsense, I let my lurking fear that you might not love me overshadow what I knew here.” He moved their clasped hands to the left side of his chest. Beneath his summer suit she felt the solid thump of his heart, a beat steady and true.
“I let you go the night of the wedding because I knew I had to stop being a drunken jackass—I’d been attempting to drown my sorrows steadily all night. Your leaving sobered me up faster than a gallon of Roo’s coffee, so I was able to follow you to the motel, but I still needed to think things through. One thing didn’t need sorting out. It’s this: I love you, Tess. I’m sorry I let you down when Bradford started in on you. I should have kicked him off the premises.”
“Ward, about what Edward Bradford said—”
“Tess, once I could think straight, I realized how it must have been at the hospital. Bradford made it pretty obvious that he never treated you with the respect you deserved. He’s the type of rich man who uses money as a weapon. I bet he was secretly pleased that you took the million.”
She nodded. “I think so, too. It confirmed his opinion of me. Ward, it turns out that David did leave me all his
money. He wrote me a letter telling me that I’d receive his inheritance after his death.”
He looked surprised. “He wrote you a letter?”
“Yes, I’ll show it to you.” She drew a breath. “The letter, it’s not very flattering to him or me. He used me, Ward. He never truly loved me. He even admitted he wouldn’t have married me if he hadn’t realized he was dying.”
“Jesus, what a crappy thing to say. The guy was a fool, Tess.”
She managed a smile. “Actually, I’m glad he said it. At least he was being honest. Our marriage soured so quickly and I couldn’t figure out why. In the letter he justified his behavior, his pushing me away emotionally, as a way of protecting me. I think it would hurt more if I still believed he’d really loved me. The money, too, was just another power play, another manipulation. He claimed his idea in leaving his trust fund to me was so I would be free to pursue my dreams, but I think he also really wanted to anger his parents. Ward, I didn’t marry David for his money. I never expected to inherit his millions. And I refuse to be the pawn in the war he’s waging from the grave. I told the lawyer that I wouldn’t take a cent of the inheritance. I don’t know what will happen to it. I imagine the money will go back to his parents. I kind of hope they choke on it.”
“So you renounced your claim, huh? Oh, well, there goes my secret ambition to marry a wealthy woman.”
Distracted by the warm light of laughter in his blue-green eyes, Tess didn’t immediately recognize the significance of his comment. “You want to marry me?”
His slow, reverent, and endlessly sweet kiss was his first answer. His husky voice gave her the second, no less thrilling one. “Tess, remember our first night together? I woke up the next morning happy. It was a deep-down happy, one I’d never felt before. While I was making coffee
for us, I stared out the window. It was a beautiful dawn. You know how Silver Creek looks on a morning like that. I remember thinking that when Erica broke up with me, my heart had felt good and bruised and my pride battered, but that I’d been basically okay. I still had what really mattered: Silver Creek and all it represents for my family and me.” His expression solemn, he raised his hand and stroked the side of her face. “I didn’t need five days with you gone from my life to know that if I were really to lose you, I would never be the same.”
She caught her breath at his words. Like a balm, they healed the wounds to her heart.
Ward reached into his pocket, drew out a small velvet box, and opened it. The diamond sparkled in the June sun. “This is yours, Tess, just as I am.”
“Oh, Ward, it’s lovely,” she whispered.
“It belonged to my grandmother. Mom and Dad thought you’d like it.” Holding her hand, he sank onto bended knee. “Marry me, Tess. I love you, and I will love you in sickness and health for all our days to come.”
“Yes, yes, and yes again,” she whispered. “I love you so.”
Slowly he lifted the ring from the satin-lined box and slipped it onto her finger.
Her mother’s happy gasp was audible. Tess turned toward her parents. The storm door ajar, they stood on the top step, with wide smiles stamped on their faces. Tess thought that she’d never seen them so happy.
Ward rose to his feet. He kept her hand clasped in his. “Your daughter has agreed to marry me, Mr. and Mrs. Casari.”
“Well, we told you we thought she would,” her father replied, his happiness and approval as thick as his New York accent.
Tess grinned. She’d told Ward enough about her family for him to understand that they were old-fashioned.
So Ward had done it properly, going to her father and mother and asking for her hand before he presented her with a ring. She squeezed his fingers in silent thanks for giving them this.
“Tess and I haven’t ironed out the details, Mrs. Casari, but I can guess that she would like to be married here in New York with you and your friends present, as well as the one person who means so much to you. We’ll do whatever is needed to arrange a ceremony that would allow Christopher to attend.”
Her mother bobbed her head, too overcome to answer, so Tess replied for her.
She turned to Ward and said with a joy she knew to be profound, “This is why I will love you forever.”
He smiled. “That’s all I want.”
To my father
Writing is a lonely occupation. I count myself lucky that with each book I write, the number of people to whom I am indebted grows longer. I owe thanks to John and Julia Hoskins, owners of the Old Bridge Hotel in Huntingdon, UK, for letting me tour their wonderful inn and for answering all my questions about the art of hotel keeping; to Denise Chakoian-Olney and David Olney, for the wonderful stories they’ve shared with me; to my critique partners, Marilyn Brant and Karen Dale Harris, whose suggestions and comments improved this story immeasurably; to my friends and editors at Random House—Linda Marrow, Kate Collins, Gina Wachtel, and Junessa Viloria—I would not know what to do without you; to my agent, Elaine Markson, who is unfailingly wise; to my family, for their ceaseless encouragement. And to Charles, as ever.
Once Tempted
Trouble Me
Believe in Me
Remember Me
In Your Eyes
Night Swimming
Chance Meeting
Ride a Dark Horse