Barbara Metzger (26 page)

“No, a soldier is not who I am, it was what I did. I can still serve my country with honor, just in other ways. So will you marry me, Miss Delia Croft? I will not get down on my knee again, certainly not inside a horse’s stall.”

Delia smiled back. “Say it, Ty. Say it first.”

“Say it ... ?”

“The words, you great gossoon. Say the words. I swear your tongue will not fall out and the roof will not fall in on us.”

“You mean, I love you? That’s what you’ve been waiting for? But I must have loved you from the instant I fell at your feet. You have not been out of my thoughts or my dreams since, no, not even during my wedding to Belinda. How could you not know that?”

“Oh, Ty, I have loved you for so long, it seems, waiting for you to know your own heart.”

“More like ready to know I had one, I suppose.” He placed his hand between them, over his heart. “I still have none, my dearest Dilly. It belongs to you.”

“Dilly? You do not think I am Delia anymore?”

“Oh, she is much too elegant and refined for a battered old soldier.” He removed a wisp of straw from her hair. “And she would never kiss me in a stable.”

Kiss him she did, with all of her love and dreams and hopes and happiness.

“I take it that is a yes?” Ty asked sometime later.

“Yes, my lord, I would be honored to marry you, to share your name and your daughter and your future, wherever it leads us.”

“Truly you have made me the happiest of men, darling. It would be miracle enough that you love me. Better yet, I shall never have to go through a wretched proposal again. Best of all, I’ll have you by my side for the rest of my life.”

Which, of course, required another kiss to seal their pledge.

The horse got tired of waiting for his reward. He stuck his head over the stall door and snorted.

Ty looked over at those big brown eyes, then down into Delia’s green ones. “You never told me, my love. What possessed you to go into Diablo’s stall?”

“Why, so you could save me, of course!”

“But you could have been killed, you fool! Everyone knows he hates men.”

Delia reached over and stroked the horse’s velvety nose. “But he loves women. Especially the one who rescued him from that traveling circus.”

Not a debt, but a dedication:

to Edith, Lady Layton,

whose heart was as big as ... her dog.

I miss her still

Copyright © 2002 by Barbara Metzger

Originally published by Signet  (ISBN 0451205863)

Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.