Page 58 of Til Death Duke Us Part
“They gave me my dowry, the one I should have had when I married Percy. And it’s mine. My hypothetical future husband cannot touch it. I don’t have to marry at all. It’s simply… mine. I’m a wealthy woman.”
He did stagger a bit, then, even though he rested against the dirt wall. “Do you mean all this time, this entire week and a half we’ve been rolling in bed together, I could have simply married you and been done with my troubles?”
She winced. “It’s true. But you could have accepted my parents’ offer. And you didn’t tell me about Peabottom.”
“We promised not to talk. But we’ll talk now. We’ll talk always. I want to know about every urchin you lift out of poverty.”
“And I want to know about every alchemist you partner with.”
He smiled so wide, and it looked like how she felt—brimming with light.
“Your parents really made you an heiress?” he asked with a little huff of laughter.
“Yes. I am so wealthy, I could keep you now.”
He popped away from the wall and took one tiny step toward her, enough to bring him so close the smallest inhalation would sway her into his arms.
“Can I keep you?” he asked, voice low, pulling her in like a silken spider’s web.
Her breath hitched, and she put a palm on his chest. “I’m afraid you’re not wealthy enough to afford me. How about we keep each other. In our hearts instead of in our pockets.”
“Pockets aren’t deep enough for us, I think. Only hearts will do.”
She was going to swoon, but his arm banding about her waist kept her upright.
“Marry me, Persephone. You can have my bathtub.”
“That tub is already mine.”
“We can haggle over it in the marriage negotiations.”
“That’s quite the proposal. Trying to withhold from me what is already mine.” She sniffed. “It does not incline me to agree.” But her heart was grinning, dancing.
“Do you want pretty words from me?” He pulled her closer, and oh it felt just right. “These are the prettiest words I have. I would rather lie in this very grave and wait for death than spend another day without you. I would rather the soil fill my lungs and muffle my screams than not know what you look like when you wake up each morning or hear the sounds you make when you fall asleep each night.”
“I do not make sounds.” She laid her hand against his heart.
“You do. Little grunts and snorts and wheezes.”
“You’re very rude for a man who wants to marry me.” But she was smiling. And she couldn’t stop.
He nestled his cheek against hers. “I would rather do any horrible thing in the world than not have you as my wife. Because everything outside of that is torture, love.”
“You… love me?”
“I do love you. Probably enough to make other people’s stomachs turn. I want to look at you with dancing eyes, even though my eyes never dance. And I want to hold your hand, no matter who’s looking. If I were outside of myself, looking at myself, I would likely gag.”
She tapped his shoulder. “You’re being rude again.”
He nuzzled the side of her nose. “In short, I love you with so much of myself, there’s nothing left over that is not shaped by you, shaped by needing you. Now, will you marry me or not?”
“I suppose so.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she went up on toe and kissed him.
He kissed her too, and it felt like coming home. It felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket by the fire. It felt like finally finding where you were supposed to be your entire life.
“But I am going to finish digging this grave.” She broke from the kiss. It was fine to do so. There would be so many more kisses in the future.
“I would expect nothing less.” He leaned back against the wall. “You’re terribly stubborn.”
