’Tis the Season for a Diamond - Chapter 4

Giorgios

She’s so perfect, lying there naked on my sheepskins in front of the fire, and every bit as beautiful as my fantasies of her. The firelight turns her skin rosy and picks up auburn highlights in her chestnut hair. The green glinting in her hazel eyes always turns vivid after sex, and it’s bright emerald now.

It’s been too long since I’ve held her in my arms, and I wanted her too much to make it last. But the fact that she’s here, that she hasn’t simply turned around and walked away, indicates that maybe she wants to stay.

That maybe, she even wants to be my wife.

‘Marry you?’ she echoes in disbelief.

Her shock is fair. No commitment was always what I wanted, a temporary reprieve from my day-to-day life. We never talked about marriage, kids, or settling down. I never thought I’d even want that. But she makes it seem not only possible, but vital to my wellbeing.

‘I love you,’ I say. ‘I want a life with you.’

She looks up at me, her gaze sharpening, narrowing. ‘But you told me that you didn’t want—’

‘I know what I said. And like I told you, I was wrong.’ I brush a curl back from her forehead. ‘The future has always seemed bleak to me, and I didn’t want any children to be part of that. I didn’t think love could change it, either. But…with you I discovered hope and happiness, and I thought that maybe love does change things after all, because it changed me. You changed me. And maybe children—our children—could change the world, make it a better place to be.’

The look in her eyes softens, then becomes searching. ‘I’m sorry you had to see the things you did. That must have been awful.’

‘Yes,’ I say, because there is only honesty left for me now. ‘It was. But as a soldier there’s not much you can do to help. Which is why nowadays I give a lot of money away to charities that help civilians in conflict zones.’

She lifts a hand to my face and runs a light finger over my cheek. ‘You should have told me about all of this. I wouldn’t have judged you or looked at you any differently, you have to know that.’

‘I’m sorry that I didn’t.’ I let her fingers trace the line of my jaw. ‘Trust is…difficult for me. But I should have trusted you.’

‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘You should have. Then again, I didn’t fight when you walked away in Singapore. I let you go without a word and I should have been braver. I should have told you that I loved you then.’

Everything inside me stills. I never took her feelings for me for granted, and so when our night in Singapore ended and she didn’t protest, I thought it was because she wanted it to be the end, too. But maybe I’ve been wrong about that, too.

‘You love me?’ I don’t want it to sound like a demand, but it comes out like one all the same.

Her mouth curves as she traces the line of my lower lip with her fingertips. ‘Did I say that?’

‘Little tease,’ I growl, turning to nip at the tips of her fingers. ‘You know you said it.’

‘I think it’s only fair to tease you,’ she says, still smiling. ‘Especially when you lied to me.’

‘Fair,’ I say. ‘Say it again.’

Her smile fades into something more serious and intense. ‘I love you, Giorgios Cristou. I’ll love you till the day I die.’

The thread of hope that has been winding around me since I took her down onto the sheepskins pulls tight. ‘Then give me an answer,’ I say. ‘Will you marry me or not?’

Her smile returns, mischievous and just a little wicked. ‘Perhaps,’ she says. ‘But only if I get a proper proposal.’

A fierce, powerful emotion surges through me, part joy, part passion, part anticipation. I shift off her, then grab one of the cashmere blankets from the couch and wrap her up in it. I pull on my jeans and hold out a peremptory hand.

‘Bossy,’ she murmurs, but takes it anyway, and I lead her over to the Christmas tree, silver ornaments sitting in its green boughs. ‘Do you remember when we met?’ I ask her. ‘It was a Christmas event then, too.’

Her face lights up suddenly. ‘Oh, of course it was. And the tree—’

‘Had silver decorations,’ I finish. ‘The same decorations that are decorating this one.’

She looks at the tree, then at me, and I can see tears in her lovely eyes. ‘Oh, Giorgios,’ she says softly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Yes, you do.’ I go down on one knee before the tree, still holding her hand. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’

Her cheeks are pink and she blinks furiously, but I know they’re not tears of sadness. ‘Yes,’ she says huskily. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

So I take the ring from my pocket, because after all, I’m a meticulous man, and if I’m going to ask a woman to marry me, I have to have a ring. Then I slide it onto her finger.

It’s an emerald, for the green glint in her eyes.

Then I get to my feet and pull her into my arms. ‘Merry Christmas, Sylvie,’ I say.

She smiles up at me, joy lighting her up. ‘Merry Christmas, Giorgios.’ Then she rises to her toes and kisses me, and I feel as if my life has truly started.

And our future has begun.