Page 136 of Four Promises to Love

“It can’t be,” Finn whispered.

Yet her blood thrummed with recognition.

I know you. We are the same. Fruit from the same tree.

She felt Rose touching the pendant and that vibrating connection.

You’ve never been truly on your own.

The truth soared through her like a hymn, drowning out the doubts of a lifetime. She saw the old parts of herself with devastating clarity: the orphan who belonged nowhere and had no one; the girl worth less than a tin heart; the woman who didn’t feel worthy of love.

Then they, too, vanished like ghosts.

For she had roots. The tin heart was proof. Most of all, she had love.

I have everything.

“Sweet heavens,” Gigi breathed. “Finn is Rose and Thomas’s descendant!”

“Do you like it this way, love?” Owen rasped.

Taking Finn’s sensual mewl into the pillows as an affirmative, he plowed her harder. This was the first time he’d put her on her hands and knees, and he was thrilled that she was enjoying the position. He traced his gaze over the graceful curve of her spine. The sight of his tanned hands gripping her pale bottom and his cock spreading her pink petals filled him with primal delight. The slap of her pert cheeks against his lap set his blood afire. She’d spent already, and he wanted to feel it again—to feel her possession of him even as he possessed her.

“I cannot get enough of you,” he said hoarsely.

“Then take more.” She arched her back, taking him deeper. “Give me more.”

Grunting, he pounded into her snug sheath. She moaned, pushing back onto his shaft, squeezing him with her velvety heat. Pressure churned in his stones, his prick stiffening past the point of no return. Reaching under, he found her pearl, fingering her as he thrust. The slippery friction made her tighten around his pistoning cock, and he knew they were both at the precipice.

He stretched over her, growling, “Give me your mouth, love.”

She did, and he captured her lips, swallowing her cries as she came and pouring his own groans down her throat. Sighing with satisfaction, he flopped onto his back, pulling her atop him. He held his beloved close as they exchanged sweet nothings and tender kisses. With Finn’s head resting on his shoulder, her limbs tangled with his, there was no other place he would rather be.

But there was something he needed to do.

“I brought something back from London for you,” he said.

She lifted her head. “You mean besides my pendant and the truth about my ancestry?”

“Yes. I’ll be right back.”

He left to fetch the box he’d hidden nearby. When he returned, Finn was sitting up in bed. With her hair cascading in shiny streamers and her face glowing from the pleasure they’d shared, she could not be more beautiful. He thanked fate again for putting him on that London street all those weeks ago—for giving him a gift beyond his wildest dreams.

Facing his beloved, he went down on one knee.

“Miss Kidd, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

He held out the ring. He’d gone to countless shops looking for the right one. When he saw the deep golden cabochon, he’d known his search was over. He’d designed the gold setting himself, using a floral motif on the mount and modeling the band after a leafy vine.

He heard Finn suck in a breath.

“I thought amber suited you,” he said huskily. “While no stone can rival your eyes, this one came the closest with its warmth and vitality. Amber is the lifeblood of trees, as you are my lifeblood. It preserves life’s magic and reminds us of what is important. See the leaf at the center of the stone? It somehow fell into the resin this way, and now it is immortalized.”

Frozen in amber, the leaf had folded upon itself to form a tiny heart.

“Oh, Owen,” Finn whispered. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful ring.”

“Will you wear it, then? Will you be my wife and my love forevermore?”