When Seth’s calloused fingers hit silk, he knew what the sock held. Only one thing felt so fine, other than Abigale’s lips against his own.
But the quality of the moss-green scarf set him back. He unfolded the large square, its paisley pattern contrasting light against dark, but all in the same soft green. Feeling Abigale’s eyes on him, he looked up to find her brimming with expectation.
Slowly, he doubled the scarf at opposite corners, laid it against his throat, and crossed the ends behind his neck. Then watching her all the while, he brought the corners back around and tied them in a flat knot known to cattlemen and cowboys.
Her lips curved in a soft smile.
“Thank you,” he mouthed across the noisy room.
She smiled more fully, pleased by his pleasure.
He nodded toward the matching wool sock she held.
Uncertainty clouded her features, and his heart lurched to his throat. But when she reached inside and stopped short, he crossed the room and dropped in his customary fashion to sit at her feet.
“Abigale Rebecca Millerton, you’re the most beautiful, frustrating, determined, take-my-breath-away woman I’ve ever met. You’ve had my heart since you insisted on shimmying down the wrong side of Aspen Falls and I thought I’d lose you.”
A small laugh escaped, and her hands trembled as she drew out the cotton handkerchief edged with tiny blue forget-me-nots, corners gathered in a knot around his hopes.
He covered her hands with his and pushed up to one knee. “Will you be a rancher’s wife? This cowboy’s bride? Will you marry me and share my home and let me share your dreams?”
Her eyes shimmered and she blinked. “Why, Seth Leopold Holt, you do have a poet’s heart. And yes, I will marry you. On one condition.”
Air fled the room, not to mention his lungs, and at what must have been his stunned expression, she laid her hand against his cheek and leaned over until they were eye to eye.
“If you teach me how to sit down like you do in one fluid motion.”
In spite of his family looking on, he kissed her. Right there on the mouth in front of the good Lord and his little sister. Then he drew back just enough to whisper, “Deal.”
Realizing she hadn’t opened her gift, he dropped back to the floor. “Go ahead. Finish.”
She untied the loose knot and gasped at what lay tucked inside.
He picked up the finely etched gold band and lifted her left hand. “This was my grandmother’s ring. I’d be honored if you’d be the next Holt woman to wear it.” Pausing, he looked into her eyes. “Will you?”
She puddled up but his hands were full, and he couldn’t wipe the tears from her cheeks.