Oliver nodded and clapped him on the back. “Again, friend, thank you.”
“I should think you’ve every right to swoop into the fray and take her away.” Gus nodded to Emmeline with a twinkle of pride in his eye.
Oliver smiled. “I can wait. This is one time I shouldn’t pull her out of the crowd.”
Emme said something to Isla, who nodded and looked around. Isla spied Oliver and Gus and then whispered back to Emme, whose head whipped up. She followed Isla’s pointing hand and locked eyes with Oliver. With a quick murmur to Isla, she shoved a pen and some paper in her cousin’s hands and limped her way through the crowd to Oliver.
He met her at the edge of the throng and pulled her gently into his arms, clasping her to him and spinning her slowly in a circle. Her arms squeezed tightly around his neck, and he heard her breath catch.
“Oliver. I love you.” She lifted her head, and he still held her close at eye level. “I love you.” Her tears fell freely. “I thought you were dead. And then I thought I was dead. And all I could think was that you had died not knowing I love you. I never said it, and I am so sorry.” She held his face in her hands and kissed him through her tears, heedless of the crowd around them. Her actions drew a few whistles and cheers, and she laughed and kissed him again.
“I have a confession,” he told her. “I knew you loved me. In fact, I believe you have loved me for months. Long before I became your bodyguard.”
She rubbed her nose against his. “Hmm. I will admit to finding you moderately attractive, even when you were my worst enemy. Of course, I told myself you were hideous, but there are some things one eventually cannot deny.”
He smiled. “I have another confession.”
She raised one brow. “Oh?”
“Yes. The very first moment I saw you, refusing to exit a PSRC carriage, I thought you were the most stunning woman I had ever seen.”
“Truly? I find that highly unlikely.”
“No, it is a fact. Prettiest by far. And then the loudest.” He grinned as she put her hands in his hair and lightly pulled.
As the revelry continued around them, he walked a short distance to a bench near the archway and set her down gently, then sat next to her.
“I swore that when I found you, I would never let you go again. So I don’t care that we aren’t in a quiet spot, all alone and romantic.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she put hers around his neck.
“Oh!” She straightened and unfastened a glass heart pin attached to her bodice. “I entrust to you, Detective-Inspector, my heart.” Her eyes filmed again, and she laughed, tipping her head as though feeling self-conscious. Her lip trembled, and she bit it impatiently, a light frown creasing her brow. “My own heart of glass, gifted from our dear friend, and now from me to you. I’ve never been anything but transparent with you, Oliver, and I hope you see in my heart the admiration and adoration I hold there for you.” She paused and sniffled, then whispered, “This heart is quite fragile, you see, and I want you to realize how incredibly vulnerable I feel in handing you possession of it. But truly,” she continued, her voice unsteady, “I believe it was only ever meant to be yours.” She gently fastened the pin to his dusty, tattered lapel.
He clasped her hand and pressed it gently to the spun-glass heart, which rested against his chest. “And you must know by now that I am meant to be yours—mind, body, and soul. It has only ever been you, Emmeline.” He thumbed away a tear from her cheek. “It is fitting,” he continued, “that I ask you this in a crowd full of people celebrating the advancement of shifter rights, considering we first met at a similar event.”
She tipped her head, a smile glinting in her eyes. “Oh? And what are you going to ask me? Here in this crowd of people.”
“Emmeline, will you marry me?” He cleared his throat past the lump that had suddenly formed.
“Absolutely, I will.” Her eyes were soft and bright. “I love you. I will love you forever.”
“Then marry me tonight.”
She blinked. “Tonight?”
“Now.”
“Now?” She paused, eyes wide. “Right now?”
“We almost died today. Multiple times. In fact, over the last several days, we have repeatedly faced death. If this trend continues, we’ll be gone by morning, and I want at least a few hours as your husband.”
“Do not even tempt fate!” She frowned. “You do have a point, though. But we cannot just get married on the spot.”
“Certainly, we can. We’ll go to Gretna Green; it’s not far at all. Or, we are surrounded by dignitaries and more than a few heads of state, all of whom are enamored of you and would likely be delighted to perform the ceremony.” He paused, aware of the role reversal. He was rarely, if ever, impetuous. “If you would rather a more formal engagement, I will impatiently wait until we return home.”
She laughed. “When have I ever been enamored of formality? My friends and family are already here, but the only one I care to have in attendance is you.” She looked at him, stilled, and took a quiet breath. She released it slowly and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Lysette told me you were dead. I was so afraid. I think I shall be afraid of the dark forever.”
He’d wondered how long it would be before she would tell him what had happened after Lysette took her from the lodge. They hadn’t had a chance to talk, and while he prided himself on being a patient, rational sort, he wanted to wring Lysette’s neck with his bare
