Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(86)

Roman laid his hand over his heart. “In my defense, Iris, I knew you were reading this here letter in the trenches and I thought it wasn’t the best of times for my blundering confession.”

“Understandable. Now, please continue.”

“Gods, where was I before I interrupted myself?”

“You’re only six lines in, Kitt.”

He found his place and continued to read, and Iris savored the sound of his voice. She closed her eyes, his rich baritone turning the once silent words into living, breathing images. She had always wondered what Carver looked like, and now she saw him. Long fingers dancing over the keys, eyes blue as a midsummer sky, black tousled hair, a pointed chin, a teasing smile.

Roman’s voice faltered. Iris opened her eyes, gazing into the sultry haze of late morning. Slowly, he continued, “I’ve wanted to get it right for weeks now, but the truth is I didn’t know how and I’m worried what you might think. It’s odd, how quickly life can change, isn’t it? How one little thing like typing a letter can open a door you never saw. A transcendent connection. A divine threshold. But if there’s anything I should say in this moment—when my heart is beating wildly in my chest and I would beg you to come and tame it…”

He paused.

Iris looked at him. His eyes were still fastened to his typed words until she rose from the dirt, drawing his gaze.

“Is this,” he whispered as she closed the distance between them. “Your letters have been a light for me to follow. Your words? A sublime feast that fed me on days when I was starving. I love you, Iris.”

Iris took the paper from him, folding it back into her pocket. She knew what she wanted, and yet if she thought about it too much, she might ruin everything. The fear that this might shatter was nearly overwhelming.

As if sensing her thoughts, Roman reached out, guiding her to straddle his lap.

She was wonderfully, unbearably close to him. Their faces were level, their gazes aligned. His heat seeped into her and she shifted on his thighs. She gripped his sleeves, as if the world was spinning around them. He made a sound—a slip of breath—that made her heart race.

“I’ll hurt you, Kitt!” She started to lean back, but he touched her hips, holding her steady.

“You’re not going to hurt my leg,” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry about hurting me.” He drew her closer, closer until she gasped. “Now, before we can proceed with anything else, I have a very important question for you.”

“Go on,” Iris said. This must be the moment. He was about to propose again.

Mirth shone in his eyes. “Were you serious when you told the nurse that you wouldn’t snog me again?”

Iris gaped, and then she laughed. “Is that what you’re most worried about?”

Roman’s hands tightened on her hips. “I fear that once you taste something like that … you don’t forget it, Iris. And now I must see if your words from three days ago hold, or if you will rewrite them with me here, in this moment.”

She was quiet, full of heady thoughts as Roman’s statement sank in. She had never wanted someone so fiercely—it nearly felt like she was falling ill—and she caressed his hair. The black strands were soft between her fingers, and Roman shut his eyes, wholly captive to her touch. She took that moment to study his face, the slant of his mouth as his breaths skipped.

“I suppose I can be persuaded to rewrite those words,” she whispered in a teasing cadence, and he opened his eyes to regard her. His pupils were large and dark, like new moons. Iris could nearly see herself within them. “But only with you, Kitt.”

“Because I excel at writing?” he countered.

Iris smiled. “That, among other things.”

She kissed him—a light brushing of her lips against his—and he was still, as if she had enchanted him. But soon his mouth eagerly opened beneath hers, his hands tracing the curve of her spine. It sent a shiver through her, to feel his fingertips memorize her, to feel his teeth nip at her bottom lip as they began to explore each other.

She touched him in return, learning the broad slope of his shoulders and the dip of his collarbone and the sharp cut of his jaw. She felt like she was drowning; she felt like she had run up the bluff. There was a pleasant ache within her—bright and vibrant and molten—and she realized that she wanted to feel his skin against hers.

He broke their kiss, his eyes glazed as they briefly met hers. He pressed his mouth to her neck, as if drinking in the scent of her skin. His fingers were splayed over her back, holding her close against him, and his breath was warm on her throat.

“Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.”

Iris, heart full of fire, framed his face with her hands. She had never been this close to someone, but she felt safe with Roman. And she had not felt such safety in a long time.

“Iris … Iris, say something,” he begged.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Roman Carver Kitt.”

Roman’s confidence returned, a flicker of a smile. She watched it in his eyes, like stars burning at eventide; she felt it in his body as the tension melted. He wove his fingers into her long, unruly hair and said, “I thought you’d never say yes, Winnow.”