To her relief, he smiled. And the haunted look in his eyes lessened. ‘Hardly. And I’m never going to be posh anyway.’
Oh, Dio.
‘Nothing wrong with that. I like you just how you are.’ Now was definitely not the moment to tell him. Because if he was even the slightest bit worried about his background…the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was slumming it.
She’d have to work out the right way to tell him. But there was something else important he needed to know, something far more important than who she was: how she really felt about him. ‘Actually, “like” is probably the wrong word.’ She traced his lower lip with the pad of her forefinger. ‘Volim te, zlato. Ti amo, amore mio,’ she added in her own language.
‘Melinda…’ He paused. ‘No. It sounds wrong.’
‘Try me.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Move in with me.’
‘Move in with you?’ Now, that she hadn’t been expecting.
His eyes were very dark. ‘I told you it sounded wrong. Wrong time, wrong place.’ He grimaced. ‘I wanted to ask you somewhere romantic. “Come live with me and be my love”,’ that sort of thing.’
‘You want me to live with you.’
‘Not just live with me. I thought maybe we could go and talk to Reverend Kenner.’.
She blinked as what he’d just said sank in. ‘You’re asking me to marry you?’
‘If we’d done this my way,’ he pointed out, ‘it’d be somewhere romantic. Not on my bed-of-nails sofa.’
‘If we’d done this your way, it’d be at the crack of dawn and I wouldn’t have had enough coffee to be awake enough to answer you.’
‘So that’s a no, then.’
‘You really want to marry me?’ A man who loved her for herself. A man she loved all the way back.
‘Why are you so surprised? Melinda, you’re like sunlight. You make everything around you seem better. And you make me a better man.’
How, when he was already a better man than she could ever wish for? ‘I…Dragan, I don’t know what to say.’
‘I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I’ll take you home.’
‘Take me home?’ She stared at him, not following his logic. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve upset you.’
‘Upset me?’ She shook her head. ‘How could asking me to marry you upset me? I said yes!’
‘No, you didn’t,’ he pointed out.
‘I didn’t?’ She stared at him. ‘But I…’ Then the penny dropped and she smiled. ‘Ask me again. Properly.’
He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then dropped to one knee in front of her. ‘Take the sunrise as read. We’re on a cliff overlooking the sea and it’s a bright new day ahead.’ He smiled. ‘Melinda Fortesque, I love you. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘Yes. Yes, please.’
He whooped, stood up, then picked her up and spun her round. And then kissed her, hot and sweet and slow. Telling her with his body as well as his mouth that he loved her. ‘I did this all the wrong way round. I should’ve bought you a ring.’ He dropped a kiss on the ring finger of her left hand.
‘It doesn’t matter. We can choose one together.’ She blinked back the tears. ‘Dragan. You really want to marry me?’
He nodded. ‘Though I really should have asked your father for his permission first.’
Her father. Oh, lord. How could she tell Dragan that he’d have to ask the king of Contarini for his permission?
And would he even want to ask her father once she told him who she was? That thing he’d said about being a better man…Would knowing the truth about her background make him want to walk away?
This was getting messier and messier. She didn’t want to lose the man she loved. She couldn’t keep lying to him, but how could she tell him the truth? ‘No need,’ she said quickly.
He frowned slightly, and she flinched inwardly. How tactless could she get? He’d just told her that he’d lost his family—and it would sound to him as if she was dismissing hers. Which she wasn’t…But her family came with complications. Major complications. ‘It’s the twenty-first century and I’m a modern woman,’ she said softly. ‘I can make my own decisions. And I choose to accept your proposal.’ She stroked his face. ‘I would be honoured to be your wife, Dragan.’
‘Then we’ll talk to Reverend Kenner,’ he said. ‘Unless you’d prefer something less traditional?’
‘No. I’d like nothing more than to marry you at St Mark’s.’ The beautiful little parish church with its lych-gate—so different from her own parish church and all that heavy, overpowering gilding. Tourists loved her family church in Contarini, whereas Melinda had always found it oppressive. She much preferred small, quiet, simple English country churches like the one here in Penhally. ‘With all the spring blossom around. Like confetti falling on us—but we can’t have confetti.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because foil isn’t biodegradable and it can choke birds, and the paper sort contains dyes and bleach.’
He smiled. ‘Trust you to know that sort of thing.’
‘I’m a vet. Of course I know that sort of thing.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Dried flower petals are fine. Or the stuff that contains seeds for the birds.’
‘Whatever you want, carissima. So when do you want to get married? Summer?’
‘Spring,’ she said, stroking his face. ‘This spring. Because I can’t wait to be your wife.’ She reached up to kiss him. ‘I love you, Dragan. I really, really love you. I hope you know that.’
‘I do. And I love you, too.’ He held her close. ‘But I do need to buy you a proper ring. I was going to suggest going shopping this weekend, but I’m doing Saturday morning surgery.’
‘Me, too—but I’m not on call in the afternoon. Are you?’
‘No. OK, we’ll go and choose a ring together then. And move your stuff across from the flat to here. If you want to, that is,’ he added diffidently.
‘Of course I want to.’
He smiled. ‘I never knew life could be so perfect.’
‘Me, too.’ There was a definite stormcloud ahead, in the shape of her family—but then again, they’d had to accept that she had the right to choose her job. They’d have to accept that she had the right to choose her own life partner, too. That she’d chosen the man she loved—and that he loved her right back.
As long as Dragan knew she loved him, that who she was really didn’t matter, everything was going to be just fine.
She’d find the right words to explain.
Soon.
CHAPTER THREE
DRAGAN’S estate car wasn’t parked outside the little terraced cottage. It didn’t necessarily mean the doctor was out, Nick thought. It might be that he hadn’t been able to find a parking space on Harbour Road. Although it wasn’t yet peak season, the tourists had already started to trickle into the village.
Nick rapped on the door and waited.
No reply.
So