“Thank goodness for that,” Hugh said when he finally let her go. “I was going to wait—have an excellent meal, you know, lull you into a false sense of security with tons of champagne—but then I realized I’d be far too jumpy to eat more than two mouthfuls unless I found out right away.”

Sophie laughed; for the first time in ages, she felt utterly light and free. “I agree. I couldn’t have managed a mouthful. And I’m starving.”

“Ah.” Hugh slapped his forehead. “The ring—the bloody ring! I drove like the devil to Cork to get it, and I was so overwhelmed I forgot to even get it out.” He fished the small leather box from his pocket and opened it. “I hope you like it.”

Sophie looked down. The ring took her breath away. It was a beautiful emerald-cut canary diamond, a rich buttery yellow, flanked by two icy-clear white trillions, set in twenty-four-karat gold.

“Yellow diamonds suit you, I think,” Hugh said. “Because wherever you go, you bring sunlight.”

She was dumbstruck.

“If you don’t like it . . .”

“No—no, I think it’s the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen.” Sophie held out her left hand and he slipped it onto her finger, feeling as though he was claiming, for himself, the only prize that would ever matter. “It’s beautiful. It’s unusual. It will always remind me of you.” She kissed him on the lips. “And it sparkles.”

Hugh had an arm around her; they were lying comfortably together on a red-damask Queen Anne chaise longue, one of his favourites, in his bedroom, watching the glowing embers of the fire. “I can’t believe I’m engaged.”

“Regretting it already?” Sophie smiled up at him. God, she was beautiful, he thought, so full of life, and warmth. And still stylish, even after a long walk, and a bath, and dinner.

“Never.” He paused. “I surprised myself, and yet—it doesn’t seem shocking. It seems like a perfect fit. We’ve only known each other a short while . . .”

“On paper.” Sophie shrugged. “But I feel so used to you.”

“Used to me?”

“You know what I mean,” she insisted.

“So what happens, now?”

“First, we have to tell Tom.” A shadow passed across her beautiful face, but Hugh could see that she was still determined; he had no doubts about that now. She was solidly his. “And then we’ll go to my priest, Fr. Sabin. He’ll instruct you, and do the wedding. They usually make you wait six months.” She glanced at him. “Maybe I can speed things up. . . .”

Hugh kissed her gently on the lips, forcing himself to keep it light, although every muscle in his body wanted to reach out and take her to himself.