Then she stopped breathing. The book was huge, bound in red Morocco leather with gilt borders. “These are not Colleen’s drawings.”

She had to remind herself to breathe as she lifted the heavy cover to reveal an elaborate frontispiece with copperplate lettering. “I think maybe we found … my God, Peach. I need to sit down.” She lowered herself to a stool. “What if we found The Birds of America?”

“An Audubon book, you mean. Cool.”

“No. I mean, yes. I always thought it was a family legend, for sure. But then we found Colleen’s journals, and now this …”

“Looks vintage,” said Peach. “And it’s in good condition. Think it’s collectible?”

“That would be an understatement. It’s not an Audubon book. I think this might be the Audubon book.”

“That’s a damn big book,” Peach said, nuzzling her neck.

The nuzzling sent a frisson of warmth through her, but she stayed focused on the large volume on the bench. “It’s printed on double elephant folio paper. That was the largest available at the time of printing. Audubon wanted the drawings to be life-size.”

She opened to the middle of the book. The hand-colored print of a pair of sage hens bore the artist’s signature precision and delicacy, the caption printed in ornate style. “It took him something like ten years to publish this in the 1830s. If this is what I think it is, it’s … God, I’m scared to say. The two most recent sales were for about ten million.” She nearly choked on the amount. “I need to call Tess.”

“There’s something we need to do first.” He started nuzzling again.

“Now? Seriously?” she said, wavering between desire, amusement, and urgency. She stood up and turned in his arms and he kissed her, deeply and tenderly.

“Seriously.” He sank to one knee, and she grabbed him, thinking he’d fallen. Then he looked up at her, and she nearly fell.

“Peach—”

“It would probably be smarter to wait, but when it comes to you, Natalie Inga Harper, I’m not smart.” He pressed his lips to her hand. “Listen. You might have just won the lottery—or not. Maybe it’s El Dorado. Or maybe it’s fool’s gold. So I’m asking you before we know the answer. That way you’ll know I’m asking because I love you and I want forever with you, no matter what.”

Again she said, “Peach—”

He stood up. “I want to marry you. I’m asking you to marry me.”

The ridiculous words shook her. Tears blurred her vision, and yet she laughed. He always made her laugh. And something inside her knew that he always, always would. “You’re crazy,” she said.

“Maybe. Yeah,” he agreed. “And you’re going to love that about me, I swear.”

She already did love that about him. “But, Peach—”