“I’m only an island gentleman, Libby. I have enough of a living to keep you in microscope slides, though I don’t imagine we’ll be able to travel the world. If you marry me, your brother says there will be no money from him. But if you marry me, I will devote my life to bringing joy to all your days. It isn’t a decision you should make lightly or quickly, so don’t feel as though you must—”

“Yes!” She reached into the hole and clutched his hand, trapping the ring between their palms. “I don’t care about the money or the travel or any of the rest. I only need you. The islands. Your family and mine and all our neighbors.”

“My Libby.” He moved his hand under hers, and in the next moment the ring was slipping onto her fourth finger.

She tore her gaze away from his enough to glance at it again. “It’s beautiful.”

“Alexandrite. As rare as you.” Their fingers still entwined in the hole, he leaned over the stone. And kissed her.

She let her eyelids flutter closed and reached up to cup his cheek with her free hand. “I love you, Oliver,” she whispered against his lips.

“And I love you, Elizabeth.”

“And that’s enough kissing until the wedding.” Bram stepped into view farther along the path, near where the small back gate let the Tremaynes in and out so frequently, his gleaming eyes belying his stern tone. He must have known Oliver’s plan, to have positioned himself so nearby. “Which should be planned for quite a while from now. I’m thinking a year’s betrothal. Perhaps two, given how short a courtship you had.”

“Bram, really.” But she didn’t much care how long the betrothal was. A day, a year, a decade—whatever the length, she’d get to pass the time knowing this man loved her. Knowing that she would be his. That she’d found her home, here where the islands knew her name.

Oliver came back around, letting go of her fingers only long enough to step to her side and then catching them in his again.

Her brother stepped to her other side and nudged her into a walk. “Well, we need time to get you a proper trousseau. Sort out how much of your dowry you’ll need and how much we should, perhaps, set up in trust for future children. Because really, I don’t think you could possibly spend it all here.”

Oliver’s brows pinched. “But you said—”

Bram laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Is he always so gullible?”

“No.” She squeezed Oliver’s hand, pulling him along with them. “He always sees straight to a person’s soul.”