She pulled him close, then went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “No, you didn’t. I like to hear those words, especially from you. Ah, James, I do love you so.”
He smiled, kissed the tip of her nose, felt her burrow in even closer. “I see where your thoughts are, Corrie. I believe I am ready. I don’t need any lunch even though I have been working very hard all morning and my ribs are bumping against my chest. No, if you must have me right this minute, I will sacrifice myself. I am yours.”
Corrie Sherbrooke grinned like that masked smuggler whose identity hadn’t yet been discovered, and hooked a leg behind his knee, sending him to the ground.
“It’s not at all too cold for this,” she said once she was lying on top of him. “I would have thought it was, not above a minute ago, but not now, James.”
“That’s because you’re on top. Come along, Corrie, I won’t be able to do my very best with my back frozen to the ground.”
Douglas and Alexandra Sherbrooke watched their son and his wife racing across the lawn toward the gazebo.
Douglas said, “It’s too cold.”
“They’re young. The last thing they need is more heat,” said his wife as she hugged him. “I’m very glad that your grandfather built that gazebo. I wonder, do you think he was young once?”