I open the lid with trembling fingers. I’m not sure why this makes me nervous. Keenan isn’t a sentimental man, so gestures like this bear greater weight. In the box is a slim golden necklace, and at the very center, the Dara knot.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, drawing the slender, delicate piece of jewelry out of the box.
He takes the necklace from my palm and unfastens the clasp. “It locks, lass. Won’t come off unless I remove it myself.”
“A collar, then?”
His brows rise in surprise. “You know?”
I nod. “You collared me once with a thicker, clumsier sort of thing. But Megan told me about them.”
He snorts. “Of course she did.” Then he sobers, and his face once more takes on a bit of a boyish look. “Will you wear it, Caitlin?”
He botched the proposal and the Martins botched our wedding. This feels like a chance at redemption, a chance to make our union right.
I lift my chin and look him straight in the eyes. “Absolutely. Put it on.”
His booming laugh startles me, echoing off the cliffs that overlook the sea.
“I love you,” he says softly when he’s finished laughing. He yanks me to his chest so hard I can hardly breathe. “I love you.”
“And I love you. Now please stop squashing me to death,” I say, my grinning face smashed up against his hard chest.
He lets me go, but not before he kisses my forehead. “Let’s go,” he says, getting to his feet and taking my hand. I rise with him, and he gives me a playful smack on the butt.
“So how will you take this off if necessary?” I ask him.
“I’ve got the key.”
I smile to myself. He does. He owns the key to my collar and the key to my heart.
We walk hand in hand back to the house, the sea at our backs, and a lifetime before us.