“This is our ride.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Ahola, buenos dias, Signor Sinclair,” an older Mexican man appeared from around the side of the vessel. He was dressed in a sharp white uniform and captain’s hat. “Welcome to Cuatro Vientos, I am your captain, Oscar.”
I looked over at Sinclair in mute excitement as Oscar led us onto the deck. He grinned at me as we toured the massive ship, taking in the open concept gallery complete with a small grand piano and a gorgeous lacquered mahogany bar the same rich color as Sinclair’s hair. There was a master bathroom with an ensuite that housed a deep Jacuzzi as well as four other rooms for sleeping and three bathrooms. The kitchen was small but beautifully appointed and currently stocked to the brim with fresh produce and copious amounts of alcohol. There were two men already steering the boat out of the harbor from deep leather chairs and they took a moment to explain some of the finer equipment to Sinclair when he leaned forward like an eager boy to examine the many panels of tech.
“This is amazing,” I breathed as we finally emerged into the open air of the top deck.
The ocean spread out before us, an azure blue unblemished by a single white cap. The sun spilled fistfuls of glitter across the glossy surface like a trail for us to follow into the sunset. My heart seized at the sight, at the thought, because it invariably led me to think about my own happily ever after with Sinclair. Was this it?
I turned back to face him with my heart in my eyes, disorientated when I found him on the ground before me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, deeply puzzled.
His smile was dazzling, fully realized across his hard features. It was so beautiful, from the square edges of his white teeth to the pink stretch of his full lips and the manly crease that cut into his cheeks, that I lost my breath.
“I have never been so happy,” he said, echoing my words from earlier that morning. I was distracted by the way the breeze ruffled his overlong hair, how it painted the dark brown with glittering copper and brilliant reds. That was my excuse for not noticing the way his hands cupped a velvet box the way a man might have cradled a baby, with reverence, joy and a considerable amount of worry.
“Giselle, my siren,” he said, drawing my attention back to his face. “Come here to me.”
I breached the few feet between us and stared down into his face, cupping it tenderly with one hand. I still wasn’t used to touching him, to the fact that I was not only allowed but also encouraged to.
“Elle,” Sinclair’s voice was amused as he once again drew my attention back to what he was saying.
“Mmm? I’m sorry, I’m overwhelmed by how beautiful you look.” I blushed and rushed on to explain, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being with you. It’s impossible not to touch you, not to love you like this.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat that was practically a purr. “If you were paying attention to me, you would understand that I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life loving me like this.”
My eyes were drawn down to his hands as they presented me with a deep blue velvet box. I was gasping before it was even flipped open to reveal the most gorgeous ring I had ever seen. The large oval sapphire glowed like a midnight sky filled with lightening, glowing from the facets, and the exact color of Sinclair’s beloved gaze. A thin halo of diamonds surrounded the gem and encased the slim platinum band. My fingers shook as I reached forward to touch the ring, to test its reality.
“What’s happening?” I breathed, too shocked to be embarrassed.
“I am asking you to be my wife. I am trying to claim you in every conceivable way so that there will never be any doubt in your mind, in mine or anyone else’s that Daniel Sinclair and Giselle Moore were made to be together and that they will remain together for the rest of their lives.” He watched the tears begin to spill down my face and his eyes warmed, his features softened with a vulnerability that only his love for me could produce. “I told you at our first meeting that I was afraid you would change my life and you have. Elle, you have taken everything I ever knew and threw it into brilliant perspective with your generous soul and beauty. I have never felt more like a man, more complete and successful, full of fucking life, as I have with you.”
“But,” a huge rush of air flew past my lips as I struggled to make sense of this, “you don’t believe in marriage.”