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“I know it’s selfish,” he said, his hand cupping hers tighter, “but I’m not giving you up.”

Leo leaned forward, until she was bracing her forearm against his chest. “I wouldn’t allow you to.”

Jasper nudged her forearm aside, removing the barrier between them, and pulled her flush against him. Leo reveled in the hard planes of his chest and abdomen against her softer curves. As she kissed him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers raking into his hair, Leo determined that she could spend hours like this, luxuriating in his kisses, consuming the spice of whisky on his tongue.

However, as his hands—had they always been so large? his palms, so warm?—coasted to the small of her back, to her hips, and then lower to the seat of her skirts, the keen ache of desire came rushing in. Jasper felt it too; he shifted on the bed, trying to press her closer to him.

Leo gasped for a breath of air as she broke from his lips, and at her resistance, Jasper went utterly still. He kept his arms locked around her but pulled back to look into her eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said, his breathing ragged. His hand returned to a prim spot on her back. “I was overzealous.”

“No. You were perfectly zealous,” she replied, with a light laugh and hot cheeks. She again braced herself against his chest with her forearms. The barrier gave her room to sort her muddled thoughts. “We should probably…not be here. In your bedroom. Together.”

Jasper formed a sly grin. “Are you worried I won’t remain a gentleman?”

Leo blushed. “Not at all. It’s only that if we were to…” Her tongue suddenly fell useless. It wasn’t like her to stumble over words, even when they were forthright.

Jasper’s sly grin stretched wider. He whispered, “Become lovers?”

She grew hot under his steady gaze. “Yes. That. I worry you might feel beholden to propose marriage.”

Abruptly, he sat up, which forced her back, into a fully seated position. He was no longer smiling. “Beholden?”

“Obligated,” she explained.

“I know what beholden means, Leo,” he said, then cocked his head. “Have I given you the impression that I don’t wish to marry you?”

“I…” She blinked. “Well, no.”

He’d confessed love, though not the specific intent to ask for her hand.

Jasper, with unvarnished confusion, added, “We are courting, are we not?”

“We are. But courtships can end,” she pointed out, remembering well the moment she’d learned that he’d called off his courtship with Constance Hayes. The release of a tight coil deep in her chest had been liberating. She now knew it had been envy giving way.

“Yes, they can.” Jasper reached for Leo’s hand. “But not this one. Leo, I have every intention of making you my wife.”

A torrent of pleasure coursed through her, nearly drowning in its ferocity, and she forgot how to breathe.

His eyes searched hers. “If you would have me.”

A smile trembled to her lips. “Jasper, are you proposing marriage? Right now?”

He matched her grin and kissed her fingertips. “That is exactly what I am doing. Will you marry me, Leonora Spencer?”

A spring of tears pricked the corners of her eyes, blurring his handsome face. In the months since she’d come to realize the irritation she felt for Jasper Reid, the provoking exasperation, and the ceaseless, frustrating thoughts of him, was, in fact, love and attraction, Leo had allowed herself to muse, just a little, on what this moment might feel like. The reality was better than anything she could have imagined.

Overcome, she was unable to blink back the tears before a few slipped down her cheeks. “I can think of nothing more wonderful than calling you my husband.”

Jasper grinned, his pride like a beam of pure starlight. He dragged her closer, but this time, he lifted her over him and laid her on the bed. Turning onto his uninjured side, he braced himself on an elbow and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

“It may be greedy, but I would very much like to hear you say yes,” he said.

Leo laughed. “Yes, I will marry you, Jasper Reid.”

Several minutes later, after indulging in his kisses and grazing hands, Jasper rested his forehead against hers. “Stay with me tonight.” At Leo’s mild flinch—she didn’t know if it was nervousness or anticipation—he reassured her of his intentions. “Just sleep next to me. Let me hold you. I’m practically an invalid anyhow,” he said with a glance toward his bandaged side. He then winked at her. “Not to worry, however. I’ll make a miraculous recovery as soon as I am your husband.”

Leo let the tension out of her shoulders and legs, and sank deeper into the pillows, delighting in the comfort of his arms surrounding her. She didn’t have to try to fix this moment into her memory. It would preserve itself, in all its glittering perfection.