He imprisoned her hands in his. “If it isn’t Don Manuel who is it?”
She knew her eyes had failed her, that they had told him too much. An agony of shyness drenched her from head to foot, but there was no escape from his masterful insistence.
“Will you let me go ... please?”
“No—not till you tell me that you love me, Valencia, not till you’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
He plunged forward, an insurgent hope shaking his imperturbability.
“Is it yes, dear? Don’t keep me waiting. Do I win or lose, Valencia?”
Bravely her eyes lifted to his. “I love you with all my heart and soul. I always have from the first. I always shall as long as life lasts,” she murmured.
Swept away by the abandon of her adorable confession, he caught her in his arms and drew her to him. Close as breathing he held her, her heart beating against his like a fluttering bird. A delicious faintness overcame her. She lay in his embrace, wonderfully content.
The dewy eyes lifted again to his. Of their own volition almost their lips met for the first kiss.