purpose toward his room—the master. When I hesitated in the living room, he called to me from down the hall. “Come here for a moment.”
Huh… I trailed after him slowly. By the time I entered his room—which was immaculate, by the way—he was digging a box out of the closet. A beautiful wooden box that was polished and inlaid with different colored wood and mother-of-pearl in patterns. And though it had been in his closet, it wasn’t even dusty.
This dude took clean freak to new levels. Or else his housekeeper was extremely detail oriented. Or both.
Lucas gently set the box on his nightstand with great care. I glanced around his room. I’d been to the house several times before briefly, either fetching something from him, or dropping something off. One time, he’d held a backyard get together for the entire QA department. But I’d never been in this room. The dark wood furniture that appeared to be from the early part of the 20th century seemed to fit perfectly in this house. Either the furniture was antique or well-made copies. Whoever had helped him decorate had done a wonderful job. Immaculate hardwood floors were covered with gorgeous middle eastern rugs. The house was so cozy…. homey.
Two of the bedrooms were completely empty. But this room had dark wood carved furniture and a four-poster cherry wood queen-sized bed with a royal blue and white bedspread. The wide-screen TV attached to the wall opposite the bed and beside the stone fireplace seemed completely out of place.
Through the doorway, I caught sight of a gorgeous marble washroom counter with basins that looked like earthenware bowls. They sat atop the counter and large goose-necked brass faucets arced over them. I also caught a glimpse of the very end of an elegant claw-footed tub. Wow. I’d always thought the house was beautiful but hadn’t had much chance previously to appreciate these details.
Either Lucas or the people who’d lived here before him had put a great deal of work and thought into the restoration of this lovely place.
Lucas paid no attention to my inspection as he sifted with purpose through the wooden box.
“Here,” he finally mumbled as he pulled out a red velvet-covered jewelry box that looked worn and old. He popped it open and looked over the contents, then turned and looked at me, brows raised. He twitched his head, beckoning me over to where he stood.
“I’m hoping it won’t need to be resized,” he added as he reached in and pulled out a ring and held it out to me. Without touching it, I looked it over. It was gorgeous. Just flat out beautiful…not like any jewelry that had been fabricated in this century. It was clearly as antique as the house and furnishings around us. The piece, clearly an old-time engagement ring, had a diamond in the center. It didn’t sit high like modern rings but was recessed. There were tiny triangular emeralds on either side and wrought platinum or white gold worked in a tiny grill and filigree design. The style looked very much like art deco.
“This was my great-grandmother’s wedding ring. It’s from the ‘20s. My grandma gave it to me a while back. I know it’s old-fashioned and all but…” he shrugged.
My mouth dropped. The round diamond at the center caught the overhead light and sparked gorgeous colors from within—red, blue, pink, purple. “Are you kidding? It’s breathtaking.” It was actually the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen.
But I shook my head when he extended it to me. “I can’t—I can’t wear that. It’s too special. It’s a family heirloom.”
His eyes locked on mine and I swallowed. He clearly wasn’t going to take my no for an answer. “You’re my wife, Kat. Take it. It makes sense for you to wear it.”
“We could just go get something at a pawn shop.”
He blew out a breath and laughed. “That won’t work, especially if we’re going to have to convince my family. You’ll just have to wear this.”
I took it from him slowly as if it might vanish, then inspected it closer, studying the intricate filigree work on the side. “Is this… are these shafts of wheat on the sides?”
“Symbols of fertility, I think. These old rings were full of all kinds of symbolism.”
I grimaced. “Well that’s not exactly applicable symbolism here. We need a ring with three-dollar bills or unicorns on it to properly symbolize our marriage.”