can’t just go and ask to be reposted back to Middle Wallop.” She tried to keep a straight face, but she simply couldn’t. Had she ever been this happy in her life? She didn’t think so.
“I don’t know how long the 71st will be here,” he admitted, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. “Squadrons move all the time, and there’s already talk that we’ll be reposted elsewhere.” Just the thought of it made his stomach curdle. Her reposting here was a temporary bandage on a hemorrhaging wound, but he was so damned grateful for whatever time they’d have.
“I know.” She turned in to his hand and kissed his palm. “I’m prepared for that.”
“I’m not. These months have been unbearable without you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I didn’t know how much I loved you until I had to wake up, day after day, knowing there was no chance I’d see you smile or hear you laugh, or hell, hear you shout at me.” He’d been incomplete, always thinking of her no matter what he’d been doing.
He’d been so distracted, he was surprised he hadn’t pranged an aircraft, not that he couldn’t fly one of those Buffaloes with his eyes closed.
“It’s been awful,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to his lips, then down the lines of his uniform. “I missed your arms around me, and the way my heart leaps whenever I see you.” She brushed her fingers over his lips. “I missed your kisses, and even the way you tease.”
“Someone has to make you laugh.” He nipped at the pad of her thumb.
“You do that quite well.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t want to spend another month like that, let alone two.”
His face tightened. “How are we going to avoid it in another few months when they decide the 71st is needed somewhere else?”
“Well, I’ve had a thought about that.” Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “But it would require you telling me your thoughts again.” She pressed her lips between her teeth.
He blinked. “My thoughts? I asked you to m—” His jaw dropped. “Scarlett, are you saying…” His eyes frantically searched hers.
“I’m not saying anything until you ask.” Her chest tightened, praying he hadn’t changed his mind, that she hadn’t gambled her entire happiness and dragged her sister across England to be refused.
His eyes flared. “Wait right here.” He stepped back, holding his pointer finger in the air. “Don’t move a muscle.” Then he ran from the room.
Scarlett swallowed and set her knees together, rearranging her skirt. Surely he hadn’t meant those muscles. God knew anyone could have waltzed in.
The mechanical ticks of the clock were her only company in the silence, and she did what she could to steady her heart.
Jameson slid back into the room, his hand gripping the doorframe to make the turn. Then he recovered his balance and shut the door behind him before approaching her.
“Better now?” she asked.
He nodded, nervously jamming his fingers through his hair before dropping to one knee before her and holding a ring between his thumb and forefinger.
She sucked in a breath.
“I know I’m not what you pictured when you thought of marriage. I don’t have a title, or even a country right now.” He grimaced. “But what I do have is yours, Scarlett. My heart, my name, my very being—it’s all yours. And I promise I will spend every day of my life earning the privilege of your love if you let me. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” His brows knit slightly, but there was so much hope in his eyes that it was nearly painful for her to see it, to know she’d made him question what her answer would be.
“I will,” she said, her lips trembling as she smiled. “I will!” she repeated with an excited nod. She now knew what her life looked like without him in it, and she never wanted to feel that loss again. Her job, her family, this war—they’d deal with whatever came together.
“Thank you, God.” He stood and swept her into his arms. “Scarlett, my Scarlett,” he said against her cheek.
She held on tight, letting herself absorb this moment. Somehow, they’d make it last.
He set her down and slipped the ring onto her left finger. It was beautiful, with a solitaire diamond set in gold filigree, and it fit her finger perfectly. “Jameson, it’s gorgeous. Thank you.”
“I’m so glad you like it. I picked it up when we were at Church-Fenton, hoping I could get you