“You’ve thought this all through.”
“I have, yes. Certain aspects are, of course, negotiable.” He studied the glass drop again before slipping it into his pocket. “There is one, however, that is not.”
“And that would be?”
“Exclusivity again, Maggie, in the form of a marriage contract. A lifetime term with no escape clauses.”
The fist around her heart squeezed all the tighter. “You’re a hard bargainer, Sweeney.”
“I am.”
She looked out to sea again, the ceaseless rush of water, the indominable rock, and the magic they made between them. “I’ve been happy alone,” she said quietly. “And I’ve been unhappy without you. I never wanted to depend on anyone, or to let myself care so much I could be made unhappy. But I depend on you, Rogan.” Gently she lifted a hand to his cheek. “And I love you.”
The sweetness of hearing it swarmed through him. He guided her palm over his lips. “I know.”
And the fist, so tight around her heart, loosened. “You know.” She laughed, shook her head. “Oh, it must be a fine thing to always be right.”
“It’s never been a finer thing.” He lifted her off her feet, spun her around once before their lips met and clung. The wind swooped down, ribboned around them, smelling of the sea. “If I can make you unhappy, Maggie, then I can make you happy as well.”
She squeezed her arms tight around him. “If you don’t I’ll make your life hell. I swear it. God, I never wanted to be a wife.”
“You’ll be mine, and glad of it.”
“I’ll be yours.” She lifted her face to the wind. “And glad of it.”