Raye Morgan - A Proposal Worth Waiting For - The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever

“Take pictures,” Marge advised. “But don’t try to go down and get close to them. They’re not friendly and just might hurt you if they get mad enough.”

Lyla came to stand next to Torie as they watched the noisy animals complain about their lot in life.

“They remind me of some ladies I lunch with,” Lyla said with a laugh. “Never happy.” She turned to look at Torie. “So, are you and Carl ready to make a bid on this place?”

Torie laughed. That seemed so far from her reality now. “Not yet, I’m afraid. How about you?”

Lyla sighed. “I do love it.” She arched one carefully painted eyebrow. “Now if the son came as part of the estate, I might do some serious thinking about it.”

“You mean Marc?” Torie said, stunned at the thought. “I doubt he’s for sale.”

“Oh no, honey.” Lyla was the one laughing now. “Everybody’s for sale. You just have to find the right price.”

She was still laughing as she started toward the other side of the area, as though she found Torie immensely naive and it really amused her. Torie bit her lower lip to keep from saying something mean, but the encounter didn’t improve her mood.

The incessant barking of the seals was setting her nerves on edge. She turned away from the cliff, shading her eyes and looking back toward the house. As though summoned by her impatience, a large horse appeared, coming toward them.

She stood where she was, transfixed, staring at the approaching animal. And then it got close enough to make out the identity of the rider. Marc, of course.

Marc. She felt as though there was something glowing inside her. She knew he was coming for her. She stood where she was and waited.

“Oh look,” Lyla cried, noticing him too and beginning to wave. “Marc’s got a horse. Oh, I love riding! Marc! Over here!”

As he rode closer, his mother started yelling at him, but he didn’t pay any attention to her. The horse was big and black, a beautiful mare, and he reined her in as he came near, making her walk softly up to where Torie was waiting.

She resisted the temptation to give Lyla a smile, but she had one for Marc.

“Come on,” he said, leaning down and reaching for her hand. “I want to take you to the village. There’s someone there you’re going to want to talk to.”

She reached up to meet him and he pulled her up in front of him, effortlessly. She slipped into place with hardly a wasted move. Marge was still yelling. She looked back and smiled at them all. And then they were off.

They rode along the edge of the cliff, the blue ocean on one side, the stand of tall, green eucalyptus trees on the other. Torie felt glorious. The wind was in her hair, Marc’s hard, strong arm was around her, holding her in place, and the large, wonderful horse was beneath them. The whole scene was magical and she knew she would never forget it. If nothing else, she would always have this.

When she saw the village ahead, she knew the magic would be fading, and she regretted it. If only they could always ride like this...on and on and into the night. This felt like something she’d been born for.

She leaned back and his face was there, near her ear.

“You want to go down by the beach before we go to the village?” he asked her.

She sighed and nodded. “Yes,” she told him. “Let’s do it.”

There was a dirt road down the hill and then a paved road that came in and led to a boat-launching area. The beach was deserted. Sea gulls dove at them, then retreated to a nearby buoy to call at them from a safe distance.

She slid down off the horse and he swung down after her. They stood side by side, staring out to where the waves crashed outside the breakwater.

“Why is the movement of water so mesmerizing?” she asked him.

“I don’t know.” He turned to look at her, eyes hooded. “Maybe something in us wants to return to the sea.”

There was a sense of danger in his gaze that disturbed her and she looked back toward the water.

“When I was a little girl,” she told him after a moment of silence, “I loved The Little Mermaid movie. I would wander around, leaning against the furniture and looking lovesick, singing the Ariel song until everyone around me went mad with it.” She laughed softly, remembering. “They were threatening to tape my mouth shut if I didn’t cease and desist.”

He grinned, looking at her sideways. He remembered hearing her singing in the old days. That must have been why she’d sounded so familiar when she’d sung in the fog. “Don’t tell me you actually caved in.”

She gave him a look of pure cheek. “What? You think I’m a complete narcissist?”

“No. I think you’re stubborn as hell though.”

She laughed and turned toward him, but he was frowning as he studied her face. “You know, I’m starting to remember more about you,” he said. “You were around more than I remembered at first.”

“Or more than you noticed at the time.”

“Was that it?” He shrugged as though he wasn’t convinced. “I know one thing. When I reached down for you at the cliff, and you took my hand and vaulted up in front of me on the horse, I suddenly realized we’d done that before.”

Her eyes widened. Now he was bringing up things she’d forgotten herself. “Oh. Yes! That time I was walking home from the village...”

“And you found a lost dog—a little white one.”

“With the sweetest little black nose.” She grinned. “I was trying to carry him back with me but I had a bag of groceries I’d picked up for my mother and I kept dropping things.”

He nodded, his blue eyes filled with humor. “I must have been about sixteen.”

“And I was about eleven.”

“I was riding Brown Sugar, my favorite Indian pony. I passed you and I think I said ‘hi.’”

“Hah!” She gave him a mock glare. “You didn’t say a word.”

He frowned. “I must have said ‘hey.’”

“No you didn’t. You were much too cool to deign to speak to a little girl like I was.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “I think you’re wrong,” he said, slightly grumpy. “Anyway, I looked back and you dropped your brown paper sack and macaroni noodles went into the air like a bomb had been set off, and the little dog jumped out of your arms and began to bark its head off.”

She winced. Some memories were just too painful. The sense of humiliation she’d felt that day came back to her in a wave.

“So I turned around. By the time I got back to you, you had it all back in your arms, but you looked like you were going to drop everything again any minute. I told you to give me the dog and the groceries.”

“And I thought you were going to ride off with them and leave me there.”

“But I didn’t. I stashed the groceries in my pack and the little dog in my shirt, and then I reached down for your hand.”

She laughed softly, staring off at the blue horizon. “And I felt like Cinderella,” she said.

She remembered that feeling. As though the prince had asked her to dance. She’d been on cloud nine all the way home, even though she knew he wasn’t exactly enjoying it as much as she was. Still, the most handsome boy she’d ever seen was being nice to her—for the moment. It made her whole summer brighter.

“I named him Snowcone,” she mused. “I loved that little dog.”

“Whatever happened to him?”

Her face clouded. “My father insisted on sending a notice to the paper and the real owners showed up three days later.” She shook her head. “I begged him not to do it, but you know what my father was like. Strictly by the rules.”

Marc looked at her speculatively and she raised her chin. She knew it sounded as though she was feeding him her vision of her father’s character, but she didn’t care. It was the truth. He might not know it, so she might as well let him in on it.