He took a calming breath, but it failed to work. "And if I'd been too late?"

"Well, you weren't, so what's the point?"

"The point is, you didn't trust me."

"The hell I didn't. Who else was I trusting when I stood in that closet and tried to use the ring or whatever connection we had to get you and the feds up there? If I hadn't trusted you, I would've slipped right out the door with the book." She grabbed at his shirt and shook him. "It was because I trusted you that I played it out that way. Staying there, letting them catch me—because I knew I could trust you to back me up. I tried to explain it all to you before. I knew they'd tell me things Devereaux could use, and with the book as a backup, we'd have them cold."

Steadying himself, he turned away. As angry as he was, he saw the truth in that. Perhaps it wasn't the kind of trust he'd wanted, but it was trust. "You could have been hurt."

"Sure. I could be hurt every time I take a case. That's what I do. That's what I am." She swallowed, struggling to clear an obstruction in her throat. "I had to accept you, and what you are. And believe me, it was no snap. If we're going to be… friends, the same goes."

"You may have a point. But I still don't like your style."

"Fine," she snapped back, blinking her vision clear. "Same goes."

At the kitchen window, Camilla shook her head. "He always was stubborn."

"Ten pounds she wears him down." Padrick pinched his wife's bottom affectionately. "Ten pounds and no tricks."

Ana shushed him. "We won't be able to hear."

Mel let out a shaky breath. "Well, we know where we stand anyway. And I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" He turned and was astonished by the tears he saw on her face. "Mary Ellen—"

"Don't. I'm going to get this out." She wiped furiously at the tears. "I have to do what I think is right. And I still think what I did was right, but I'm sorry you're so angry with me, because I… Oh, I hate this." She scrubbed her hands over her face, evading him when he reached for her. "Don't. I don't want you to. I don't need to be patted or soothed, even if I am acting like a baby. You were mad, and I guess I can't blame you for it, or for dropping me cold."

"Dropping you cold?" He nearly laughed. "I left you alone, and well out of harm's way, until I could be certain I could restrain myself from throttling you or present you with an ultimatum you might have tossed back in my face."

"Whatever." She sniffed and regained some control. "I guess what I did hurt you, and I didn't mean it to."

He smiled a little. "Same goes."

"Okay." There had to be some way to finish this with a little dignity intact. "Anyway, I wanted to clear the air, and to tell you I think we did a good job. Now that it's done, I figured I'd better return this." It was hard, one of the hardest things she'd ever done, to pull his ring from her finger. "Looks like the Ryans are getting a divorce."

"Yes." He took the ring back and held it warm in the palm of his hand as he considered her. It wasn't necessary to dip into her thoughts to see that she was suffering. It wasn't particularly noble, but the fact that she was pleased him very much. "It seems a pity." He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "Then again, I much prefer you to her."

She blinked. "You do?"

"Very much. I was beginning to find her a little dull. She'd never argue with me, and she was forever having her nails done." Gently he cupped a hand behind her head and drew her closer. "She certainly wouldn't have been caught dead in those jeans."

"Guess not," she murmured, leaning into him, into the kiss.

She felt herself tremble, felt the tears welling up again as she threw her arms around him. "Sebastian. I need…" She tightened her hold as her lips clung to his.

"Tell me."

"I want—Oh, Lord, you scare me." She drew back, her eyes wet and terrified. "Just read my mind, will you? For God's sake, just look at what I'm feeling and give me a break."

His eyes darkened, his hands moved up to cup her face. He looked, and found everything he'd been waiting for. "Again," he murmured, taking her mouth. But this time the kiss was gentle, coaxing. "Can't you tell me? Can't you say the words? They're the truest magic."

"I don't want you to feel like I'm boxing you in. It's just that

"I love you," he finished for her.

"Yeah." She managed a weak smile. "You could say I blurred the lines. I wasn't going to bring it up, but it seemed like I should. Only fair that I should be up-front. Pretty awkward when you've got a houseful of people."

"All of whom have their noses pressed up to the kitchen window and are enjoying this nearly as much as I."

"Who—?" She spun around, flushed and stumbled backward. "Oh, Lord. Look, I'm going. I really can't believe I did this." Unnerved, she lifted a hand to tug at her hair. And saw the ring back on her finger. As she stared at it, he stepped forward.

"I gave the stone to Morgana. A stone I've treasured most of my life. I asked her to have a ring made out of it. For you. For you," he repeated, waiting until she lifted her eyes to his. "Because you were the only woman I wanted to wear it. You were the only woman I wanted to share my life with. Twice now I've put it on your finger, and both times it was a pledge to you." He held out his hand, offering. "No one, in any time, in any place, will love you more."

Her eyes were dry now, and her nerves were suddenly calm as the day. "Do you mean it?"

His lips curved. "No, Sutherland. I'm lying."

With a laugh, she launched herself into his arms. "Tough break. I've got witnesses." The spontaneous applause from the kitchen made her laugh again. "Oh, I do love you, Donovan. I'm going to do my best to make your life eventful."

He swung her in one giddy circle. "I know." After one last long kiss, he took her by the hand. "Come, meet your family again. We've all been waiting for you."