Chapter 14 - THE LAST STORM
Winter arrived in Boston with a vengeance in late December, blanketing the city in a thick layer of pristine white snow that muffled the roar of traffic and turned the harbor into a frozen sheet of slate gray.
At Ravenscliffe, the fires roared in every hearth.
The estate had changed. The armed guards at the gates were fewer, replaced by a sense of genuine peace that had never before existed within its limestone walls.
Nell stood by the grand front window of the second-floor parlor, watching the snow fall over the iron gates.
She wasn't wearing a maid's uniform anymore. She wore a simple, elegant cashmere sweater in deep emerald green, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. A familiar chest pressed gently against her back, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne filled her senses.
"You're thinking about leaving," Rafe murmured against her ear, his voice a low, warm vibration.
Nell leaned back into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. "I was thinking about how far away South Boston feels."
"It's only twenty minutes down the coast," Rafe said, his arms tightening around her. "Though I don't recommend driving in this blizzard."
"I have nowhere else I'd rather be," she whispered honestly.
Rafe turned her gently in his arms so she was facing him. His gray eyes were no longer cold like a winter storm; they were warm, steady, and filled with a quiet devotion that only she had ever been permitted to see.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box—not a locket, not a weapon, not a ledger.
He opened it.
Inside sat a ring of platinum set with a single, flawless diamond that caught the firelight and threw it across the walls of the room.
"I didn't buy this from a jewelry store in the city," Rafe said quietly, his voice dropping to a rare, vulnerable register. "I had it made from the silver of the locket your father carried on his very first day on the force."
Nell’s breath caught in her throat. She looked from the ring up into his dark, searching eyes.
May you like
"Nell Whitaker," Rafael Santoro said, dropping gracefully to one knee on the Persian rug in front of her. "Will you stay in this house, and in my life, not as a servant, not as a guest, but as my equal, my partner, and my wife?"
THE END OF CHAPTER 14
