"Go ahead and look, then," he said brusquely.
It was harder than it should have been to pick up the inoffensive little box, but I didn't want to hurt him again, so I tried to keep my hand from shaking. The surface was smooth with black satin. I brushed my fingers over it, hesitating.
"You didn't spend a lot of money, did you? Lie to me, if you did."
"I didn't spend anything," he assured me. "It's just another hand-me-down. This is the ring my father gave to my mother."
"Oh." Surprise colored my voice. I pinched the lid between my thumb and forefinger, but didn't open it.
"I suppose it's a little outdated." His tone was playfully apologetic. "Old-fashioned, just like me. I can get you something more modern. Something from Tiffany's?"
"I like old-fashioned things," I mumbled as I hesitantly lifted the lid.
Nestled into the black satin, Elizabeth Masen's ring sparkled in the dim light. The face was a long oval, set with slanting rows of glittering round stones. The band was gold-delicate and narrow. The gold made a fragile web around the diamonds. I'd never seen anything like it.
Unthinkingly, I stroked the shimmering gems.
"It's so pretty," I murmured to myself, surprised.
"Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful." I shrugged, feigning a lack of interest. "What's not to like?"
He chuckled. "See if it fits."
My left hand clenched into a fist.
"Bella," he sighed. "I'm not going to solder it to your finger. Just try it on so I can see if it needs to be sized. Then you can take it right off."
"Fine," I grumbled.
I reached for the ring, but his long fingers beat me there. He took my left hand in his, and slid the ring into place on my third finger. He held my hand out, and we both examined the oval sparkling against my skin. It wasn't quite as awful as I'd feared, having it there.
"A perfect fit," he said indifferently. "That's nice-saves me a trip to the jeweler's."
I could hear some strong emotion burning under the casual tone of his voice, and I stared up at his face. It was there in his eyes, too, visible despite the careful nonchalance of his expression.
"You like that, don't you?" I asked suspiciously, fluttering my fingers and thinking that it was really too bad that I had not broken my left hand.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said, still casual. "It looks very nice on you."
I stared into his eyes, trying to decipher the emotion that smoldered just under the surface. He gazed back, and the casual pretense suddenly slipped away. He was glowing-his angel's face brilliant with joy and victory. He was so glorious that it knocked me breathless.
Before I could catch that breath, he was kissing me, his lips exultant. I was lightheaded when he moved his mouth to whisper in my ear-but his breathing was just as ragged as mine.
"Yes, I like it. You have no idea."
I laughed, gasping a little. "I believe you."
"Do you mind if I do something?" he murmured, his arms tightening around me.
"Anything you want."
But he let me go and slid away.
"Anything but that," I complained.
He ignored me, taking my hand and pulling me off the bed, too. He stood in front of me, hands on my shoulders, face serious.
"Now, I want to do this right. Please, please, keep in mind that you've already agreed to this, and don't ruin it for me."
"Oh, no," I gasped as he slid down onto one knee.
"Be nice," he muttered.
I took a deep breath.
"Isabella Swan?" He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. "I promise to love you forever-every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"
There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, "Yes."
"Thank you," he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the ring that was now mine.
21. TRAILS
I HATED TO WASTE ANY PART OF THE NIGHT IN SLEEP, but that was inevitable. The sun was bright outside the window-wall when I woke, with small clouds scuttling too quickly across the sky. The wind rocked the treetops till the whole forest looked as if it was going to shake apart.
He left me alone to get dressed, and I appreciated the chance to think. Somehow, my plan for last night had gone horribly awry, and I needed come to grips with the consequences. Though I'd given back the hand-me-down ring as soon as I could do it without hurting his feelings, my left hand felt heavier, like it was still in place, just invisible.