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As she stared at him, Annabelle had to admit silently that Kendall was not the kind of man whom she would have had any natural attraction to. On the other hand, she didn’t like pickled herring, either. But if she was starving and someone handed her a jar of pickled herring, she was hardly going to turn her nose up at it.
“Sweetheart, I would take you to the ends of the earth if you asked.”
“But marry me anyway, Annabelle. As I see things, it would solve most of your problems . . . and more than a few of mine.” His big hand slid gently down her spine, calming her tremors. “Let me spoil you,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you. You’ve never had anyone to lean on, have you? I’ve got strong shoulders, Annabelle.”
“Because I realized during the past few days that I can’t leave doubt in anyone’s mind about to whom you belong. Especially not yours.”
“I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years . . . all those winters, summers . . . a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.”
