Page 104 of Irish Betrayal
The mother of his child.
The woman he loved beyond reason.
Blair’s smile faded slightly.
“Daniel?”
He realized he hadn't answered.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then the corner of her mouth.
Soft. Unhurried. Familiar.
When he finally pulled back, her green eyes were searching his face.
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you’re plotting something.”
Daniel laughed. She had no idea how right she was.
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me?” She reached for his hand. “Usually.”
His chest nearly cracked open.
Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned across the bed to reach his bedside table.
“Daniel…”
He ignored her suspicious expression and opened the drawer. Inside sat a small velvet box.
Blair froze, her back halfway up the headboard where she’d wiggled when he hadn’t answered.
When Daniel straightened from his reach, he straddled her hips, putting them very close.
Daniel had been nervous hundreds of times, but this was beyond school finals or boardroom sweats—this was sink-or-swim, life-or-death shit.
His palms felt damp.
His heart was hammering.
Which was ridiculous considering he’d negotiated business deals worth millions.
“Daniel,” Blair whispered again.
He took her hands in one of his, not wanting her to interrupt him by speech or sign language.
“You're my best friend.”
Tears immediately gathered in her eyes.
He smiled.
“See? That’s exactly why I didn’t start with something poetic.”
