Eclipse - Meyer Stephenie - Страница 70

I had to swallow before I could speak. “You suppose correctly.”

He laughed at my expression. “That’s fine. I’ll get it on your finger soon enough.”

I glared at him. “You talk like you already have one.”

“I do,” he said, unashamed. “Ready to force upon you at the first sign of weakness.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Do you want to see it?” he asked. His liquid topaz eyes were suddenly shining with excitement.

“No!” I almost shouted, a reflex reaction. I regretted it at once. His face fell ever so slightly. “Unless you really want to show it to me,” I amended. I gritted my teeth together to keep my illogical terror from showing.

“That’s all right,” he shrugged. “It can wait.”

I sighed. “Show me the damn ring, Edward.”

He shook his head. “No.”

I studied his expression for a long minute.

“Please?” I asked quietly, experimenting with my newly discovered weapon. I touched his face lightly with the tips of my fingers. “Please can I see it?”

His eyes narrowed. “You are the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met,” he muttered. But he got up and moved with unconscious grace to kneel next to the small bedside table. He was back on the bed with me in an instant, sitting beside me with one arm around my shoulder. In his other hand was a little black box. He balanced it on my left knee.

“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“I supposed it’s a little outdated.”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.