The Silver Fox and the Red-Hot Dove (23 page)

“And when you were eighteen …” Her throat closed. She stared at him, waiting.

“I was home temporarily, getting ready to leave for college. It was the first time I realized how violent my parents had become toward each other. Throwing things, screaming at each other. One night I came home from a party and … found them. There was a gun.” She saw a muscle flex convulsively in his throat. “Both of them. Dead.”

Elena sat up and put her arms around him. “How could anyone accuse you?”

“There was never any serious case against me, not even an indictment, just lurid newspaper articles and a lot of gossip about the bitterness in the family. The coroner’s report made it clear that no third party was involved in what happened.”

Audubon hugged her hard and said with strained lightness, “So that’s the sordid story of my family. Honestly, it won’t hurt my feelings if you double-check the details.”

“I’ve already seen the proof. I declare you innocent. Case closed.” She sat back, wiping her eyes. “And now I understand why you don’t think much of the idea of marrying and having a family.”

The old memories faded from his eyes. His expression gentled so much that she became very still, almost enchanted. “I was afraid
you
wouldn’t think much of marriage—at least not in connection with me—after hearing my story.”

Under the solemn flannel, her heart began to race. “I remember a discussion once about bookstores, dogs, and cats. Marriage was mentioned briefly, but it never stood a chance.”

“Bookstores, dogs, cats, marriage, children. It all goes together in my mind.”

“But you have a very manipulative mind, dear man.”

“But I thought you’d learned to enjoy that about me, dear woman.”

“Is this a marriage proposal?”

“I’ve never been involved in one before, but, yes, I believe that’s what it is.” Growing serious, he took her face between his hands. “Elena, please marry me.”

“Please kiss me.” He did. “Yes.”

“Please say yes again, and dress it up.”

“I love you with every bit of my heart, and I’ll make flowers bloom for you as long as I live.”

“Nice,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “Very nice dressing up.”

Much later, in the quiet, she reminded him that he’d promised to tell her his full name. He smiled against her lips. “I promise to tell you on your eightieth birthday, when all of our children and grandchildren are gathered around to hear. It should be a dramatic moment.”

She laughed softly. This fox would always be sly. Still, she wouldn’t mind the wait.