asking her to marry him this very moment. As soon as she cut the cake, he took her outside."
Elyse, ebullient, followed after her mother. "I can do it, I know I can," she said, more to herself than to her mother. "I am going to be Mrs. Michael Blake."
Verena surely hoped so. She did not relish the thought of moving to the poorhouse.
* * *
Halsey Blake had found the red Georgia clay to be especially good for scuppernongs—the golden-green grape native to the South and named for the Scuppernong River in North Carolina. He had designated several acres for a vineyard but had so liked the green twining leaves and the fragrance of the grapes that he wanted to have a few vines closer to the main house. He had an arbor built, with latticework on the sides and top, and the vines grew hearty and secured themselves. The result was a lush tunnel of green leading to a gazebo overlooking the river. It was a private place, almost secret, for servants were not allowed to go there, only the gardener from time to time to prune. Olivia Blake did not venture there, fearing the garden spiders that liked the coolness of the arbor. But Michael and Jacie loved it, making it a special point of rendezvous, and it was there that Michael took her to propose.
Nature could not have gifted them with a more perfect night. Violin music wafted from the terrace as a full moon cast its silvery glow on the dark waters beyond. A gentle breeze set the draping fronds of the surrounding willow trees to dance in the cool night air scented with the sweet fragrance of gardenias and roses.
For long moments, Michael held Jacie close in the magical setting. Finally he said, "It's as if we're all alone in the world. I wish it could always be this way. Happy birthday, my darling."
"I can't remember one happier," Jacie said, not about to admit she had never experienced any kind of celebration before. Her mother never marked holidays because, she said, one day was no different from another.
"Did you like the cake? I had one of the best chefs in Atlanta come here to bake it."
"Everything was wonderful, Michael. It was like something out of a fairy tale."
"It is a fairy tale," he said fervently, "and you are a fairy princess. But I'm going to make you a queen. Oh, Jacie, you just don't know how much I love you. You can't possibly know, but one day you will...." His words melted into a kiss as his mouth claimed hers.
She clung to him, enjoying the touch of his mouth against hers but feeling all the while strangely empty inside. Where was the voice Mehlonga had told her about, why couldn't she hear it? Michael was so good, so kind, everything a woman could want. Why couldn't her heart cry out with love for him?
She could feel his breath quickening, and his tongue parted her lips to plunge inside and meld against her own. Feeling a little wave of panic that he might be losing control, she broke free then to push him away and suggest, "We should get back to the party. Our guests will think we're rude."
"Not until I've given you this," he said, taking the necklace, which was wrapped in a square of pink satin, from inside his coat. He unfolded the satin slowly, watching Jacie's face all the while.
At the sight of the gems, so dazzling in the moonlight, Jacie cried, "Oh, Michael, I've never seen anything like it! It's the most beautiful present in the whole world."
He held the necklace up to her face and tenderly proclaimed, "No, it isn't. You are. And I was right. The amethysts pale next to your eyes." He fastened it around her neck as he told her how he had designed it himself, and that the lavender stones had come all the way from Brazil.
Though grateful and impressed to the tips of her toes, Jacie could not help blurting, "But it must have cost a fortune."
"I had to outdo my other gifts," he bantered. "Let's see. I believe the first present I ever gave you was on your sixth birthday. I carved a slingshot for you, and then you shot me with it and gave me a black
Elyse, ebullient, followed after her mother. "I can do it, I know I can," she said, more to herself than to her mother. "I am going to be Mrs. Michael Blake."
Verena surely hoped so. She did not relish the thought of moving to the poorhouse.
* * *
Halsey Blake had found the red Georgia clay to be especially good for scuppernongs—the golden-green grape native to the South and named for the Scuppernong River in North Carolina. He had designated several acres for a vineyard but had so liked the green twining leaves and the fragrance of the grapes that he wanted to have a few vines closer to the main house. He had an arbor built, with latticework on the sides and top, and the vines grew hearty and secured themselves. The result was a lush tunnel of green leading to a gazebo overlooking the river. It was a private place, almost secret, for servants were not allowed to go there, only the gardener from time to time to prune. Olivia Blake did not venture there, fearing the garden spiders that liked the coolness of the arbor. But Michael and Jacie loved it, making it a special point of rendezvous, and it was there that Michael took her to propose.
Nature could not have gifted them with a more perfect night. Violin music wafted from the terrace as a full moon cast its silvery glow on the dark waters beyond. A gentle breeze set the draping fronds of the surrounding willow trees to dance in the cool night air scented with the sweet fragrance of gardenias and roses.
For long moments, Michael held Jacie close in the magical setting. Finally he said, "It's as if we're all alone in the world. I wish it could always be this way. Happy birthday, my darling."
"I can't remember one happier," Jacie said, not about to admit she had never experienced any kind of celebration before. Her mother never marked holidays because, she said, one day was no different from another.
"Did you like the cake? I had one of the best chefs in Atlanta come here to bake it."
"Everything was wonderful, Michael. It was like something out of a fairy tale."
"It is a fairy tale," he said fervently, "and you are a fairy princess. But I'm going to make you a queen. Oh, Jacie, you just don't know how much I love you. You can't possibly know, but one day you will...." His words melted into a kiss as his mouth claimed hers.
She clung to him, enjoying the touch of his mouth against hers but feeling all the while strangely empty inside. Where was the voice Mehlonga had told her about, why couldn't she hear it? Michael was so good, so kind, everything a woman could want. Why couldn't her heart cry out with love for him?
She could feel his breath quickening, and his tongue parted her lips to plunge inside and meld against her own. Feeling a little wave of panic that he might be losing control, she broke free then to push him away and suggest, "We should get back to the party. Our guests will think we're rude."
"Not until I've given you this," he said, taking the necklace, which was wrapped in a square of pink satin, from inside his coat. He unfolded the satin slowly, watching Jacie's face all the while.
At the sight of the gems, so dazzling in the moonlight, Jacie cried, "Oh, Michael, I've never seen anything like it! It's the most beautiful present in the whole world."
He held the necklace up to her face and tenderly proclaimed, "No, it isn't. You are. And I was right. The amethysts pale next to your eyes." He fastened it around her neck as he told her how he had designed it himself, and that the lavender stones had come all the way from Brazil.
Though grateful and impressed to the tips of her toes, Jacie could not help blurting, "But it must have cost a fortune."
"I had to outdo my other gifts," he bantered. "Let's see. I believe the first present I ever gave you was on your sixth birthday. I carved a slingshot for you, and then you shot me with it and gave me a black
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