He drew a breath and said the words before caution could silence him. “Marry me, Isolde.”
The proposal sent ripples through the village. Fishermen strung colored flags across the shore, children gathered wildflowers for the altar, and old Madame Fournier baked loaves of honey bread large enough to feed half the coast. For the first time in years, Port-Laurent buzzed with joy.
But joy never comes without trial. On the eve of the ceremony, a lawyer’s call shattered the quiet. Dominic’s mother, the formidable Colette Leclerc, had filed for custody of his children, insisting her son had abandoned wealth and responsibility to live in squalor. Officials would arrive within hours to inspect the household.
When Dominic hung up the phone, Isolde’s face was pale. “Will you marry me because of them, or because of me?”
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