be my primary, and my most passionate, concern.'
Her chin lifted slightly, but she made no answer.
Vane felt his face harden. 'Will you marry me, Patience?' The question was soft, yet steely. 'Will you be my wife?'
Patience drew a deep breath, and forced herself to hold his gaze. 'I thank you for your offer. It does me more honor than I deserve. Please accept my heartfelt regrets.' Despite her conviction, a last, small, desperate hope had clung to life in her heart, but his words had slain it. He'd said all the right things, the accepted things, but not the one important thing. He hadn't said he loved her; he'd made no promise to love her for all time. She drew a difficult breath and looked down, at his fingers lightly holding hers. 'I do not wish to marry.',
Silence-absolute and compelling-held them, then his fingers, very slowly, slid from hers.
Vane drew a not entirely steady breath, and forced himself to step back. The conqueror within him roared- and fought to reach for her, to haul her into his arms and take her, storm her castle and force her to acknowledge that she was his-only his. Fists tightly clenched, he forced himself to take a different tack. Slowly, as he had once before, he circled her.
'Why?' He asked the question from directly behind her. She stiffened; her head rose. Eyes narrowed, he watched one golden curl quiver by her ear. 'I think, in the circumstances, I'm entitled to know that much.'
His voice was low, sibilantly soft, lethally restrained; Patience shivered. 'I've decided against marriage.'
'When did you make this decision?' When she didn't immediately respond, he suggested, 'After we met?'
Patience wished she could lie. Instead, she lifted her head. 'Yes, but my decision was not solely an outcome of that. Meeting you simply clarified the matter for me.'
Tense silence again descended. He eventually broke it. 'Now how, precisely, am I to take that?'
Patience sucked in a desperate breath. She tensed, and would have whirled to face him, but his fingers on her nape, just the lightest touch, froze her.
'No. Just answer me.'
She could feel the heat of his body less than a foot away, sense the turbulence he held leashed. He could let the reins fall at any minute. Her wits whirled-giddiness threatened. It was so difficult to think.
Which, of course, was what he wanted-he wanted her to blurt out the truth.
Swallowing, she kept her head high. 'I have never been particularly interested in marriage. I've grown used to my independence, to my freedom, to being my own mistress. There's nothing marriage can offer me that I value as highly that would compensate me for giving up all that.'
'Not even what we shared in the barn this morning?'
She should, of course, have expected that, but she'd hoped to avoid it. Avoid facing it. Avoid discussing it. Avoid tarnishing the silver and the gold. She kept her chin high, and quietly, evenly, stated, 'Not even that.'
That, thank heaven, was true. Despite all she'd felt, all that he'd made her feel, all that her body now yearned for, having felt the power of that gold and silver emotion-love, what else could it be?-she was even more sure, even more certain, that her course was right.
She was in love with him, as her mother had loved her father. No other power was as great, no other power so fateful. If she made the mistake of marrying him, took the easy road and gave in, she would suffer the same fate her mother had, suffer the same lonely days and the same endless, aching, soul-destroying, lonely nights. 'I do not, under any circumstances, wish to marry.'
His fury escaped him; it vibrated around her. For one instant, she thought he would seize her. She only just stopped herself from whirling and stepping away.
'This is
Patience swallowed, and pressed her lips tightly together. She didn't want to discuss this morning-not any of it-but she listened. Listened as he used the golden moments to flay her, used the silvery delight like a lance to prick her to say yes.
But to agree would be stupid-after having been warned, having seen what would happen, to knowingly accept misery-she'd never been that witless.
And it would be misery.
That was borne out as she listened, listened carefully, as he reminded her, in graphic detail, of all that had passed between them in the barn. He was relentless, ruthless. He knew women too well not to know where to aim his barbs.
'Do you remember how you felt when I first slid inside you?'
He went on, and desire rose, flickering about her, within her. She recognized it for what it was; she heard it in his voice. Heard the passion rise, felt it, a tangible force as he appeared again beside her, looking down into her face, his features craved granite, his eyes burning darkly. When next he spoke, his voice was so deep, so low, it grated on her skin.
'You're a gentlewoman, born and bred-the position, the requirements, are in your blood. This morning you spread yourself for me-you wanted me, and I wanted you. You gave yourself to me. You took me in-and I took you. I took your maidenhead, I took your virginity-what innocence you had, I took that, too. But that was only the penultimate act in a script carved in stone. The final act is a wedding.
Patience met his gaze steadily, although it took all her will. Not once had he spoken of any softer emotion- not once had he alluded to even the existence of love, let alone suggested it might live in him. He was hard, ruthless-his nature was not soft. It was demanding, commanding, as unyielding as his body. Desire and passion were his forte; that he felt both for her was beyond doubt.
That was not enough. Not for her.
She wanted, needed, love.
She had long ago promised herself she would never marry without it. She'd spent the hour before dinner staring at a cameo portrait of her mother, remembering. The images she'd recalled were still vivid in her mind-of her mother alone, weeping, lonely, bereft of love, dying for want of it.
She lifted her chin, her eyes steady on his. 'I do not wish to marry.'
His eyes narrowed to grey shards. A long minute passed; he studied her face, her eyes. Then his chest swelled; he nodded once. 'If you can tell me this morning meant nothing to you, I'll accept your dismissal.'
Not for an instant did his eyes leave hers; Patience was forced to hold his gaze while inside, her heart ached. He'd left her no choice. Lifting her chin, she struggled to draw breath-and forced herself to shrug as she looked away. 'This morning was very pleasant, quite eye-opening, but…' Shrugging again, she swung aside and stepped away. 'Not enough to commit me to marriage.'
'
Swinging back to face him, Patience saw his fists clench-and sensed the battle he waged not to touch her. She immediately lifted her chin. 'You're making too much of it-you, of all men, should know ladies do not marry all the men with whom they share their bodies.' Her heart twisted; she forced her voice to lighten, forced her lips to curve lightly. 'I have to admit this morning was very enjoyable, and I sincerely thank you for the experience. I'm quite looking forward to the next time-to the next gentleman who takes my fancy.'
For one instant, she feared she'd gone too far. There was something-a flash in his eyes, an expression that flitted over his face-that locked her breath in her throat. But then he relaxed, not completely, but much of his frightening tension-battle-ready tension-seemed to flow out of him.
She saw his chest rise as he drew breath, then he was coming toward her, moving with his usual predatory grace. She wasn't sure which she found more unnerving-the warrior, or the predator.
'So you liked it?' His fingers, cool and steady, slid under her chin and tipped her face up to his. He smiled- but the gesture didn't reach his eyes. 'Perhaps you should consider the fact that if you married me, you would have the pleasure you experienced this morning every day of your life?' His eyes locked on hers. 'I'm perfectly prepared to swear that you'll never want for that particular pleasure if you become my wife.'
Only desperation allowed her to keep her features still, to stop them from crumpling. Inside, she was weeping-for him, and for her. But she had to turn him from her. There were no words on earth to explain to him- proud descendant of a prideful warrior clan-that it was not in his power to give her the one thing she needed to
