Ryan laughed. “Ah,no. If you believe Miss Marie Loretta Gloria Crewes is open to suggestions, you are not well acquainted with the child, clearly.”
Gabriel considered this. He felt a piece of iron dig into his shoulder, and he reached into the hay and found a wheel bolt. He tossed it aside.
“Also,” she continued, “I’ve made a point not to stalk you about the property. In case you haven’t noticed. Your avoidance of me is very clear. Far be it for me to infringe.”
“I’m not avoidingyou,” he said. “I’m avoiding beingalonewith you.”
She’d been looking at him, but now rolled onto her back and stared at the underside of the wagon.
Gabriel swore and lowered himself beside her in the hay.
“Perhaps we needn’t wait five minutes,” she said. “Go now if you prefer.”
Gabriel thought about this. “Is that what you want?”
“What I want,” she said softly, “is to save myself from another encounter where I feel unwanted.”
“Ha,” he guffawed bitterly; the sound was out before he could stop it. “Unwanted.You feelunwanted. Oh the irony.”
“What does that mean?”
It means that I’ve never wanted anyone or anything like I want you.The sentence took shape in his brain—the absolute truth—but he bit down, refusing to allow the words to leave his mouth. Declaringthis—declaring himself—served no purpose but to hasten heartbreak.
Even so, he couldn’tnotrespond. She was unhappy, and the very last thing he wanted to do was to make her unhappy. The point of keeping away was to leave her no worse than when he’d first encountered her.
He would answer her question with his own question. “You think I don’t want you?”
“I think...” she sighed “...that you have been alone for many years, that you are—if you’ll excuse my dramatic phrasing—‘starved for a woman’s touch.’ I think you are, in a way,primedto seize upon any woman who happens along. I’ve been that woman, both conveniently available and enthusiastically willing. Also, we have this odd history between us. So. Do you wantme, in particular; or would any woman do? Unclear, really, but I’ve learned not to hold my breath.
“Furthermore,” she continued, “I think you’re plunged into guilt by our encounters, and so you vow to yourself that you’ll not indulge again, that you deserve better than passages and libraries—better thanme, when it comes right down to it—and you won’t allow yourself to succumb.That’swhat I think.”
“I’m no virgin,” he said.
“Noted,” she replied.
A stalk of hay stuck from her hair and he wanted to pluck it away. The muted blue of her eyes was almost gray in this light, the color of a stone on the bottom of a stream. He’d known her as an adult for such a short time, he was still learning her face. Also, it was the most familiar face in the world.
“The one thing you gleaned from all I just said,” she asked, “is that I need reminding that you’re novirgin? When I said ‘starved for a woman’s touch,’ I did not mean starved to the point of death. Just to be clear.”
“I never claimed to be gracious or well-versed in the art of conversation.”
“I know, Gabriel,” she said tiredly, “your manners are not courtly—I know. Forgive me, I simply—”
“Allow me to tell you something about life in seclusion.”
She sighed, the sound of someone bracing to be lectured on an obvious topic.
Gabriel pressed on. “I am deeply, painstakingly discerning aboutwhenI leave seclusion, andwhy, and withwhom. Certainly almost no oneentersmy sanctuary.”
“I remember,” she said.
“Not,” he corrected, “thephysicalsanctuary.”
“Oh? I seem to recall being asked to shield my eyes when I was hauled into your camp.”
“Fine,” he ground out, “I’m also particular about the physical sanctuary. My point is, I also guard the sanctuary of my soul. But I allowed you in. I’m preparing to marry you, Ryan.”
“Well, you’re preparing topretendto marry me. Let us not award anyone with medals for emotional courage just yet.”
