He rolled up onto an elbow. She stretched out beside him, as beautiful as the moon and just as remote. “Is it? Truly, Clara?”
She sighed. “I have given you more than I have to anyone else. It’s not just my dowry, but you’ve got my attention, my work, and my body.”
“For as long as I can hold it,” he grumbled. “I am a powerful man, Clara, but even I have limits. I do not want my wife to wander back to London if I spend a day making whisky or a night in rest instead of pleasure.”
“Do you think me that fickle?”
He didn’t know. Her interests were many. How long before one of them took her away from him? “I want a wife.”
“Then you should not have looked at me. I told you I would not marry you.”
How could he not look at her? How could he not want her? “How can you be so stubborn?”
She pushed herself upright, taking her time as she twisted the water out of her hair. And even frustrated with her, he saw the grace in her body that came from strength. She was lanky, angular, and yet so confident in every way that it mesmerized him.
“Clara—”
“It has been one day, Liam. I learned we’d married this morning and I have forgiven you that treachery.”
“I didn’t do it!” he snapped.
“I don’t care,” she retorted. “You have cornered me in every way. You have everything from me. Why do you demand more?”
Because he wanted her commitment. More, he wanted her love. And though he knew she had affection for him, he feared that any one of her intellectual loves could pull her away from him. “I am a man who holds on to what he has.”
She dropped her forehead to his. “That is why I will not let you own me. If you do, what will be left of me?”
Her words made no sense to him. She would be herself always, no matter if she agreed to stay with him or not. But he could see that she believed them, so he schooled himself to be patient. And he was well aware that she had already given him her dowry and her attention, both of which were formidable.
“I am greedy,” he finally admitted. “I want your love.” How hard it was to say that. A man did not admit that he needed a woman in such a way. But for her, he said the words.
She nodded, but she had no comfort for him. She kept herself apart from him as she stood up from the stream. Water sluiced down from her body and he touched her rounded buttocks. It wasn’t a sexual caress, but a comforting one. With one hand, he steadied her in case she fell. He warmed her if she needed his heat. And he admired her because she was her own unique soul.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he said as much to himself as to her.
“Tomorrow will be better,” she agreed.
Then together, they dressed and headed back to the castle.
