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his fallibility; just as he would have to accept hers. And it would only be a beginning, nothing more.
She took a single step forward, her fingers resting lightly on the chilly iron bars of the gate. The sweet fragrance of hyacinths, jonquils, and blossoming snowdrops hung in the crisp air, their white faces peering through the shadowy lattice sides of the gazebo. Ian sat on the granite bench, his back turned to her. Moonlight caressed his hair, gave it the appearance of a golden halo against the stark, unrelieved black of his coat.
"Hello, Selena," he said without turning around.
She gasped softly. "How did you know it was me?"
"No one else would dare follow me here."
She clasped her hands and walked toward him on the small granite path that wound through the beds of white flowers. Her heart was beating too quickly, and a strange moisture dampened her palms.
This could be an end for them, right now, in the magical quiet of this garden. Ian could turn away from her, return her to the cold darkness of her life before his smile.
She released a shaky breath and twisted her damp hands together. For the first time, she spoke a thought that was not truly on her mind. "Did you help Andrew?"
He didn't turn to her. "Not yet."
At the answer, so quietly spoken, Selena felt a rush of affection for him. He probably didn't even know what the words meant, the effort they implied. She knelt before him and looked up. Their gazes met, and in his eyes she saw a quiet, resigned suffering.
"I disappointed you today," he said in a crisp, matter-of-fact voice.
"Yes."
He gave a laugh, soft and bitter in the darkness. "I told you I would."
She heard the finality in his voice and it angered her. "You yield too quickly."
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He drew in a sharp breath and looked down at her. "I've always cut my losses fast."
"But love-"
"Love." He shot the word at her like a poison dart. "You know nothing of love and less of me."
"I know you as well as I know myself."
"So you do. Of course, you don't know your own name."
The caustic edge to his words saddened her. She didn't understand why he wanted so badly to believe the worst of himself. "Oh, Ian. You are so troubled with the unimportant. I know all I need to know of myself."
"And what's that? That you love me? Is that your defining characteristic?"
"No. I am like any other human. My opinions and emotions and beliefs define me-not some word I cannot recall."
He touched her then, and she saw the sadness in his eyes. "So you have found opinions at last. And what do you believe in, my goddess?"
For once, the words fell from her lips easily, forming themselves from the emotions in her heart. "Goodness. Honesty. Beauty. Second chances. The feel of a raindrop on my lips. Laughter and tears and the healing power of each." She eased up on her knees and tilted her face to his. "I believe in you, Ian."
"Selena-"
She touched his lips to still the protest. "Shh. Listen to me. I may be brain-damaged, but I am not stupid. I watch the world, Ian. Things that you long ago stopped seeing, stopped believing in, are still real for me. Who is more wrong-the child who believes in fairy tales or the adult who does not?"
He stared down at her. Brushing a knuckle along her jawline, he tilted her face just a little. "What in the hell do I do with you, Selena?"
Tears burned her eyes. She wished she had the intel-