"Have you changed your mind yet?"
She'd had to search for the strength to say "No."
"Stubborn woman," in the tone of a soft curse, had been his reply.
He hadn't pressed her further, but he hadn't given up.
His question replayed in her mind. His tone-one of understated but unswerving determination-bothered her. His strength ran deep, not just a physical characteristic; overcoming it-convincing him she wouldn't acquiesce and be his wife-was proving a far harder battle than she'd foreseen. The unwelcome possibility that, unintentionally, she'd pricked his pride, taunted his conqueror's soul, and would now have to contend with the full force of that side of his character, too, wasn't a cheering thought.
Worst of all was the fact that she'd hesitated before saying "No."
Temptation, unheralded, had slunk in
and slipped under her guard. After all she'd seen, all she'd observed, of the Cynsters, their wives, and their firmly stated and rigidly applied attitudes on the subject of family, it was impossible to escape the fact that Vane's offer was the best she'd ever get. Family-the one thing that was most important to her-was critically important to him.
Given all his other attributes-his wealth, his status, his handsomeness-what more could she possibly want?
The problem was, she knew the answer to that question.
That was why she had said "No." Why she would keep saying "No."
The Cynster attitude to family was possessive and protective. They were a warrior clan-the open commitment she'd initially found so surprising was, viewed in that light, perfectly understandable. Warriors defended what was theirs. Cynsters, it seemed, regarded their family as a possession, to be defended at all costs and in all arenas. Their feelings sprang from their conquerors' instincts-the instinct to hold on to whatever they'd won.
Perfectly understandable.
But it wasn't enough.
Not for her.
Her answer still remained-had to remain-"No."
Chapter 19
Sligo opened the front door of Number 22 at nine the next morning.
Vane nodded curtly and strode in. "Where's Her Ladyship?" He cast a quick glance about the hall; it was mercifully untenanted. Bar Sligo, who was gaping.
Vane frowned.
Sligo blinked."Should think Her Ladyship would still be abed, sir. Should I send up-"
"No." Vane looked up the stairs. "Which room is hers?"
"Last on the right."
Vane started up. "You haven't seen me. I'm not here."
"Aye, sir." Sligo watched Vane ascend, then shook his head. And headed back to his porridge.
Locating what he fervently prayed was Minnie's door, Vane rapped lightly on the panels. An instant later, Minnie bade him enter. He did-quickly-silently shutting the door behind him.
Propped against her pillows, a steaming cup of cocoa in her hands, Minnie stared at him. "Great heavens! It's been years since I've seen you up at cockcrow."
Vane advanced on the bed. "I need some sage advice, and you're the only one who can help me."
Minnie beamed. "Well then-what's afoot?"
"Nothing." Incapable of sitting, Vane paced beside the bed. "That's the problem. What should be afoot is a wedding." He glanced sharply at Minnie. "Mine."