"Picture it-us sitting under the old oak on the south lawn, watching our children play. Hearing the shrill voices, the laughter, the cries. Picking them up to soothe them, to comfort them, or perhaps just to hold them." He searched her eyes, his own hard as agates. "You've always liked children, you always expected to have a tribe of your own. That was always your dream, your destiny. You gave it up for your family, but now fate's handing it back to you." His gaze raked her face, then, as if satisfied with what he saw, he sat back and looked across the lawn. "I know you too well to believe you'd turn your back on that dream a second time."
His confidence tweaked Alathea's temper, but she shrugged the temptation to ire aside. His words-his pronouncement-should have chilled her; there'd been no loverlike softness in his words. He'd been all warrior-logical, practical-her knight-protector carrying her off to a new beginning, for which she should be duly grateful and acquiesce to all his decrees.
It was enough to make her laugh, but she didn't. If he'd been charming, presenting his arguments with the light, airy touch of which she knew he was capable, her heart would have sunk without trace. That was how he behaved in matters that did not touch him deeply. Instead, he'd presented her with his warrior side, all impenetrable granite and impregnable shield. She had to wonder what he was shielding. Lifting her chin, she fixed her gaze on his profile. "And what about us? You and me. The two of us together. How do you see us?"
The question hit a nerve. His swift frown, an infinitesimal tensing of muscles otherwise under rigid control, told her so.
"I see us in bed," he growled, "and in a few other places, too. Do you want to know the details?"
"No. I'm quite imaginative enough to supply my own."
"Well, then." But his tone had softened, as if in thinking of her question, he'd seen more than he'd expected. "I imagine we'll ride like we used to, every day. You always liked riding-do you still ride a lot?"
After an instant's hesitation, she said, "I sold all the horses years ago."
He nodded. "So we'll ride every day. And, I just realized, you can help me with the estate accounts, which will leave more time for riding. And investing-studying the news, weeding out the rumors, checking with Montague and my other contacts. I manage all the Cynster funds. You've dabbled to good effect with the Morwellan treasury, such as it was, but I play a more aggressive hand."
"I'm not particularly good at aggression."
"You can take an interest in the defensive side, then-the bonds and capital." He gestured expansively. 'That's how I see us."
Alathea waited a moment, then softly said, "You know perfectly well that's not what I meant. I wanted to know what you see between us."
His head whipped around and he scowled at her. "Thea-stop resisting. We'll be married soon. All I just said is going to happen-you know it is."
"I know nothing of the sort. Why do you imagine I'll agree to your dictates?"
He hesitated, his narrowed gaze locked with hers. Then he said, "You'll agree because you love me."
Alathea felt her lips part, felt her jaw drop. Horrified, she searched his eyes. The comprehension she saw horrified her even more. How could he know? She snapped her lips shut and fixed him with a militant glare. "I'll be the judge of whether I love you or not."
"Are you saying you don't?" His tone was a warning.
"I'm saying I haven't yet made up my mind."
With a disgusted snort, he looked away. "Pull the other one."
Although he'd muttered, Alathea heard him. "You don't know that I love you-you can't know!"
He looked her in the eye. "I do."
"How?"
After a moment, he looked away; this time, his gaze fastened on the jasmine, blooming in profusion over the gazebo, filling the arches, fragrant white blossoms nodding in the breeze. Catching a spray, he snapped it off. Looking down, he turned it in his hands, long fingers caressing the velvet-soft blooms. "How many men have you allowed to make love to you?"
Alathea stiffened. "You know perfectly well-"
"Precisely." He nodded, his gaze on the jasmine. "Only me. You don't know-"
Alathea waited; after a long moment, he drew breath and met her gaze. "I know you love me because of the way you give yourself to me. The way you are when you're in my arms."
"Well!" She fought down an urge to bluster. "As you're the only lover I've yet known-"
"Tell me,"-his steely words cut her off-"can you imagine being as you are with me, if it wasn't me with you but some other man?"
She stared at him. She couldn't begin to even form a mental picture; the idea was utterly foreign.
So foreign, she suddenly realized she'd lost sight of her agenda. "You're avoiding my point." It was a wrench to drag her mind from the avenues into which he'd lead it, to consider instead that if he knew she loved him, he'd be even more chivalrously inclined to wed her regardless of any other motive. The realization fueled a fresh rush of emotions, hope and frustration equally represented. Hope that the reason for his self-protective shield was a heart as vulnerable as hers; frustation over convincing him to lower his guard long enough for her to know.