"But I shouldn't have lied." She stared up at him weakly.
"And you were right, there were lots of times I could have told you about
Matthew--' “I don't care about Matthew. “His hand traced the line of her lips as his eyes devoured her.
"I don't care about _any damn thing except you. I treated you badly when you first came to work for me, I know that, but I was despising myself for the way I felt when I knew you were married, and I wasn't sure how Mike fitted into the scheme of things. I wanted you, you'll never know how much I wanted you. The number of times I wanted to lay you out on that office floor--' He shut his eyes for a second.
"And I kept telling myself it was a physical hunger, nothing more, nothing unusual. I was angry you were married, but relieved too. It took the ball out of my court--fait accompli."
She was still holding back, she didn't know why. It was too much, she couldn't take it in. He loved her? But all the time he had been so cold, so aloof. "And then I found out he'd left. It scared the hell out of me. I didn't sleep for nights. I knew a brief affair wasn't possible, you weren't that sort of woman and my feelings were too deep and dangerous for that anyway, but if I let you in, just the tiniest bit, I was vulnerable again like the rest of the suckers out there. I couldn't take it, Lydia."
"But you were so cold, so full of contempt," she murmured softly. She wanted to believe him, oh, she did, but after what he'd been through, how did he know this was real for him?
"Aimed mainly at myself," he said grimly as though he could read her mind.
"I tried to keep you at a distance but it wasn't working. You were everything I wanted in a woman--soft, gentle, innocent, and yet with a determination and an honesty that--' "Don't." She flinched at the last words, her face changing.
_"You are honest, Lydia." He cupped her face in his hands.
"I want to kiss you, but if I do I shan't be able to think any more, to convince you, and I need to convince you, don't I? I can see it in your eyes.
Have I hurt you too much? I tried to convince myself yesterday that I needn't take the cataclysmic step, that you were just like Miranda, saying one thing and living a lie. But I couldn't. I've never loved anyone like I love you and I never shall again. You have my heart, Lydia. It isn't much of a gift and you deserve better, but it is wholly yours. "
"Kiss me." She reached up to him, her heart in her eyes.
"Kiss me. I don't want to talk any more."
"Lydia..." His voice was a groan, and as he took her mouth she became mindless beneath his, her body fluid and soft as his hands moved down her body in a passionate caress. Her arms clung round his neck as they swayed together in an agony of love, their mouths fusing in an endless kiss that was pure sensation.
"I love you, Lydia, for pity's sake say you'll marry me. Nothing else will do. I want to love you, take care of you, protect you, be a father to
Hannah. I want everything, all of it, all of you. Hell--' he moved her slightly from him to look into her starry eyes '--say something, woman, you're torturing me."
"Love me." She breathed in the smell
of him as she clung to the hard-muscled body, her mind spinning. "Love me now."
"No." He moved her to arm's length now, his eyes steady.
"I want an answer in cold blood, not the heat of the moment. I want to hear you say you love me."
"I do." She stared at his dark, handsome face as her _head cleared, and then drew back a little, a touching uncertainty in her face. This was too sudden.
Too great a change-about.
"What if you change your mind, if it begins to go wrong?" she asked faintly.
"Do you love me?" he persisted grimly.
"More than life."
"Then we'll discuss it going wrong on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary," he said, his voice thick now as his hand traced one swollen nipple through the soft silk of her blouse.
"That should give us enough time to consider if we've done the right thing."
And then there was nothing but fiery, heady pleasure as his mouth fastened on hers again, the kiss deepening to a primitive assault on her senses that was an act of possession in itself. She moaned softly in her throat, lost in a mounting exultation that he loved her. He loved her.
EPILOGUE