Tasia felt like weeping. She didn't dare. He would comfort her then, and there was no point in clinging to each other when they would soon be parted forever. She gathered the sheet more tightly to her breasts.
“Luke,” she said softly. It was the first time she had ever used his name, and he gave a slight start. “If you are ready to love again, and take a wife, you can find someone far more appropriate than I. You would be best off with someone similar to Mary.”
She meant it as a benediction and well-intentioned advice, but instead he looked at her keenly. “Is that what this is about? If I'd wanted a substitute for Mary, I could have found one years ago. But I wouldn't expect my second marriage to be an imitation of the first. I wouldn't want that at all.”
Tasia shrugged in an offhand manner. “You might say that now, but if you married me, you would be disappointed. Not at first, perhaps, but after a while—”
“‘
Disappointed
,’” Luke repeated incredulously. “Why in hell…No, don't explain. Let me think for a minute.” As she tried to speak, he raised his hand in a gesture for silence. It was important that there should be no misunderstandings on this subject. He struggled for a way to make it all clear for her, but the task seemed impossible. She was still young enough to think of the world in terms of absolutes, unaware of the infinite ways time could change everything.
“I was still a boy when I married Mary,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I never knew what life was like without her. We went from being playmates to childhood sweethearts to friends, and finally to husband and wife. We never
fell
in love, we just…comfortably drifted into it. I won't belittle her memory by pretending it wasn't genuine. She and I cared about each other, and we had a hell of a good time…and she gave me a child whom I cherish. But when she died, I became a different man. I have different needs now. And you—” He reached for Tasia's hand and gripped it hard, staring at her downbent head. “You've given my life a kind of passion and magic I've never known before. I know that we belong together. How many people on earth ever find their soul mates? They spend their lifetimes looking, and it never happens. But somehow, by some God-given miracle, you and I are here together—” He paused, and his voice turned scratchy. “We have a chance. You know what I want. I can't force you to stay. The choice is yours.”
“I don't have a choice,” Tasia cried, her eyes blurring with tears. “It's because I care for you and Emma that I must leave.”
“You're lying to yourself. You'll use every excuse you can think of, rather than risk being hurt. You're afraid to love someone.”
“What if the reason has nothing to do with me?” she snapped. “What if it's you? Maybe you're such an arrogant, self-centered, deceitful man that I don't want your love!”
Luke colored with fury. “Is that the reason?”
Tasia gave him a half-pleading, half-enraged glance. He was making her say things that would hurt them both. If only he would accept her decision. If only he wouldn't be so stubborn. “Please don't make it so difficult.”
“Damn you…I'm going to make it impossible.” He dragged her beneath him, smothering her startled cry with a demanding kiss. He lifted his head and looked down at her. “I need you,” he said, breathing hard. His hand was unsteady as it moved tenderly over her small breast. “I need you in so many ways. I can't lose you, Tasia.”
Before she could answer, he kissed her again, until her thoughts vanished and her blood raced with exhilarating desire. She moved beneath him in eager invitation, brushing her soft curls against his swollen length, making him tremble with passion.
He thrust easily into her slick passage, finding her wet and ready for his intrusion. She gasped and clenched all her muscles around him, her small hands gripping his shoulders with desperate strength. She breathed hotly against his skin, and pressed her face to his chest so hard that he felt the edge of her teeth. Luke held her tightly and groaned as he felt the spasms of her climax all around him, drawing him deeper, until he reached the same exquisite release.
As soon as Tasia regained her breath, she rolled away and left the bed. Her knees trembled beneath her. She scooped up a silk robe from the floor, a man's robe that was far too big for her. Wrapping it around herself, she glanced back at Luke. His expression was inscrutable.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head in confusion. “No, but…I want to be alone for a while. I need to think.”
“Tasia—”
“Please, don't follow me.”
She heard him curse softly as she left the room. Making her way outside, she picked up the hem of the robe to keep it from trailing in the dirt.
It was the middle of the night, the sky velvety black and scattered with stars. The pond was calm and glassy, reflecting the sky overhead until it seemed that the water too was filled with stars. Tasia wandered closer to the edge. A clump of rushes stirred as a pair of frogs hopped away, prudently deciding to change their location. Tasia stomped her bare feet to frighten away any other creatures. She hiked up the robe and sat on the damp ground, dangling her toes into the cool water. Only then did she let herself think.
A passionate man, the marquess of Stokehurst…and more at the mercy of his own emotions than he would have wanted anyone to know. He had been rough in his urgency, but he hadn't hurt her. Lifting her legs, Tasia hugged them to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. Desperately she wished there was someone to tell her what to do.
She went over the details of their conversation, word by word. Was it true, what he had said? Was she so afraid of being hurt that she would never be able to give her heart to anyone? She thought of the people she had loved in her life: her mother and father, Uncle Kirill, and her nanny Varka. She had lost them all. Yes, she was afraid. There was precious little left of her heart to lose.
She remembered her childhood, how anxious and alone she had been after her father had died. Her mother had been affectionate, but Marie's most important concern was and always would be herself. Some essentially childish element in Marie's nature would always prevent her from being able to fully love anyone else. As a little girl, Tasia hadn't understood that. She had believed herself unworthy of love. All her resentment and rebellion had been turned inward, against herself. And the way the church had of encouraging people to accept suffering and turn it to martyrdom…well, that hadn't influenced her for the better. Not a pleasant feeling, being a martyr. And so far it hadn't proved to be very profitable.
Did she deserve a chance at happiness? Did she owe it to herself? She wasn't certain of the answer. But what, if anything, did she owe to Luke? He was a worldly, intelligent man, fully aware of the choices he made and their consequences. He wanted to marry her because he believed it would be good between them. If he had that much faith, then surely she could come up with some of her own.
He said he loved her. Tasia was overwhelmed by the thought. She couldn't think of any reason why he would love her, when she came to him needing so much, with so little to give. But if he felt even a fraction of the pleasure that she felt in his company, perhaps it was enough.
She clasped her hands and closed her eyes fiercely tight, and prayed.
Dear Lord, I don't deserve this…I'm afraid to hope…but I can't help it. I want to stay
.
“I want to stay,” she said aloud, and realized she had her answer.
Luke slept on his back, his face turned to the side. He was pulled from a fathomless slumber by a stroke on his bare shoulder and a whisper in his ear. “Wake up, my lord.” Thinking it was a dream, he turned away with a grumble. “Come with me,” Tasia insisted, tugging at the sheet that covered him.
He yawned and muttered irritably. “Where?”
“Outside.”
“Whatever it is, can't we do it inside?”
Her brief laugh tickled his neck as she struggled to pull him to an upright position. “You need clothes for what I have in mind.”
Still more asleep than awake, Luke dressed in a minimum of clothes and left his feet bare. He gave her a quizzical frown as she applied herself to buttoning his shirt. She didn't quite look at him, but there was an air of eagerness about her. Taking his arm, she urged him to leave the cottage with her. The long hem of the silk robe trailed regally behind her as they went outside. A cool breeze helped to clear away some of Luke's sleepiness.
Tasia slipped her hand in his. “Come,” she said, using all her weight to drag him forward.
He wanted to ask what in hell she was doing, but she was so intent on tugging him along that he kept silent and followed. They skirted the edge of the pond and headed to the woods, walking across a carpet of prickly resined needles and leaves.
Luke winced as he stepped on a sharp pebble. “Almost there?” he asked.
“Almost.”
She didn't stop until they were surrounded by trees. The air was sweetly scented with moss, pine, and earth. A few points of stars winked through the tangled branches overhead, piercing the blackness of the forest. Luke was surprised—astonished—when Tasia turned to link her arms around his waist. She stood very still, leaning against him.
“Tasia, what—”
“Shhh.” She pressed her mouth to his chest. “Listen.”
They were both quiet. Gradually Luke became aware of the sounds around them: the hoot of an owl, the soft chirps and wing flapping of birds. The trill of crickets, the crackling, moaning sway of tree trunks. And rising above everything, the endless sighing of the wind through bowers of leaves. The trees stood with boughs entangled, like a congregation holding hands during a solemn hymn. The forest music soared to the sky and mingled there with other eternal rhythms.
Luke wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair. He felt her smile against his chest, and suddenly he was filled with love, drunk on it. Tasia tried to pull back a little, and he resisted, needing to keep her close.
“I want to give you something,” she said, straining away until he loosened his hold. She fumbled for his hand, and he realized she was cupping something in her palm. “Here.” She was slightly breathless. Her fingers opened, and he saw the bright gleam of gold against her skin. It was a heavy, masculine ring with some indiscernible engraving on the surface. “It belonged to my father. It's all I have left of him, except for my memories.” As Luke remained motionless, she tried it on his smallest finger. It fit perfectly. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “He always wore it on his index finger, but he wasn't nearly as large as you.”
Luke turned his hand, admiring the simple but exotic design. Then he looked at her upturned face, trying to conceal his dread. “Is this to say goodbye?” he asked hoarsely.
“No…” Her voice shook a little. Her eyes were as bright as moonstones as she returned his steady gaze. “It's to say I'm yours. In every way…for the rest of my days.”
He was frozen for a split second. All at once he kissed her hard and clutched her so brutally that she thought her bones might break. She didn't complain, however, only laughed in wild, unfamiliar joy until she had no more breath left.
“You'll be my wife,” he said with savage delight, lifting his mouth from hers.
“It won't be easy,” she warned, though she was smiling. “You'll probably want to divorce me.”
“You always expect the worst,” Luke accused, holding her tightly.
“I wouldn't be Russian if I didn't.” Her hands searched busily over his back, as if she couldn't keep them still.
Luke laughed. “Just what I deserve. A woman who's even more of a pessimist than I am.”
“No, you deserve better than me…so much better…”
He stopped her mouth with a ferocious kiss. “Never say that again,” he warned, when their lips finally parted. “I love you too much to listen to such nonsense.”
“Yes, sir,” she said meekly.
“That's better.” He examined the ring she had given him. “Something's inscribed on this. What does it say?”
Tasia shrugged. “Oh, it's just a sentiment that my father liked—”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated. “It says, ‘Love is a golden vessel, it bends but never breaks.’”
Luke was very still. Then he kissed her again, gently this time. “We'll be all right, you and I,” he whispered. “I promise.”
They held back from returning to the world immediately, deciding they could steal one more day together. Tasia was grateful for the reprieve. A promise had been made, but a sense of newness, even unease, still existed between them.
Tasia had never before talked to a man without having to guard her words. Luke knew about her past, her darkest secrets. Instead of making judgments, he defended her against her own doubts and self-accusation. He demanded the freedom of her body and her thoughts, and gave the same of himself. It was difficult for Tasia to adjust to the intimacy of it. Difficult, but not at all unpleasant, she decided drowsily, as she woke in his arms in a pool of afternoon sunlight. Opening her eyes, she found Luke watching her. How long had he been awake, guarding over her dreams?
“I can't believe it's really me, here in bed with you,” she murmured. “Am I dreaming? Am I really so far away from home?”
“No, you're not dreaming. But you are home now.” Luke eased the sheet down to her waist and slid his hand over her breast. The gold ring, warm from his skin, pressed lightly against the side of the shallow curve.
“My Uncle Kirill wouldn't approve of you. He doesn't like the English.”
“Your Uncle Kirill doesn't have to marry me. Besides, he would approve of me wholeheartedly if he knew how well I'm going to take care of you.” Idly he traced around her breast, where pearl-white skin edged soft pink. “I may not own a palace, my lady, but I'll keep you fed and sheltered. And I'll see to it that you're too busy to notice your humble surroundings.”
“Southgate Hall isn't what anyone would call humble,” Tasia said wryly. “But I would be happy living in a cottage like this, as long as you're here.”
“And there's nothing else you want?”
“Well…” She slid him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. “I would like some pretty dresses to wear,” she admitted, and he laughed.