"Fine words," shesaid shakily.
"Words you don't want tohear. Do you think I don't know that?" His big hand clenched slowly into afist on the table. "I'm allowed lust, but not love. I regret you cannothave one without the other. That's what I tried to tell you yesterday. We'vecome too close." He met her gaze. "Have the honesty to admitit."
His words were probing throughthe barriers she had raised, battering her. "I…do not deny I lust after you."
"No, lust is safe. Notgood, but safe. I knew when you walked in here this morning you'd come to termswith it. But love is a betrayal of Ian. You won't face that, will you?"
"What are you saying? Ilove Ian." The pain was growing too great. She closed her eyes to shut itout, shut him out. "I do love him."
"Yes, I know youdo." He paused. "But you love me too."
Her lids flew open."No!"
A flicker of anger crossed hisface. "Dammit, admit it. Give me that much at least."
"A woman cannot love twomen."
"Because all the poetsand troubadours babble that there is only one great love in every life? Bah,there are many kinds of love, and we could have the very best kind." Hisbrown eyes glittered in his taut face. "We could have lust and humor and understanding.We're the same kind of people, two halves of a whole."
She shook her head."We're nothing alike."
"The only differencebetween us is the conscience that chains you to—"
"I don't want to hearthis."
"Because you don't wantto believe it. I told you there would be no mercy." He smiled bitterly."But I've extended you more mercy than I thought possible. I've given youthree long years of keeping the flame turned low so it would not burn you. Icould have taken you a moment ago, and I promise I would have made sure youknew what you felt was more than lust."
"Then why didn'tyou?"
"Because I didn't want tosee the look in your eyes when you realized you had just committed adulterywith the man you love. You're a strong woman, but I don't think you could havesurvived that blow."
"I don't love you. Iwon'tlove you," she said desperately.
"You do, but we will talkno more about it at present." He shifted his massive shoulders as ifshrugging off a burden. "You say Ian wants a seal of his own? Then let'sset about it. We'll have to do—"
"What are you talkingabout?" she asked blankly. "A seal?"
He nodded brusquely."I've decided we'll continue as we have been. You've proved surprisinglyvaluable as an apprentice, a little too talkative, but I can tolerate thatfault."
He was pretending what hadgone before had not happened. "I can't just ignore—"
"Of course you can. Ianwants you to be amused. I believe I can guarantee to distract you. As for theother" —he met her gaze—"I'll wait until you make the firstmove."
"I'll never makeit."
"But how can you not whenyou need a child for Ian?" He smiled sadly. "Poor Margaret, what aquandary."
"It's different now. Icould not… " She lifted a trembling hand to her temple. "I cannotthink."
"I do not ask you tothink. I would far prefer you to only feel. Someday, if I'm fortunate, you'lloblige me by shutting down that pesky conscience and letting yourself take whatwe both need."
She shook her head.
He shrugged. "Then I'm noworse off than before, am I? Nothing has really changed."
How could he say that?Everything had changed. Each nerve and muscle in her body seemed tuned to hisevery response, every gesture. "You're right, I shouldn't have comehere," she said shakily.
"Have I, at last,convinced you of that?" He smiled. "Too late, Margaret. My grandperiod of self-sacrifice is over. Now I'll take what I can get. If you don'tcome to me, I'll go to Ian every evening and spend a charming few hours withthe two of you."
