“Yes, but?—”
“Haa’he.Now I understand. I should have known as much, for I have seen how you are with other men. You invite their attention, for you cannot even speak a word without making seductive gestures with your body.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Even as you say this to me now, your shoulders quiver seductively and your breasts rise and fall. You speak, not with your mouth, but with your chest, and a man cannot help but?—”
“How dare you!”
“A husband would dare much?—”
“You’re not my?—”
“But do not fret that I tell you these things,” he interrupted. “They are not unbecoming. Alas, they are a part of your enchantment. Once a man becomes accustomed to watching you speak, these little gestures are beautiful. But it attracts other men—which would mean nothing to me, if…”
“Please. Don’t say it again. Don’t go on.”
He paused.
She continued, “Swift Hawk, listen to me. I am not married to you. That day was…a mistake. It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you. I do. It’s not that your offer is not gallant. It is. And I am flattered. What you fail to understand is that to me marriage is about love. And I don’t want to marry someone who is not?—”
“A white man?”
She’d been about to say “madly in love with me.” Indeed, truth be known, it had not escaped her that this man had changed the subject when she had brought it to his attention. He had spoken of making love, yes. But that wasn’t the same thing.
“I can never be a white man, not in color, not in philosophy. And if this were your true feelings, then you should have told me that you were only paying me back for my help. I would not have…” He didn’t finish the statement, and Angelia watched him carefully to see if she could determine what he’d been about to say.
It was useless. His features had become too stoic to be read.
But the fault wasn’t all hers. “You talk about marriage to me. You dare to call me flirtatious, but you have yet to talk about love. How can you speak to me of marriage and not also talk about love?”
“Love?” Dear Lord, he looked as though the subject had never occurred to him.
“Well, yes, love,” she repeated. “I thought the reason that two people marry is because they love one another.”
Her gaze met his, and he stared back at her, but then, as though even a simple glance were painful, they both looked away. Silence stretched between them. At last, with her gaze still centered on the ground, she queried, “Well, do you?”
“Do I?”
“Oh, please.” She peeped up at him. “You know what it is that I ask. Do you love me?”
He drew a deep breath, hesitated for a great deal more time than a man ought, and then finally said, “I desire you, and Ibelieve you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. I would be a good husband, for I take my responsibilities seriously. So long as I live, you would have food for our children and robes for our home. I would be faithful to you, also, for a home is only happy when both people trust each other, and that trust is built by honoring one’s word. To my people, all these things are said to be love.”
Angelia waited. That was it?Thiswas his declaration of love?
She cleared her throat, opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her. Problem was, he was speaking all around the subject, yet had not really answered her question.
Well, as far as she could see, she deserved a forthright answer. With this thought affixed in her mind, she said, “Swift Hawk. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. You tell me that to your people these things are love. But what about you? Doyoulove me?”
She heard him sigh, and her heart fell. She even caught her breath as he hesitated, again much longer than a proper suitor should. At last, as she’d begun to think she could not stand the silence any longer, he uttered, “Know that I would marry you. But the truth is I cannot love…anybody.”
Eyes wide, she stared at him. To say she was surprised would have been an understatement. However, all she was able to articulate was, “Cannot?”
“Cannot,” he stated. “To love implies that one is devoted to a person and only to that person. It is understood that one would put the comfort and wherewithal of the other above all else. This I cannot do. Not for you. Not for anybody.”
This last was met with more silence. Deadly silence. In truth, Angelia felt suddenly spiny.
She took a moment to collect herself, before asking, for she would know, “And why can you not love?”
