"Why don't you want to know for certain?"
"Because I-" She stopped herself that time, and her eyes were somber when she looked up at him.
"Because I don't want you to feel obligated."
He went still.
"Obligated?" he asked carefully.
"If I'm pregnant, you'll feel responsible."
He snorted.
"Damn right. I'd be responsible."
"I know, but I don't want ... I want you to want me for myself," she said softly, trying to hide the longing but knowing that she hadn't quite succeeded.
"Not because we were careless and made a baby."
"Want you for yourself," he repeated just as softly.
"Haven't the last two nights given you an idea about that?"
"I know you want me physically."
"I want you, period." He cupped her face in his hand, stroking his thumb over the soft curve of her mouth. His eyes were very serious. "I love you, Roanna Frances. Will you marry me?"
Her lips trembled under his touch. When she'd been seventeen, she had loved him so desperately that she would have jumped at any chance to marry him, under any conditions. She was twenty-seven now, and she still loved him desperately-loved him enough that she didn't want to trap him into another marriage in which he would be miserable. She knew Webb, knew the depths of his sense of responsibility. If she were pregnant, he would do anything to take care of his child, and that included lying to the mother about his feelings for her.
"No," she said, her voice almost soundless as she refused what she wanted most on this earth. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
He didn't insist, didn't lose his temper, though she had halfway expected that. His expression remained serious, intent, as he caught the tear with a gentle thumb.
"Why not?"
"Because you're asking in case I'm pregnant."
"Wrong. I'm asking because I love you."
"You're just saying that." And she wished he would stop Saying it. In how many dreams had she heard him whisper
LINDA HOWURD
those words? It wasn't fair that now he should say it, now when she didn't dare let herself believe him. Oh, God, she loved him, but she deserved to be loved for herself. At last she knew the truth of that, and she couldn't cheat herself of that final dream.
"I'm not 'just' saying anything. I love you, Ro, and you have to marry me."
Under the serious expression was a certain smugness. She studied him, looking beneath the surface with her somber brown gaze that saw so much. There was a self-satisfied glint deep in his green eyes, a fierce triumph, the way he had always looked when he'd pulled off a difficult deal.
"What have you done?" she asked, her eyes widening with alarm.
Amusement curled the edges of his mouth.
"When Lucinda and I talked last night, we agreed that it would be better to leave the terms of her will as they stand. Davencourt will be better off in your hands."
She went white.
"What?" she whispered, something almost like panic edging into her tone. She tried to pull away from him but he forestalled the movement, cuddling her even closer so that her next protest was muffled against his neck. "But it's been promised to you since you were fourteen! You worked for it, you even-" "I even married Jessie for it," he finished calmly.
"I know."
"That was the bargain. You'd come back if Lucinda changed her will in your favor again." She felt a great hollow fear growing in the pit of her stomach. Davencourt was the lure that had brought him back, but she and Lucinda had both been aware that he had built his own life in Arizona. Maybe he preferred Arizona to Alabama. Without Davencourt to keep him here, after Lucinda died he would leave again, and after these past two nights she didn't know if she could stand it.
"That's not quite true. I didn't come back because of the bargain. I came back because I needed to tie up old loose ends. I needed to make my peace with Lucinda; she was a big part of my life, and I owe her a lot. I didn't want her to die before we cleared the air between us. Davencourt is special, but I've done all right in Arizona," he said in calm understatement.
"I don't need Davencourt, and Lucinda thought you didn't want it-" "I don't," she said firmly.
"I told you, I don't want to spend my life in business meetings and studying stock reports. " He gave her a lazy smile.
"Pity, when you're so good at it. I guess you'll have to marry me, and I'll do it for you. Unlike you, I get my kicks making money. If you marry me, you can very happily spend your time raising kids and training horses, which is what you would have been doing even if Lucinda had left Davencourt to me. The only difference now is that it will all belong to you, lock, stock, and barrel, and you'll be the boss."
Her head was whirling. She wasn't quite certain that she'd heard what she thought she'd heard. Davencourt was going to be hers, and he was staying anyway? Davencourt was going to be hers ... "I can hear those wheels turning," he murmured. He tilted her head up so that she was looking at him.
"I came back for one final reason, the most important one. I came back because of you."
She swallowed.
"Me?"
"You." Very gently he stroked one finger down her spine to the cleft of her buttocks, then retraced the caress up her back. She shivered delicately, melting against him. He knew what he was doing with that small, delicate touch. His purpose wasn't to arouse her but to soothe her, reassure her, reestablish the trust with which she gave her body over to him during lovemaking. The very fact that he wasn't making love to her now was proof of how intent he was on accomplishing his aim.