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So easy, really, to seduce a man with the simple act of arching one’s back.
The idea of helping rather than destroying filled her with a certain lightness of heart.
Husbands and wives are partners in life, are they not? The one person who will support you when all hope seems lost.”
“Why give me your trust when you know it is such an easy thing to break?” “Perhaps the easy giving of it will make it harder to break.”
“I don’t want pity.” He glared at the stern visage of the Greek centaur before them. “I’d rather have fear.”
Unfortunately, her gaze faltered at his mouth. An enticing mouth, curved and firm. Would it be soft? A kiss would tell her. A kiss. That was true intimacy, the conversation of lovers.
You are the only man I’ve ever known who has looked beyond my face and wanted to know me for me. And I find myself wanting you to know the whole of me.”
Archer would try to protect her, wrap her up in ignorance like cotton wool. But who would protect him? Miranda could, and she would.
Her senses settled, and she pulled up straight. “Take your hand off me, sir, or lose it.”
“The ironic thing is, I rather like life,” Archer said. “As odd as mine is. Losing my soul is another issue entirely. I should not like it…”
“I look upon you, and pure stupidity flies from my mouth.
“And I’m afraid of wasting my life always being in control,” he whispered. “But no matter what direction I take, all roads lead to you.” Gently, he rested his forehead to hers once more. “Let me come home, Miri. If only for one night.” Home. She’d been searching for it the whole of her life. And found it in a man more elusive than shadows. “Home is not where one visits. It is where one returns to at the end of each day.”
She saw him as a whole. She thought of Archer not in pictures but with feeling. Archer was warmth, laughter, kindness, and excitement. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears. She wanted him to come to her. She wanted to hold him, ease his pain. Above all, she wanted him to show her what it was that caused him such agony.
Every cell in his body knew her, sang her name, and throbbed with the same thoughts over and over: mine, want, need.
“But none of that matters,” he said, trembling before her, “because every day that I am with you, I am more convinced that God made you just for me. For in ninety years on this earth, no one has made me feel the way you do, as if every day is an adventure. You make me laugh. And I never laugh. I go around smiling like a witless fool. So yes, I kept it from you, because I am so desperately in love with you that the knowledge that you might love me too was irresistible. And I was afraid it would turn to dust should I take off that mask.”
“I need to hear your voice every day or I despair. You are the balance of my soul. I cannot lose you, Ben. I would not live through it.”
“Save I am damned angry. And damned tired of high-handed men at the moment.”
