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She just shook her head and whispered, "You'll have to start trusting me to know what I want."

He paused tensely, then. whispered back, "I trust you, and you'd better be prepared to trust me.

Even the parts of me you don't know about yet."

"I love you," she moaned.

His fingers dug into her shoulders, compressing bones together, then he sank his hands into her

loose hair greedily, lifting the heavy mass to bury his face in it. "I love you. I will always love

you. That's it, you're mine-you said so. Swear it, Mary."

"I swear." She clung to his lean waist, face buried in his chest.

Silence, filled with the quiet sound of the water and the scattered song of crickets. He said very

quietly,

"You're everything, Mary."

"You're mine, too."

She felt the murmured words shudder through him.

"Yes. I swear it. Oh-" He lifted his head. "Damn your present. I put it in the chair I was going to

make you sit in." She blinked up at him, and he flashed her a crooked grin. "I hope you like it."

She looked at the chairs, saw the wrapped box in one of them, and wobbled over giddily to

snatch it up. It was so small it looked like... She tore the silvery paper off and yanked open the

top. Inside, nestled against dark velvet, was a large diamond ring surrounded by sapphires. It was

so obviously and undeniably an engagement ring. There was no mistaking what that ring was.

She held it against her chest and bowed her head over it.

Unsteady laughter threaded his voice. "Here, let me put it on you."

She stuck her hand out and covered her trembling mouth as she watched him slip the ring on her

finger.

He'd guessed the size well so that it fitted snugly enough, but still she closed her hand into a fist.

He cupped her fist, staring down at it, and said, "Soon."

After all the whirling her head had done over the past week, at last she could see the future with

perfect clarity. "After I finish working out my notice? That soon?"

A muscle bunched in his jaw. "Yes. Do you mind not having a large wedding?"

She reached up to stroke the hair back from his brow. "I think a wedding with just our families

would be wonderful. Maybe we could have it in my grandfather's horrible garden."

His eyes gleamed with mischief. "With the rotting boathouse and the pavilions.-"

"That silly bridge."

"The aroma of the swamp."

She giggled. "The swamp doesn't stink. Much. And anyway, we have acres and acres-we could

find some way to stay upwind of it."

He laughed out loud and clasped her to him. He was such a different man from the one she had

first met. Cleared of cynicism, stripped of barriers, he was boyish and severe, mature and

youthful, and his face was a miracle. "Your grandfather's going to pack a shotgun to make sure I

take my vows seriously," he remarked dryly.

She nestled into him. "And your parents will send me a sympathy card."

He passed a hand over her hair. "Casse will cry. She always cries at weddings. Lord, she'll be

mad at me for that."

"Timmy's easy," she said dreamily. "He'll be over the moon."

He turned serious, taut. He slid a hand between their bodies, pressed it flat against her belly, and

murmured throatily in her ear, "We could try to make it a real shotgun wedding."

For a moment she didn't get his meaning. Then it sank in. Shotgun weddings were for pregnant

brides. Realization bolted through her, shaking the strength out of her knees and shortening her

breath. Pregnant, with a part of him inside her. The idea, first planted by him on Saturday, had

taken root and grown.

"Oh, God." She tilted her hot face up, and he rubbed his cheek against hers slowly, eyes closed.

"I want a baby girl, with your hair and eyes and a startled, innocent little face," he whispered

fiercely. "I want a boy like Tim. I want twins, dammit. I'm so hungry for what we're going to

have together. I'm impatient for it, Mary, but if you're not ready I can wait if I have to."

She covered his mouth. "No. We're not going to have it, Chance. We have it now. I want it, too."

His breath hissed, and his head reared back. He stared into her eyes, saw confirmation there, and

plummeted down to devour her mouth.

He would have knocked her off her feet had he not been holding her so tightly. She wrapped her

arms around his neck and kissed him back wildly. He sucked hard on her lower lip, muttering

incoherently, and she pulsed in reply, a startling, violent, involuntary reaction.

He molded himself around her, hardened and roused, bowing her back over one arm while he

learned the delicate curves and hollows of her body. Needing to feel his skin against hers, she

fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. She was shaking so much that they seemed like an incredibly

insurmountable task-until one fell open, and she could see the shadow of his rapid heartbeat in

the base of his neck. He was sheened in sweat.

She bent forward, put her open mouth to that luscious golden skin and licked him.

A groan wrenched out of him, and he put a hand at the back of her head and pressed her mouth

harder against him. Mindlessly she explored that furred, hard-muscled expanse with lips and

tongue. His powerful body shook.

Then he grasped hold of her and pulled away. He was gasping; she stared at him bemusedly. Did

he mean to let go of her? She didn't think she could stand on her own.

"Not here, baby. Come on." He picked her up and carried her inside, pausing only to shut and

lock the balcony door. She didn't know or care where he was going. She lay back in his arms and

stared up at him. The planes and hollows of his face were bladelike, and his brilliant eyes

glittered. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, but his sheer rampant male

aggression was frightening.

Then he looked at her and his expression underwent a dramatic change as he laid her tenderly

down on his bed. The room was shadowy, lit only by moonlight and the distant glow from

downstairs.

Her tawny hair lay in a fan around her, and the red dress fell in a tangle around her legs. Her eyes

were immense, her face shaken.

He paused to stare down at her. She was so fragile and precious he could barely breathe. Nothing

in his life had prepared him adequately for this moment, for the exquisite mixture of fear and

love and faith in her eyes. He needed to shield her from everything painful in the world, protect

her, surround her with her dreams. His dreams. Theirs. He crooned and pressed his lips gently to

her neck. "Mary. Precious. Trust me."

Her fingers pressed lightly against his cheekbone.

She whispered, "I do."

He straddled her while still nuzzling softly at her neck, bracing himself on his elbows on either

side of her head. Her eyelids drooped. He was over and around her, covering her with himself.

She was in that warm, safe cave again, and she never wanted to come out.

With one hand he gently teased the buttons of her dress aside. "I love you," he said in her ear. "I

need you.” Then the last part of her dress fell away, revealing her slender torso covered with a

red lace teddy, and he trembled. "Oh, Mary-oh, baby, you are so lovely."

She arched up to him hungrily, gripping his forearms.

"I love you," she whimpered.

Carefully he uncovered her, so carefully he undressed himself and pressed his tight, hot weight

down upon her. He kissed and kissed her all over, nibbling at her breasts, stroking between her

legs, while the moon lit the curve of his shoulder and line of his back in silver. It shone on the

side of his face as he bowed over her, sparkling on wetness.

Tears? Was he crying?

What could she give him? She gave him herself. "There's never been anyone but you. There's

only you."

He sucked air and came inside her, and the piercing shock of being filled by him made her claw

at the sheets and cry out. He held still, pressing her into the bed, and with hands and broken

voice he soothed her, until the pain passed and she could hold him again.

His head bowed onto the pillow beside her. He was so rigid, she was afraid he would break into

pieces. Carefully she stretched, straining to meet him, and when that didn't break his rigidity, she

whispered,

" Please."

He sobbed then, clutching her, and started to move, and it was so liquid, so exquisitely right, that

the hot curl of passion wound tighter in her with every slow pumping stroke of his hips. She

twisted underneath him, whining, and he fisted a hand into her tangled hair, pinning her down.

She raked her fingernails down his back frenziedly and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

His control shattered. He slammed into her, head thrown back, the tendons of his neck etched.

She stared into his contorted face, then shook explosively into climax.

"You-are-mine," he gritted.

She touched his ferocious face and gasped, "Yes."

At that he thrust into her one last time, and broke into a convulsive shuddering. Shakenly she

murmured to him, wrapping both arms and legs around him tight, bringing him back to himself

again, bringing him home.

Overcome by exhaustion, cradled close against Chance's chest, she fell asleep and dreamed of

being surrounded. Every time she moved, the warm cocoon followed, curving around her slender

frame with intimate sensitivity. Someone murmured love words to her in a dark, low voice, and

brushed aside her heavy mass of hair to nuzzle the nape of her neck. Caught in the silken threads

of the dream cocoon, she did not fully awaken but stretched with languid, incoherent pleasure as

she was stroked delicately all over her body.

When at last she opened her eyes, the pale silver light of early morning illuminated a window.

She blinked at the sight, not recognizing the window or the trees outside, She was curled on her

side and pinned by a warm weight.

Chance. She followed the long, tanned arm that curved around her torso to its source. His face

was relaxed in sleep, the edges smoothed. He was lying on her hair. As she watched, he nestled

into the long, soft strands and drew her closer against his wide, furred chest.

Warmth flooded her. Sore muscles murmured of last night's pleasure. His heavy thigh was

pressed between hers. She was pinned and couldn't go anywhere even if she'd wanted to, which

she didn't. Why consider going anywhere else? Where was there to go?

She had arrived. She had come home finally and it had been worth the long years of waiting.

Could they have made a baby last night? She knew the chances were fairly slim after just one

night, but oh, she hoped so. She wanted a daughter with his dancing hazel eyes. She wanted a

son with his wicked grin.

She craned her neck and nibbled at his lips. His hand came up to cup her face, eyes slitting half-

open as he kissed her back.

"Good morning," she murmured.

He pulled her hips back against his and kissed down the side of her neck. "Good morning,

precious. Did we say we were getting married this morning?"

Her heavy head fell back to the pillow as sexuality stirred. "Mmm. N-no, I think we said in two

weeks."

Her breath caught. He had slid one hand between her thighs and was probing her gently with

those long, callused fingers. "Oh! That's-that's nice."

He growled softly deep in his chest, a lion's purr, and muttered, "So we opted for the long

engagement. Want to change your mind?"

She stretched deliciously, feeling him harden against her hip. "But everybody would be

disappointed."

"So? We could get a special license, or fly to Las Vegas." His hand roamed, reaching up to trace

circles around her nipple as he crooned in her ear; "Wouldn't you like to get married by Elvis?

I've heard several of them are alive down there."

She laughed weakly. "But what about Timmy? I couldn't look my grandfather in the face

afterward-sand Cassie, and your parents?"

"We'll buy plane tickets for all of them. Tim'd like Vegas." He rolled her onto her back, captured

the nipple he'd been teasing with his mouth and began to suckle. Her eyes fluttered shut and she

gripped his head while the deep, sensual hunger began to build.

After a time he leaned his forehead against her, breathing hard. "All right. Maybe not Vegas. But

I won't be without you for two weeks, dammit. So are you going to move in here, or should I

come there?"

She nuzzled at his hair, running her fingers through it. It was so much more silken than hers. In

the morning light the top strands were the palest of golds.

"Why don't we ask my grandfather?"

"He'll have to either put up with me, or face losing you," he said quietly. "That'll be a hard choice

for

him."

"I love him, but I won't be without you, either," she answered just as quietly. She framed his lean

face, looking deeply into his eyes. His morning growth of beard was as golden as the rest of him,

tickling her fingers, and his eyes were bottomless, ringed with rich flecks of brown, blue and

green. She felt as if she were falling into him. "He'll have to come to terms with it, Chance.

Sooner or later he would face losing me anyway."

"I love you," he said from the back of his throat.

"I love you."