A violent conflict raged inside her. She was a prisoner, held against him and being forced to listen to words she did not want to hear. He was coming closer and closer to the truth, and it was becoming impossible to continue misleading him. He seemed to be able to see right through her lies and evasions, and his acute perception alarmed her.
"Do you think I would be living with him if he didn't need me?" she asked, countering his questions with a few of her own. "Why do you think I'm staying at the manor for any other reason than that?"
"I don't know why you're living with him," Alec admitted roughly. "But it damn well isn't for the reason that everyone assumes it is. Perhaps it isn't even for the reason that you think it is. Does he ever tell you that he needs you for yourself?"
"All the time."
"Does he tell you that he dreams about you? That when he thinks about you, every other sane thought flies from his head? That when you smile at him, his heart pounds as if he's been running for hours… that he was buried alive until he met you, never knowing the taste of real hunger until he became afraid that he couldn't have you? That's how you should be needed,; and don't tell me you prefer his milk-and-water passion to real desire, or I'll show you the difference between—"
"We're here," Mira said, her voice trembling. She was so unsettled that she doubted she would be of much use to any member of the Daniel family now. "Mind what you say in front of these people… and please, please don't talk to me about this anymore. There is so much you don't understand…"
Holding the reins, Alec dismounted first and grasped her waist in his hands, staring up at her.
"Then explain it to me," he said huskily. "Soon." Unable to speak, she looked away, and he chose that moment to unseat her, lowering her against his body and then holding her there. Her hands fluttered up to his broad chest in protest, her body molded tightly against the hard, well-knit surface of his. "Soon," he repeated, not letting her go until she looked up at him uncertainly and gave him a tiny nod.
The Daniels, a small farming family, lived in a quaint cottage. Their yard was edged with a hedgerow studded with large, durable elm trees. The earthy scent of a peat fire permeated the air, while the sounds of chortling geese drifted from the grounds in back of the cottage. Mira pulled away from Alec hastily as the door of the small home burst open. Two little girls with curly brown hair and rosy-cheeked round faces ran up to Mira without hesitation, chattering and giggling. Mira dropped to her haunches, setting her bag down on the ground and opening it deftly.
"These are the twins, my lord," she said. "Mary and Kitty… oh dear, I never know which one of you is which… ah, I know now—Kitty is just a little shy, aren't you, ma chireT' Mira beamed at the little girl who stood behind her sister. Alec smiled as the children bent over and stared into the bag that Mira had brought, their brown curls bobbing excitedly. Triumphantly Mira pulled out a bulging paper-wrapped parcel. "C'est le cadeau, almond biscuits this time," she said, handing the parcel to Mary. "Now, you must share these with each other while I visit with your parents… and while I am inside, you may ask this nice man questions about his handsome horse, but don't tire him or he will not be pleasant company on our journey back." She glanced at Alec's wry expression, and then she stood up with her bag in hand. "I won't be long," she murmured.
"I'll be waiting no matter how long it takes," Alec replied, and Mira gave him a cautious smile before going into the cottage.
It seemed that Rachel Daniel had caught the fever and chest cold that had already afflicted her husband. Her skin was hot and dry, her nose and throat congested… and there was little that could be done except wait for the sickness to run its course. Mira pulled out a bag of dried currants and turned toward the hot fire, casting Rachel a sympathetic look.
"I am very sorry you and your husband are ill at this time—is there someone to help you with your land?"
"We have friends who are helping," Rachel said, her young face flushed as she lifted a handkerchief to Jier mouth and coughed roughly. "I simply pray that this will go away soon."
"Try to rest—"
"There is never time to rest."
"I know," Mira said with a compassionate sigh. After pouring a half-pint of brandy into a small dented pot, she warmed the liquid carefully and added several handfuls of currants.
"That doesn't smell very good," Rachel wheezed, and Mira could not help chuckling.