Feeling that he was suffocating, he untied his cravat and pulled it off, drawing it roughly through his fingers. "That is a fascinating set of thoughts you have invented to put into my head, but you have missed a point. I have not left you, nor do I have any intention of doing so. It is you who are threatening to leave me, not vice versa."
She buried her face in her hands, the hair falling away from her fragile nape. "Ironic, isn't it?" she whispered. "I knew that you would break my heart. It just seems that I was wrong about how it would happen."
"If your heart is breaking, don't blame it on me," he snapped. "I have tried to be a good husband. Until tonight you have had no complaints."
She raised her head at that. "I still have no complaints—you could not have treated me better if you did love me. What I find intolerable is how you are treating the rest of the world. Because of your private vendetta, Ross almost died today."
"Do you think I don't regret that?" he said savagely.
"I'm sure you do, but you are still responsible." She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't you see how you have let your passion for revenge corrode your life and mind? Yes, Weldon behaved with appalling savagery, but was what he did to you any worse than what was done to Jenny Miller when she was put in that brothel? Your vengeance comes at too high a price, for it has cost you your soul."
He was struck by a sudden image of Jenny as she might have looked her first night in the brothel. Her childlike face mirrored everything he himself had felt as Weldon's victim.
"That is hardly an argument for sparing Weldon," he said harshly. "Dear Charles is the man who took Jenny's virginity. She was so pretty that he had to have her himself. Then he made her play the part of virgin over and over for whatever man had the price. He used to visit her regularly. If I gave Jenny a knife and held Weldon down for her, I think she would cheerfully cut him into ribbons herself."
Sara's mouth twisted. "How many other Jennys suffered the same fate in the weeks you have been spinning your web around Charles Weldon? Was prolonging your revenge worth their pain?"
There was no answer he could give in return, for finally he understood why Sara was so profoundly upset. But she was being naive. He could not change the world's evil, but he could see that Charles Weldon paid a price commensurate with his crimes.
Tiredly he said, "It was been a long and difficult day, and both of us have been half out of our minds with worry about Ross. Let's go to bed now and finish this discussion in the morning. All we are doing now is hurting each other."
"Nothing will be different in the morning." Sara stood and turned away from him. "But you are right, it's far too late to start packing. I will sleep in one of the guest rooms."
He had not believed that she seriously intended to leave. How could she, when there was so much between them?
Catching her by the shoulders, he spun her around before she could reach the door. "Oh, no, sweet Sara," he said softly. "You married me for better and for worse. There were no special clauses in the marriage service to cover philosophical differences. You promised to be my wife, and I am not releasing you from your vows. The fact that you had the mad notion that I would leave you does not justify your leaving me."
She simply looked at him, her great eyes bleak with sorrow. "This is not an Asiatic harem, Mikahl. You can't stop me if I want to leave. At least, not for long.''
He opened his mouth to talk, then stopped. There had been too many words already. Instead he pulled her close and kissed her, using all his strength of will, all of his mesmerizing ability to attract, to make her yield.
For a moment Sara was stiff in his arms. Then she made a low, despairing sound and opened her mouth under his. "I love you," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. "May God forgive me, in spite of all you've done, I can't help loving you."
When her arms went around him, triumphant desire flared, for he knew that he had won. He had been a fool to argue; what bound them was beyond words and philosophy. His hands as hungry as his mouth, he kneaded and shaped her gentle curves.
As Sara moaned and pressed closer, he untied her blue robe and let it drop to the floor, then pulled her nightgown over her head. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her from her feet and carried her to the bed.
Her slim, graceful body was overpoweringly erotic, and his fingers were rough with impatience as he stripped off his clothing. In a lifetime of intensity, he had never desired a woman as much as he desired Sara now.
He lay down beside his wife and bent over to kiss her, then stopped, shocked to see that she was crying. As her gaze locked with his, soundless tears ran down her cheeks, and every one scalded him like acid.