"Distressed? What a pallid word for shattering someone's life." She was not angry; her cool, ironic expression was beyond anger. "As for 'permitting' me to marry him, you had no right to interfere as you did."
"If you saw a child rushing out in front of a carriage, would you have no right to stop it?" As soon as he uttered the words, he knew that he had picked a poor example.
Sara's lips thinned. "That's an inappropriate and insulting analogy. I had some doubts about marrying Charles because of his domineering personality, but based on the evidence, you would be much worse."
"Do you truly regret that you will not be marrying Weldon?" He knew the answer to that question, but perhaps Sara did not.
"Don't try to change the subject," she said sharply "The issue is not what I feel for Charles, but your contemptible behavior. What you did was wrong, no matter how noble your motives. How can I ever trust a man who is so high-handed?"
Not waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and resumed walking toward a footbridge that arched over the little river. His long strides easily kept him apace with Sara.
"I am beginning to understand something Ross told me last night," he said thoughtfully. "Your cousin said that the best that could be said of my principles is that I believe that the end justifies the means, and that you would find that unacceptable because you believe in right and wrong."
"Ross was correct," she agreed, her voice cool. "The result you wanted did not justify the means you chose to attain it."
"I thought that it did." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully because he must win her mind as well as her body. "That is a difference between us, Sara, but not an irresolvable one. I am not usually highhanded, and I do not expect you always to agree with me. If you have a conflicting opinion, I will not beat you or lock you in your room with bread and water. There will be times when you disagree with my methods, and there will be times when I disagree with your judgments. But surely we can live with the fact that sometimes we will disagree?"
Sara could do worse than marry a man who acknowledged a woman's right to her own opinions— always assuming he was sincere, which was a rather large assumption. She stopped in the middle of the small bridge and leaned against the railing, gazing at the flowing water rather than her companion.
"You make that sound simple, but principles are not," she said slowly. "Differences of opinion can tear people and nations apart. In marriage, men have the ultimate power, physically, legally, and financially. If your methods include forcing me to do things I believe are wrong, what advantage is there in my having your permission to disagree?"
"Legally a husband may have the power, but practically speaking, the situation is much more complicated. You have great personal strength, as well as a powerful family that is concerned for your welfare. That would protect you from me, if you ever feel you need protection. But I doubt that will be necessary— we are talking about marriage, not war."
"Some say there is little difference between love and war." Sara turned to look at him, her voice challenging. "Why do you want to marry me? Charles was interested mostly in my fortune and social rank. Is that what you want, too?"
"Not particularly." He leaned on the railing, silhouetted against the glowing, light-drenched leaves of the trees that overhung the river. "Wealth is a fine thing, much better than the lack, but I have sufficient now. If you doubt my motives, a settlement can be drawn up reserving your fortune to your 'sole and separate use.' I believe that is the legal phrase. As to social standing..." He shrugged. "If I stay in England, it will be useful, but it is of no real importance to me."
"Do you intend to stay in England?" Sara plucked a leaf from the stem of the white rose and dropped it in the water, then watched it whirl away. Would he expect her to accompany him back to those mountains at the edge of the world, to live under primitive conditions with no knowledge of the language and customs? "I'm not averse to travel, but England is my home. I can't imagine myself in the wilds of Kafiristan."
"Nor can I. It is a hard life and wouldn't suit you."
Rather than being gratified, Sara was perversely irritated by the implication that she was a frail, helpless creature. "So you will abandon me and return to your home alone?"
He shook his head. "Perhaps I'll visit Kafiristan, but I will never live there again."
"You would exile yourself from your own country and people?" Sara said, incredulous.
"It is a hard thing to be born in a place that does not suit one's spirit," he said obliquely, not looking at her. "My birthplace was never my home. I don't even want it to be."