For Sara, whose spirit was as deeply rooted in English soil as any oak, it was a strange idea. Tentatively she said, "Did you know that the word Peregrine means wanderer or pilgrim?"
"I know," he said tersely.
Sara was silent for a time, thinking that his words gave her some insight into his complex nature. "Have you ever had a real home?"
"I have owned property in many places, but I don't think any of them were what you would call a home.''
He glanced at her, his eyes as green as the sun-saturated leaves above his head. "I envy your sense of place. You are utterly English. I can't imagine you thriving anywhere else."
"You are right," she admitted. "Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know." He gave a faint, rueful smile. "Do you?"
"I am glad that I know where I belong, but surely I must seem boring to a man who has seen and done as much as you."
"You could never be boring, Sara," he said slowly. "You see below the surface of things. While it may not be a comfortable trait, it is an interesting one."
She turned away from the railing and continued over the bridge, wondering just what it was that she wanted from him. No one could guarantee another person happiness. Even if Peregrine should try to convince her that they would live in endless bliss if they married, she knew better than to believe him. Perhaps what she wanted was to know that he cared for her a little, enough to try to make a marriage work.
On the far side of the river, enormous efforts had been expended to make the gardens look like natural countryside, only better. After a few minutes more of silent walking, the path curved and entered a long, high wall of clipped yew. "Have you ever been in a maze?" Sara asked. "This one is at least two centuries old, probably older."
"I've never been in a maze. There is something very fitting about finding one now." Peregrine glanced down at her, his eyes intense. "We have been wandering aimlessly long enough. It is time to face the ultimate question. Will you marry me, Sara?"
Unsettled, she turned away from him again. "Before I answer, we must delve into the heart of the maze."
"I sense that there is a metaphor loose between us," he said, amused. "Or do I mean an allegory?"
Sara smiled and entered the maze, quickly whisking out of her companion's sight around a corner and leaving him to find his own way through. She and Ross had played hide-and-seek here as children, and she still remembered the correct turns.
The center of the maze was an oval clearing of short, lush grass, as soft as a living carpet. It was one of the most private spots on the estate and a favorite retreat of Sara's. This time, however, there was no relaxation to be found. She prowled the clearing, too tense to sit on the stone bench while she waited for her companion to find her.
Peregrine joined her in an impressively short time. "Are we at the heart of the maze yet?"
"Nowhere near it." She clasped her hands in front of her, trying to look composed, but her fingers twined tightly. "How can I marry a man who is in most ways a stranger, and a rather alarming one at that? For all I know, you have a wife in Kafiristan. Or a dozen wives, or concubines in half the cities of the Orient."
He shook his head, his face becoming as serious as her own. "No, Sara. I have never taken a wife, nor even considered it. While I have had mistresses in the past, there is no woman but you who has a claim on me now."
"Is that how you think of me, as an obligation to be met because you ruined my reputation?"
"No," he said calmly. "That is the advantage of my un-noble principles. I would never marry because of any abstract sense of obligation. I simply like the idea of having you as a wife."
There was some comfort in that answer. Shifting to another subject, Sara asked, "What about religion? I don't know what, if anything, you believe in. I was raised in the Church of England and want to be married in it. Would you object, or would that offend your own beliefs?"
"I will not be offended by an Anglican wedding ceremony." He regarded her with a glimmer of humor. "As I said, the people of Kafiristan are pagans. I can talk with some understanding on Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, and several less-known Eastern religions, and have some knowledge of Christian theology and Jewish law as well. Twice in my life, when the alternative was to be executed on the spot, I accepted forcible conversion to Islam, but I do not consider such conversions binding."
Startled and a little shocked by his recitation, Sara said, "But what do you believe? Don't you have any kind of faith?"
"I have faith in myself, sweet Sara." He took two steps closer, and the familiar current of attraction pulsed into potent, irresistible life. "And I have faith in you."