"I know. Paulo told me how busy you are. I'm not complaining of neglect. This time it was my place to come to you." She smiled. "Just as there will be times when it will be your place to come to me. We'll both have to learn to compromise."
He went still. "Does that mean you're going to stay with me?"
"Of course I'm going to stay. I would think you'd know that. I must have walked fifty miles for you in the last few days. I wouldn't do that for a man I was merely going to have dinner with"—she glanced around the lavishly decorated room—"though a dinner in a setting like this might have been very tempting."
"Why?" His tone was low and urgent. "Why are you going to stay with me?"
"I love you." Her smile faded, and she glared at him with sudden fierceness. "And you'd better love me too. I know I'm not as glamorous as some of the other women you've—"
His lips were on her own, cutting off the words. He raised his head. "Lord, yes, I love you." His eyes were glittering as they gazed down at her. "I was so damn scared I'd turned you off by all this violence and . . ." He kissed her again with joyous exuberance. "Of course I love you. Who'd be crazy enough to want glamour when he could have a fierce Amazon like you?"
"I can imagine there are a few men who suffer from that particular insanity," she said dryly. She was silent for a moment, searching for words. "I am fierce sometimes, and I have a lot of rough edges. That may come to annoy you. We're different people from different backgrounds." She made a face. "Which brings up the question of children. I want your children very much. Will you want to give them to a woman who has no knowledge of her parentage?"
He lowered his head to press his lips to the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat. "I thought we'd agreed I was to share my background with you." His gaze lifted to meet her eyes. "Bloodlines are just nonsense. You have strength, intelligence, courage, and honesty. I'll be damn lucky if I can offer as much to our child." His eyes began to twinkle. "And I'll be glad to initiate the procedure of impregnating you immediately, if it will offer you any reassurance. We can always hold dinner."
She experienced a hot, clenching sensation in the pit of her stomach. It had been too long since their night together. All she had to do was nod, and . . .
But he was exhausted, and he had probably been skipping meals as well as sleep. "Later." She buried her face in his shoulder, and her words were muffled. "I want to be gentle. I want to give you gentleness and love and everything you need from me. I'll try so hard. I want you to know that."
"Gentleness is something we'll both have to work on." His hand was tenderly stroking the back of her head. "I'm a little out of practice myself."
"I can't give up my work. It's too important to me."
"I wouldn't want you to give it up. I'll give you carte blanche here in Tamrovia. If you feel you have to visit any other country, I'll try to arrange to go with you."
"That may be difficult for you to do as president of Tamrovia."
His chuckle reverberated beneath her ear. "Has it occurred to you that you may have the same difficulty? You won't be the Tanzar's woman then. You'll be the president's first lady." His laughter broke off abruptly. "You will marry me, won't you? I know you don't like the idea of becoming involved in politics, but—"
"I'll marry you." She lifted her head to look up at him and smile. "Perhaps it's time I stopped criticizing and started doing. I have to warn you, though, I have a tendency to throw myself into projects with a good deal of enthusiasm. You may wish you hadn't asked me."
"No, I'll never wish that." He kissed her lightly, lovingly. "This choice is one I'll never regret."
Choices again. They had both had to make so many painful ones in the past. Now they could hope for better alternatives from which to choose. Joy and love and freedom. Wonderful choices.
And responsibility. She was feeling the weight of that responsibility now as she looked at Sandor. He was so very tired, but she knew he wouldn't rest. He had planned this evening for her and wouldn't willingly relinquish his gift. Well, obviously there was only one thing to do.
She feigned a yawn and gazed up at him with eyes that were clear and innocent. "Now that we've settled a few of our problems, do you suppose I could lie down for a few minutes before dinner? I feel a little weak."
Sandor frowned in concern. "Perhaps you shouldn't have gotten up tonight. Would you like me to take you back to your room?"
"No, I'll be fine. Just give me a few minutes to rest." She leaned back on the silk pillows of the divan, pulling him down to lie beside her. "Hold me."
"You're sure?" His arms slid around her and held her close to the warm hardness of his body.
"Very sure." She shifted his head to rest on her shoulder and began gently to stroke his hair. "I want to be close to you. I like this, don't you?"
"Yes." His eyes were already closing. "So sweet. His lips nuzzled the side of her throat. "Tell me when you feel rested enough to have dinner, love."
"I will."
He was deeply asleep in minutes. Alessandra's hand continued to stroke his hair. She had never realized she could feel this poignant tenderness. Perhaps she was actually learning gentleness. Yet the tenderness was still interwoven with fierce protectiveness. Maybe the two qualities could exist side by side. She hoped so. Sandor would need her fierceness as well as her gentleness in the future. He was a man who would always neglect his own welfare in order to give more than he should. She would have to guard him well. And she would start tonight.
She would see that he wasn't disturbed and slept the whole night through. Eating could wait. Passion could wait. If any of his blasted cabinet members decided they couldn't do without Sandor, they'd have to wait too. She brushed her lips lin-geringly over his forehead. And if those gentlemen gave her any arguments, they'd learn just how fierce the Tanzar's woman could be when she was protecting the man she loved.
Iris Johansen, Til the End of Time
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