It had to be her choice or he was just as bad as Sean and Whitney and his father. He refused to let his father’s legacy consume him. He wasn’t that man, selfish and unable to see that a woman wasn’t a possession. Mari had to choose him, want to be with him. She had to accept the flaws in him just as he would have had to accept the fact that she wasn’t Briony, with her much more submissive personality.
Love was a choice, and if Mari felt the need to be with her sisters, if the pull there was stronger than her feelings for him, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—force her. He pressed the heel of his hand between his eyes and made no effort to stop the flow of tears because he loved her enough to let her go.
He could hear the ticking of the clock. The passage of time. He couldn’t stop the sobs tearing his chest apart, the tears that had never come for his lost face and his destroyed manhood. He could hardly bear the pain this time. He had borne so much stoically, but losing Mari was losing life and hope all over again, and his throat burned raw with choking sorrow.
“Ken?” A soft inquiry, a beautiful voice.
He stiffened, not believing, not daring to believe. He passed a hand over his face, choked down the tight lump in his throat, and turned very slowly.
Mari was standing in the doorway anxious and very disheveled. Sweat beaded on her skin; leaves and twigs were caught in her hair. There were scratches on her arms and a rip in her shirt. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
“I thought you were gone.” His voice was strangled.
“I ran halfway down the road and then I couldn’t run anymore. I just stopped and stood there crying. I didn’t want to go any further. I don’t care if I should be with my sisters. I love you. I know I do. I can’t leave. I have no idea how to be anything you want me to be, but I’ll try.”
He took a step toward her, gray eyes moving over her hungrily. “You’ve never said you love me before.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “You look awful, Ken. Did you get hurt?”
He waved the subject aside, gathering her into his arms. “I don’t want you to be anything but what you are, Mari.”
“Well, that’s a good thing because I was giving you a load of crap so you’d want me to stay.” She pressed little kisses along his throat, over his rough jaw.
The adrenaline surge was gone, leaving him feeling shaky and sick. His body roared at him, calling him all kinds of names for the abuse. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but that she was in his arms and he could stroke her body, pull her closer, fit her h*ps to his. And that he wanted to smile again. She made him smile again. “I knew that. You’re always going to be a handful.”
“So true.” Mari linked her hands around his neck, her body moving enticingly against his. “I’m glad you realize that.”
His mouth slanted over hers, forcing her lips apart to feed hungrily.
“What about Sean?” she murmured when he lifted his head.
“He’s dead.” He said it tersely. “Let that be the end of it.”
She nodded. “Sit down. Let me look at you.” Already her hands were sliding over his body, searching for damage. She touched his face with gentle fingers. “I was afraid for you, Ken, and I needed to be with you, not stuck down in a tunnel somewhere.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He brought her hands to his mouth. “I know what you’re like, and I should have tried harder to see your point of view. I swear I want to see your point of view, but the thought of your life at risk . . .”
“Is how I feel when you risk yours,” she said. “You have to accept what I really am, Ken. I see you with your need to keep me close, and to protect me. I love that in you. I can even accept the fact that you’re going to be an idiot every time a man looks at me, but you have to accept me for who I am. I was raised practically since birth as a soldier. That’s who I am and you’re not going to change that. I’m not going to change that. You’re going to have to take me on as a partner. Eventually, if you do, your brother will. All three of us can protect Briony and any children our two families have.”
“What if I can’t get there, Mari? What if I don’t have that kind of courage?”
“You do,” she assured him, “or I would have kept running down that mountain. Come on.” She tugged at his hand. “You need a shower. Why don’t you let Jack take care of all the details, and let me take care of you?”
“Say it again.”
“What?” Firmly she closed their door, and began to peel the ragged shirt from his powerful shoulders.
He caught her in a hard, bruising grip, gave her a little shake. “Stop teasing me. I’ve waited a long time.”
“We could always compromise,” she offered sweetly. “You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
He lifted her into his arms. “You’re going to say it a hundred times before we’re done here,” he warned.
And she did.