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Why did you want to see me?”
He studied her face curiously. “Why do I always want to see you?” he countered. His voice was like velvet. “You’re part of me now, Cecily.”
She colored. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Did he think she didn’t know about Audrey?
“And you wouldn’t lie to me,” she said.
“Any more than you’d lie to me,” he replied softly.
So they were both liars.

Diana Palmer

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You’re as beautiful as you were the night we made our son,” she whispered, bending to kiss him tenderly.
His fingers traced her dark eyebrows, her cheeks, her mouth. “I wish we could have another baby,” he said heavily.
“So do I. But I’m too old,” she said sadly. She lay her cheek against his broad, damp chest and stroked the silver-tipped hair that covered it. “We’ll have to hope for grandchildren, if he ever forgives us.”
He held her tightly, as if by holding her he could keep her safe. What he felt for her was ferociously protective.
She misunderstood the tightening of his arms. She smiled and sighed. “We can’t, again. Cecily will think we’ve deserted her.”
His hand smoothed her long hair. “She probably knows exactly what we’re doing,” he said on a chuckle. “She loves you.”
“She likes you. Maybe we could adopt her.”
“Better if our son marries her.”
She grinned. “We can hope.” She sat up and stretched, liking the way he watched her still-firm breasts. “The last time I felt like this was thirty-six years ago,” she confided.
“The same is true for me,” he replied.
She searched his eyes, already facing her departure. She would have to go back to the reservation, home.
He could still read her better than she knew. He drew her hand to his mouth. “It’s too late, but I want to marry you. This week. As soon as possible.”
She was surprised. She didn’t know what to say.
“I love you,” he said. “I never stopped. Forgive me and say yes.”
She considered the enormity of what she would be agreeing to do. Be his hostess. Meet his friends. Go to fund-raising events. Wear fancy clothes. Act sophisticated.
“Your life is so different from mine,” she began.
“Don’t you start,” he murmured. “I’ve seen what it did to Cecily when Tate used that same argument with her about all the differences. It won’t work with me. We love each other too much to worry about trivial things. Say yes. We’ll work out all the details later.”
“There will be parties, benefits…”
He pulled her down into his arms and kissed her tenderly.
“I don’t know much about etiquette,” she tried again.
He rolled her over, pinning her gently. One long leg inserted itself between both of hers as he kissed her.
“Oh, what the hell,” she murmured, and wrapped her legs around his, groaning as the joints protested.
“Arthritis?” he asked.
“Osteoarthritis.”
“Me, too.” He shifted, groaning a little himself as he eased down. “We’ll work on new positions one day. But it’s…too late…now. Leta…!” he gasped.
She didn’t have enough breath to answer him. He didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t. Bad joints notwithstanding, they managed to do quite a few things that weren’t recommended for people their ages. And some that weren’t in the book at all.

Diana Palmer

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I know he’s had his problems in the past…
“He can’t keep his hands off a liquor bottle at the best of times, and he still hasn’t accepted the loss of his wife!”
“I sent him to a therapist over in Baltimore,” she continued. “He’s narrowed his habit down to a six-pack of beer on Saturdays.”
“What does he get for a reward?” he asked insolently.
She sighed irritably. “Nobody suits you! You don’t even like poor old lonely Senator Holden.”
“Like him? Holden?” he asked, aghast. “Good God, he’s the one man in Congress I’d like to burn at the stake! I’d furnish the wood and the matches!”
“You and Leta,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, listen carefully. The Lakota didn’t burn people at the stake,” she said firmly. She went on to explain who did, and how, and why.
He searched her enthusiastic eyes. “You really do love Native American history, don’t you?”
She nodded. “The way your ancestors lived for thousands of years was so logical. They honored the man in the tribe who was the poorest, because he gave away more than the others did. They shared everything. They gave gifts, even to the point of bankrupting themselves. They never hit a little child to discipline it. They accepted even the most blatant differences in people without condemning them.” She glanced at Tate and found him watching her. She smiled self-consciously. “I like your way better.”
“Most whites never come close to understanding us, no matter how hard they try.”
“I had you and Leta to teach me,” she said simply. “They were wonderful lessons that I learned, here on the reservation. I feel…at peace here. At home. I belong, even though I shouldn’t.”
He nodded. “You belong,” he said, and there was a note in his deep voice that she hadn’t heard before.
Unexpectedly he caught her small chin and turned her face up to his. He searched her eyes until she felt as if her heart might explode from the excitement of the way he was looking at her. His thumb whispered up to the soft bow of her mouth with its light covering of pale pink lipstick. He caressed the lower lip away from her teeth and scowled as if the feel of it made some sort of confusion in him.
He looked straight into her eyes. The moment was almost intimate, and she couldn’t break it. Her lips parted and his thumb pressed against them, hard.
“Now, isn’t that interesting?” he said to himself in a low, deep whisper.
“Wh…what?” she stammered.
His eyes were on her bare throat, where her pulse was hammering wildly. His hand moved down, and he pressed his thumb to the visible throb of the artery there. He could feel himself going taut at the unexpected reaction. It was Oklahoma all over again, when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t ever touch her again. Impulses, he told himself firmly, were stupid and sometimes dangerous. And Cecily was off limits. Period.
He pulled his hand back and stood up, grateful that the loose fit of his buckskins hid his physical reaction to her.
“Mother’s won a prize,” he said. His voice sounded oddly strained. He forced a nonchalant smile and turned to Cecily. She was visibly shaken. He shouldn’t have looked at her. Her reactions kindled new fires in him.

Diana Palmer

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