"Some dimples are in the most enchanting places." He pressed her close and they melted together in magic alchemy. His hand went caressingly to one pert cheek of her buttocks. "There's a cute little one, right here."
"I never noticed."
"I did," Gideon whispered. "I notice everything about you." His lips touched hers in a kiss as light as fairy dust. "Do you know that you look fantastic under a waterfall? The spray covers you with diamond dew drops."
"How romantic," she said lightly, her throat tightening. "As a beauty aid it's hardly portable, however."
"I am romantic when I'm with you." Suddenly he was no longer laughing. "I want to tilt windmills and fight dragons for you. I'd like to write a song like the old troubadours did for their ladies and sing it under your window." His hand gently caressed the sleek glossy darkness of her hair.
"You know that commitment we were talking about?"
She stiffened unconsciously in his arms. Not now. Please, not now. "Commitment?"
He nodded, one finger tenderly brushing her wet lashes. "It's damn important, Serena. And there's no way I'm going to let you run away from it."
She didn't want to think about anything but him at this lovely moment. It had been such a wonderful three days. Why did Gideon have to interject this disturbing note now?
"Who's running?" she asked, deliberately pressing closer to him and rubbing her breasts against him in teasing provocation. "I'm standing still." She made a face. "For all the good it's doing me. I thought you were going to tell me more about my enchanting dimples."
A shadow darkened his face for a brief instant, and she saw a flicker of disappointment in the depths of his eyes. Then it was gone and his grin was as mischievous as ever. "Oh, yes, those dimples. I was about to go into that," he drawled. He made a slight adjustment in his stance, his hands lifting her legs so they curled around his waist. "Very deeply into that."
Her laughter was abruptly cut off and she inhaled sharply. Her fingers bit into the sleek, cool flesh of his shoulders as he suited his actions to his words.
She closed her eyes as he started to move with a forceful tempo, gradually escalating into world- shaking explosiveness. She could feel his heart pounding as erratically as her own and there seemed to be an element of driving ruthlessness about his thrusts that had been absent before. Ruthlessness? Gideon had never displayed anything but magical gentleness in his lovemaking. Yet there was undoubtedly a disturbing element, almost an anger in his possession now. No, she must be mistaken. For when they reached the climax of feeling that had become as necessary to her as water in the desert, his arms still held her with the same caring protectiveness as they always did.
His voice was the same, too, a husky growl with an underlying thread of humor. "Two minutes?"
Her answering laughter was lost in the mellifluous roar of the waterfall.
Still, there was unmistakably an air of abstraction in Gideon's demeanor as they retrieved her blouse and finally, after several dives, managed to find her shorts. It continued as they swam back to the bank and dressed before gathering Serena's sketch pad and pencils and setting off for the house.
She shivered as she cast a glance at the sky, which had darkened from cerulean blue to dull pewter while they had been in the water. "So much for my clothes drying in a few minutes," she commented. "We'll be lucky if we don't get drenched again before we get back to the house."
"What?" He glanced up at the thunderclouds gathering on the horizon. "Looks like rain. Let's get you inside."
His hand cupped her elbow and his pace quickened to a jog. By the time they reached the house, the threatening storm had become a reality. They ran the last few yards through a cloudburst.
"You'd better take a hot bath and get into some dry clothes," Gideon said quietly as soon as the door closed behind them. He was striding swiftly down the hall toward the kitchen. "I'll start a pot of coffee and put steaks in the broiler."
Frowning, she stood in the foyer looking after him. There was definitely something wrong. Any other time there would have been no question they would shower together, then share the kitchen tasks. "You're just as wet as I am," she called to him.
"I'm fine," he tossed over his shoulder. "Run along."
The casual dismissal shouldn't have bothered her, she assured herself firmly. Perhaps Gideon was growing tired of doing everything together. It was only natural for a man as independent as Gideon to chafe at constant invasion of his privacy. Just because she was beginning to find every moment spent without him lonely, she mustn't expect him to feel the same way. Yet the nagging uneasiness she was experiencing had a definite tinge of unhappiness as she turned and walked slowly up the stairs.
The uneasiness manifested itself in the extra care she took with her appearance. After her shower she reached for a rose and gold caftan instead of more informal wear. She put her hair up in a loose knot on her head, leaving a few wisps to curl around her face. A bit of powder and mascara, a touch of lip gloss, and she was ready to confront Gideon. She made a face at herself in the mirror. Confront Gideon? Why had those words occurred to her? They made him sound more like an enemy than a lover. Her imagination was really running away with her.
When she appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later she knew her elaborate toilette had been for nothing. Gideon glanced up casually as he put foil-wrapped French bread in the oven. "The steaks are almost done. I left the salad for you to do. I'll be with you in ten minutes." He left the kitchen.
She was frowning as she opened the refrigerator door and began to take out vegetables to make a salad. She might as well have been a post for all the attention he had paid her. Perhaps he was becoming a little bored. Well, she had all evening to pierce his wall of indifference.
She glanced out the window over the sink at the rain battering against the windows in sheets, an occasional rumble of thunder indicating that the storm would be around for some time. It was almost dark and she could barely make out the trees and shrubbery of the garden being buffeted by the wind. The idea of a storm coming at this particular time to disturb the sunny tranquility of the days that had gone before made her even more uneasy. It seemed entirely too prophetic.
Gideon came back in a little over ten minutes later. He was dressed in khakis that molded the beautifully sculptured line of his thighs and a cream shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow to bare his muscular forearms. His damp hair was combed with the unaccustomed meticulous- ness of a scrubbed and spiffy little boy, she noted, with a sudden rush of tenderness. But there was nothing boyish about Gideon's demeanor as he sat down opposite her at the table and began to eat. There was only quiet competence, maturity and a seriousness that worried her.
It wasn't until after they had finished the meal itself and were having coffee that Gideon leaned back and gazed somberly at her. "I want you to marry me."
Serena almost dropped her coffee cup. A swift surge of joy was followed by confusion and then an odd sense of panic. "You don't mean it."
"I mean it." Gideon's lips thinned to a tight line. "Did you think we could continue this little idyll forever? It's time we came out of the rosy haze and talked about commitment."
"Marriage," she echoed. Her throat felt dry and tight and she moistened her lips nervously.
"You seem to be having trouble with the idea. I don't know why. It's not such an unusual concept." He pushed his cup and saucer aside with barely controlled impatience. "Despite the liberated era we live in, it's still considered the thing to do when two people care for each other, you know." He paused before adding, "And you do care for me, Serena."