He was silent as he searched for words. "With Maggie, there were always emotional limits. With you, Kanawiosta, there are none." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk. "The morning we left Ruxton, you implied rather strongly that you loved me. Was that wishful thinking on my part?"
His words were a shining joy that filled her like the sun's radiance. "Lord, Robin, of course I love you," she whispered. "All my talk of our differences, my doubts about England-they were only smoke. My true fear was that I cared too much to be your wife if you didn't love me."
His coat fell from her shoulders as she stood and opened her arms. Robin walked straight into them.
From the beginning, their bodies had known that it was utterly right to be together. This time there was no doubt, only fierce, compelling desire.
They were lying on the Persian carpet, most of their clothing off, when Robin pulled back. "Damnation, I'm doing it again." He rested his forehead on her bare breast, his chest heaving. "I have trouble remembering that you don't want to make love in this house. I'm sorry." He smiled ruefully. "A pity it's too cold and wet for the garden tonight."
He was starting to move away when she slid her arms around his neck. "No need to go all noble, Robin. Now that I know that you love me, being here doesn't bother me at all."
His face became vivid with laughter. "I'm very, very glad to hear that,"
He bent to her breasts again. She arched against him in wordless response to his mouth and hands and intoxicating nearness. Even more than fire, there was tenderness and understanding and mirth, all woven together into an emotion far greater than the sum of its parts.
This time passion was not a gift of solace, but a sharing of their innermost selves. She felt as if she were soaring through the tangled skeins of his spirit. Though the dark strands were still there, they no longer shivered with anguish, while the bright, sunspun threads of his being flowed around her with joy and laughter, together, they were whole.
Afterward she lay trembling on top of him, her hair spilling over his chest and face. Tenderly he smoothed it back so that he could see her face. "Really, love, we're going to have to get back into the habit of doing this in a bed. Stone altars and library floors definitely have their place now and then, but they aren't especially comfortable."
She stretched her body along his, loving his lean strength. "It's very comfortable where I am."
He smiled. "You do make a superlative blanket."
She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them. "Feeling like a hopeless outsider is wretched when one is growing up," she said thoughtfully, "but from what I can see, many interesting people start out that way."
"I've noticed that." He stroked her naked back lovingly. "I've also found that one needn't stay a misfit forever."
She grinned. "The two of us fit together perfectly."
After a spell of peaceful silence, Robin murmured, "You're sure it didn't bother you to make love here?"
"Quite sure," she said lazily.
He linked his arms around her and rolled swiftly over so that he was above. Her raven hair wove ebony patterns across the burgundy patterns of the Persian rug, framing her exotically beautiful face.
"In that case, my love," he said softly, "let's do it again."
Epilogue
It was a perfect day for a wedding, and the gardens at Ruxton were ideal for the ceremony and the wedding breakfast. The guest list was small, and many had been at Maxie's first London dinner party. The people she had met that night were becoming the closest friends she'd ever had.
Giles and Desdemona had stood up with the bride and groom. In a fortnight, Maxie and Robin would return the favor when the older couple became man and wife.
After the serious eating was done and the toasts had been drunk, Robin bent to her and said quietly, "Shall we take a walk? Our guests can manage without us for a few minutes."
"I'd like that."
Hand in hand, they strolled through the gardens, which were magnificent with early summer scents and blooms. In a few short weeks, Ruxton had become the home of her heart.
As they wandered into the woods, Robin said, "Did I mention how much I like your gown? I've never seen anything like it, but it suits you perfectly."
She glanced down at the exquisitely beaded and fringed dress with pleasure. It had been a wedding gift from Margot. "It's a loose interpretation of a Mohawk wedding costume. I sketched out the design and Margot found a dressmaker who was willing to make it even though she didn't have any dyed porcupine quills."
Sunlight shafted through the leaves and small birds fluttered on all sides, filling the air with music. She nodded toward them. "Look at all the songbirds around us, Robin. It's as if they've come to help us celebrate."
He grinned.
Suddenly suspicious, Maxie looked more closely at the grass beside the path. "Lord Robert, did you tell the gardener to sprinkle grain along this path to bring the birds for us?"
He laughed, unrepentant. "What's wrong with creating a little magic? When I first saw you at the Wolverhampton fairy ring, I thought of Titania, the fairy queen."
She joined his laughter. "And I thought of Oberon. Our imaginations work in similar ways."
"Among many other things." He hesitated, then said, "I probably shouldn't ask, but these days, when you think about the future, do you have a sense of its course?"
She nodded. "Many, many happy years with you."
He raised their hands and kissed her fingertips. "That's what I was hoping."
The path led to a clearing that Maxie had not seen before. In the center was a fairy ring like the one at Wolverhampton. She stopped and gazed at it, feeling absurdly happy.
Robin drew her into his arms and gave her a kiss of aching sweetness. Then he whispered, "Now, Kanawiosta, show me again how to listen to the wind."