by Daphne Clair
'And so did you,' she said, with a hint of laughter. 'You were so furious—'
'I must have scared you silly,' he said.
'No. And anyway, you softened at the end. You were kind when you said goodbye.
'And you cried.'
'I've been crying ever since—until now.'
`I can't promise never to make you cry again—you know I'm a bad-tempered, spoiled, temperamental type. But you must promise not to let me get away with it. You've only to look at me softly with those hurt green eyes and I'll be on my knees begging forgiveness.'
Carissa laughed. 'That's not true and you know it.'
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely. Then his hands smoothed her hair as he muttered, `Are you going to make me wait?'
`No.'
He looked at her and said, 'You witch! You know
damn well I'm going to, because that's what you want.
How soon can we be married in this country?' 'I'm not sure. But it can't be too soon for me.' `Nor me,' he said, with a hint of grimness.
'Oh, Cade!
`All right,' he said more gently. 'Whatever happened eight years ago, it was to two other people. We start here, and we start right. This time, for you, it's going to be perfect.'
`Yes, it will be,' she said. 'I know.'