said, “You haven’t been listening to me. This is a dangerous situation, and you will be out of it just as soon as possible.”
And out of my life
.
Teddy rolled the dice and watched to see how they landed. “I love you, Zach.”
His head moved faintly, an uncontrolled and unconscious gesture of negation. “No. This time yesterday you didn’t even know me.”
She laughed softly, almost without being aware of it. “Yes. But things always happen fast in my life. I should have expected love to be no different.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he told her flatly.
It would not be a good time to prove that she did indeed know a great deal about him; it would be too difficult to explain just now. Instead, she shrugged. “That doesn’t seem to matter.”
“It should matter. It would—if we were somewhere else.”
Teddy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I know what I feel.”
His eyes narrowed, and his entire body looked taut. In a voice that was harsh he said, “Then know you’ll get over it. Know it won’t last the time it’ll take to get down off this mountain. Know that, Teddy.”
It was
my
own stupid fault, and I won’t let it happen again
.
She fought a rising despair, wondering how she could convince him. And then she knew that only time would convince him—if she were granted that time and the ability to use it—and the storm pushed inward to remind her of the anguish of uncertainty and waiting. She could literally feel herself pale, and she saw his hard eyes flicker.
“What if I don’t get over it?” she asked.
“You will.” He swore suddenly, harshly. “Don’t look at me like that!”
Teddy dropped her gaze to focus on her knees. Instinct told her that no amount of arguing with Zach would help. Not here, at least,and not now. And the only avenue left open to her was the disturbing, painful one leading to the storm she felt … and which he felt at least partially. She wanted him; he wanted her. That was all she had.
“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that I’ll get over it. Maybe you’re right and I will.” Every word was a stab, but she bore the pain. “Still, neither of us can deny that we want each other. And there’s no risk of pregnancy.”
“There’s always a risk,” he said, interrupting curtly.
She looked at him then, and in her eyes was the pain of someone who loved children and knew only too well that she would be lucky indeed to have even one of her own. “No risk,” she repeated softly. “It took my parents ten years to get me, and Jenny was nothing less than a miracle—the doctor said so. Jenny’s miscarried twice, and my doctor tells me I’ll be lucky if I get even that far.”
She squared her shoulders and met his unreadableeyes with a bedrock certainty in her own. “Everyone has their own beliefs and their own right to them, and I would never judge them by my own standards. But there is one thing you have to know, Zach, one thing you can be certain of. If, by some incredible bit of luck, I managed to conceive, there wouldn’t be an abortion. That’s something I could never do.”
He looked away first, jerkily, something hot and a little wild flickering suddenly in his eyes. “All the more reason,” he said roughly.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Then you won’t make love to me?”
“No.” It was a bitten-out sound.
Teddy felt the surge of the storm and chewed her lip briefly. No pride. Dammit, it even stole pride. But that was only a fleeting realization, a distant pain.
She had rolled the dice and lost. But she wasn’t finished. She would gamble everything she had, keep rolling the dice until there was nothing left.
She looked at her watch, struggling to bringit into focus and absently realizing that she’d slept for several hours. “Those men are still gone?”
For a moment Zach seemed startled, as if he’d braced himself for argument, for persuasion. “Yes,”
And out of my life
.
Teddy rolled the dice and watched to see how they landed. “I love you, Zach.”
His head moved faintly, an uncontrolled and unconscious gesture of negation. “No. This time yesterday you didn’t even know me.”
She laughed softly, almost without being aware of it. “Yes. But things always happen fast in my life. I should have expected love to be no different.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he told her flatly.
It would not be a good time to prove that she did indeed know a great deal about him; it would be too difficult to explain just now. Instead, she shrugged. “That doesn’t seem to matter.”
“It should matter. It would—if we were somewhere else.”
Teddy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I know what I feel.”
His eyes narrowed, and his entire body looked taut. In a voice that was harsh he said, “Then know you’ll get over it. Know it won’t last the time it’ll take to get down off this mountain. Know that, Teddy.”
It was
my
own stupid fault, and I won’t let it happen again
.
She fought a rising despair, wondering how she could convince him. And then she knew that only time would convince him—if she were granted that time and the ability to use it—and the storm pushed inward to remind her of the anguish of uncertainty and waiting. She could literally feel herself pale, and she saw his hard eyes flicker.
“What if I don’t get over it?” she asked.
“You will.” He swore suddenly, harshly. “Don’t look at me like that!”
Teddy dropped her gaze to focus on her knees. Instinct told her that no amount of arguing with Zach would help. Not here, at least,and not now. And the only avenue left open to her was the disturbing, painful one leading to the storm she felt … and which he felt at least partially. She wanted him; he wanted her. That was all she had.
“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that I’ll get over it. Maybe you’re right and I will.” Every word was a stab, but she bore the pain. “Still, neither of us can deny that we want each other. And there’s no risk of pregnancy.”
“There’s always a risk,” he said, interrupting curtly.
She looked at him then, and in her eyes was the pain of someone who loved children and knew only too well that she would be lucky indeed to have even one of her own. “No risk,” she repeated softly. “It took my parents ten years to get me, and Jenny was nothing less than a miracle—the doctor said so. Jenny’s miscarried twice, and my doctor tells me I’ll be lucky if I get even that far.”
She squared her shoulders and met his unreadableeyes with a bedrock certainty in her own. “Everyone has their own beliefs and their own right to them, and I would never judge them by my own standards. But there is one thing you have to know, Zach, one thing you can be certain of. If, by some incredible bit of luck, I managed to conceive, there wouldn’t be an abortion. That’s something I could never do.”
He looked away first, jerkily, something hot and a little wild flickering suddenly in his eyes. “All the more reason,” he said roughly.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Then you won’t make love to me?”
“No.” It was a bitten-out sound.
Teddy felt the surge of the storm and chewed her lip briefly. No pride. Dammit, it even stole pride. But that was only a fleeting realization, a distant pain.
She had rolled the dice and lost. But she wasn’t finished. She would gamble everything she had, keep rolling the dice until there was nothing left.
She looked at her watch, struggling to bringit into focus and absently realizing that she’d slept for several hours. “Those men are still gone?”
For a moment Zach seemed startled, as if he’d braced himself for argument, for persuasion. “Yes,”
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