"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."

"Yes, of course I do." There was no question in her mind. How could anyone help loving Gideon? He was all sunlight and passion. He was quiet strength and laughter. "I think we ought to wait a while before we take such a serious step. We've really only known each other a little less than a week." Her smile was uncertain. "Why don't we talk about it again later?"

"Now. I want to talk now, Serena."

"Well, I don't." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "You're being unreasonable. There's no reason we can't go on exactly as we have been." She drew a deep shaky breath and smiled pleadingly. "Would it be so bad? You can't say you haven't enjoyed the last few days."

His expression lost none of its quiet determination. "No, I can't deny it. That's why it's important we keep what we have. Marriage, Serena." He rose to his feet and stood facing her across the table. "It's got to be marriage."

"Not yet," she said sharply. "I've been married, dammit. It would be foolish to jump impulsively into such a serious commitment." She smiled with an effort. "Now why don't we discuss something else? We obviously can't agree on the subject of marriage."

He shook his head. "Not this time, Serena. I've watched you sidestep any hint of commitment for the entire time we've been together." His lips curved wryly. "I don't think you were even conscious of doing it. Heaven knows our time together has been so damn wonderful I didn't want to blow it by pushing too hard, but we can't put it off any longer. Our time's running out." He gestured toward the door. "Come on, we're going to talk."

"The dishes-"

"We'll do them later," Gideon said firmly. He tossed his napkin on the table, turned and strode from the room.

She gazed mutinously after him before reluctantly following him down the hall and into the library. She seated herself stiffly in a flowered easy chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Perhaps you'd better begin the discussion," she said. "I've said everything I wish to on the subject."

He dropped down on the couch and regarded her sardonically. "Which is absolutely nothing. But I don't mind taking the initiative. Suppose we start by my asking a question or two." He leaned forward, his gaze fixed with hypnotic intensity on her face. "What happens after we leave here, Serena? My base is here and yours is in New York. What did you have in mind for our relationship then?"

"I'm sure we could work something out."

"I'm sure we could. Perhaps we could take turns commuting on weekends. And there's always the telephone, isn't there, Serena? I'm sure we'd find long-distance heavy breathing more than satisfying."

"Don't be sarcastic," Serena said. "It wouldn't have to be forever. Just until we feel sure what we're doing is right."

"I'm sure," he said between his teeth. "And you're sure too, dammit!" He made an effort at control. "Look, I know you're afraid, but I-"

"I'm not afraid. I just think-"

"The hell you're not!" His dark eyes were blazing. "Do you think I don't know you love me? That's the one thing in the world I'm damn certain about. There's no way that what we've got together could be one-sided. You're just so scared you're shaking in your shoes."

"That's ridiculous. Why should I be afraid?"

"You shouldn't be afraid, but you are. There's nothing to fear in what we have together. I know whatever you're afraid of has something to do with what happened to you that night, or in the years we were separated, and I know your marriage wasn't what a marriage should be, but ours would be different. We can straighten everything out if you'll only let me help you. But I can't help you, if you won't talk about it. Talk to me."

She stared dumbly at him.

"Dammit, don't look at me like that." He stood up with the leashed ferocity of a caged leopard. "You've been a fantastic lover, but I need more than sex. I need you to trust me and let me become a part of you. Sex isn't enough and I won't let you use it as a substitute." He turned to the door. "And I damn well can't take it any longer!"

"Where are you going?" she asked, startled.

"For a walk."

"But it's pouring rain!"

"Good." He cast her a glance as tempestuous as the storm outside. "Maybe it will cool me off." He strode out of the room and a moment later she heard the front door slam behind him.

She was stunned and bewildered. Gideon had been angry with her. Her own defensive anger had disappeared, submerged in the sudden panic that realization brought. He had always been so patient, so infinitely gentle with her, and now he was furious. What if he decided to leave her?

She jumped to her feet and ran from the room. A moment later she was down the porch steps and out into the darkness. "Gideon," she called frantically. "Come back!"

Which way had he gone? She couldn't see anything through the pelting rain. She was soaked to the skin, and the water was dripping from her throat down the low neckline of the caftan. She started running. "Gideon, where are you? I can't see-" She broke off as she collided with something blessedly familiar. Her arms went around him and she held him tight. "Gideon."

"You didn't have to come after me. I was coming back." She could sense the crooked smile on his lips. "I decided sex wasn't such a bad substitute after all. For now."