Praying that she could remember or improvise enough of the ritual to help Robin, she lightly covered his ears with her hands and recited, "When a man mourns, he cannot hear. Let these words remove the obstruction so that you can hear again."

After lifting her hands from his ears, she laid them over his eyes. "During your grief, you have lost the sun and fallen into darkness. I now restore the sunlight."

When she took her hands away, she saw that he was watching her gravely. Crossing her hands on the center of his chest, she intoned, "You have allowed your mind to dwell on your great grief. You must release it lest you, too, wither and die." She felt the rise and fall of his breathing beneath her palms until she lifted them away.

In your sorrow, your bed has become uncomfortable and you cannot sleep at night. Let me remove the discomfort from your resting place." She smoothed her hands across his shoulders and down his arms, then said quietly, "Willi has gone to his rest, Robin. Can't you do the same?"

His eyes closed and he pulled her down against him. At first his heart was pounding as if trying to break free of his ribs, but gradually it slowed to a more normal speed. She held tightly, feeling that some of his inner darkness had been dissolved by the light. Though it was not complete healing, it was a beginning.

He slid his hand into her hair and rested his palm on her nape. "How did you become so wise, Kanawiosta?"

"The usual way," she said wryly. "By making mistakes." She settled her head on his shoulder, so tired from the emotional storms she could scarcely stay awake.

"Whatever the reason, you have wisdom," His hand skimmed down her back, coming to rest on her hip. "Too much to consider marrying me."

His statement acted on her fatigue like a spray of ice water, shocking her to full wakefulness. For a stunned moment she replayed his words to ensure that she had heard properly. Then she sat up and stared at her companion.

Robin lay on the pillows and watched her with the patient stillness of exhaustion. The candlelight played over the stark planes of his face and bare chest, but it was too dim to read the color or expression of his shadowed eyes.

Torn between shock, amusement, and desperate longing, she asked, "Is that an offer, or merely a product of your bizarre sense of humor?"

He sighed, turning his gaze from her to the ceiling. "It wasn't intended as humor. I guess I can't quite bring myself to make a direct offer. If we did marry, the advantages would all be to me. You would be a fool to accept, and you're too intelligent not to know that."

She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or shriek. The scalding emotions of the night had forced her to admit that she loved Robin, though she wasn't sure that she understood or even wholly trusted him.

Which was not the same as saying that she distrusted him; she didn't doubt that he would be true to any commitment he made. And she understood him a good deal better now than she had an hour before. Still… "Marrying you is not without appeal, but I can't imagine what sort of life we would have. Our backgrounds are hopelessly different, and even though I've been a wanderer in the past, that isn't what I want for the future."

"No more do I.I promise you that I can keep a roof over your head." His mouth quirked satirically. "I am not quite as improvident as I look."

"Robin, look at me." When his gaze turned to her, she asked, "Why do you want to marry me? You have said nothing of love."

His eyes closed in a quick spasm of sorrow. "I can promise many things, Kanawiosta. Security, fidelity, my best efforts to make you happy. But love? I don't think I am very good at love. It is one thing I would be wiser not to promise."

Even when her father had died, Maxie had not ached like this. Robin's painful, despairing honesty made her want to weep. Instead she lifted his damaged left hand and kissed it, then pressed it against her cheek. "Do you want me because I am here and Maggie is not?"

"No." His eyes opened and his fingers tightened around hers. "What I feel for you has nothing to do with Maggie. I did, and do, care for her deeply. I always will, but I don't want you as a substitute for her." Amusement flickered across his handsome, rogue angel face. "You are far too much yourself ever to be mistaken for anyone else."

She felt adrift, uncertain how to react. "Caring and loyalty are valuable, even vital. But is that enough?"

"Don't forget passion." He tugged her hand to bring her down next to him. "I haven't for one minute since I met you."

He rolled over and embraced her. Their lips met, and she thought she would dissolve in liquid fire. There had been kisses and caresses before, but always they had been shadowed by doubt. This time was utterly different. Robin's formidable skill and concentration were for her, and her alone.

She responded with all her wistful yearning. The drama of the night had scoured away normal defenses, and their emotions twined as intimately as their bodies. For a wild, sweet interval, there were no questions, only taste and touch and discovery. No matter how tortured Robin's past, despairing his present, and uncertain his future, she loved him.

He trailed kisses down her throat, then slid her shift off her shoulders to bare her breasts. Cupping them together, he murmured, "Lovely. So perfect and lovely."

As he rubbed his face in the shadowed cleft he created, she was struck by the contrast between her brown skin and his fairness. Then he lapped her nipple with his tongue and she forgot the contrast, forgot her doubts, forgot everything but the pure flame of desire.

Her hands skimmed over his back, tracing the faint ridges of scar tissue from that long ago whipping. Someday she would have to ask him about that, and the bullet wound, and his misshapen hand-about every perilous incident that might have ended his life before they had a chance to meet. But not tonight. Ah, God, not tonight.

Abruptly he pulled away and buried his face in the pillow, his shoulders heaving. "Passion is too easy." His voice was ragged. "Neither of us, I think, is in a state to make decisions."

She was left gasping. Her hands clenched the counterpane as she stared at the ceiling and tried to collect her scattered wits. Why the devil couldn't she have gotten involved with a selfish man who was interested only in his own pleasure?

Because she could not have loved such a man. Speaking with great care, she said, "I gather this means you are undergoing another crisis of conscience."

He emerged from the pillow with a twisted, self mocking smile. "Exactly so."

Gently he pulled her shift up over her shoulders again. His hand lingered for a moment on her breast. Then he moved his arm away, his fingers knotting into a fist. "You're remarkable. After all I've put you through tonight, you should be having shrieking hysterics."

"Believe me, I'm tempted." Limbs still trembling with reaction, she rolled over and propped her head on one hand so she could see his face. "How serious are you about marriage?"

"Completely," he said, his eyes lambent with passion.

She closed her eyes for a moment to marshal her thoughts before speaking. She wanted to say that she loved him, but didn't dare, not after his painful doubts about his ability to love. Neither did she want to give him a new source of guilt if the morning light made him change his mind about his proposal.

Was marriage to Robin why she had been unable to sense her future course? She thought about London, and immediately veered away, shaken by that horrible, black anxiety. But the fleeting contact reinforced her belief that her anxiety had nothing to do with Robin; it was more like a wall of fire that she must pass through in order to have a future.

Trying to suppress an involuntary shiver, she said, "You are right that this is not the time to make decisions. I must learn what happened to my father, and you have a great deal of sorting out to do."

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. "I'll sort as fast as I can. In the meantime, at least you aren't saying no." He twined a lock of her dark hair around his forefinger. "I may be acting like the next thing to a lunatic, but I don't think I've ever felt happier in my life than these last days with you. I've been wishing this journey would never end. Now, since there will be no final answers until it does, I want to get to London as soon as possible. It's just that…"

She waited patiently for him to continue.

His eyes slid away and his hand stilled. "I don't know if it is wise to marry a woman because I need her so much. I think that might not be good for either of us."

She studied his expression. The detachment that he had worn like a cloak was gone, and she savored the feeling of closeness. But it was difficult to think clearly when her blood was drumming in her veins. On a deeper level, she still felt the majestic, pulsing energies of passion and creation, the belief that together they would find a measure of wholeness.

With sudden dismay, she realized that she had been behaving like her demure Collins cousins. Since meeting Robin, she had been defending her virtue, worrying about the future instead of living in the present, protecting her heart from possible hurt.

But acting like a respectable Englishwoman would not save her from pain; it would only deny her the deepest desire of her heart. It was time to dispense with European reason in favor of Iroquois wisdom. She wanted Robin. She wanted to give and receive, to be the kind of whole, wise, passionate woman her mother had been, even if it was only for an hour. She wanted to live in this moment as freely as the wind and the rain. And in her bones, she knew that doing so was right.