"And where is this to go?" she asked. "What are we to do?"

Nathaniel looked down on her, at her gray eyes daring him to push her too far. On her face was the clear and desperate hope that he would give her an excuse to turn away for good.

"Where do you want it to go?" he said.

"What do you want us to do?" A thought came to him that made him wonder. "Do you know what passes between a man and woman?"

"I'm a virgin," Elizabeth said grimly, dropping his hands. "Not an idiot. Of course I know what it means to—to mate." But she could not meet his gaze. With a surprising change of posture, her back straight and her shoulders set, she faced Nathaniel with a new stillness in her face, a terrible stillness.

"Is that what you want of me?"

"It's part of it," he conceded. "But it's only one part. I can't look at you and not think about touching you. How fine you feel to me, the warmth of you. What the rest of you must be like."

She drew in her breath audibly, her head falling back and all the harshness, all the anger, draining out of her face to be replaced by the drowsy and infinite pleasure of this, of hearing him say he wanted her. And Nathaniel saw something he had forgotten about women: that words can do the same work as hands and mouths and a man's body, that she was as undone by his admission of desire as she had been by his kiss.

"And the other part?" Elizabeth asked, her voice wobbling.

Nathaniel grinned.

"Pretty women ain't so very rare," he said. "But a pretty woman who stands up to a room full of strange men and defends herself—that's something else. After all," he said softly. "’Blessed are those wise in the ways of books, for theirs is the kingdom of righteousness and fair play.’"

Elizabeth's head snapped forward. "So you want me because I misquote the bible to serve my own purposes?" she asked. "That's not very convincing. Nor, may I add, is it very gentlemanly to remind me of that episode."

"Aye," said Nathaniel. "Here we are at the heart of it. I ain't gentleman, but you don't want a gentleman, do you? You want somebody as set on their sights as you are, and willing to do what has to be done, and damn the consequences."

"Let me ask you this," Elizabeth said. "Will you let your daughter come to my school?"

Nathaniel laughed out loud. "That's what I mean. Well, tell me this: can I pay her tuition in kisses?" he asked, but Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and he saw his mistake. His face calmed.

"I can't let her come. I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

"I see." She turned and began to walk away, wobbling on her snowshoes.

"You don't see." Nathaniel came up next to her.

"I see that you want to put your hands on me and kiss me but that I'm not good enough to teach your daughter. I see that you admire my courage but that you don't value my convictions."

They walked for a moment in silence. "You don't understand about Hannah."

She swung around, and almost lost her balance, but caught herself quickly.

"I understand you have a daughter whom you don't want to send to a school taught by a white woman."

A little shocked at herself, Elizabeth hesitated. She had let the words fall, though, and there was no calling them back.

"Is that what you think?" Nathaniel asked quietly. "That I don't trust you to treat her well, or teach her things of value? I don't want her in your school because you're white, and she's not?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, well, that is my impression."

When they had gone on another ten minutes, they came to another bit of woods and they passed into it, and within a few feet they came to a small cabin.

"Come," Nathaniel said, and turned off the path. Elizabeth hesitated behind him, and then seeing him at the open door, and knowing that he would not concede, she stripped off her snowshoes and went in.

The cabin was a single room with a chair, a cot, a table, and a hearth. There was a lopsided betty lamp on the mantel, covered with dust. Nathaniel took a flint and steel from a pouch on his belt and set to the chore of laying a fire.

"We won't be here long enough to need that," Elizabeth said behind his back. She stood as far away from the cot as she could, with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Tell me what it is you want to tell me about Hannah and we'll be on our way. There's that storm coming, and I can't be caught here with you, alone."

Nathaniel went on with his work as if he had not heard her, coaxing the small and reluctant flame into something more substantial.

"Come over here and warm yourself," he said finally. "I promise not to touch you."

Elizabeth snorted. "We're talking about Hannah, and school," she said. "We'll talk about ... kissing if and when we come to an agreement." She looked straight at him as she said this, although she could not control the color rising on her cheeks.

"Do you mean to blackmail me into sending my daughter to your school by withholding yourself from me?" asked Nathaniel, amused.

Elizabeth crossed the room with sharp taps of her boots, and held her hands out to the fire. "I'll not honor that with a reply," she said. "You know very well that's not what I meant."

There was a little pause as she collected her thoughts. "Your father was telling me yesterday that your mother was educated, and that her father thought it was right for girls to have schooling."