His face was utterly blank.

"You want to stay single," Nathaniel said evenly, his face masked. "You've told me that any number of times."

"Your memory does me no good service." Elizabeth tried to strike lighter tone, but she was unable to control the trembling of her voice, or even to meet his gaze directly.

Nathaniel was watching her closely, something on his face she couldn't quite place. Fear? Anger?

"I don't want your charity."

"This is not charity!"

"What would you call it, then? You want me to marry you so you can give me your property. What did you intend to do about the taxes?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Pay them."

"Aye," said Nathaniel hoarsely. "You intended to pay them. There's a word for what you're asking me to be, but it ain't exactly polite."

Shocked, Elizabeth drew her hand away. "I was thinking of you—"

"Goddamn it, woman," Nathaniel hissed. "It's not your pity I want."

"No," Elizabeth said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze, her own eyes blazing. "You want justice. And you said—you said that you wanted me, too. But perhaps that was just talk."

He jumped up, towering over her; she stood to meet him, her fists balled at her side.

"And what about you? What about what you want?" He was full angry now, his hands on her shoulders, hard, pressing.

Elizabeth felt her heart melting like the candle wax felt it running down to her feet. She pushed his hands away.

"If you weren't such an idiot, perhaps you'd see what I'm trying to tell you!" she spat out. "This is for me, too. Do you think I'm fool enough to throw everything away, to hand over everything I own"—she swallowed, hard—"for no reason? I had come to the conclusion that I'd be better off as your wife than my father's daughter—but now I wonder."

She stood breathing harshly, her chin jutting up toward him, watching him with eyes that dared him to doubt her. He stared back.

"You realize what we'd have to do? Marry on the run and disappear long enough that he can't petition to have the marriage annulled, or the deed?"

"Yes." Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, yes. I thought of that."

He drew back and looked at her hard as if she were some new creature he had never seen before. His temple was beaded with sweat in spite of the cold.

"Do you want to be my true wife," he said, "or is this a marriage on paper you're proposing, a lie?"

"Oh, Nathaniel," Elizabeth said, suddenly miserable. "That's not what I had in mind, no. But if you don't want me you'll have to say so and perhaps there's some other way to stop Richard."

He moved toward her, and then he hesitated.

"Forgive me for my bluntness," he said hoarsely. "But I'm asking you now to tell me what it is you want, in no uncertain terms."

"I want you," whispered Elizabeth, blinking hard. "I want you. And if there's some way to set things right with you and yours in the process, then that's all the better."

Nathaniel took her hands and drew her down to the bale of straw. Elizabeth felt his whole frame trembling.

"I told you," he said softly, his mouth against her hair. "I told you once that you only had to ask. I just wasn't sure what you were asking."

"I was afraid, too. You never said what it was exactly you wanted from me. You still haven't said it."

His fingers moved on her temple. "You want the words. I guess that's fair, seeing as how I made you speak up."

"It would be a help," Elizabeth admitted. "It's hard to propose marriage without any assistance at all. At this moment I can almost feel sorry for Richard."

Nathaniel laughed softly at that, and tilted her head up so he could look her in the eye.

"It's what you want. You're sure?"

She nodded.

"Well, then." The muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. "I ain't got much to offer except Lake in the Clouds, maybe not even that—"

"And Hannah," Elizabeth supplied.

"And Hannah. And a life you weren't born to, and a lot of trouble to start with—"

"And your father," she interrupted again.

"And my father. Elizabeth." He took both her hands, turned the palms up to kiss them and then pressed them to his chest. She could feel his heart beating, a slow, rolling thunder.

"None of that matters, if you don't want me the way I want you. If you come to me—" He looked away for a second, into the shadows, and then back at her. "You have to know what you're getting."

"I can see what I'm getting," Elizabeth said.

"Can you? You think you can see to my soul, do you? You don't know what kind of husband I was to Sarah. You don't like it when I talk about her, I can see that. But I think you'll have to hear about it sometime."

"What kind of husband were you to Sarah?" she asked woodenly.

"Not a very good one." His mouth was a thin line, his brows drawn together. "We married for the wrong reason."

She waited, uneasily.

He looked over her head into the dark. "I been thinking about it a lot lately. I guess I married her because I wanted to be red and she married me because she wanted to be white. So neither of us got what we wanted."