"Why? Ian will be destroyed if I don't do this."
"And you'll be destroyed if you do. I know you well. You try to bend that straight moral backbone and you'll shatter." He moved toward her. "I'll have no part of it. I have never had a taste for destruction. I ran away from Abdar to avoid it, and I will not help you embrace it."
"I've made my decision, Kartauk."
"Which requires my cooperation." He looked down at her. "No, madam, you'll get no child from me."
He was close enough to her so she could smell the scent of soap, coffee, and clay that clung to him and see the pulse pounding in his strong brown throat and the distended veins in his muscular forearms. She had a sudden sensation of unfamiliarity. She was acutely conscious of his bigness, the wideness of his shoulders, the massive strength of his calves and thighs in the loose trousers, the craggy strength of his features. She felt a sudden flutter of apprehension before she firmly dismissed it as imagination. This was the Kartauk she had known for three years. Her uneasiness must be derived from the prospect of the intimacy she had proposed. "There is another reason I chose you," she said haltingly. "I regard you as my friend. I have had very few friends in my life. I hope I'm not mistaken."
"Mother of God!" His hands hovered over her shoulders as if he'd like to shake her.
"You appear to have an uncommon understanding of me." She blinked rapidly to rid her eyes of tears. "This will be a most difficult undertaking, and it would comfort me to have you with me in this."
His hands clenched and then dropped to his sides. "Go away, madam."
"We haven't finished our discussion. I can't leave until we come to an agreement."
"We are not going to come to an agreement."
"It is necessary we do so. I realize what I propose is neither virtuous nor Christian, but somehow I believe it's right. If there is a child, Ian will live. Can it be so wicked to save a life?"
"Leave me."
"I have no fondness for the act, but Ian seems to think I perform it well. I'll do everything you've instructed me to do and it should not be too unpleasant for you."
He jerked her to her feet and propelled her toward the door.
"I know I'm not bonnie like Ellen MacTavish, but I will endeavor to—"
"My dear madam." He opened the door and pushed her out into the hall. "You're not at all bonnie and as far from the likes of Ellen MacTavish as Cinnidar is from Scotland."
She felt a queer pang even as she drew herself up and stared determinedly at him. "Bonnie or not, it won't hurt you to accommodate me until I'm with child. I shall not insist on any immediate consummation. I, too, must become accustomed to the idea of—" She hesitated.
"Fornicating."
"Conceiving. I'm sure we will both be more comfortable if we make an effort to more fully understand each other. You might make a start by calling me Margaret." She turned and walked down the hall. "I'll pay you another visit tomorrow. Good day, Kartauk."
"Good-bye, madam. Don't return." The door slammed behind her.
Kartauk stared at her coldly. "I told you not to come back. I have no time for your nonsense."
"I will be no bother." Margaret closed the door and moved toward him. "I understand that you have no interest in anything but your work and I've thought of a way to accomplish both our aims."
"I can hardly wait to hear what it is."
"I shall help you." She rolled up the sleeves of her gown. "This is the time of morning Jock gives Ian his bath and after that he takes a nap, so I have three hours free. I will come here every day and aid you in fashioning your dabbles."
He gazed blankly at her. "You're offering yourself as my apprentice?"
"If that is what it's called. We will also talk and become better accustomed to each other's ways. Now, what do I do first?"
"Leave."
"Why do you wear that leather apron? Should I have one on also?"
"I require no apprentice."
"Of course you do. I'm sure every craftsman has an acolyte to do menial tasks. I will sweep and—" She paused, uncertain, before adding vaguely, "Hold things."
"I could have one of Ruel's servants do that."
"But you wouldn't trust them in the same room with one of your precious models," she said triumphantly. "You know I'm not clumsy and would take care not to damage any of your dabbles."
"Madam, I do not . . ." He tried a new direction. "Your plan is without purpose. You have visited me many times during the past three years. I'm sure we have no more to learn about each other."
"You believe you know me, but I have a great deal to learn about you. I was the one who always talked. You asked questions and I answered."
"Sometimes with much reluctance."
"It is not my nature to confide in all and sundry. It was difficult for me to—but you know that." She added wistfully, "You have been very kind to me in the past. Why can't you be kind to me now?"
"I am being kind to you. More than you know." He gazed at her a long moment. "You're a very obstinate woman. You're not going to give up on this, are you?"
"Certainly not."
He threw up his hands. "Oh, very well."
Her eyes widened. "You mean you'll—"
"Not that, dammit," he said quickly. "I mean I'll take you to apprentice. If I do not keep you busy, you'll only sit and stare and plague me with chatter."
"I do not chatter." She had not realized he had regarded her confidences as chatter and the knowledge gave her a hurtful pang. She said stiltedly, "Though I can see how you would think me verbose. I should not have afflicted my ramblings on you. Please forgive me."
"You did not force them on me, I took them," he said curtly. "And, by God, you needed me to take them. I was your priest in the confessional. I gave you haven and absolution. Have you considered if I did what you asked of me that I would no longer fulfill that need? Your haven would be gone."
She felt a surge of loneliness at the thought. "Ian's need is greater than mine."
"You're a foolish woman. You gave years of service to a selfish father only because he seeded the woman who bore you and now you wish to sacrifice yourself for Ian." He paused and then added deliberately, "And all because you feel guilt that you do not love them enough."
She gazed at him, shocked. "I did love them."
He shook his head. "Love must be nurtured and your father gave you nothing in return."
She could not deny that truth. "But Ian is—"
"You loved Ian as a playmate and a friend. In time it might have changed, but because of the accident he also became your child. That's what he is now, a beloved child who must be protected."
"You lie," she said fiercely. "He is my husband and I love him with my whole heart."
"Not with your whole heart, that's why guilt is making you willing to destroy yourself to make amends to him."
"It's not true," she whispered. "You should not say such things."
"Why not?" He smiled recklessly. "I've always known however honest you are with others you've never been honest with yourself."
"Then why did you not state your views before?"
"You're a rare and splendid woman, and I had no desire to hurt you." He met her gaze directly. "But, if you continue on this course you've set, I will never let you hide again. Build a wall and I'll tear it down. Tell me a half-truth and I'll probe and rip until the entire truth is laid bare. No more comfort. No more haven."