"I know you're upset that I wanted to leave." Charity sat close beside me on the buggy seat, her hands tucked inside her fur muff, the hood of her cape pulled up and blocking her lovely face from view. I hadn't wanted to take her back her to town just yet, had even hoped she would stay overnight and not for any lascivious reason; I wasn't going to scratch on her door when everyone else was asleep and beg her to let me in. Not that I wouldn't have kept her out had she come to my room, but I just didn't want to say goodnight to her and leave her again Each separation was becoming more difficult for me and I always wanted to hold her longer, to kiss her and hear her voice and smell her hair—I wanted to be with her.

But I couldn't find the words to tell her that so, as usual, I just said what came easily. That's the problem with words—you can't say exactly what you feel so we all just do our best and that's why no one really understands anyone else. "Not really. This only gives me more time to be alone with you." I was rewarded—she looked up at me and her hood fell slightly back. "I would have liked my family to get to know you better but, well, there'll be enough time after we're married." I looked back at the road and couldn't help but smile.

"You seem sure of that but I haven't yet said that I would marry you nor have you even bothered to ask me."

I pulled up the horse and Charity seemed surprised that we stopped. "Why you're right—I haven't asked. So what do you say? Will you marry me, Charity Freestone?"

"Well, I…" She looked down at her muff and then glanced up at me with a gentle smile. "Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I will."

I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs—so I did. I stood in the open buggy and let the world know that Charity Freestone was going to be Mrs. Adam Cartwright making me the luckiest man in the world. She tugged at my jacket, flustered.

"Adam, sit down. What if someone hears you? You never know who else might be traveling on this road."

I laughed but sat back down and pulled her to me. Up to that point in my life, I had never been happier. "I want someone to hear—I want the whole world to hear and they will." I kissed her again and again, her brow, her cheeks, her mouth. I told her I loved her-that I adored her and I suppose I overwhelmed her with my emotions but I wanted Charity to know how I felt. Words always seem inadequate as they do now. I suppose that's why men and women lay together—it's the closest to becoming one being, to joining hearts and souls. It is truly making love-making the emotion incarnate and nothing like the mechanical act that happens when it's bought for a dollar or two. Love changes all.

"Adam." Charity looked down and gently pulled away. I tilted up her chin. "This is all so new to me—feeling like this. I wonder though—are we too rash? We barely know each other. What of you grow to despise me?"

"I'd sooner despise myself. And if you back out now—well, there is such a tradition as bride kidnapping."

"What?" She laughed and I couldn't help but kiss her.

"Bride kidnapping. It's even condoned in the Bible. There is the example of Benjamin's sons stealing their brides, the daughters of Shiloh."

"You're making that up because your father's name is Benjamin."

"No, no, I'm not. I suppose I'm going to need to expand your spiritual teaching, my little heathen. You see…"I took the stance of teaching a young child. Charity smiled and looked at me with suspicion. "in some cultures, if a man wants a wife, he waits in hiding until the woman he desires is alone and then he abducts her up and spirits her away. They spend a month together and hopefully, she'll be with child at the end of that month and her family will approve the 'marriage' and no longer want to slit his throat."

"What if 'she' wants to slit his throat?"

"I can't think of a better way to die." I kissed her again. Then I sat back, smiling. Charity reached up and caressed my face, kissed my chin and I fought against crying—blubbering like some half-wit. I felt like a damn fool as the ache of all those years of loneliness welled up and threatened to burst under her tenderness toward me. I grabbed her hands and pulled them from my face Charity was confused and I realized I had been too rough.

"I need to get you back before you catch cold." It was the best I could manage and I struggled to keep my voice natural as my throat was thick with emotion. But when I snapped the reins and we started, Charity slipped an arm through mine, abandoning her fur muff to hold on to me and that made me feel wanted. It's important to a man to feel wanted, to feel needed and to feel loved. It's not only important-it's vital. But then I suppose it is for everyone.