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For a time she’d tried to turn herself into a child she’d thought her aunt and uncle would notice, such as being like her cousins. She’d dyed her hair blonde, taken up hockey. But it hadn’t worked, and it wasn’t until after she’d left Perth that she’d realised that she needn’t have bothered. Being like her cousins wouldn’t have helped, because she was stillher.She was still the girl that had been dumped on them and nothing would ever change that.
But Aristophanes hadn’t bothered to change himself to suit anyone. He’d remained steadfastly who he was, resisting any effort to make himself more palatable to anyone.
It had made him lonely, yes, but he was splendid in his isolation.
She admired him for it.
‘That must have been hard,’ she said.
‘It was not,’ he said. ‘As I said, I survived.’
‘Survival isn’t living, Bear.’
He scowled. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘Nothing,’ she said without heat. ‘I’m only sad for you that you had such a rough childhood.’
‘I wasn’t beaten.’ His voice was hard. ‘I wasn’t abused in any way. I had a roof over my head and I was fed. What more could have been done for me?’
‘You could have been loved,’ she said, not even knowing where the words had come from.
He stared at her a moment, the look in his eyes difficult to read. ‘Love,’ he echoed eventually, the word tinged with bitterness. ‘Love left me sitting alone in a church at eight years old after my mother abandoned me. I didn’t need love. I was better off without it.’
Her heart squeezed even tighter. It hurt to think about him as a lonely little boy. A boy who’d decided that love was just another word for abandonment, and who could blame him? He had reason. No one had ever given him the love he’d deserved, and he had deserved it. All children did. At least her memories of love had been good ones, happy ones. Even if she’d lost it and never found it again.
‘I don’t think you were,’ she said gently. ‘And your children definitely won’t be.’
A muscle flicked at the side of his strong jaw. ‘Are you saying that I won’t love them?’
‘No. I only mean that all children need love.’
‘And so I will,’ he said flatly. ‘Don’t worry about them.’
‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’ He stared at her across the table. ‘This topic of conversation is uninteresting, so let’s leave it. What are your plans for the future? Have you thought about it?’
She didn’t want to drop the subject, but it was clear she wasn’t going to get anything further from him, so she let it go.
‘The future? Uh...no. No, I haven’t.’ She really hadn’t. She’d been too busy thinking about how she was going to get through the next five months trapped on this island, let alone what would happen when the babies were born.
‘Well, I have,’ Aristophanes said, picking up his wine again and taking another swallow. ‘I think that we should get married.’
A pulse of shock went through her. ‘What?’
‘It’s a logical step. The twins will need both parents and we’re agreed on that, so why not make it official? Marrying me will give you some security and legal protection should anything happen to me, and it will give our children a family.’
He said the words with such dispassion, as if he was talking about a business arrangement. Which was perhaps what marriage meant to him. Certainly, from what he’d said about love, he wasn’t asking her because he was in love with her.
This was what you wanted, though. You wanted a family.
She always had. But she’d thought it would involve finding a man she loved and who loved her, not after an accidental night of passion, and certainly not with a man who found the idea of love abhorrent.
He’s not wrong, though. It will give you some security. And after the children are born, you will also have physical passion...
She took a breath. ‘What about you? What will you get out of it?’
The flickering candlelight reflected the silver flames in his eyes. ‘I will get a wife I very much want to spend time in bed with. Also, I will no longer need to schedule lovers to take care of my sexual needs so that will free up time to spend with the children.’