“I see,” she said, though true understanding still evaded her. She knew intellectually what he meant, but a feeling of perfect surrender remained outside her experience.
“And you are still confused,” he commented, stroking a strand of golden-brown hair over her shoulder. “Which is probably why our previous attempt failed. From what you are telling me, you have guarded your independence fiercely and for many years. Denying suitors access to your body was more than just a cultural expectation, was it not? After all, you have denied many other rules of your time. This was personal.”
“It was,” she agreed. “I didn’t want to be used.”
“Understandable. But that is no longer the case. I am not using you.”
“I know you’re not,” she told him gently, reaching up to trace the tattoo on his temple.
