He studied her a moment, then walked to the door and shut it quietly behind him.
She didn't bother to get up, or even to move. She didn't feel like crying. If she'd been ridiculous, she would weather it. She'd given him everything now, and there was no taking it back. Why should she bother? She'd never stop loving him.
She heard the door open again, and kept her eyes closed. "I really am tired, Rafe. Can't you gloat tomorrow?"
Something fell into her lap. Regan blinked her eyes open and stared at the bouquet of lilacs.
"They're not real," he told her. "You can't get them in February. I've had them in the trunk of my car for a few days, so they're cold."
"They're lovely." Slowly she ran her fingers over the chilly silk blooms. "A few days," she murmured, and looked up again.
"Yeah, so?" He scowled, jammed his hands in his pockets, shifted. "Man." He thought facing a noose would be easier than what he was about to do. It certainly couldn't burn his throat any less.
He got down on his knees.
"What are you doing?"
"Just keep quiet," he warned her. "And if you laugh, you pay." Mortified, he swore under his breath, dragged a hand through his hair. And bit the bullet.
"'When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee.'"
"Rafe..."
"Don't interrupt me." Miserably embarrassed, he glared at her. "Now I have to start over."
"But you don't have to—"
"Regan."
She drew in a breath, wondered if there was another woman in the world who had ever had Shelley quoted to her with eyes that threatened murder. "Sorry. You were saying?"
He shifted his weight. "Okay. 'When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When the light rode high, and the dew was gone, and...' Oh, hell." He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to concentrate. "I got it. 'And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to her rest, lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee.'"
His breath came out on a huff of tremendous relief. "That's all I've got. It took me more than a week to memorize it. If you mention this to anyone—"
"I wouldn't dream of it." Incredibly moved, she laid a hand on his cheek. "That was very sweet of you."
"It kind of fits the way I feel about you." And now that it was over—thank God—it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. "I think about you, Regan, all day. Every day. So if you want poetry—"
"No." With a quick shake of her head, she reached out and laid her cheek on his shoulder. "No, I don't need poetry, Rafe."
"I haven't bothered to give you much romance." And he knew now, by the way her eyes had gone soft and dreamy, that he should have. "Now it's fake flowers and somebody else's words."
She had to cry now, but they were lovely tears, soothing ones. "I love the flowers, and I loved the words. But I don't need them. I don't want you to
change for me, Rafe. There's nothing about you I'd want to change. I said I'd take you as you are and I mean it."
"I like you the way you are, Regan, all neat and tidy. Not that I didn't appreciate the way you filled out that leather."
"I'm sure I could borrow it from Ed again."
"Ed?" He rolled his eyes and chuckled weakly. "No wonder it fit you like skin." Then he felt the warm drops on his neck. "Oh, don't do that, baby. Please don't."
"I'm not really crying. I'm just touched that you'd memorize Shelley for me. That you'd care enough." She gave him a hard squeeze before leaning back. "I guess we both won the bet, or lost it, depending on your viewpoint." She dried off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Of course, you didn't lose yours in public."
"If you think you can talk me into giving that little recital down at the tavern, you really are crazy. I'd never get out alive.''
She drew in a deep breath. "I think we should both stick with who and what we are. I do like who and what you are, Rafe. And I need you more than you think. I needed you when Joe came into the shop and frightened me. I just didn't want you to know it. I was afraid to let you know how much I count on you."