‘‘I know you might have planned to do this differently, Ethan, and me asking you is a surprise. But I want us to be together, really together.’’

Why didn’t he say something? her mind screamed. Anything. Why did he just stare at her as if she’d slapped him?

‘‘I don’t need courting.’’ Her voice hitched and she stopped to try to steady it. ‘‘Not that I don’t love things like flowers and candlelight dinners, but all I really need is for you to be there. I want to be your wife.’’

Afraid he would shatter if he looked into those hurt and baffled eyes another instant, he turned away. His hands white-knuckled on the wheel. ‘‘We have to come about.’’

‘‘What?’’ She jerked back, staring at his set face, at the muscle that worked in his jaw. Her heart was stillpounding, but no longer in anticipation. Now it was with dread. ‘‘You have nothing to say to me except that we have to come about?’’

‘‘No, I’ve things to say to you, Grace.’’ His voice was as controlled as his heart was wild. ‘‘We have to go back so I can.’’

She wanted to shout at him to say them now, right now. But she nodded. ‘‘All right, Ethan. Come about.’’

THE SUN WAS GONE when they docked. Crickets and peepers sent up their nightly chorus, filling the air with shrill, too-bright music. Overhead a few stars blinked through the haze and a threequarter moon shimmered.

The air had cooled quickly, but she knew that wasn’t the reason she was cold. So cold.

He secured the lines himself, silently. Just as he’d sailed home, silently. He stepped back into the boat, sat across from her. The moon was still low, just riding the tops of the trees, but the early stars sprinkled down enough light for her to see his face.

There was no joy in it.

‘‘I can’t marry you, Grace.’’ He spoke the words carefully, knowing they would hurt. ‘‘I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.’’

She gripped her hands together tightly. She didn’t know whether they wanted to ball into fists and pound or hang limp and shaking like an old woman’s. ‘‘Then you lied when you said you loved me?’’

It might be kinder to tell her so, he thought, then shook his head. No, it would only be cowardly. She deserved the truth. All of the truth. ‘‘I didn’t lie. I do love you.’’

There were degrees of love. She wasn’t fool enough to think differently. ‘‘But not the way you need to love a woman you’d marry.’’

‘‘I couldn’t love any woman more than I love you. But I’m—’’