“Well, it taught me where I didn't want to go in life,” he said, kissing her head again. “And my father's chaplain was a great guy—he used to sort of mentor me while my father was ‘unavailable.' Showed me that service is the only way to go in life—helping others, you find your own way.”

“That's such a wonderful attitude,” Mara said.

“My life hasn't been easy,” Edward said, rolling over so he could look straight into her eyes. She remembered the sweetness in his gaze, the all-consuming love she felt flowing from him into her. “I was beaten when I was young, Mara. I won't tell you the details—I want to spare you them.”

“Edward!”

“I would never, ever hurt a soul,” he said, stroking her cheek so tenderly, as if she was the most precious person in the world to him. “That's what my childhood taught me. To show love, and be gentle.”

“You are gentle,” she'd said.

He nodded. “I want to be even more so,” he said. “Help show me how?”

“I don't have to,” she said, so touched by his openness and honesty. She had always kept her own pain locked deep inside, but now she told him about her parents' drowning.

“We've both been through a lot,” he'd said, his mouth pressed into her neck. She felt his cheeks, moist against her skin, and she sensed him trying to keep from breaking down. “I've never met anyone who understands me the way you do. It's as if we were meant to be together.”

His words made her wonder. Was this what love was like? Letting your guard down and maybe beginning to have faith that the world was not such a bad place after all?

“I love you,” he had said.

And the words were out before Mara could even think about holding them back—“I love you too.” The first time she had ever said them to a man.

“I want to be with you forever,” he said.

Mara felt a shiver—between thrill and fear—down her spine. Wasn't he moving a little too fast?

He had a photograph on his apartment wall—a beautiful old sepia-toned photo, of a whaling ship covered with ice. Tall cliffs rose behind it, everything glittering in ice. The ship's name, The Pinnacle, was lettered on the transom. Mara stared at the picture—this image of endless, brutal winter, and wondered whether two people could keep each other warm and happy in life.

“My great-grandfather's whaling ship,” he said, following her gaze.

“Really?”

He nodded, gazing at the picture, as if it were a window into another, better world. “He was the captain—I'm named after him. Back in the early nineteenth century, our family was very wealthy, respected by everyone. Edward Hunter was an adventurer and an explorer. On some maps, it shows that there are straits near Tierra del Fuego named after him.”

“That's incredible,” she said.