He refused to talk about it anymore and got up restlessly to stand at the terrace doors and look out. Anna calmly returned to her own section of the paper, but her heart was beating fast as she realized this was the first normal domestic quarrel they had ever had. To her delight, they-had disagreed, and nothing major had happened. He hadn't left, nor did he seem to expect her to leave. It was wonderful. He was already able to trust her enough that he wasn't afraid a disagreement could end their relationship.
She had worried that he would overreact to arguments, since they were part and parcel of every relationship. Normal couples had disagreements; probably even saints had disagreements. Two years ago, Saxon wouldn't have been able to tolerate such a personal discussion.
He was really trying, even though it was extraordinarily difficult for him to open up. Circumstances had forced him into revealing his past, but he hadn't tried to reestablish those protective mental walls of his. He seemed to accept that once the emotional boundaries had been crossed, he couldn't make them inviolate again.
She didn't know what she could accomplish by finding the Bradleys again. Perhaps nothing. She just wanted to see them, to get a feel for herself of what that portion of Saxon's formative years had been like. If they seemed interested, she wanted to reassure them that their foster son was alive and well, that he was successful and would soon be a father himself.
With his back still to her, Saxon asked, "Are you afraid to marry me because of my past? Is that why you want to find the Bradleys, so you can ask them questions about me?"
"No!" she said, horrified. "I'm not afraid to marry you."
"My parents could be anything--murderers, drug users. My mother may be a prostitute. The odds are pretty good she was. There may be a history of mental illness in my background. I'd be afraid to marry me. But the Bradleys won't be able to tell you anything, because no one knows who my parents were."
"I'm not concerned with your parents," she said levelly. "I know you. You're rock solid. You're honest, kind, hardworking and sexy."
"So why won't you marry me, if I'm such a good catch?"
Good question, she thought. Maybe she was being foolish in waiting. "I don't want to rush into something that might not be right for either of us,"
"I don't want my baby to be born illegitimate."
"Oh, Saxon." She gave a sad laugh. "I promise you I'll make a decision long before the baby is born."
"But you can't promise me you'll say yes."
"No more than you can promise me our marriage would work."
He gave her a brief, angry look over his shoulder. "You said you love me."
"And I do. But can you say that you love me?" she asked.
He didn't answer. Anna watched him, her eyes sad and tender. Her question could be taken in two ways. He did love her, she thought, but was incapable of actually saying it. Maybe he felt that as long as he didn't say the words aloud, he hadn't made the emotional commitment.
Finally he said, "Is that what it'll take for you to marry me?"
"No. It isn't a test that you have to pass."
"Isn't it?"
"No," she insisted.
"You say you won't marry me because you don't know if I can handle it, but I'm willing to try. You're the one who's resisting making a commitment."
She stared at him in frustration. He was too good at arguing, agilely taking her previous arguments and using them against her. She was glad that he felt sure enough of her to do it, but she could see what she'd be up against in the future if they did get married.
It would take a lot of determination to win an argument against him.
She pointed her finger at him, even though his back was still turned and he couldn't see her. "I'm not resisting making a commitment, I'm resisting making it now. I think I have a right to be a little cautious."
"Not if you trust me."
That turned back was making her suspicious. She gave him a considering look, then suddenly realized he had turned his back so she wouldn't be able to read his expression. Her eyes narrowed as she realized what he was doing. He wasn't as upset or even as indignant as he sounded; he was simply using the tactic as a means of maneuvering her into agreeing to marry him. It was all part and parcel of his determination to have his way.
She got up and went over to him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and leaning her head against his back. "It won't work," she said softly. "I'm on to you."
To her surprise, she felt his chest expand with a low laugh; then he turned within the circle of her arms and looped his own around her. "Maybe you know me too well," he muttered, but his tone was accepting.
"Or maybe you need acting lessons."
He chuckled again and rested his cheek against the top of her head. But all humor was absent from his tone a minute later when he said, "Go see the Bradleys, if you have to. There's nothing there to find out."
Chapter 8
JTort Morgan was a small town of about ten thousand people. Anna drove around for a little while to get her bearings, then stopped at a phone booth to look up the Bradleys' address. What she would do if they weren't in the book, she didn't know. It could mean they had moved or died, or it might just mean that their number wasn't listed.
She could have asked Saxon, but she hadn't wanted to ask him for information to help her to do something of which he didn't approve. Besides, it had been nineteen years, and there was no guarantee the Bradleys would still live in the same house, even if they had remained in Fort Morgan.
The phone book wasn't very big. She flipped through it to the Bs, then ran her finger down the column. "Bailey.. .Banks.. .Black.. .Boatwright... Bradley. Harold Bradley." She wrote down the address and phone number, then debated whether she should call them to get directions. She decided not to, because she wanted to catch them unawares, as it were. People could mask their true reactions if they were given warning.