Nathaniel looked up at her from his perch on the stump. "Why is that?" he asked again.

"Because," Elizabeth said. "Because I will not be bullied into a marriage I want no part of. I may as well go back, at least I know what to expect there."

"Is it just this marriage you want no part of?" Nathaniel said, "or are you set against marriage altogether?"

"I don't see what difference that makes," Elizabeth whispered. And then: "Marriage would mean that other things—other things which are important to me—would no longer be possible," she said. "Married women have no control over their lives."

Nathaniel thought of pointing out to her that she had little control over her life, although she was not married, in spite of her money, but he stopped himself. Instead, he stood abruptly. "Let's go back," he said. "It's too cold for both of us."

He waited until Elizabeth had started down the path and then followed her. She walked firmly, taking quick but delicately placed steps; her back was straight. There was more about her to admire than he dared admit to himself He wondered where things would go from here: she might not have any interest in Richard Todd, but her high color, her agitation, the way she spoke and looked at him, made him think that she was not as committed to a chaste life as she thought she was.

At the slope of the riverbed Nathaniel took the lead and waited on the other side. He watched while Elizabeth stepped carefully over the slippery wooden logs which served as a makeshift bridge. She started up the bank, holding her skirts up high. She was almost to the path when she lost her balance and began to slip.

Nathaniel leaned forward and caught her smoothly, his hands just above her elbows. He steadied her, and then pulled her gently up the bank. When they were on even ground, he released her, but he stayed where he was, with his head bowed over hers. They were so close that his hair brushed against her hood.

Elizabeth looked down at her feet. She wondered, confused, why she should be so disappointed that he had let her go. There was something strange happening to her, something completely unexpected, something tremendously exciting. She had thought herself immune to these feelings, and now she found that she was wrong.

"I have a question for you."

"Yes, Mr. Bonner?" She did not raise her head.

"Will you please say my name?" he said with an intensity which caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms.

She hesitated. "Nathaniel."

"Look at me and say my name."

Elizabeth looked up slowly.

Nathaniel saw in her face an overwhelming confusion. He saw that she had never stood like this with a man, that she had never imagined doing so, and that she was flustered and even a bit frightened, but not unhappy to be here with him.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"How old are you?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Twenty—nine."

"You've never been kissed, have you?" The white cloud of his breath reached out to touch her face. His hands jerked at his sides but he kept them where they were. Now she would tell him to mind his own business, and he could put this woman out of his head.

"Why?" said Elizabeth, raising her eyes to his with a critical but composed look. "Do you intend to kiss me?"

Nathaniel pulled up abruptly and laughed. "The thought crossed my mind."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Well," Nathaniel said, inclining his head.

"You seem set on going back to England, and the Mahicans say that you should never return from a journey the same person.

"How very thoughtful of you," she said dryly. "How benevolent. But please, do not discommode yourself on my account." She began to turn away, but Nathaniel caught her by the upper arm.

"Now I for one hope you don't rush off." he said. "But I want to kiss you, either way.

"Do you?" she said tersely. "Perhaps I don't want to kiss you."

Elizabeth was afraid to look at Nathaniel directly, for how could he not see the doubt on her face, and the curiosity? And what would that mean, to let him know what she really thought, how confusing this all was to her? To tell a man what she was truly thinking—this was a thought more frightening than any kiss could be.

"I didn't mean to get you mad," Nathaniel said softly.

"What did you mean to do, then? Have some fun at my expense, but not so much that I would actually notice that you were making a fool of me?"

"No," he said, and Elizabeth was relieved to see all trace of teasing leave his face. "I'd like to see the man who could make a fool of you. I meant to kiss you, because I wanted to. But if you don't like the idea—"

She pulled away from him, her face blazing white. "I never said that. You don't know what I want." Then, finally, she blushed, all her frustration and anger pouring out in pools of color which stained her cheeks bluish—gray in the faint light of the winter moon.

"So," Nathaniel said, a hint of his smile returning.

"You do want to kiss me."

"I want you to stop talking the matter to death," Elizabeth said irritably. "If you hadn't noticed, you are embarrassing me. Perhaps you don't know much about England—I don't know why you should, after all—but let me tell you that there's a reason I am twenty—nine years of age and unkissed, and that is, very simply, that well—bred ladies of good family don't let men kiss them. Even if they want to be kissed, and women do want to be kissed on occasion, you realize, although we aren't supposed to admit that. To be perfectly honest with you"—she drew a shaky breath—"I can't claim that anyone has ever shown an interest in me at home—at least, not enough interest that this particular issue ever raised its head. Now." She looked up at him with her mouth firmly set. Her voice had lowered to a hoarse whisper, but still she looked about the little glen nervously, as if someone might overhear this strange and unseemly conversation. "You'll forgive me if I question why you would be thinking of kissing me."