“To do what?” Eleanor’s deep blue eyes opened to their widest extent.
“To tell me”—Douglas hesitated over his choice of words—“your mission in life.”
Eye to eye they gazed at each other. Eleanor was the first to speak.
“I am at a loss to understand your singular request,” she said, freezingly.
“Miss Thornton, do me the justice to think that I am not asking from idle curiosity—it is because I have your welfare so deeply at heart.”
“If I did not know you to be a sane person, I would think you had suddenly lost your mind. As you take the matter so seriously, I must repeat that I am concerned in nothing.”
Douglas held her gaze, as if in the limpid depths of her blue eyes he would fathom the secret of her soul. Eleanor’s breath came and went, she colored painfully, but her eyes never dropped before his. Nearer he bent and nearer. The virile strength of the man drew her, and his arms closed about her slender waist.
“Eleanor, I love you.” The very repression of his tone added to its intensity.
Fearlessly she raised her lips to his—in surrender.