Gabriel's Angel by Nora Roberts

behind him. The midmorning sunlight sparkled through the frost on the windowpanes and landed at his feet. He seemed totally at ease, as though he’d just suggested that they have soup for lunch. If her life had depended upon it, Laura couldn’t have said whether it meant any more to him than that.
    Using the table for leverage, she rose.
    â€œI’m tired. I’m going in to lie down.”
    â€œAll right. We can talk about this later.”
    She whirled around, and it wasn’t anguish or fear he saw on her face now, it was fury, livid and clear. “How could you sit there and say something like that to me after everything I’ve told you?”
    â€œYou might consider that I said it because of everything you’ve told me.”
    â€œOh, the Good Samaritan again.” She detested the bitterness in her voice, but she could do nothing to stop it. “The white knight, riding in full of chivalry and good intentions to save the bumbling, inept female. Do you think I should fall on my knees and be grateful? That I would blindly let myself be taken over again, fall back into the same pitiful, destructive pattern a second time, because a man offers me a way out?”
    He thought about controlling his temper, then rose, deciding to let her see it. “I have no desire to control you, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to stand there and compare me with some weak-minded alcoholic wife-beater.”
    â€œWhat then—the knight on a white charger, selflessly rescuing damsels in distress?”
    He laughed at that, but his anger was still on the edge. “No one’s ever accused me of that. I’m very selfish, which is another reason for my suggestion. I’m moody—you’ve been around me long enough to know that. I have a temper and I can get angry. But I don’t hit women, and I don’t use them.”
    With an effort, she pulled her emotions back in and forced them to settle. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did, or to compare you with someone else. It’s the situation that’s comparable.”
    â€œOne has nothing to do with the other. The fact that I have money only works to your advantage.”
    â€œI didn’t marry Tony for his money.”
    â€œNo.” His tone softened. “No, I’m sure you didn’t. But in this case I’m willing to accept that you marry me for mine.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Something flickered in his eyes and was gone before she could read it. “That might have been the wisest question to ask first.”
    â€œMaybe you’re right.” She already regretted the outburst of temper and harsh words, as she invariably did. “I’m asking it now.”
    With a nod, he roamed the room, stopping before the nearly completed portrait. He stared at it, as he had stared at it countless times before, trying to understand, to define, not only Laura, but himself.
    â€œI feel something for you. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s very strong. Stronger than anything I’ve felt before.” He lifted a finger to the face on canvas. He wished he could explain himself completely, to himself, to her, but he’d always expressed himself best through painting. “I’m attracted to you, Laura, and I’ve discovered recently that I’ve been alone long enough.”
    â€œThat might be enough, almost enough, for marriage, but not for me, not to me. Not with what you’d be taking on.”
    â€œI have some debts to pay,” he murmured, then turned to her again. “Helping you, and the child, might just clear the slate.”
    Whatever anger she’d felt evaporated. It only took the kindness and the grief in his eyes. “You’ve already helped us, more than I can ever repay.”
    â€œI don’t want payment.” The impatience, the edge, was back in his voice. “What I want is you. How many ways do you want me to say it?”
    â€œI