"You're so much smarter than I am, Caleb. So much stronger and so much more persuasive. If I married you, I wouldn't be myself for very long. I'd soon become the person you want me to be." He sat back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "I wouldn't change you for the world," he protested quietly. "Yes, you would," Lily insisted. "You'd make me into a china doll, overseeing tea parties and embroidering samplers and gazing at you in worshipful adoration. And eventually you'd get tired of me, Caleb, and take a mistress." He glowered at her, as though insulted. "I would never betray you." "Oh, no? What about when I'm pregnant, Caleb--all fat, with swollen ankles and a chronic case of the weeps. Can you honestly say you wouldn't turn to another woman for the comforts you so obviously need?" "I'd find you more attractive than ever," Caleb answered with annoyed certainty. Lily picked up her spoon, then set it down again. Her hands knotted into fists in her lap. "You weren't faithful to Sandra. Why should I fare any better?" "Because I love you, for one thing. And I explained before--I didn't sleep with Sandra." "I might not feel like sleeping with you, either--if I happened to get pregnant, that is. What would you do then, Caleb?" "Wait," he answered. Then a slow grin spread across his face. "And do my damnedest to seduce you. In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty good at that." Lily flushed and squirmed a little, remembering. There was no denying his assertion: Caleb could practically tumble her onto her back with a look or a touch. The fact tormented her, for she couldn't discern whether it was because of some special skill on his part or because she was basically a loose woman like her mother. "I've noticed," she admitted. Caleb gazed at her for a long time, then went back to eating his stew."