"Things don't get solved when we don't," he said, giving an unwarrented answer to her dropped comment. It wasn't that Leathan was much a man of words. Not usually. But with this particular witch there was much that needed to be said by both of them. More than either was perhaps willing to admit to.

"You don't love me."

"I do, Char."

"You think you do- I know that, but you don't. Don't argue, please, just leave it be."

His brow drew tight at that, his jaw flexing with frustration moments before her touch had him holding back a groan; they needed to talk. Not touch.

"Do you know how mad you'd make me just by watching me? When you thought I didn't know.. I could feel you."

He held her gaze in silence; how could he explain himself? How could he explain that all he wanted to do, all he'd wanted for months, was to have her in his arms where he could comfort and be comforted? That all those times she had felt his eyes on her he'd been fighting an internal battle against throwing his limited caution to the wind and just taking her? His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, his brow tightening.

"Char," he began, his hand taking her own from his mouth, "I never meant to do anything more than to love you." He pressed his own fingers to her lips. "I don't think that I love you. Bloody hell, Char. Do you think I throw those words about without thought? I've spoken them to one other woman before you. Just one."

He didn't add that he would have spoken them to two had he worked up his courage and actually ever admitted to Summer that he had loved her. It was not a necessary comment.

"What makes you so afraid of that?" he asked, his turn to whisper.