She picked up her wine, then put it down. “I believe that women are as capable as men. We are not as strong, it is true, but then, the average man would never survive the rigors of childbirth or have the patience to raise children. Is it wrong for a mother to have a voice in her children’s future? Should only their father decide their fate? What if she is more intelligent? What if she has a better view of the world? Is that to be ignored merely because of her sex?”

“You have passion on this subject,” he said, knowing he could listen to her opinions well into the night. She was much more charming than he had thought possible.

“Yes, not that my passion will change anything. So if the society gives men pause, then I am content. Let them be a little afraid. It does no harm. Perhaps they will actually listen to their wives.”

“Did Wesley listen to you?”

“When he was not busy reading.” She sighed. “He was a good man.”

“But not strong enough for you.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“From your description it does not sound as if your Wesley would have challenged you.”

Zeke was guessing, although his gut told him he was right. Alethea proved him correct by pointedly ignoring the statement and sipping her wine.

“The victory is all the sweeter when one has a worthy opponent,” he told her.

She set down her glass. “That is the second time you have made a reference to fighting. Is all of life a battle to you?”

“No. Only the skirmishes between a man and a woman interest me.” He lowered his voice. “You’ve been married. You know of what I speak. Or perhaps you would prefer I refer to it as a dance. He leads, she follows. He urges, she resists. But they both know the outcome. In the darkness. The mingling of breath, the touching, the ultimate surrender.”