Page 6 of The Winter Husband
“Of course not. I’ll sleep in the loft or the barn—”
“If they have one.”
“A shed, then.”
“And freeze to death.”
“I’ll wrap myself in blankets.” Her voice hardened, as did those deep-blue eyes. “I’ll build fires.”
“Will you cut the wood? It takes mountains to keep a room warm during a Quebec winter.”
“This is nonsense.”
“Finally, you figured that out.” An escape into the wild was suicide. She knew nothing of this country. Why couldn’t she be plain and biddable? “There are other ways to get assurances that won’t leave you dead in a snowdrift. I’ll introduce you to a respectable friend who’ll attest to my character.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is he a soldier, too?”
Not a great lover of soldiers, then.
He couldn’t blame her.
“She,” he said, “is the wife of an old friend of mine. A King’s Daughter, one of the first to come over from the old country.”
Wariness rippled across her face.
“They have five children,” he persisted, “and Etta is pregnant with a sixth. She knows me as well as anyone in the settlements. She won’t hold back a bad opinion, either.”
“Why?” She leaned forward, curls swinging. “Why are you making me such a ridiculous offer?”
“I want the land.” Talon’s offer was too generous to ignore. Being granted a plot in a growing settlement was always a wise investment. But none of those reasons were the real one, which wasn’t anyone’s concern but his own.
“This isn’t about the land.” Marie crossed her arms. The act put considerable strain on the edge of her bodice. “Marry any of these women, Captain, and the land is yours. The real question is, why don’t you want to be married?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
She stilled. The color washed out of her skin. She turned her face away and stared hard at the floor. Damn, he just asked her a simple question. Why did he feel like he’d plunged an arrow into her heart?
What a muddle he was making of this. He let his head fall back so only the oak beams of the ceiling lay within his sight. What the hell was he doing here, in this settlement, in a room that stank of pomade? Why was he being forced into marriage? All he wanted to do was plunge his paddle into the waters of the St. Lawrence River, push off in the canoe, and leave the stink and bustle of Quebec behind. He needed to be surrounded by the wilderness promised to him, several hundred sprawling acres, virgin forest set far from all human contact. Being away from the settled world was best for him and safer for everyone else.
“Soldiers don’t live well with others,” he confessed, offering more honesty than he’d expected to share. “On this land, I can be left alone.”
She tilted her head in his direction, searching his face as if she could burrow through his skin and bone to the man beneath. He couldn’t let her see that man. She’d never agree to spend a winter with him.
“Since we’re negotiating, Captain…I want something, too.”
His pulse leapt. “Speak.”
“I want to return to Paris.” Her chin quivered. “When this is all done, and your land is secured…I want to go home.”
Realization bloomed behind his eyes.Of course.Why hadn’t he thought of this before? She’d come here against her will, if the tavern rumors were true. The women who settled here, at least those who thrived, arrived already knowing how to manage feral men, hard labor, and ruthless weather. For someone of silky skin and slim collarbone, the settlement of Quebec must seem like the very end of the world, dangerous in ways beyond fathoming.
This woman didn’t belong here.
He didn’t belong anywhere else.
He spit into the hollow of his palm and held out his hand. “Marry me, Chepewéssin. Come spring, I’ll put you on a ship back to France.”
CHAPTER THREE
