Page 93 of The Trouble with Tigers
He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “How does keeping you both safe make me selfish?”
She considered trying to explain, and finally threw up her hands. “What does it matter? I already told you, I don’t want a marriage like the one you’re offering.”
His blue eyes went steely. “You little fool. You want to fall in love, no doubt with a paragon of a man, one who’ll glue himself to your side and read sonnets to you day and night. Sweetheart, such a man doesn’t exist, and if he did he’d bore you to tears.”
The backs of her eyes stung. “I don’t need a paragon, just a man who wants a family as I do. And yes, I do want to fall in love, and to be loved in return. What’s so wrong with that?”
His hard expression turned almost pitying. “Kitty, you’re not a child. You should put away these childish notions and face reality.”
She set her jaw, and glowered at him with stubborn resolve.
He cursed silently. “You want to fall in love, do you? Fine. Where are you planning on finding this perfect specimen of a mate? And when? You’re nearly three and twenty.”
His words stung, badly, but she dug in her heels, jutting out her chin. "I don't know."
He spun away, dragging his hands through his hair. “Have you considered this might be the best offer you’re going to get? At least you want me, and don’t try to deny it,” he rasped out, turning to point an accusing finger at her.
“You want a family? You’ll have one. You’ll have my grandfather, whom you claim to love, and Aunt Lillian, and God willing, my children. For the love of the saints, woman, I’m rich as Croesus. You’ll want for nothing.” He broke off, and gazed skyward. “I can’t believe I’m having this argument.”
She lowered her eyes, misery settling over her like a shroud. How could she explain what he offered was tantamount to dangling a carrot in front of a starving rabbit—and holding it over a bottomless crevasse? The thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone—never mind that he didn’t love her, filled her with an unbearable ache. Like never ending loneliness.
“If you’re so rich, why do you continue to leave in search of more wealth? Why not stay put in England, your home?” she asked, grasping at straws.
Her question seemed to take him aback. “I have to. Otherwise the profits from the mines tend to walk off the site. The laborers aren’t the only ones who need supervision. The foremen do, too.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant why more mines. Not to mention, have you ever considered the cost of mining to the laborers and their families?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Kitty, do we have to make this a socio-political discussion,now?”
She shook her head. “Just answer the first question.”
His nostrils flared, as if her question angered him. “I seek out mines because of what they produce. Gold, silver, things I can hold in my hand.” His hand curled into a fist. “Real things I can grasp to keep my family secure for generations to come. You don’t know what it’s like to have your father fall apart like so much dust before you, all because he held onto things that weren’t real. Things he staked his life on, then lost.”
Her expression softened. She lay her hand on his still-clenched fist. “Things, like your mother?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he refrained from answering, which told her all she needed to know.
She cupped his jaw and a shudder went through him. “Zeke, have you considered love is the only thing in this world that is real?”
He barked out a harsh laugh. “No.”
Her heart seemed to fold in on itself. For him. For her. She couldn’t differentiate between the two. “I see. Well, then. Do you mind telling me what would be in this marriage for you—besides seeing to your grandfather’s wellbeing?”
He crooked a warm finger under her chin and tilted her face up 'til their eyes met, his shimmering like the sea before a storm.
“Don’t you know?” he asked in a voice both gruff and tender. “I want you. So badly I can taste it. You’re the last thing I think about at night when I fall asleep, and the first thing on my mind when I wake. If I could, I’d take you right here. Right now.”
Liquid heat poured through her veins.
“Kitty, marrying you won’t be any hardship for me. I simply won’t promise something I can’t give. I’m not like you. I don’t believe in fairytales. Don’t believe another person can make you complete. Relying on someone like that—it’s, well, I’m sorry but it’s weak. I’ll never subject myself to such a damning illusion. And you shouldn’t either. It only leads to ruin.”
She frowned. Was he trying to convince her, or himself?
“Promise me you’ll think about my proposal, Kitty.”
“I will,” she whispered.
A moment later, he was gone.
