Page 10 of Fairy Tale Marriage

“I’m not a rich man,” he warned.

She regarded him steadily. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need riches, isn’t it?”

He returned her look. No doubt his years of wrangling had helped him sum people up with swift accuracy. “Lay it out for me, Marianna. You’re after something. What is it?”

She thought about it, sitting so quietly even the bells on her mask fell silent. He wanted a wife to create a home for him. He’d offered to provide physically for that wife. But what about her emotional needs? What about his? “Will we share a bed?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

He answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“And you expect a woman to hop into bed with you after such a short acquaintance?” she asked curiously.

“We’ll be married.”

“So you gift her with your worldly possessions and she gifts you with her body and a home. That’s your idea of a marriage?”

“If you’re looking for more than that, you’re sitting at the wrong table.”

“No love? No affection?”

“I’ll treat you well. I’ll never hurt you, at least not intentionally.”

He was lying. She sensed it with every instinct she possessed. He was a man in desperate need of love, though he'd undoubtedly deny it, just as he'd undoubtedly fight long and hard to hold it at bay. So the real question was, did she have it within her to give him that sort of unconditionallove?

It was an even greater risk than the one she'd taken nine years ago. Then, he'd been open and carefree, all-too willing to surrender his heart, to give every bit of himself to a woman. She couldn't be certain that man still existed, that once he uncovered her identity, he'd ever come to trust her enough to allow love into his life again.

“Are you interested?”

He asked the abrupt question as though her response were of no particular interest. But his hands clenched around his coffee mug and his eyes remained carefully blank. That, more than anything, gave her hope. He was a man determined to keep love out of his life, and yet he’d come to the Cinderella Ball to find a bride capable of creating a home forhim.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup. “I don’t recall askin’.”

“Now who’s playing games?” She didn’t give him time to respond. “Do you want to marry me or not?”

He paused for an infinite second. “Okay, fine. But you have to do something for me, first.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned across the table toward her, his eyes an incandescent blue, full of fierce determination and tightly controlled passion. “Take off your mask.”

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