Page 83 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
…
Slowly, their ragged catches of breath mingled and their convulsions settled to twitches. As their tension bled away, Virgil kissed the corner of her mouth, feeling the most tender he ever had. He was still shaking as he withdrew and glided them into a nook where he cradled her while they both waited for their heartbeats to settle.
Between the lethargy of their long soak and the stupor of sex, they climbed from the water like a pair of drunks exiting a bordello.
Virgil was still shirtless when he noticed Marigold was shivering and struggling to button her bloomers. He couldn’t tell if she was hurrying because she was shy or upset or cold. He shook out her gown and helped her into it.
“Thank you. I shouldn’t have wet my hair. I’m going to catch my death, but it felt so good.” She angled her body as she twisted the length and wrung a few more drops out of it. She coiled it onto her crown and wrapped her shawl tightly around her wet head.
He pulled on his undershirt and shirt. “It was better than good.”
She glanced up from kicking into her moccasins, giving him the most potently sensual, heavy-lidded smile he’d ever seen.
His concern eased. He had wanted to make her smile, and he had. It was a heady, powerful triumph that made his heart thud in his chest.
He belatedly realized she hadn’t actually agreed to marry him, though. Not in so many words.
I worry that if I marry, I’ll wind up trapped again, stuck with a man who doesn’t really care about me.
He did care. More than he knew how to deal with or express. It was hooks and barbs that pulled and tugged at the knots inside him, reminding him he was more vulnerable now. He had more responsibility. More to protect.
“Youaregoing to marry me, aren’t you?”
“I saw you naked. I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“You do not,” he assured her and pulled her close, liking the way she melted into him. God, it felt good to touch her all over like this. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her batting her lashes at him, either.
“I think we’ll have to keep to our own rooms, though,” she said somberly. “Even after we’re married.”
His heart lurched. “Why?”
“I don’t know how we’ll keep from waking the children when—”
He covered her laughing mouth with his own.
…
“They’re going to tease me, aren’t they?” Marigold said.
“The men?” Virgil kicked free of a stirrup so she could set her foot in it, then he held her arm to help her slide down to the ground. “Not if they want to live.”
She had to chuckle and, yes, fall a little more in love with him, but they both wore damp hair and smug expressions. It was obvious they had made love. She hoped Emmett and Ira only teased her and didn’t outright lose respect for her.
“Any remarks they make will be aimed at me.” He dismounted and hitched the horse to the porch post. “They like you.”
“They don’t like you?”
“They put up with me.”
She shook her head with exasperation but collected herself and entered the cabin.
“Marigold! Look what we made for you!” Nettie pointed to the windowsill over the basin. “It’s for your birthday.”
“Meego. Yook,” Harley repeated, standing on the bench to point. He quickly scrambled down and ran to his papa.
“Aw, one went out,” Levi said, frowning over his shoulder.
“They’re still very pretty.” Marigold moved closer to the three lanterns made from empty tin cans, each pierced with a dotted snowflake pattern. Candlelight shone through two of them, but one had sputtered. “I’m very touched. Thank you.” She tentatively glanced at Ira and Emmett. “Thank you for helping the children make them.”
