Page 5 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
All sorts of affronted words jumbled together in the back of her mouth. Part of her wanted to say,Women have needs, too. She had found a certain comfort in snuggling close to a man in the night, but whatever she’d found in her marriage bed had been a lie. Ben had sought his comforts elsewhere, and things had gone horribly wrong.
The injustice of her divorce still made her chest ache and her throat close. It was doubly unbearable when Virgil Gardner stared at her as if he knew all of that and judged her as harshly as everyone else had.
She hadn’t let herself dwell on the conjugal aspects of marrying a stranger, though.
Which left her holding this man’s lengthy, challenging stare while blushing—because she found herself…speculating. What would it be like to lie with him?
An honorable woman would feel intimidated or repulsed by his open talk of marital relations, but Marigold was involuntarily reassessing Mr. Gardner’s broad shoulders and thick thighs and wide hands. Something in her found them intriguing. She wondered how his beard might feel in the crook of her neck and whether he knew how to kiss in a way that would scatter her thoughts.
As her face heated and the silence drew out, the colors around her grew sharper. Noises seemed both louder and more distant, as if she were under water. The walls of the alley seemed to close in.
His eyes turned black with a faint halo of silver. He licked his lips and set a hand on the mud-spattered wall. His gaze strolled down the buttons of her short coat again, this time more slowly. He took in the flare of her hips all the way down to the bloomers he had disparaged.
If there’d been any room in her shoes, she would have curled her toes, so visceral was the tickling touch of his attention as it lingered on her ankles.
He took his time coming back to meeting her eyes, and her skin grew tighter while strange yearnings twisted inside her. She resisted acknowledging or labeling the sensations because they were embarrassing. Telling.Unseemly.
The haze of interest in his gray eyes held remnants of suspicion as he asked gruffly, “Why are you divorced?”
She dampened her lips, heart seesawing in her chest. “Do you want the reason it was granted or the reason it happened?”
“Both.”
She looked down to her wringing hands. “My husband wandered, but he convinced the court I was the one who lacked virtue.”
“Do you?”
She straightened her arms at her sides, hands clenching into fighting fists. “I’m being honest with you right now, aren’t I?”
“I have no way of knowing whether anything you’ve said is true.” He crossed his arms. “Why do you want a husband? What are you expecting?”
She opened her mouth, then exhaled as she frowned. Shedidn’twant a husband. She wanted…
“A roof. A sense of permanence. Protection,” she admitted with a pang of despair at not being the resourceful, independent woman she had always aspired to be. It had been lowering to discover how little power she really had. Her dignity and basic necessities and rights had all been casually disregarded.
“Protection from what?” His voice became so charged it sent a shock through her that stung to her heels.
“My, um, uncle moved us to Topeka to support the free-state movement. I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the disputes there—”
He waved a hand. “I know enough. Is he dead?”
“My uncle? No.” Not yet. “But our home was burned to the ground two weeks ago. That’s why…” She plucked at her skirt to indicate the bloomers. “These clothes belonged to a friend.” They’d been a bold fashion statement, worn proudly at first, but now women were afraid to wear them. “I still support women’s rights. I won’t pretend I don’t.” Marigold folded her arms and lifted her chin, but she had to admit, “It’s hard to stand on principle when you no longer own shoes, though. These aren’t mine, either.” She nodded at her feet.
He shrugged. “Why take your sister’s place? Does no man in Topeka want you because you’re a troublemaker? And divorced?”
Take what little pride she had left, why didn’t he?
“No. They don’t. I’m curious, Mr. Gardner. Did many women reply to your ad? I ask because when my sister saw it, the paper was several weeks old. She was surprised to hear back that you were still looking. Are you having poor luck finding a bride?”
His shoulders hardened and his face set. “I’m being selective.”
“Right. ‘An educated woman willing to homestead and care for three children’ isn’t panned out of any old stream, is she?” A woman with the scantest degree of education would hesitate to jump on an express ticket to Hell, hoping for the best with a stranger. Only someone as idealistic as Pearl would think it was a good idea.
Or someone who had no other choices.
Marigold lifted her brows in a silentcheck. “May I be frank?”
“Use whatever name you like. It seems to be your habit.”
