Page 44 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“Because you were only shown how to be a bad one?” she asked very gently. “I’m sorry, Virgil. The way you spoke of your mother the night we had the men over sounded… I don’t know. I don’t mean to pry.”
His mother. He pinched the bridge of his nose, surprised he’d spoken of her so easily when he usually kept a firm distance between himself and his childhood.
The stew he’d eaten an hour ago threatened to come back up, but he wanted Marigold to know what sort of childhood he’d had, so she’d understand why he worried. So she would look for signs of him turning into that ugly old son of a bitch and put a stop to it.
“I saw my father outside a shop once. I wasn’t even old as Nettie. My mother was running errands, and I was holding parcels. I saw him walk by and said, ‘Morning, Daddy.’ He caught me by the ear and threw me into the shit in the street, then whipped me with his riding crop until my mother got between us.”
“Oh my God. Virgil, that’s horrible.” He heard her rise and start toward him, but he put up a hand to hold her off.
“My mother was indentured. He had a wife, and I wasn’t supposed to exist, let alone make claims in public that he had sired me.” Virgil could still hear the sing of the whip through the air and the spittle-raged voice yelling,You’re nothing to me. Hear me? Nothing. Virgil had feared he would be cut clean in half.
“Is your mother still alive?”
“No,” he dismissed, still trying to convince himself she was in a better place. “She died when I was fifteen. I lied my way into the army the day she went into the ground. No way was I sticking around to continue paying her debt to that asshole.”
“Ishestill alive?” Her voice quavered with outrage.
“Doesn’t occur to me to wonder.” That was mostly true. “But I can’t stand the smell of tobacco to this day, so steer clear of that habit. Otherwise, I’ll have to fire you, and then where will I be?” It was his poorest attempt at humor yet. As he reached for it, he realized how revealing it was that he was trying to use something so flimsy to shield himself.
In a voice soft as duck down, she said, “Here I was going to take up chew. I find the way the miners spit all over the ground so attractive, I thought you might, too.”
“Idiot,” he choked, fighting a grin and a sweet, painful ache as he stared up at the stars. He wasn’t supposed to find her attractive. Did she remember that?
Without warning, her arms encircled one of his. She hugged it, and she set her forehead below his shoulder. He tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.
“You willneverbe like that with them,” she assured him fervently.
“I’m not a child, Marigold. I don’t need comforting.”
“I do. So shush. Then you can go off to Denver and growl at the rest of the world for a few days. Give me a much-needed break from it.”
“You are such a pain in my ass.” The shard of glass in his chest stung, pressed by a chuckle he refused to release. The fact she made him want to laugh right after a walk through his worst memories was something he both resented and relished. Same as her, he supposed, and looked down the top of her head. How did such a little bit of a thing hold so much honey and vinegar?
“You think you’re not a thorn in mine?” She lifted her head. “Buy me another cushion while you’re away. God knows I need it.”
He lost his battle with what sense he had and scooped his arm around her, pulling her to stand in front of him so he could kiss that smart mouth of hers.
She gave a squeak of shock against the press of his lips to hers and went all stiff, but in the next heartbeat she melted. It was his undoing.
He wrapped both his arms across her back and slanted his head to get a full, satisfying taste of her mouth. Her curves were everything as she pressed into him and her fingertips caressed his collarbone beneath the bend of his collar. Then here was her tongue brushing against his and bringing his cock to full attention.
Even as he groaned, however, she drew a sharp inhale and pushed herself away from him.
Fuck. But also, good. They shouldn’t. But fuck. He wanted to keep her right here but fought the urge. She was being sensible for both of them, pressing her fingertips to her mouth and shaking her head.
“That—”
“I know. You’re my housekeeper. I won’t treat you the way my mother was treated.” His voice hardened as he saw the similarity. “That won’t happen again,” he vowed.
She was only a faceless silhouette, but he saw her nod.
“Safe travels.” She hurried into the cabin.
Chapter Twelve
Virgil’s head was about to split under the pressure of holding onto his temper. For two days, there’d been nothing but debate on parliamentary rules and points of order. A single worthwhile motion had carried—yammer-mouths were limited to five minutes of listening to themselves expound on a topic.Five minutes. A man ought to be able to make his point in the time it took for an average piss. Anyone leaking anything into a john for a solid five minutes needed to see a doctor.
And, so help him God, if he had to listen to one more amendment to an amendment, he would set fire to this whole damned process.
