Page 56 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“You believe me?”
“I do.”
“Even after the way I acted today?” Smoke must have drifted into her eyes, because they began to water and burn. She had to sniff back a nose that wanted to run.
“Yes. And today proves it.” His shoulders came up.
“How?” Her voice was squeezed by the pincers that had taken hold of her heart.
He buried a curse into his palm, bracing his elbows on his thighs as he rearranged his face with his hand.
“You’re not as experienced as I presumed you would be, having been married and all.” He lifted his face to hold her stare, even though it was growing dark enough she could only see the glitter of firelight in his eyes. “It’s one thing if your husband never got you there, butno onehas. It’s a pretty good bet you’ve only been with him.”
Marigold sat very still, trying to absorb that he believed her while at the same time doubts were swimming inside her, making her wonder if she believedherself.
She hid her face in her own hands, tortured enough to confess in a low voice, “I wanted to.”
“Wanted to what?” he growled.
“I don’t know. Feel like that.” She kept her hands over her hot cheeks, toes curled in her shoes, unable to look at him. “I didn’t know that was how I wanted to feel, but I realize now that’s what I was chasing when I encouraged him to make love to me. He told everyone in the courtroom that I invited him to bed me. He said I was too forward and demanding. That it proved I was a harlot.”
After a stunned silence, Virgil spat, “He’s the biggest piece of shit alive, isn’t he?”
She had to choke a laugh at that. It was either that or cry. She picked up the corner of her apron to dab under her damp eyes.
Virgil rubbed his thighs. “You know, Marigold, I recently learned that women have the right to feel however they want to feel. Men aren’t supposed to tell them what to think of themselves, so is there a reason you’re still letting that prick tell you who and what you are?”
“You’re going to throw my words back in my face like that?” She lifted her wet lashes. The corners of her mouth didn’t know if they wanted to go up or down.
“I am,” he said gently. “And if you’re looking for a man’s opinion of you, I’d say you’re smart enough to know you’re better than that one will ever be. Not that the way we behaved today proves either of us possesses much intelligence,” he added drily.
“I thought you would blame me.” She scratched at a berry stain on her apron. “Say I wasn’t suitable to be around your children.”
“Then I shouldn’t be around them, either. Should I?”
Oh, why did he have to make her like him so much? She folded her hands. “What are we going to do?”
“Notthat. Not unless we’re planning to marry.” He rubbed his thighs again. “I won’t be like my father, making children I refuse to recognize.”
She nodded, not wanting to raise children without the commitment of their father, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry and give up this nascent autonomy she was finding here. On the other hand, marrying Virgil wasn’t nearly as objectionable a prospect as it had seemed when she had first arrived. Not with today’s memory throbbing between her thighs.
“I have to finish this cabin,” he continued absently. “We’ll have frost soon, and that’ll cost us another batch of men. I should get their help with adding a couple of rooms while they’re still here. At least then you and I won’t be sleeping on top of each other.”
She was aware of him every night, above her. After today, she would speculate even more how it would feel to press her body up against his in the night, to feel his skin brushing hers and his hardness entering her.
She looked away so he wouldn’t read the longing in her eyes. Her gaze snagged on the handcart.
“Oh. Um, the sewing basket.” She rose and moved toward it. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” He stood and kicked the fire down. “Why would you think I expect you to pay for it?”
“Well, you did just tell me to quit accepting courting gifts. I don’t want to give you a wrong impression.” She was teasing, trying to defuse the undercurrents still swirling around them.
“It’s tools to do your job, Marigold. Same as I give the men who work for me,” he said testily. “I thought Nettie would like some of the ribbon on one of her dresses or in her hair. The price was right, so I bought it.”
He sounded so surly, she was almost offended, but she heard the defensiveness beneath his purchase of such an extravagant gift. She bit her lips to hide her smile.
“Do you need help carrying it inside?” He came across. “Is that why it’s still out here?”
