“I see,” she said, in a way that made it plain she didn’t like what she saw.
Flint realized he was going to lose her if he left that statement all alone on the table. “However,” he began, “I’ve never had a wife. I suppose she would be entitled to her say.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
He heard the sarcasm in her voice and added, “Any sensible person would defer to someone with greater knowledge and experience here in this wilderness. My wife would be depending on me to keep her safe, to give her a good life.”
“You don’t think she might have a right to define what that ‘good life’ entails?”
Flint rubbed his jaw and realized from the feel of the bristles that he hadn’t shaved while she’d been in bed recovering. He knew women put great store by that sort of thing. It simply hadn’t been necessary to shave every day when it was only him and Ransom around. He realized that would probably change when Emaline showed up. He felt a stab of irritation that he was going to have to adjust his life for a woman who wasn’t even his wife.
Which made him even more determined to convince Hannah McMurtry to marry him and more frustrated by the hoops it seemed he’d have to jump through to get what he wanted.
“Sounds to me like you want a man dancing on a string,” he muttered.
“Sounds to me like you want a woman without a mind of her own,” she shot back.
She was sitting so straight she might have had a steel rod down her backbone, and her chin jutted so far forward she could have poked a hole in the wall. He’d only seen her unconscious or sick in bed. This was a different woman altogether. Stubborn. Defiant.
Willful.
Hannah McMurtry was way more trouble than he’d bargained for, if her questioning so far was any indication of what she’d be like as a wife. She reminded him of his mother.
Flint hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he’d measured every woman he’d ever met against Creighton Creed Blackthorne and found them wanting. His mother was capable, shrewd, and spirited. Most females, he’d discovered, were soft, silly things, easily led, easily cajoled, and in the case of soiled doves, easily bedded.
He took another look at Hannah. Physically, she was nothing like his mother, who was taller than most men, with almond-shaped gray eyes, straight auburn hair, and a face that had suffered through sun and wind and trouble. Hannah barely came to his shoulder. Her blue eyes were direct, and her hair was a mass of wild blond curls around what he suspected was going to be a peaches-and-cream complexion once the effects of sunburn had gone away.
Hannah’s hard questioning reminded him of nothing so much as his mother in an argument with his father, in the years before Jarrett Creed had died at Gettysburg. From what little Flint had seen, his mother, whose nickname was Cricket, was equally stubborn with her second husband, that son of a bitch Alexander Blackthorne.
Having found one positive similarity to his mother, he looked for others. Was Hannah as hardy as his mother? She was smaller, slighter, but she’d survived in the elements when a lesser woman might have succumbed. He knew from having undressed her and washed her and taken care of her bodily needs that she was very much a woman, with generous breasts and a narrow waist and good, child-bearing hips.
And she was beautiful.
If he had to have a wife—and he did—she fit his needs perfectly. He wished he knew what appeal would work with her.
Flint glanced at Hannah and saw that, instead of finishing her breakfast, her arms were folded defensively across her breasts. “You need to eat,” he said.
She stared at the eggs on her plate. “There are more important things for us to discuss than food.”
“I promise to answer whatever questions you ask if you’ll finish your breakfast.”
She eyed him, then picked up her fork and took a mouthful of eggs. She watched him while she chewed and swallowed, then said, “I want to be courted.”
He laughed in surprise. “I have no idea how to court a woman.”
“Then you’d better figure it out, because that’s my price for considering your offer of marriage.”
“You mean you’ll consider it?” he said, surprised by her seeming acquiescence.
“I’m not agreeing to marry you. I’m agreeing to be courted by you.”
“I hear you,” he said. “If you agree to marry me, I want us to be married on the same day as my brother’s wedding. That’s a month off. Will that be enough time for you to make up your mind?”
“I think I can take your measure by then. But I want your assurance that if I decide we don’t suit, you won’t do anything to try and force me into marriage.”
“Done.”
“And I want you to introduce me to other eligible men in the neighborhood who might be prospective husbands.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I told you, I have to stay close to the house while my brother’s gone.” He wasn’t afraid of the competition, except maybe for his neighbor, Ashley Patton, who had more money and a finer house to offer a wife. However, Flint wasn’t going to allow Hannah to be tempted by a wealthy husband before he’d had the chance to win her for himself.
“You’ll have to make up your mind to take me or leave me without seeing what else is out there,” he said.
Hannah smiled.
He felt his heart jump when her dimples reappeared.
“I suppose if I choose you, at least I won’t be getting a pig in a poke,” she said.
Flint laughed and told himself his heart had jumped like that because he wasn’t used to talking with a pretty woman across the breakfast table. “Eat, Hannah. Get strong. You may not have realized it, but you’ll also be giving me a chance to see what sort of wife you’ll make.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was speaking of your ability to sew and cook and make this house a home.”
She blushed and lowered her eyes.
Flint found himself feeling … enchanted. He attributed the feeling to the oddity of the situation. Still, it couldn’t hurt, he thought. He should appreciate his wife, even if he never loved her.
“Very well,” she said. “I like the idea of a marriage where both parties are satisfied with the bargain they’ve made.” She reached a hand across the table, and he put his out to shake hers.
“One month,” he said.
“One month,” she agreed.
Flint shook her hand, aware as he did so that he was going to do whatever it took—short of lying, cheating, or stealing—to convince Hannah McMurtry to marry him. Being married, even to a woman he didn’t love, was his best defense against doing something dishonorable where Ransom and Emaline were concerned.
Because he knew no way to stop coveting—or loving—his brother’s bride.
“I don’t understand,” Ransom said. “I thought every woman wanted children.”
“I don’t,” Emaline said.
They were riding side by side ahead of the wagon that carried Emaline’s aunt Betsy, who’d come along on the journey from Fort Laramie to Denver as chaperon. They planned to leave the wagon at a livery in Cheyenne and take the Denver Pacific Railroad to their destination. They’d need the wagon on the way home from the depot in Cheyenne to haul the trousseau and furniture Emaline intended to purchase in Denver.
Although he’d been courting Emaline for six months, they’d never discussed the topic of children. Ransom had simply assumed they would have a large family, like most folks did. Today, in passing, he’d asked how many children Emaline hoped they’d have. He’d been shocked by her answer: “None.”
“One of the reasons I’m marrying you is to have children to inherit the ranching empire I’m working so hard to build,” Ransom said.
“I know I should have mentioned my feelings sooner, but—”
“You’re damn right you should have said something!” he interrupted. “You didn’t think it would make a difference to me?”
If she’d sounded angry, instead of hurt, he might have been able to continue his rant. He’d fallen head over heels in love with Emaline Simmons the first time he’d laid eyes on her, and he’d believed there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her happy.
But he’d never considered the possibility that loving Emaline would mean giving up the hope of ever having children of his own. He decided to point out the flaw he saw in her position.
“You must have known it would matter,” he said. “I’ve talked about working on the ranch with my sons and about you working in the house with our daughters. Why didn’t you say something then?”
She shot a guilty look at him. “I just … didn’t.”
Because she’d known he would care, he realized. Because she’d known any man would care. Because she’d suspected she might lose him if she admitted the truth. What man would marry a woman knowing she didn’t want to bear his children?
He had another thought and voiced it aloud, although he spoke quietly, aware of the pointed look Emaline’s aunt Betsy had given the two of them after his outburst. “Emaline, sweetheart, I don’t know any way to avoid having children if we have marital relations.”
“Do we have to do that?” she asked.
Ransom gaped at her. “Are you suggesting we don’t?”
She glanced back at her aunt, then kneed her horse closer and put a hand on his forearm. “I love your kisses, Ransom. They’re enough for me.”
“You’re not being realistic,” he said, jerking himself free. “I’ve stopped with kisses out of respect for you. A fiancée is not the same thing as a wife. A man wants to hold his wife and touch her and …” Put himself inside her. He finished the thought in his head, because she was already cringing away from him.
Dear God. Was she saying she wanted to remain a virgin after they were married?
“You know I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he said. “Can you tell me what you’re afraid of?”
“Dying.”
“What?” He didn’t think he’d heard her right.
She met his gaze and said, “Can you promise me I won’t die in childbirth?”
“No husband can promise that, but the risk is worth the reward.”
She snorted inelegantly. “It isn’t your life at risk. It’s mine.”
She had a point. But there was no future without babies. “What has you so scared of childbirth?” he asked at last.
“My mother died birthing me. In great agony.”
“Who told you that?”
“Aunt Betsy. It was ghastly. At least, that’s what my aunt said.”
Ransom shot Emaline’s aunt a nasty glance, startling her.
“But that isn’t all,” Emaline continued. “Friends and acquaintances have died far too often trying to bring new life into the world.”
“You’re young. You’re healthy. There’s no reason you couldn’t easily bear healthy children. I’m not saying there’s no pain involved.”
“How much pain?” she asked.
“How the hell would I know that?”
“Please don’t use that language.”
Ransom flattened his lips. He’d known there would be changes when he brought a woman into the house, language being one of them. But he’d figured anything would be worth holding Emaline in his arms through the night and making love to her. He wasn’t sure how willing he was to turn his life upside down for a woman who had no intention of performing one of the primary duties of a wife.
As far as giving birth was concerned, the only experience he had was with horses and cattle, who bore their offspring without fuss. More often, it was the foal or calf that died, rather than the mare or cow. But he wasn’t about to tell her that their child was more likely to die in childbirth than she was.
She was right about the danger. It existed. Especially because there would be no doctor to attend her, unless he brought her back to the fort to deliver the child. There was always the chance the child would come early, or that there would be some complication long before the babe was ready to be born.
“There are no guarantees in life,” he admitted. “But if you won’t take that risk, we’ll never have sons and daughters to hold and to love.”
A look of pain flashed across her face, replaced by the mulish tilt of her chin. “You’re not going to cajole me, Ransom. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I became a woman capable of bearing children. I don’t want to get pregnant. If that means not doing anything after we’re married, so be it.”
Ransom pulled his horse to a stop. “I wish you’d said something about this sooner, Emaline. I really do.”
“What would you have done, Ransom?”
I wouldn’t have proposed. Was that true? Even though she’d said she wouldn’t make love with him, he believed he could convince her to do so. She had no idea how powerful passion could be. He’d had enough arguments with her—and lost enough arguments with her—to know she had a fiery temper. But this wasn’t a disagreement about whether they should go out for a horseback ride in threatening weather. This was a disagreement about the rest of their lives.
“Is something wrong?” an elderly female voice interjected from behind them.
“Nothing,” they both said at the same time.
Ransom kicked his horse into a trot to increase their distance from the wagon, and Emaline followed after him. When she caught up, he turned to her and said, “I’m not sure I can marry you if you aren’t willing to be a wife. In fact, I doubt our marriage would be legal if it’s not consummated.”
He watched her face blanch as she asked, “Are you sure about that?”
“Ask your father,” he said flatly.
Color flooded her face. “I could never talk to him about this.”
“Because he wouldn’t agree with you?”
“Because the pain of my mother’s death is with him still,” she replied. “I don’t believe he lets himself think about what it will mean for me to become a wife.”
“There might be ways for us to lie together but avoid pregnancy,” he said. “Would that be all right with you?”
“How certain are you I wouldn’t get pregnant?”
He swore under his breath. “The only certain way not to get pregnant is abstinence. That isn’t a reasonable choice, Emaline, and you know it.”
“Why is it so unreasonable?” she argued. “I love you, Ransom. I want to spend my life with you, with the emphasis on life. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
“It just isn’t. You’re asking me to give up too much, Emaline. I want more from marriage than you’re offering.”
She stopped her horse. “Then maybe we should turn around and go home.”
“Is there any chance you’ll change your mind?”
“No.”
Ransom had already opened his mouth to put an end to things when she said, “I have a suggestion, though.”
“I’m all ears.”
She glanced at her aunt, then at him, and said, “We won’t go to Cheyenne. We’ll go back to your ranch.”
“I don’t want to marry you if—”
“Hear me out,” she interrupted. “We’ll send Aunt Betsy on to Denver to shop for us while we spend the next two weeks together at your ranch.”
“Where are you going with this?”
She took a deep breath and said, “I want us to try living together as husband and wife—on my terms.”
“What’s the point of that?”
“I want you to see how nice it could be for us, even without the physical aspect of marriage.”
“You’ll be ruined if we don’t get married.”
“Your ranch is a long way off the beaten path.”
“You think your aunt will go along with this?”
/> Emaline met his gaze briefly, then lowered her eyes. “She loves me. And she knows how scared I am of dying in childbirth. So yes, I think she will. If things don’t work out …” Her voice faltered. She swallowed hard and said, “If we separate later, I know Aunt Betsy will protect my reputation. So what do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
Her eyes glistened with tears that wrung his heart. She was wrong. This wasn’t going to work. And he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought for the two of them to separate after she’d been living under the same roof with two bachelors. Then he had a brilliant idea.
“All right,” he said. “I agree.”
“Oh, thank you, Ransom. You won’t be sorry!”
“With one stipulation.”
She swiped at a tear that had fallen on her cheek and asked, “What’s that?”
“I want the freedom to treat you as my wife. To hold you in my arms at night and to touch you and kiss you whenever the mood strikes me.”
“I can’t imagine that will be too often. You’ll be out working on the range during the day.”
“The nights are plenty long.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Touching and kissing are fine,” she said. “So long as you agree it goes no further than that.”
“I won’t do more unless you’re willing,” he said.
“I won’t be.”
“But if you are—”
“I won’t be,” she repeated.
He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak she said, “Very well. If I do agree and there are consequences, I won’t hold you responsible.”
“That sounds fair to me.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
She shook it once. “Deal.”
He laughed, feeling alive and excited and hopeful. “One more thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll have to tell Flint what’s going on. He’s going to think we’re both out of our minds. He’ll need to hear from you that this is all your idea.”
She smiled. “I’ve always found your brother easy to get along with. I’m sure Flint will be happy to go along with our pretend marriage.”
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