kind."
He caught her hands in his. "I wasn't."
She gaped at him. "Morgan, a person
doesn't simply up and decide to get married, like wallpapering the foyer."
His arms wrapped around her as he pulled
her close against his chest. "Would you like to wallpaper it? Hold
on..." He glanced around as though unfamiliar with his surroundings.
"This cottage doesn't have a foyer. We could do the kitchen, if you
like."
She nearly collapsed from relief.
"Oh, thank God! You were joking. For a moment I actually
thought—"
He stiffened and Rachel saw the truth in
his eyes. The wounded look that he tried to disguise. "Morgan, we
can't."
"I realize you weren't expecting a
marriage proposal this afternoon, but the subject has come up."
"And you shouted that you'd never
hear of it."
He slowly shook his dark head. "I
didn't say I'd never marry you. I asked if you expected that before I'd be
allowed to bed you. We both know the answer. I've deliberately avoided you,
Rachel, to give us time apart. But that time changed nothing. I still want you,
and clearly you have feelings for me."
"All right, I do, but—"
"You understand me, Rachel, as no
woman before has. You understand about trade. I know you'll make me a good
wife."
"I haven't agreed to marry
you."
"But you will, Colonial. Because
you're the first woman I've ever felt this way about. The first to call me a
visionary. And even the jealousy today—which I detested in Pamela and other
wenches—I find I rather like coming from you. That's why I know this is right.
Why I'm certain that eventually you'll agree to wed me. We belong together,
Rachel."
"You can't just order me to
exchange vows, as though I'm fetching something from your files."
He kissed the tip of her nose.
"You're a wise young lady. I doubt I shall have to command you. The squire's
at the inn waiting for me. I'll be leaving tonight if all goes well during our
meeting. I'll come here directly after the men leave and we'll talk."
"We need to talk now. You—"
"God, but you delight in being
contrary! I've one thing left to say and only one thing to ask." He caught
her shoulders in both hands and gave her a stern glower. "If I learn of
another man visiting this cottage while I'm away, I'll call him out with my
dueling pistols when I return. I'm not jesting. You're mine, Rachel."
"Morgan, we know so little about
each other. In fairness, admit that's true. You can't—"
"I know you never loved Cletus. I
don't believe you trembled in his arms or kissed him to the point of insanity
as you do me." He took her mouth tenderly, proving the truth of his
observation. "So that leaves only one important question: Don't you want
to love your husband the next time?"
Chapter
10
Morgan's last question came back into
Rachel's mind as she read her aunt's telegram. Yes, I want to love my
husband next time. But you can't become my husband, Morgan. I'm going back to
America...and there's a chance that I'm also going to jail.
Violet had sent a cryptic message
stating she'd received news from the States. Rachel needed to return home at
once. Rachel knew Jeremiah hadn't cleared her name yet. He'd written at
Christmas to advise he was still working on her case, but was unable to locate
Jonas Nelson. After St. Louis his trail went cold. The Nelsons suspected he
might have enlisted in the army, but hadn't heard from him in months.
So, Rachel reasoned, Violet's news
couldn't be good tidings about her legal case. Intuition warned it wouldn't be
good news at all. There was something dark hidden between the lines of Violet's
terse message. Something that had Rachel's stomach in knots.
Rachel dashed a brief note to Boyd and
locked up the holding company office. She ran to the cottage and began stuffing
garments into her trunk. She had tidied the house and packed her trunk by the
time Boyd appeared at her door. She let him read the message from her aunt.
He insisted upon sending a carriage in
the morning to take her back to London at
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