Not Always a Saint by Mary Jo Putney Page B

recently come into a substantial fortune, I have no terrible vices, and my reputation is sound. You can make inquiries if you wish.”
    â€œChoosing a mate is not a simple matter of logic, my lord,” she said helplessly. “While you’re a very desirable potential husband and I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, that doesn’t mean we should marry.”
    â€œYou owe me nothing. Trying to save a child is every decent person’s obligation, not a way of keeping score.” Refusing to back down, he asked, “Do you dislike me? I’ve thought there was a certain harmony of mind as well as a powerful attraction between us, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.”
    She bit her lip. She was a good liar when necessary, but she didn’t want to lie to this man. “You’re not wrong, but attraction isn’t a sound basis for a marriage.”
    â€œIsn’t it a start?” he asked quizzically. “Shouldn’t we at least try to discover if we’d suit?”
    â€œDidn’t anyone ever tell you it’s ungentlemanly to ask a lady why she doesn’t accept you?” Jessie said with sudden exasperation. “A simple ‘no’ should suffice!”
    His mouth curved wryly. “As with the rule about morning calls, I’m aware of that, but I don’t choose to comply. This is too important. You’re too important.”
    â€œThen I shall have to be even more blunt,” she said flatly. “You are a good man, Lord Romayne. You do indeed have an impeccable reputation as a physician, a surgeon, and a man whose life is devoted to helping others. You’re held up as an example of good Christian values. You’re even a vicar, for heaven’s sake! But that alone is reason enough to decline your flattering offer.”
    â€œI noticed before that you don’t seem to like vicars,” he said thoughtfully.
    â€œMy father was a vicar,” she retorted. “I want nothing to do with another one!”
    He didn’t flinch, but his expression became unreadable. “Though I’ve been ordained, I’m not a practicing cleric,” he said in a mild voice. “I founded a chapel in Bristol where nonconformists meet and hold services. I sometimes give a sermon myself, but medicine has always come first with me. If you intend to despise me for my low occupation, it should be surgery, not the church.”
    â€œI don’t despise you.” She paced across the room, her steps taut. “I simply don’t want you for a husband. I shouldn’t have to explain why!”
    â€œBut I need to understand.” He took a few steps toward her, moving into the sunshine that poured through the window, making his hair shine like polished golden oak. “The best way to get rid of me entirely is to make it very clear what your objections are. Having been trained in medicine, I need reasons. Evidence.”
    She swung around, her hands knotted into fists. “Because you’re a good man, Lord Romayne, and I’m a wicked woman! I should be wearing scarlet, not widow’s weeds, to warn men away from me!”
    His gaze was searching. “Are you cruel? I’ve seen no signs of that. Are you a liar or profoundly selfish? I’ve not observed that either. How are you wicked?”
    She wanted to spit at him. “I have no desire to reveal my sordid past, my lord! I have done what I must to survive, and that includes deeds that the world would condemn.” Not to mention the deed that could get her hanged. “I don’t belong with a man who is almost a saint!”
    His eyes flashed with real anger. “I am no saint!” He closed the distance between them in two steps, wrapped his arms around Jessie, and kissed her with an urgency that seared her bones.
    Desire might not be a solid foundation for marriage, but it overwhelmed her stunned senses. Her arms slid around him and she