To Seduce a Rogue (42 page)

The blanket slipped from her fist. “Not going back?”

He raised the blanket to her neck and lifted her hand to hold it. “I want you to marry me.”

“But, our arrangement?”

“The arrangement be damned! You need help with the newspaper, and your roof needs to be repaired. Maybe replaced. Would not support heavy spring rain, I can tell you that much.”

“Roof...”

He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Will you please quit repeating what I say in that odd tone?”

Her brow furrowed. “Roof?”

“
Charlie
.”

“Roof!”

His hands fell from her shoulders. He had a sinking suspicion he had committed a blunder here.

She jabbed her finger against his collarbone. “You want me to marry you so you can fix my roof?”

He grabbed her wrist, lifting her finger from his chest. “You could be pregnant. Have you ever thought of that?”

“Of course I’ve thought of that.”

“How would you manage? You barely have enough money to survive as it is.”

She jumped up so quickly that the blanket became tangled in her ankles, and she almost fell. He reached to steady her, but she flung his hand aside. “Who is this talking to me? When did Adam Chase, editor, get back in town?”

He frowned at her, genuinely bewildered. She loved him, right? Didn’t all women want to marry the man they loved? “I have no idea what I said to make you this angry.”

“You are a fool,” she said as she stalked into the house and slammed the door behind her.

He sighed and leaned his head against the post. What the hell had happened? The door opened, and before he could react, his shirt smacked him in the face. The sound of his satchel hitting the porch boards was followed by the slam of the front door. Again.

This time she threw the rarely used lock into place.

Understanding

A state of cooperative or mutually tolerant relations between people.

“Quit laughing.”

Miles wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You asked her to marry you so you could fix her roof?” He covered his mouth with his hand, but the chuckles sprang forth anyway. “No, you didn’t ask her, you
told
her.”

Adam stood up with such force that his chair toppled over. “Why did I come here?”

“Because” —Miles flattened out his smile— “because she threw your satchel out, too. Here or the boarding house, I figure.” His mouth crumpled, and he dipped his head as he lost the battle with laughter.

Adam ran his hand through his hair and went to get his bag, which sat by the door. Mrs. Wilkin’s it would be then.

“Wait, Adam.”

He paused. Kath stood in the doorway leading to the pantry. She wiped her hands on her apron and came forward. “I’m sorry. I was eavesdropping. Come and sit back down.” She gestured to the overturned chair. “Please.”

He shot Miles a hot glare, righted the chair and seated himself.

Kath walked to the chair opposite Adam’s and slid awkwardly into it. Obviously, her pregnancy was beginning to make some activities difficult. She frowned at Miles, who was still trying to compose himself, and turned to Adam with a smile.

“You just need to talk to her.” She laughed and pulled at the apron stretched tight over her middle. “Don’t you understand why she’s upset?”

“No, I do not.”

She shook her head and glanced at her lap. “Mercy, men can be so dumb.”

“Now, wait a darn minute—” Miles thumped his hand on the table.

“Pardon me?”

Kath raised her head, leveling her gaze on Adam. “Do you love her?”

Of course, he loved her. But he had only realized this very morning.

Adam shifted in his chair as she continued to stare at him, her jaw set as stiffly as a pastor’s in a poker game. He threw a quick glance at Miles, who was studying his fingernails as if they solved the world’s problems.
Thanks, friend
.

“Well?” Kath’s apple-green gaze drilled into him.

Adam shoved his hand through his hair. As his sleeve brushed his nose, he caught the faint trace of roses. A vision of Charlie sleeping by the hearth popped into his mind: her dark lashes resting against her skin, her lips parted, her fist snagged in his shirt. He wanted to take care of her, protect her. Did
any
of them understand that?

“Charlie is a woman, Adam. She needs to hear that you love her. I’ll be the first to admit she’s a mite...unusual. But a woman, still.” She reached across the table and touched his hand.

He raised his gaze to her.

“Go to her. Tell her that you love her. Need her.” She laughed softly. “Then you can fix her roof.”

“That was not the best way to ask, was it?”

“Damn foolish, is you ask me.” This from Miles.

“No one’s asking you.” Adam stood. He paused when he reached the door. “Can I take your wagon? No need causing any undue gossip.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll bring it back tonight, if I can stay, that is.”

“You stayed last night, why would tonight be any different?” Kath asked as she rose from the table. “Dinner’s at six. We’ll expect you and Charlie.”

Adam stepped through the door, laughing as he heard Miles ask, “Now what did you mean about men being dumb?”

* * *

Charlie sneezed and wiped her hand across her nose. It was cold in the office, even colder on the floor. Not to mention the dust. The press had been acting up today; a loose cylinder, Gerald said. He was getting too old to crawl around on his hands and knees, so here she was, on her back, covered with ink, under the press.

She heard the door open and close. She almost called to Gerald, asking what he’d forgotten until she caught sight of black polished leather. Hessians. She took a breath, fighting the urgent quickening of her heart. Hellfire. She’d tell him what she thought of a new roof!

He stopped alongside the press, on the side closest to the door. Surely he could see her legs poking out. Why didn’t he say anything? Cautiously, she rolled her head his way. It was definitely Chase. No one in town had boots like that.

A piece of paper slipped to the floor, landing right next to his boots. She lay there, barely breathing, staring at the sheet. She sighed, grabbed the sheet and jerked it under the press. She frowned. Had she heard him laugh? Oh, the
nerve
of the man.

She moved the paper this way and that, attempting to find enough light to see what it said. She squinted.
Deed of ownership. Transferred November 29, 1850, Edgemont Sentinel, Charlotte Elaine Whitney
.

She reared, banging her head on the underside of the press. “Ow!”

He grabbed her ankles. “Put you head down.” She could tell by his tone he
was
laughing. Oh, would she tell him a thing to two.

He gave a firm yank, and she slid on her bottom across the floor. Merciful heavens, she hoped no one was strolling by along the boardwalk. She glared at him, the deed wrinkled in her fist, and jumped to her feet.

“You bought another pair of those god-awful boots.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and began to wipe her nose and forehead.

She ripped the cloth from his hand and tossed it in the air. “What is the meaning of this?” She waved the deed beneath his nose.

“Don’t crush the damn thing.” He pried her fist open and extracted the sheet, which now had a crease running along its center. Grasping her hand, he pulled her to the closest chair and pushed her into it.

She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him as hard as she could. Or shove him to the floor and cover him with kisses. Heavens, he smelled good. Like soap and tobacco. He must have taken a bath, and
she
looked like a hired hand on a cattle drive.

His feet shifted as he squatted in front of her. “This goes with it, I suppose.” He dropped a small velvet-covered box in her lap.

Her hands shook as she reached for it. The hinge looked old, a little rusty, but the box popped open on the second try. A ring winked at her from faded, red velvet folds: a glowing sapphire perched amid a circle of diamonds. She lifted her gaze as she ran her finger over the stone.

“Chase...”

He met her gaze, his brow drawn. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. He was
nervous
. “Jared, remember, sweetheart?”

She laughed and looked at the ring again. “What...this is beautiful, but—”

He tipped her head up with a finger beneath her chin. “The ring was my mother’s.”

“But—”

He shook his head, the finger beneath her chin trembling. “I love you, you know.”

“You heard.”
Oh
. That explained this morning. She had scared him once again.

His shoulders lifted with a deep breath as his eyes flashed. “How about it?”

Why, I should make him squirm
, she thought. He was really terrible at sharing his feelings. “How about what?”

He frowned and gestured to the ring with his shoulder. “The ring, you know. Do you want to...get married?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ve hired someone to come take care of my roof.”

He sputtered a laugh and grasped her knees with his hands. “Charlie. Dammit.”

“And we already have such a lovely arrangement.”

He dropped his head to her knee. “You want everything. You want me to open my soul to you. All right.” He sighed. “I missed you so much after you left Richmond. God, I could barely endure spending time in that house. The scent of you stuck to the sheets for weeks. I finally realized it was in my brain, not on those damn sheets.” He rolled his head on her lap and squeezed her knees. “I would sit on the porch, looking at the river, imagining us there together. And your voice. Your voice would come to me on the wings of the wind some nights. I would turn, expecting you to be there.”

She lifted her hand and trailed her fingers through his dark, curling hair. A tear drifted from the corner of her eye, making a slow path down her cheek.

He continued as if he did not feel her touch. “I drank too much, could not sleep. Tanner’s still mad at me for one stunt I pulled. I couldn’t go, that house was not, I wanted...” He half-stood and seized her by the back of the neck, lifting her from the chair and bringing her mouth to his. The kiss was one part anger, one part desperation, one part passion, one part love.

It was the first kiss they had shared with love admitted between them.

He slid his hands to her back, grasping the material of her dress in both fists. “I’m scared,” he said against her lips, “scared to love you.”

“I know,” she said against his.

He withdrew, releasing her so abruptly that her bottom smacked the seat of the chair. “Actually” —he laughed— “this is the first time I have known that to be true and not been frightened to death of it.”

“Frightened?”

He lifted his hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her lips. “That you know me so well. For a man who is not looking to suddenly slam head-on into his other half.” He smiled. “Fairly frightening.”