Bought: The Greek's Bride. Lucy Monroe
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you, I think.” Recklessness filled her to bursting.
She didn’t know if it came from the unexpected proposal that had mentioned not one word of love, from memories she’d prefer to forget, or from the renewed evidence that her father wanted no emotional connection to her, but the strictures of a lifetime were falling like dominos around her.
No, she wasn’t the type of woman to view sex casually, but she wasn’t a virgin and she was darned if she would marry a man who could turn himself off from her so easily. She didn’t want Sandor to be like her father. She couldn’t stand for their relationship to be as cold and distant.
“Why do you feel the need to challenge me?” he asked, sounding baffled.
It was almost cute, in an arrogant, macho reaction to what should have been a straightforward topic kind of way.
“Why don’t you want me enough to have seduced me?” Or even accepted her sometimes not too subtle invitations?
“I told you.”
“You believe I’m a virgin, so that puts me off-limits until the wedding night.”
“Essentially…yes. Perhaps not until the wedding night, but definitely until the wedding is a date on the calendar.”
“This is not the Dark Ages.”
“Integrity has no time limit.”
“Is that one of your grandfather’s sayings?”
For a second his eyes burned with a pain that could not be mistaken. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
“I don’t understand why you want to marry me. You don’t love me.”
“And your friends have all married for the sake of some ephemeral emotion that cannot even be counted on to last past the cooling of the sheets in most cases?”
“No.” She wouldn’t pretend that all her acquaintances had married because they were in love. “But they aren’t me and I happen to believe in that ephemeral emotion. I want more from marriage than a businesslike merging of two people’s lives.” She wanted more from life than that, period…but had no idea how to get it.
Other people found love so easily, but not her. But that didn’t mean she had given up hoping to find it.
“And you will have more. We are compatible, in every way. We will have a family. You even enjoy my mother’s company.”
“She’s easy to like, but you say that like it’s a major consideration.”
“Since I choose to have my mother live near me like a good Greek son, it is.”
“I wouldn’t mind living with your mother, but I’m not so sure about her son.”
“So, you are considering my proposal?”
Was she? Her heart beat too fast, the pain of uncertainty squeezing her chest tight. She was. No matter what he believed about love, she was afraid she was already irrevocably in love with him—or headed there fast. What a hopelessly terrifying thought. “Yes, but I can’t give you an answer right now.”
“Surely you were expecting this.”
“Funnily enough…I wasn’t. I told you that.”
He sighed. “Yes, but I would have thought you would have at least considered the possibility.”
She just shrugged, not knowing what to say. They’d already been over the whole sex thing and their views were polar opposites. She’d been sure he wasn’t ready for a deeper relationship because he hadn’t pursued that angle and he’d assumed she’d realize he wouldn’t pursue it until she was committed to him.
“And you cannot make the decision now, knowing what you know of me, of yourself?”
“No.” Because if she did, it would have to be no. And her heart both demanded and rejected that answer.
“Is it my background?”
She stared at him. “I don’t know enough of your background for it even to be a consideration and I hope you aren’t implying I’m some sort of snob who would only marry someone born to the same world of privilege I was.”
“I am not saying that, no. In fact, your refreshing refusal to judge others based on where they come from appeals to me greatly.”
“I’m glad, because I don’t want to change that part of me.”
“But you are willing to change in other ways?”
“People grow…change is inevitable, but that’s with me to stay.”
“I am glad.”
“But you are annoyed I won’t accept your proposal right now.”
“Not annoyed…disappointed. I would think you could see the advantages to a marriage between us.”
He was disappointed, but not hurt. Which meant his emotions were not involved at all. That did not bode well. She bit her lip, realizing she must have done so before because it felt tender. It was a bad habit, but she had enough to think about without trying to break it at the moment.
“I’m sorry. I’m not like you and my father. I don’t make personal decisions based on business logic.”
“What do you base them on?”
“Emotion.”
His lips twisted with distaste just as she knew they would. He and her father had a lot in common. Maybe too much. She suspected he would be no more impressed with an emotional commitment from her than her father was.
She took a fortifying sip of water. “I know. That’s a dirty word to you and men like my father, but it’s how I live my life. You’ll have to give me some time to think.”
Silence pulsed between them until he pushed the ring box across the table. “Put it in your bag. We’ll discuss the proposal again later.”
She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to take possession of the ring. Maybe he thought that since possession was nine-tenth’s of the law, if she took the ring, she might have a harder time saying no and giving it back. The man was wily enough to have considered every angle.
“Please keep it until I give you my answer.”
“I’d rather you kept it.”
“Even if I say no?”
“I had the ring made for you. Whatever your answer, it is meant to be yours.”
Unable to hold back from looking after such a statement, she opened the box. It was a square-cut precious stone exactly the color of her eyes. Aquamarine-blue. To either side was a perfectly cut square diamond of crystal clarity, only slightly smaller than the center stone.
Emotion that had no place in their discussion welled inside her and she husked, “It’s beautiful.”
“Like you.”
She shook her head, dislodging the empty words. “I’m hardly that.”
“After all we have said about honesty tonight, you think I lie about this?”
“I think you want to flatter me, but I have a mirror. I’m passable, but I am not beautiful. You should see pictures of my mother. She was beautiful.” And she’d taken what existed of George Wentworth’s heart to the grave with her.
“You know the saying, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
She barely kept from rolling her eyes. “Yes.”
“You are beautiful to me, Eleanor.”
“False flattery isn’t going to get me to agree to marry you.”
“It is not false.” His voice was a low rumbling growl. She’d managed to make him mad again.