Jacob's Proposal. Eileen Wilks
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brothers looked over the multipage report. After skimming several pages, Luke grinned. “You had her doctor investigated.”
“Of course. It’s always useful to know who you are dealing with.”
Michael set the report down. “This treatment she’s undergoing is experimental. Is it safe? Is it helping?”
“At this point Ada is responding well. Well above expectations. This isn’t a cure, but it looks like her symptoms can be almost completely alleviated with continued treatments. That’s why I sent for you.”
“I’ve never used more than the interest on my coming-of-age money,” Michael said. “I can live well enough without it.”
“A generous offer, but it wouldn’t be enough. Ada will need between two and four treatments a year for the rest of her life. The cost will come down if the treatment becomes approved in this country, but that’s at least five years in the future, possibly more.”
“You’re talking about between two and three million dollars over the next five years. More after that.”
“Yes.”
Silence fell once more, broken only by the limb of one young tree tapping repeatedly against the window, sounding like fretful fingers.
There was only one way they could help Ada. Marriage.
“Well.” Luke raised his eyebrows. “Anyone want to place a bet on which of us can do the deed first?”
Michael ignored that. “How long will it take to wind up the trust once we’ve fulfilled the conditions?”
“At least a month,” Jacob said. “Ada will need another treatment in three to six months. I can cover the cost myself, but I’ve got a deal trying to go south. If it does, it will be…expensive.”
“So we marry sooner, rather than later. No problem.” The glitter in Luke’s eyes contrasted with the lightness of his voice. “I can think of several ladies who would be delighted to help me out, considering how much will be left even after we take care of Ada. Jacob, of course, will ask Maggie.”
Jacob’s lips tightened. “Arranging my affairs for me?”
There was challenge in the look Luke gave his brother. “Don’t tell me you’ve been leading the poor girl on.”
“Are you talking about Maggie Stewart?” Michael’s eyebrows lifted when Jacob nodded. “Are you serious about her, then?”
Jacob’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I’ve been considering marriage. It seemed time.”
“What about you, Mick?” Luke’s use of Michael’s nickname was an olive branch of sorts. “You wouldn’t meet many women in your line of work. Sneaking into hostile countries, blowing up things—it can’t leave you much time for socializing.”
“Luke has a point,” Jacob said. “Will your duties interfere with finding a bride? You said you’d be leaving the country again soon.”
“Yes. On the third.”
Luke whistled. “Eight days? I’m a fast worker, but that’s not much time, even for me. With all those millions that will land in your lap soon, though, it can be done. Want me to send a few candidates your way?”
Michael scowled. “I think I can find a wife on my own.”
“One more thing,” Jacob said. “The treatment seems to have worked, but there’s no guarantee subsequent treatments will have the same effect.” He paused. “We might marry, dissolve the trust, set up another one to pay for Ada’s care—and a month or a year later, she could be dead anyway.”
Luke and Michael exchanged glances. For once, the two understood each other perfectly. Michael spoke for them both when he said, “A month, a year, twenty years—it doesn’t matter. Any time we can buy her will be worth the price. This is for Ada.”
It was settled. The three of them would find women willing to marry quickly, and so dissolve the bizarre trust their father had set up. They would do this in spite of the fact that each of them had at some point vowed never to marry.
Because this was for Ada. The one woman they all loved.
Their housekeeper.
One
Rain washed the window where Jacob stood staring out at a wet, dreary world. He didn’t know why some people claimed to like rainy days. Rain sucked the color out of everything and sniffled in self-pity while it did, sounding like one great, endless sob. And a December rain was the worst, cold and endlessly gray.
Storms, now—storms were all right. When the air cracked open and flashed threats across the sky in million-volt arcs of light, it woke a man up. But three endless rainy days made Jacob want to put his fist through something.
Not that he would do such a thing, of course. He took a sip from the mug in his hand, then frowned. Cold coffee was as bad as rainy days.
Of course, if he wanted to be honest, he’d admit that his mood this morning had a great deal to do with what had happened last weekend. It wasn’t every day a man asked a woman to marry him. And got turned down.
He’d rushed things. He knew that, but what choice had he had? He had to marry soon, and Maggie had been his choice. She was perfect for him, a warm, outgoing woman with dozens of friends both male and female, and a ruthlessly competitive streak when she was on the back of a horse. But sexually she was shy, inexperienced. He’d rather liked that about her. Jacob hadn’t objected to taking his time, letting her get used to him.
Hadn’t he spent two months proving she could trust him, that he wouldn’t pounce on her? It hadn’t been easy, either. And the reason she’d given for refusing him had come as a shock. Like hell he didn’t want her! Maybe he didn’t feel some blind, all-consuming passion, but she was a cute little thing and he’d been looking forward to taking her to bed. Passion was like fool’s gold, anyway—lots of sparkle, no substance. He’d expected her to agree with him about that.
Of course, Maggie had been shocked, too. But she liked him, dammit. They could have been good for each other, comfortable together. If he’d just had a little more time…
When the door behind him opened, he spoke without turning. “The office line rang a minute ago.”
“Then you should have answered it,” a tart voice said. “Since you’ve apparently got nothing better to do.”
He turned around. “I’m taking a break. You’re always telling me I work too hard.”
A tiny, wrinkled woman in baggy slacks came into the room bearing an insulated carafe of coffee—no doubt her excuse for barging in on him. “There’s a difference between taking a break and brooding.”
“I don’t brood.”
It had been three weeks since Ada had returned from Switzerland and learned that he’d told his brothers about her condition. She had yet to forgive Jacob for spilling her secret. She was looking better, though. That was what mattered. Oh, she was still too skinny, but she had always been a bony little thing. Her movements were reassuringly brisk.
“I like the hair.”
One child-size hand came up to pat the orange frizz that made such an interesting contrast with her tanned-to-leather skin. “Do you? I was afraid Marilyn used too much Tropical Sunrise this time.”
“Very cheerful.”
She snorted and set the carafe down on his desk. “As if you cared about cheerful. You want me to call a temp agency? Cosmo’s down with a stomach bug, and I’ve got better things to do than answer your office line.”
Damn. “My new assistant should be capable of answering the phone. If she ever gets here.”
“She called. She’s on her way.”
He