Page 128 of For a Scot's Heart Only

Thomas was implacable on the other side of her little table. He’d expanded somehow, larger than life. She could imagine him standing at the bow of a ship, the sun on his face, the wind whipping his hair. He’d drive the sea hunt by sheer force of will.

Why, then, did she sense something held him back?

“I want all of you, but I’m not sure that’s what you want.” He smiled crookedly. “You enjoy the extraordinary passion we share, as do I. But you’ve said from the beginning, ‘love is not enough.’ For you, at least.”

A cold draft seemed to have crept in. She hunched over her coffee, nursing its warmth.

“I accept that marriage is many things. To buildfamilies, start business arrangements, and on rare occasions... for love.” Thomas studied the table for long seconds. “The truth is West and Sons Shipping is at a crossroads. To keep it alive, I must find someone to underwrite the insurance.”

She was perfectly still, her hands and her feet going numb.

“As time allows, I’ve been looking into other possibilities.” He fiddled with his bowl. “Every door has been firmly shut—except one.”

She shook her head as though cobwebs needed clearing. “What are you saying?”

His gaze met hers. “That you were right. Marriage in London is a lottery.”

Her throat was dry and clogged such that only a whisper could get out.

“You plan to marry a woman of means.”

Tension lines bracketed his mouth. “It’s what I must do if I cannot secure insurance.”

“Do you have... a woman in mind?”

His green gaze pinned her. “There is only you.”

Bittersweet words since they both knew she was not a wealthy woman.

She lost seconds while an ache bloomed in her chest.

A choice must be made—her or his family business.

Thomas, excellent hunter that he was, would easily find a wife at London’s next social season. He was handsome and tall and good. Once word spread that he sought a wife, mamas and papas of the merchant class would come calling. He could have his pick of the wealthy families. She smiled, dismal and sad. He’d claimed she could’ve won a baron for herself.She wouldn’t be surprised if a widowed baroness with rich coffers offered herself to him.

“I want West and Sons Shipping to thrive.” His voice scraped with sadness. “I want to keep my legacy alive. It’s possible someday I will have sons. I want to give them something.”

She swallowed hard. Hearing that was difficult.

Ancient philosophers would be proud of her stoicism. Or perhaps holding everything in was one of the lies she’d learned to live with. It felt like she’d been swimming in them and was only now coming up for air.

But this was Thomas’s life. He deserved so, so much.

All this time she’d been consumed with her troubles when he had his share of burdens. She could tell him that he was the greatest gift his children could ever have. He’d make a wonderful father. He’d take them to beautiful gardens and give them thoughtful gifts of wisdom and understanding. He’d challenge them and make them laugh.

Thomas West wasthetreasure.

He’d been there all along, while she’d worked and hunted for Jacobite gold. If only she had searched for the right treasure. This was the knife twisting in her heart. No, there was something worse. His dilemma was a footnote to an undeniably bitter truth. A lesson she’d learned long ago.

Love wasn’t enough.

It never was.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Thomas guided the horse along Tiburn Lane. Taking it made sense. Hyde Park unfurled to their left and sleepy mews were on their right. Only a dray and two coaches had been their brief road companions. The empty lane emboldened Mary.

“You would’ve made a dashing highwayman. Your height alone is imposing.”