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A sinking surety filled her. None could.

Five months from now he’d leave England. She couldn’t let him take her heart with him. She knew all about the hardship being left wrought.

Time to employ your long absent willpower, Christine Hastings , she silently commanded herself. She could withstand both Zeke’s seductive charm, and her own weakness for the man, by God, and she’d start now, this instant, by not hiding in her room.

She marched to the door, yanked it open, and found herself face to face with Zeke, fist poised to knock.

He grinned boyishly, looking almost, almost , unsure of himself.

Just like that, her insides melted. She was off to a banging start.

“May I come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but pushed past her into the antechamber.

Still holding the door lever, she spun around, prepared to blast him for his audacity. Instead, the sight of his large, masculine frame in her terribly feminine chamber, with its delicate flower-papered walls, pastel furnishings, and rosewood escritoire, struck her as nothing short of hilarious.

She brought her fingers to her lips to cover her smile.

“I brought you this.” He held the missing atlas toward her, his expression one of hopeful expectation, as if bringing her pleasure meant something to him.

She blinked, fighting the wave of tenderness his thoughtful act elicited.

“Now you say, thank you, Zeke .”

His mocking tone broke her momentary trance. Twisting around, she craned her neck past the door jamb to glance up and down the corridor. Lucky for both of them, no one was about.

She turned back to Zeke. “Thank you for delivering it. Now you may leave.”

Zeke’s brows furrowed. He tossed the leather bound book onto her settee. “Why?”

“You know very well you can’t be in here.”

He looked down at himself, then spread his arms wide. “I can’t?”

“You know what I mean. You shouldn’t be. Someone might see you.”

He reached past her, closed the door, then flattened his palm against it. Mere inches separated them. Heat emanated from his body, transmitting itself to hers like an intimate caress.

His eyes, the color of blue smoke, locked with hers. “Better?”

“You deliberately miss the point,” she said, but couldn’t muster any heat.

His unblinking gaze dropped to her mouth. He licked his lips and parted them slightly.

Kitty went hot all over and her knees threatened to buckle. He was too close. His intriguing masculine scent too tempting. She pressed her palms behind her into the cool wood of the paneled door and tried to steady herself.

He brought his free hand to her face, tracing her cheek with one knuckle.

That one tiny caress started a tremor in her belly that spread through her like wildfire ‘til it seemed her entire body vibrated.

She must remember her vow not to cave at every turn. Pinching her eyelids shut, she ducked under his arm and put some much needed distance between them.

He swiveled to face her, and leaned negligently on the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

She’d had to call on all her reserves to keep from wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him like a vine, and he had the nerve to stand there looking cool as a cucumber. How very irritating. “Why are you here?” she asked. “Really.”

“I thought you’d appreciate having the atlas you risked life and limb for last night. And”—He inclined his head—“I wanted to talk to you. I would’ve preferred a more appropriate venue, but you’ve given me no choice, sequestering yourself in your chambers—and don’t bother denying it.”

So he had noticed her absence. Ruthlessly, she quashed the little thrill the revelation wrought.

“You could’ve employed a bit of patience. Perhaps you’ve heard of the notion?”

“Not my strong suit.” One corner of his mouth kicked up as he shoved himself away from the door and began a slow exploration of her sitting room.

She moved as he moved, keeping the distance between them constant. “Then how about decorum? You know very well you shouldn’t be in my bedchamber. You told me as much yourself. Why, if anyone found us—” She broke off as she recognized the corner she was backing herself into—again.

Zeke flashed her a brilliant smile. “The earl would insist we become engaged?”

Clever, arrogant ass.

“For the last time, what do you want?”

Zeke’s playful smile vanished. He straightened and closed the distance between them in two strides. Liquid blue heat smoldered in the depths of his eyes as he grasped her shoulders. “I should think that’s obvious.”

She gazed at him in dumb fascination.

“If you wish to hear the words, I want you.”

And she wanted him. But it was no good. A haze of pain clouded her vision. She batted at his hands suddenly desperate to get away from him.

He put a stop to her flailing by grasping her wrists, one in each of his hands. His thumbs coursed over the tender underside of her wrists.

“Kitty,” he said in a low tone. “Marry me.”

His words caused her heart to crack into a million little pieces, as yearning and reality clashed within her. “I’ve already explained why I can’t do that.”

His jaw hardened. “Yes, and your stubbornness borders on the ludicrous. It’s high time you faced reality, lady.”

She laughed with derision and tugged her wrists free of his scorching ing hold. “Of all the—”

“Point one. You have to marry—at least you do if you want to have a family. I assume that’s a priority for you, but if I’m wrong…” He left off with a shrug.

“Well, of course I want a family, but I—”

“Why not marry someone you’re wildly attracted to? It would certainly make the process pleasurable.”

She opened her mouth to refute his arrogant, albeit true, assumption, but he held his hand, palm out. “Please don’t try to deny the obvious, and thereby insult both our intelligences.”

She closed her mouth with a snap.

“Imagine the alternative. If you don’t marry me, you’ll likely end up with some elderly, decrepit, boring sot.”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I hardly think a boring old sot is my only option.”

He appeared to give her words serious consideration. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she said in triumph, even as disappointment filled her at his too-easy capitulation.

His eyes fixed on her mouth and his tone turned gruff. “But will your numerous suitors’ kisses make you want to forget you’re a lady the way mine do?”

Her breath caught, and without thinking she drew her fingertips to her lips.

He gave a huff of laughter and crowded in on her, pressing forward till her backside came up against the wall. He planted his forearms on either side of her.

“Point two. Forget your so-called majority. You won’t be free of James until you’re well and truly wed. You know that, don’t you?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but instead continued to make his case.

“Point three. The earl enjoys your company, and you enjoy his.” He angled his face over hers, and his eyelids went to half-mast. “Do you know how badly I want to kiss you, Kitty?”

Her legs turned to jelly. She struggled to focus.

His lips brushed hers in a feather light kiss. “So sweet,” he whispered.

She bit back a moan as her eyes drifted shut. “W-what does the earl have to do with our hypothetical marriage?” she asked, breathless. His lips almost, almost covered hers. Everything in her wanted to grab his lapels and pull him closer.

“You’ll keep each other company while”— Finally , he pressed a tender kiss on her lips—“I’m away.”

He may as well have tossed a bucket of ice-cold water on her. Her eyelids flew open, then narrowed to slits.

He wanted to marry her so he could wash his hands of both his grandfather and her in one fell swoop? She placed her palms on his waistcoat lapels and pushed.

He sighed and allowed her to put an inch or so between them before putting on the brakes. “What have I said to cause you to bare your claws, Kitten?”

“You want someone to stay with the earl so you don’t have to feel guilty for leaving him alone? You selfish blackguard.”

He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “How does keeping you both safe make me selfish?”

She considered trying to explain, and finally threw up her hands. “What does it matter? I already told you, I don’t want a marriage like the one you’re offering.”

His blue eyes went steely. “You little fool. You want to fall in love, no doubt with a paragon of a man, one who’ll glue himself to your side and read sonnets to you day and night. Sweetheart, such a man doesn’t exist, and if he did he’d bore you to tears.”

The backs of her eyes stung. “I don’t need a paragon, just a man who wants a family as I do. And yes, I do want to fall in love, and to be loved in return. What’s so wrong with that?”

His hard expression turned almost pitying. “Kitty, you’re not a child. You should put away these childish notions and face reality.”

She set her jaw, and glowered at him with stubborn resolve.

He cursed silently. “You want to fall in love, do you? Fine. Where are you planning on finding this perfect specimen of a mate? And when? You’re nearly three and twenty.”

His words stung, badly, but she dug in her heels, jutting out her chin. "I don't know."

He spun away, dragging his hands through his hair. “Have you considered this might be the best offer you’re going to get? At least you want me, and don’t try to deny it,” he rasped out, turning to point an accusing finger at her.

“You want a family? You’ll have one. You’ll have my grandfather, whom you claim to love, and Aunt Lillian, and God willing, my children. For the love of the saints, woman, I’m rich as Croesus. You’ll want for nothing.” He broke off, and gazed skyward. “I can’t believe I’m having this argument.”

She lowered her eyes, misery settling over her like a shroud.

How could she explain what he offered was tantamount to dangling a carrot in front of a starving rabbit—and holding it over a bottomless crevasse?

The thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone—never mind that he didn’t love her, filled her with an unbearable ache. Like never ending loneliness.

“If you’re so rich, why do you continue to leave in search of more wealth? Why not stay put in England, your home?” she asked, grasping at straws.

Her question seemed to take him aback. “I have to. Otherwise the profits from the mines tend to walk off the site. The laborers aren’t the only ones who need supervision. The foremen do, too.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant why more mines. Not to mention, have you ever considered the cost of mining to the laborers and their families?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Kitty, do we have to make this a socio-political discussion, now ?”

She shook her head. “Just answer the first question.”

His nostrils flared, as if her question angered him.

“I seek out mines because of what they produce. Gold, silver, things I can hold in my hand.” His hand curled into a fist. “Real things I can grasp to keep my family secure for generations to come. You don’t know what it’s like to have your father fall apart like so much dust before you, all because he held onto things that weren’t real.

Things he staked his life on, then lost.”

Her expression softened. She lay her hand on his still-clenched fist. “Things, like your mother?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he refrained from answering, which told her all she needed to know.

She cupped his jaw and a shudder went through him. “Zeke, have you considered love is the only thing in this world that is real?”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “No.”

Her heart seemed to fold in on itself. For him. For her. She couldn’t differentiate between the two. “I see. Well, then. Do you mind telling me what would be in this marriage for you—besides seeing to your grandfather’s wellbeing?”

He crooked a warm finger under her chin and tilted her face up 'til their eyes met, his shimmering like the sea before a storm.

“Don’t you know?” he asked in a voice both gruff and tender. “I want you. So badly I can taste it. You’re the last thing I think about at night when I fall asleep, and the first thing on my mind when I wake. If I could, I’d take you right here. Right now.”

Liquid heat poured through her veins.

“Kitty, marrying you won’t be any hardship for me.

I simply won’t promise something I can’t give.

I’m not like you. I don’t believe in fairytales.

Don’t believe another person can make you complete.

Relying on someone like that—it’s, well, I’m sorry but it’s weak.

I’ll never subject myself to such a damning illusion.

And you shouldn’t either. It only leads to ruin. ”

She frowned. Was he trying to convince her, or himself?

“Promise me you’ll think about my proposal, Kitty.”

“I will,” she whispered.

A moment later, he was gone.