Page 38 of The Defiant One
"No, I do not know what you mean, and I can assure you right now, madam, that the absurd subject which we are currently discussing has no bearing whatsoever on my reluctance to take you to the altar."
"Oh, so you're afraid of choking on a pea, then."
"I am not afraid of choking on a pea. I do not even like peas. What I do like is the complete freedom to live my life as I please, without feminine encumbrances of any sort, be they mistresses, admirers, or God forbid, wives. I have work to do."
She met his gaze, glare for glare. "Well, I have work to do, too. I have a network of shelters throughout Berkshire that need constant upkeep, funding, and attention so they can continue to take in unwanted animals. I'm fighting for the turnspits. I have instituted a program to teach the young people in my village how to properly care for their dogs and cats so they learn that animals are for life, just like children, and are not expendable objects to be given away, killed, or otherwise disposed of simply because they've had an accident on the floor or are no longer as cute as they were when they were puppies and kittens. Like you, I do not need encumbrances of any sort. So you see, Andrew, I have no wish to get married, either."
He stared at her.
"Besides," she continued, "I have yet to find a man who loves dogs as much as I do, who would not only condone but assist me in my efforts to help them, and would also let them sleep on the bed."
He shrugged. "I let Esmerelda sleep on my bed."
"You do?"
"Yes," he said impatiently. "What's so extraordinary about that?"
She stared at him, his candid admission defusing some of her anger. "Nothing, except that you are the first man I've ever met to admit to such a thing. Ha, maybe marriage to you will be tolerable, after all."
"You'll be miserable, I can guarantee it. As would any woman with the misfortune to be tied to me."
"What compels you to say such a thing?"
"The fact that I can think of no female who would willingly and uncomplainingly share her husband with his obsessive pursuit of science."
"Well, I can think of no man who would willingly and uncomplainingly share his bed with his wife's dog, so I guess we're even."
He just looked at her, an odd expression in his eye. "Very funny."
"Well, I thought so," she returned, pleased that she'd managed to break the ice a little between them. "Oh, Andrew. What are we going to do?"
"I don't know." He sighed and leaned his brow into his hand, rubbing it as though he was infinitely tired. "We could always quit the country in order to avoid this deuced marriage. France . . . America . . . no, neither is far enough away from Lucien. By God, the Arctic is beginning to look quite attractive."
"Yes, but you have to admit, it would be an awfully cold place to build a new laboratory."
He lifted his head and looked at her. Again something warm and unexpected leaped between them, but this time he didn't turn away. Didn't chase it off with anger. And as he held her gaze, he began to smile, and Celsie saw, for the first time, that this fiery, bad-tempered man actually had a charm that was quite lethal when he chose to display it.
She looked down at her tightly-clenched hands, confused by the sudden jumble of feelings bouncing around in her heart.
"Maybe you'd better take me back now," she said, a little shakily. "I need to get Freckles."
"Celsiana."
Her gaze flashed to his. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry, too. I . . . just want you to know that I'm not angry with you, but with fate."
"Thank you."
"And that it's not marriage to you that I'm upset about, but the idea of it in general." He cleared his throat. "You have an uncommon amount of courage. It's hard not to admire it."
She looked up. "For a woman, you mean?"
"For anyone." His eyes were warm. "I want you to know that."
He reached into his pocket then and extracted a small flask. "We'll find a way out of this. Somehow, some way." He uncorked the little vessel, and the strong fumes of brandy assailed her nose. "In the meantime, I propose a toast."
"To what?"
