Page 42 of Irish Rose
“No, you’re not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll not keep me here.”
“Whatever it takes.” Then she twisted under him. Before he realized her intent, her teeth were sunk into his hand. He swore, and they rolled from one end of the bed to the other before he managed to pin her again.
“I’ll draw blood next time, I swear it. Now let me go.”
“Shut up, you crazy Irish hothead.”
“Name-calling, is it?” Erin sucked the breath between her teeth. The words she uttered now were Gaelic.
This was hardly the time to be amused, he reminded himself. But there was no help for it. “What was that?”
“A curse. Some say my granny was a witch. If you’re lucky, you’ll die fast.”
“And leave you a widow? Not a chance.”
“Maybe you’ll live, but in such pain you’ll wish... What did you say?”
“We’re getting married.”
Because her mouth went slack and her bones limp, he released her to suck on his wounded hand.
“It’s a relief to know you’ve got good teeth.” He reached to the bedside table for a cigar. “Nothing to say, Irish?”
“Getting married?”
“That’s right. We could fly to Vegas tomorrow, but then Dee would give me grief. I figure we can get a license and do it here in a few days.”
“A few days.” She shook her head to clear it, then sat up. “I think the wine’s gone to my head.” Or he had, she thought. “I don’t understand.”
“I want you.” He lit the cigar, then spoke practically, deciding it was the style she’d relate to best. “You want me, but you won’t live with me. It seems like the logical solution.”
“Solution?”
Calmly, as if his life wasn’t on the line, he blew out smoke. “Are you going to spend the rest of the night repeating everything I say?”
Again she shook her head. Trying to keep calm, she watched him, looking for any sign. But his eyes were shuttered and his face was closed. He’d played too many hands to give away the most important cards he’d ever held.
“Why do you want marriage?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been married before.” He blew out another stream of smoke. “And I don’t intend to make a habit of it. I figure once should do me.”
“I don’t think this is something you can take lightly.”
“I’m not taking it lightly.” Burke studied the end of his cigar, then leaned over to tap it out. “I’ve never asked another woman to marry me, never wanted one to. I’m asking you.”
“Do you... ” Love me? she wanted to ask. But she couldn’t. Whatever answer he gave wouldn’t be the right one, because she’d posed the question. “Do you really think that what we had here is enough for marriage?”
“No, but we’re good together. We understand each other. You’ll make me laugh, keep me on my toes, and you’ll be faithful. I can’t ask for more than that.” And didn’t dare. “I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted. A nice home, a comfortable living, and you’ll be the most important person in my life.”
She lifted her head at that. It could be enough. If she was indeed important to him. “Do you mean that?”
“I rarely say what I don’t mean.” Because he needed to, he reached for her hand. “Life’s a gamble, Irish, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Most marriages don’t make it because people go into them thinking that in time they’ll change the other person. I don’t want to change you. I like you the way you are.”
