Page 181 of Immortal Bastard

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. These firsts for you are important. I don’t want to miss them.”

She sat up. “You won’t, Christian. It’s not as if I was hiding this from you. It’s just been a terrible week, and we’re still figuring things out.”

He considered the week before this one. “I haven’t given you the welcome I’d hoped, little one. My expectations were so different from the reality. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” She scooted off the table and looked up at him. “This is big shit.” Her finger pressed over his lips. “And before you lecture me about swearing, maybe take a minute to appreciate that we’re both here—together—in love, and taking the necessary steps to move forward.”

He nodded. “You’re right. This is…big shit.”

She laughed. “That just sounds wrong coming from you.” Lacing her fingers with his, she hopped off the table and righted her clothes. “Come on. Let’s go empty my savings and figure out how I’m going to pay back my clients.”

His grip tightened, halting her steps. “Wait. Why wouldn’t you be able to pay them back?”

She shrugged. “I’m not what anyone would call financially flush.”

He went to the den and rolled back the cover of his desk. “How much do you need?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you serious?”

“Delilah, you’re my mate. Whatever you need, I’ll provide.”

“But you’re Amish.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I understand your implication.”

“You guys don’t have anything.”

“We might not fit your English definition of affluence, but we have substantial wealth. Take a look.” He handed her his ledger.

She glanced down. “I’m not going to take all your—holy crap!” Her eyes bulged. “Whose account is this?”

“Mine.”

“Just yours?”

“Yes. Keep in mind I’ve been building it for generations under a proprietorship. I also have cash hidden throughout the house and about the yard.”

She gaped at him. “You’re a millionaire. How did you get all of this?”

“I was a cooper during the seventeen hundreds. I owned a market to sell my goods for a short time also.”

“What’s a cooper?”

“Someone who makes containers.” He pointed to the pantry. “I made all of the jars, barrels, and buckets you see around the farm.”

She laughed. “I thought you were just a farmer.”

“Having a craft helps pass the time during the winters.” He thought back to the times when the loneliness had become unbearable and he feared his calling would never come. “But now I have you.”

She sprang forward and wreathed her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

Startled by her response, he slowly closed his arms around her. “What brought this on?”

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his heart. “I’m just really grateful you found me.”

A tentative smile teased his lips as his arms closed around her. “So am I, pintura. So am I.”

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