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Callum crossed the distance between them in two long strides. Catching her by her shoulders, he growled down at her. “Listen to me. I wouldn’t allow anyone to talk to you like that—and I don’t care that he’s a shareholder.”
She tipped her head back. “That’s very noble, but—”
“It’s not noble. I—”
He stilled. He’d almost said, I want to marry you.
Callum froze. He couldn’t propose marriage just to stop Miranda feeling humiliated by Gordon’s attack—even though he’d been tempted to punch the man in the jaw instead of banging the table.
Yet in the past he’d asked her to marry him to be his hostess….
That reason was no better. Damn it, he wanted her to marry him for himself.
The bombshell thought shocked him rigid.
Why?
Because she was special. Like no other woman he’d ever met.
“Of course it was noble.” She was looking at him like he’d done something heroic.
He shook his head to clear it. “I was angry. He was insulting you.”
“No one has ever defended me like that before.”
He didn’t suppose they had. Miranda had always protected her mother and brother. There’d been no one to protect her. His chest expanded with emotion. “That’s about to change.”
She laughed, and the bittersweet sound caught at his gut.
“Callum, he didn’t say anything that both you and I know isn’t true. Petra would make you a fabulous wife. And given the fact that my father stole from you, then committed suicide, it’s true that will make me a scandalous girlfriend.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” Her eyes had gone dark. “And how can you trust me?”
“Miranda—”
A knock sounded on the door.
Callum marched over and yanked it open. “What?” he demanded of Fraser.
“Have you seen Petra?”
“No,” he snapped, and started to close the door in Fraser’s face.
His brother stuck a foot in the crack. “You let me believe she broke it off with you.”
“Not now.” He glared at this brother. “Leave us in peace.”
Fraser removed his foot, and this time Callum closed the door with a determined thud.
Miranda had moved to the window. She stood looking at the view over Lake Windermere down at the bottom of the property, the sag of her shoulders revealing how troubled she was.
Tenderness filled him. “Stop fretting.”
She turned to meet his gaze over her shoulder. “Trust me, I have reason to fret. Every single thing that Gordon said was true.” She shook her head as she started to object. “I like your parents so much. I was looking forward to coming back with you, riding the horses.” She gestured at the paddocks visible to one side of the house.
At the yearning in her voice, cold fingers of dread danced over his skin.
Did he want this? A woman who loved his horses, his home, his family…but not him? Out in the corner of the paddock he could see Red pawing through the snow. In a flash of insight he saw what marrying him would mean—it would give Miranda back everything she’d lost and finally assuage his guilt.
And he’d get the woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Callum sucked in a breath. He crossed the room, and slid his arms around her shoulders from behind and drew her to his chest.
Beneath his palms the woolen cardigan she wore was soft, and he could feel the rise and fall of her rib cage as she breathed. His fingers crept forward. Below the cardigan, the edge of her wraparound dress had parted and his fingertips brushed her bare skin. Need swamped him. God. Just by breathing she made him desire her. He resisted the fierce urge to yank her up against his hardening body. Now was not the time.
The thought he’d had when he’d woken with her in his arms this morning returned.
This woman belonged with him.
He stared blindly over her shoulder at a red-breasted robin chirping in the undergrowth beneath the window.
If she married him, he would have her in his bed each night instead of seeing her only through functions she catered for him—or through communications about her brother. Surely this was a win-win situation?
