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Two days later, Asa sat in the study, going over the books for the hundredth time, but the facts didn’t change. The ranch was on the edge of bankruptcy, that much was clear. What was a surprise was that someone had clearly had a hand in putting it on the edge. Every time a bank note came due, there’d been a disaster with the cattle. A well had been poisoned. Rustlers had struck. Cattle had been driven off. Hands couldn’t be hired. It had been going on for the last year, not just the last few months. Someone wanted the Rocking C to go under. If he wanted to pull the place out of bankruptcy, he was going to have to smoke out the sneaky, yellow-bellied S.O.B and show him the error of his ways. He was in the process of making a list of suspects when the knock came at the door.
He closed the account books and pinched the bridge of his nose. No doubt it was Elizabeth coming to deliver her rules. While most women would be thrilled he’d given them time, Elizabeth was appalled. It was hard to miss. The last couple of days, she’d been as skittish as a newborn deer. If he had a penny for every I-don’t-understand-you glance she’d sent his way, the Rocking C would be solvent. Every courtesy he’d extended, like sleeping in another room, seemed to give birth to more confusion until he’d thought the woman would explode, she’d gotten herself so worked up.
God help him, he was beginning to suspect that Old Sam’s statement in the bar that “Coyote Bill brought Elizabeth up rough” hadn’t referred to a lack of dresses. The woman’s distrust of men and any kindness they extended went bone deep. Asa had a feeling Brent’s part in Elizabeth’s distrust was more along the line of confirming rather than creating. He placed his pen on the desk top, checked to make sure no incriminating notes were lying about, and called for her to enter. Last thing he wanted was for her to start worrying he couldn’t pull the Rocking C out of this mess.
The door opened and she sailed in, head high, shoulders back, a sure sign she was ready to fight. She nodded her head. “Mr. MacIntyre.”
She was using his full name again. He wondered if she knew how it made his blood heat. When she said it all prim and proper like that, he wanted to lay her down and kiss her until she admitted he was Asa, her husband, someone she cared about.
“I thought we’d settled on you calling me Asa?”
She wrung her hands, seemed to realize what she was doing, and stopped. “I’m sorry. This whole marriage is taking some getting used to.”
He relaxed into the high-backed chair. The stuffed leather seat welcomed his weight like a lover. Taking over the Rocking C did have its compensations. “In time, we’ll get used to each other.”
From the look she sent him, he guessed she didn’t agree. She licked her lips. “I’ve come to a decision.”
“You sure you took enough time?”
“Two days was plenty.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“You’ve been very considerate in keeping your distance.”
He smiled, hearing it put like that. Sounded like he was a real gentleman, instead of being drowned in work, spending twelve hours a day eking as much out of the daylight as he could before coming home and dropping exhausted into the spare bed, only to repeat the same procedure the next day. “Thank you.”
Her hands commenced to clench and unclench in the folds in her skirt. “But I don’t feel that’s the best way for us to proceed.”
She had his attention now. “You don’t?”
“No.” If her fingers picked up any more speed, she was going to spend an hour pressing that skirt.
“What do you suggest?”
Her gaze seemed to lock on a point just to the right of his shoulder. “I’m well aware men have needs that need to be met regularly.”
“You are?”
“Please, don’t make fun of me, Mr. MacIntyre. This is a very embarrassing subject and I’m doing my best to get through it.”
“My apologies.”
“I can’t see where refusing you my bed will accomplish anything except to increase tension between us.”
“You can’t?”
If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “No. I cannot.”
“Because I have these needs?”
“Exactly.” She was viewing him with a bit more favor now. “While I’m aware a man doesn’t exercise all his needs with his wife—”
“He doesn’t?”
She looked down her nose at him. “I may not be experienced, Mr. MacIntyre, but I have a good working knowledge of how the world works.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” At least, he was beginning to see how she thought his world worked.
“As I was saying, while I understand you won’t be faithful in body to me for the duration of our marriage, I’d like to make it a term of our ‘courtship’ that, for one month, you confine your needs to my person.”
