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“No, he died three years ago. What about you? Do you have family?”
“No,” he said shortly, relieved when the cafe owner returned with their order before she could ask any more questions.
Lottie poured the tea, then nibbled on a pastry, watching him again.
“You said you had a suggestion about my future. I hope you won’t be offended, but although I’m very grateful for your assistance, that gratitude only goes so far.”
It took a second before he understood what she was saying and he couldn’t decide if he was amused or offended. Amusement won out.
“If you think I’m about to make a sexual proposition, you’re quite wrong.”
That pretty hint of color flushed her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made that assumption - I know I’m not really the type.”
“The type?”
“The type that men find attractive,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands.
Were human males such fools? Her beauty might not be obvious at first glance, but it was easy to see if one looked. He was about to say as much, then caught himself.
“Have you never been married?” he asked instead.
She looked up and the pain in her eyes surprised him.
“I was, once. It didn’t work out.”
Frek, it was nothing to him what type of male she chose or had chosen in the past, so why did he feel annoyed? It should make his proposition more acceptable.
“Any children?”
“No. I wanted one but it didn’t happen. A blessing as it turned out,” she added.
She shrugged and he found himself following the movement of her shoulders. So small and delicate beneath the plain blue tunic she wore. How would they look bare? Or moving beneath him as he bent over her? Frek. He quickly forced his attention back to the matter at hand.
“I have a job offer at a farm,” he said abruptly. “It’s a long way from Port Cantor, close to the base of the mountains.”
“Really?” Those perceptive eyes were studying him again. “I would have thought you were a city boy.”
“Not really. And I’m tired of the city.”
He suspected there was enough truth in those words to be convincing, although the city wasn’t the source of his weariness.
“I can understand that. When are you leaving?”
“That’s an excellent question, and it brings me to my proposition. The farm has had… issues with unmarried males in the past. They don’t stay only and they are frequently unreliable.”
“I suppose I can understand that, but you aren’t married, are you?”
“No.” He hesitated, deciding how to phrase it. “Which is why I am proposing that you accompany me as my wife. In name only, of course,” he added when her eyes widened.
“You want me to move to a farm in the middle of nowhere and pretend to be your wife?”
“Only for a period of six months. That should be enough time for the owner of the farm to see that I’m hard-working and reliable. When our arrangement comes to an end, I will tell him that we have separated and you can leave, with a considerable number of credits in your account. Enough for you to buy a house of your own perhaps. Or to start over somewhere else.”
“Start over…” She stared down into her teacup. “It would be nice to start again, but I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“Is there anything keeping you here? You said you have no family, no children. Are there friends here that you will miss?”
