James knew only too well how hasty decisions bore out.
“What are you asking me then?”
He could see Leachman lingering near the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest. Given his size and build, James imagined Leachman might be Eames’s strong arm. Every bank had one when it came to tough foreclosures and collections where a show of muscle was needed. Would he employ such tactics to force Prim into marrying him? The very thought sent a curl of disgust through his gut.
Turning away, James tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm and led her down the opposite side of the art gallery, out of Leachman’s line of vision. Was his watchful eye always upon her? If it were him, perhaps he’d be prompted to make such an unseemly proposal too.
As they walked, her shoulders slumped forward as all the steam from her tirade leached away.
“Please, forget I said anything. It was nothing but impulsiveness that prompted me to speak.”
From what he’d seen of her thus far, Prim might have been one of the least impulsive people he’d ever known. Besides, if nothing else, he was damned curious what she did mean.
“Mrs. Eames, please explain yourself.”
“I was only thinking that if you were to give theimpressionthat you were courting me, I might find a respite from my family’s continued pressure to wed,” she explained miserably. “Naturally, I could not, would not expect you to court a woman like myself in truth.”
She was flustered, that much was clear. A measure of humor for the entire situation returned.
“Could you not?”
“Not at all. Obviously, when you choose to wed, it will be to someone far more lively than I,” she told him. “A marriage that would benefit you greatly in many ways.”
“Really? I hadn’t known this about myself,” he said. “Would you care to expound upon which ways a marriage might benefit me?”
Fire flared once more in her hyacinth eyes, lighting them with a golden flame that sent his pulse racing again.Ah, but he was finding a particular joy in riling her up, even if it were nothing more than pure vexation that lit the fires. It was better than seeing her shrink into herself like a whipped dog.
“Mr. MacKintosh.” He could fairly hear the aggravation in her voice. “I do believe you when you say you’ve no interest in finding a bride at this point in your life. I’ve witnessed the number of young ladies who fawn about you, and I have seen the disdain you hold for them in the roll of your eyes. An arrangement such as I’m proposing could only serve to benefit you as well.”
“Could it now?”
“Yes!”
Good Lord, a week ago he hadn’t thought her assertive enough to speak above a whisper. Now, she was nearly stomping her tiny foot in her impatience.
With a grin, James took her hand in his and drew it to his lips. He did enjoy Primrose Eames in a temper.
He wondered how enjoyable it might be to see her roused by passion instead.
And there was passion in her, simmering below the surface. He’d seen flashes of it tonight and at the rally. He’d love to see what she was like when it exploded.
But to court her…?
Och, she’d really thrown him for a loop with that suggestion.
“I can see now speaking was a mistake,” Prim said. Her steps lagged and she withdrew her hand from his arm.
Bloody hell, guilt wracked him for denying the lass. “I thought you enjoyed speaking,” he teased in an attempt to elicit another smile from her. “You had quite a lot to say at that rally.”
Her pink lips turned up for a moment but the expression fled when Leachman strode into the room from the other end, obviously unwilling to let his quarry stray from his line of sight for too long.
With a long-suffering sigh, Prim stopped. “I’ll leave you now. Thank you for the reprieve.”
James watched her turn away, her squared shoulders drooping. The sight of such defeat twisted in his gut. However, he didn’t believe what Prim needed was another suitor.
What she needed was a savior. A hero.
That wasn’t a role he’d ever imagined himself playing.
