The color in Ruthann’s face deepened to scarlet, and Nate was certain his own face likely matched. Here they were, his oldest friend and the girl he’d kissed years ago, discussing a marriage of convenience to save his hide.
Who would want to marryhim? A man so scarred by his past that it kept him awake at night?
“Well . . . perhaps,” she said slowly. “Do keep in mind that the marriage can be annulled after Mr. Flagler’s furor has ceased. After Sissy has moved along to place her claws in some other poor man.”
Nate swallowed, a bit of his fear subsiding. An annulment. It wasn’t something he’d ever planned. Then again, he wasn’t certain he’d ever marry. No lady in her right mind would choose a man so haunted by his time fighting near the Black Hills. He couldn’t expect a woman to take that on—to stand beside him as he wrestled with the nightmares and the memories. It wouldn’t be fair.
“And?” Stuart pressed.
Ruthann clasped her hands together again, and Nate thought he saw her straighten as she lifted her chin.
“Me. I’d be willing,” she said.
Chapter Seven
“NO,” NATE AND STUARTsaid at the exact same time.
Ruthann squeezed her hands together. She was prepared for a fight. But she wasn’t ready for the look of terror on Nate’s face.
Was the thought of marrying her so distasteful to him?
Well, there was no going back now, no matter how hard her heart beat and how much her fingers shook. She’d put the idea out there, and now she had to convince them.
“It’s a good plan,” she said. “You both know that. It’s the only possibility, if Nate wishes to stay here and avoid an entanglement with Sissy.”
“I don’t deny that.” Stuart’s face had gone a furious red. “But under no circumstances did I expect you to offer yourself. I forbid it.”
His words got under her skin and riled every part of her that valued her independence. “That isn’t your decision to make, Stuart. I’m a grown woman. I know precisely what I’d be agreeing to.”
Nate’s face seemed to twist in fear at her words, and she bit her lip. Disappointment at his reaction crept through her. He’d certainly seemed comfortable with her the other day. So much so that she’d hoped . . . Well, she’d at least hoped he wouldn’t be so horrified at her suggestion.
Stuart threw up his hands. “What about your prospects?”
“I have no prospects at the moment, brother,” she said.
“Oh, that’s right. Because not a one of them measured up to your lofty ideals, but here you are, willing to throw away any chance you have remaining.” Stuart shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and paced across the room.
