Bought: The Greek's Bride

“She’s easy to like, but you say that like it’s a major consideration.”

“Since I choose to have my mother live near me like a good Greek son, it is.”

“I wouldn’t mind living with your mother, but I’m not so sure about her son.”

“So, you are considering my proposal?”

Was she? Her heart beat too fast, the pain of uncertainty squeezing her chest tight. She was. No matter what he believed about love, she was afraid she was already irrevocably in love with him—or headed there fast. What a hopelessly terrifying thought. “Yes, but I can’t give you an answer right now.”

“Surely you were expecting this.”

“Funnily enough…I wasn’t. I told you that.”

He sighed. “Yes, but I would have thought you would have at least considered the possibility.”

She just shrugged, not knowing what to say. They’d already been over the whole sex thing and their views were polar opposites. She’d been sure he wasn’t ready for a deeper relationship because he hadn’t pursued that angle and he’d assumed she’d realize he wouldn’t pursue it until she was committed to him.

“And you cannot make the decision now, knowing what you know of me, of yourself?”

“No.” Because if she did, it would have to be no. And her heart both demanded and rejected that answer.

“Is it my background?”

She stared at him. “I don’t know enough of your background for it even to be a consideration and I hope you aren’t implying I’m some sort of snob who would only marry someone born to the same world of privilege I was.”

“I am not saying that, no. In fact, your refreshing refusal to judge others based on where they come from appeals to me greatly.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t want to change that part of me.”

“But you are willing to change in other ways?”

“People grow…change is inevitable, but that’s with me to stay.”

“I am glad.”

“But you are annoyed I won’t accept your proposal right now.”

“Not annoyed…disappointed. I would think you could see the advantages to a marriage between us.”

He was disappointed, but not hurt. Which meant his emotions were not involved at all. That did not bode well. She bit her lip, realizing she must have done so before because it felt tender. It was a bad habit, but she had enough to think about without trying to break it at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I’m not like you and my father. I don’t make personal decisions based on business logic.”

“What do you base them on?”

“Emotion.”

His lips twisted with distaste just as she knew they would. He and her father had a lot in common. Maybe too much. She suspected he would be no more impressed with an emotional commitment from her than her father was.

She took a fortifying sip of water. “I know. That’s a dirty word to you and men like my father, but it’s how I live my life. You’ll have to give me some time to think.”

Silence pulsed between them until he pushed the ring box across the table. “Put it in your bag. We’ll discuss the proposal again later.”

She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to take possession of the ring. Maybe he thought that since possession was nine-tenth’s of the law, if she took the ring, she might have a harder time saying no and giving it back. The man was wily enough to have considered every angle.

“Please keep it until I give you my answer.”

“I’d rather you kept it.”

“Even if I say no?”

“I had the ring made for you. Whatever your answer, it is meant to be yours.”

Unable to hold back from looking after such a statement, she opened the box. It was a square-cut precious stone exactly the color of her eyes. Aquamarine-blue. To either side was a perfectly cut square diamond of crystal clarity, only slightly smaller than the center stone.

Emotion that had no place in their discussion welled inside her and she husked, “It’s beautiful.”

“Like you.”

She shook her head, dislodging the empty words. “I’m hardly that.”

“After all we have said about honesty tonight, you think I lie about this?”

“I think you want to flatter me, but I have a mirror. I’m passable, but I am not beautiful. You should see pictures of my mother. She was beautiful.” And she’d taken what existed of George Wentworth’s heart to the grave with her.

“You know the saying, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

She barely kept from rolling her eyes. “Yes.”

“You are beautiful to me, Eleanor.”

“False flattery isn’t going to get me to agree to marry you.”

“It is not false.” His voice was a low rumbling growl. She’d managed to make him mad again.

“If you say so.”

“I say so. Your beauty is timeless and very alluring to a man with my background.”

“I don’t understand.” What did his background have to do with it?

“You are kind. Truly compassionate. You seek to make life better for those born without your advantages. Your care for others is ingrained to the depths of your soul. In that, you remind me much of my mother. Physically you are perfect to me. Your features are soft and feminine, your body a delight to my senses, but particularly that of sight. Yet, as much as you spark my desire, you are elegant and refined, even in jeans and a T-shirt. These things are beautiful to me.”

She didn’t know what to say. She could tell he meant the words and that did something to her insides, tipping over a heart that had teetered on the precipice of love straight into its warm, sweet depths. Because as much as she’d learned he did not know about her, he had just proven he did know something about the woman she was under the skin and behind the image of a wealthy man’s daughter.

“Private schooling and deportment training can do wonders,” she said, trying to laugh it off while her heart contracted and expanded with her newly acknowledged feelings until she was dizzy with it.

“You were born with these traits, they are not something a person can learn.”