Page 14 of More than Words Can Say

“Good.” He advanced a step, bringing him nearly toe-to-toe with her.

She had to crane her neck back to see his face, then regretted it, as his dark blue eyes sparked with an indignation that made her rethink the wisdom of challenging him.

“First off,” he said, “I’ve never intentionally humiliated a woman in my life. Scared more than a few and riled more than my share over the years, but never humiliated them.”

Abigail’s forehead scrunched. Was he admitting to purposely frightening females? That didn’t fit what she knew of him at all. Of course, neither did her charge of humiliation. Just because she’d felt humiliated didn’t mean he’d set out to embarrass her.

“Second, what’s this nonsense about you not being the type of woman men like me want? What do you know about what I want, anyway? You talk about yourself as if you’re some kind of penalty or consolation prize. Any man who has to be convinced of your value is an imbecile and not worth your time.”

Abigail blinked. Had that been a compliment? It was hard to tell amid all the grouching and lecturing, but the way her heart fluttered made her suspect there might have been one tucked in there. Her pulse gave a little leap.

“And speaking of fellas not worth your time, if Elmer Beekman can’t even stand up for you during a friendly discussion, how in the world do you expect him to stand up for you with the city council? He’s not the man for you.”

“Neither are you,” she murmured, “according to your response earlier today. I believe your exact words were, I’m not your man.”

The intensity of his features softened slightly, and for a moment she swore she saw a touch of red beneath his swarthy skin. “Yeah, well, I might have misspoken.”

Might have . . . ? “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Hamilton?”

“The name’s Zach.” He grabbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight. Then he blew out a breath—one that did not smell of garlic and onions, she was happy to note—and met her gaze. “Can I look at that contract you got hiding behind your back or not?”

Hands trembling, Abigail handed over the papers. He took them from her and started reading. His lips moved slightly as he read, like a young boy not terribly confident in his ability. The unexpected vulnerability in one so fierce utterly enchanted Abigail, leaving her more bemused than bewildered.

She had no idea why Zacharias Hamilton had changed his mind or how he happened to find her outside Mr. Beekman’s boardinghouse, but she wasn’t so foolish as to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was here. Reading her contract. And scaring off the competition. If God could part the Red Sea and lead his people across, she supposed he could send a reluctant bachelor across town. She wouldn’t question the how or why. She’d just pray that the miracle continued.

After he’d finished the second page, Zach sought her gaze. “I don’t see anything in here about relations.”

Relations? “You mean my sister?” Rosie was her only living relation and not yet at the age of her majority. “She’d live with us, of course. Continue working in the bakery.”

He shook his head. “Not those relations.” He cleared his throat. “Marital ones.”

Marital . . . ?

Oh.

Fire lit Abigail’s cheeks. She’d been so concerned about preserving her business, she hadn’t stopped to consider the more personal aspects entailed in marriage. “I, ah, hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Well, it’s a pretty big piece of this whole arrangement, so I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

Good grief. What had she gotten herself into? Discussing marital relations in the middle of a public thoroughfare? All right, in a private yard several feet away from the public road, but still. Not exactly a topic of conversation young ladies received training in.

Yet she couldn’t dismiss his concerns. Uncomfortable they might be, but they were also legitimate. And really, his desire to get things out in the open at the start boded well for how the two of them would get along. No guessing and tiptoeing around. Just a practical, straightforward addressing of pertinent issues. She could do this.

Abigail stiffened her posture. This was her chance to set ground rules, boundaries her mother never had the chance to establish. “I’m a businesswoman first and foremost, Mr. Hamilton, and this arrangement is of a practical nature.”

“Speaking from a purely practical perspective, Miss Kemp,” he interrupted, “a man can’t be expected to live like a eunuch when the woman he’s married to looks like you.” His gaze scanned her from head to toe, lingering ever so briefly on the places where her curves were most prominent. Curves she’d always believed defined her as fat. Yet under his regard, she suddenly wondered if voluptuous might be an adjective that could apply. “Too tempting by half.”

He actually found her attractive? The ground beneath Abigail’s feet must have shifted, for all sense of balance abandoned her.

“I’m willing to sign your contract, but only if you agree to include marital relations in the bargain.” His face looked as soft as granite at that pronouncement. Not a touch of romance or sentimentality to be seen. But then, she was the one who had emphasized the practical nature of their arrangement. And it wasn’t as if they were truly courting.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t agree to his demands with nothing but cold practicality between them. To do so just felt . . . wrong.

Besides, she’d sworn not to repeat her mother’s mistakes, and this might be her only chance to negotiate terms that would allow her to uphold that vow.

Abigail nibbled on her lower lip. The bakery had to come first. Her livelihood. Her passion. The key to Rosie’s future. Perhaps it would be better to give him the agreement he wanted. They could work out the details later.

Abigail discarded that idea as quickly as it had formed in her mind. She respected Zach too much to trap him into a lifelong commitment without full honesty between them. If he’d been content with a marriage of convenience, things would be different. They could simply go on as friends, their separate lives only intersecting at meals and social occasions. No need to go into more personal matters. But such an idealized plan had been woefully naïve.