Free The Beloved Woman by Deborah Smith Page B

than a spider. And Amarintha has a mean streak. Besides, what good would one of them do me? They don’t know anything about the outside world. They don’t speak French.”
    “Ah. It was my ‘
haute
society’ that convinced you.”
    “Dammit, you twist my intentions. Let’s go back to the point. Will you be my wife?”
    “What kind of benefit would you get out of marrying me?”
    “If anybody could teach me manners, you could. That’s what I’d get. In return,
you’d
get to stay in Gold Ridge. If you’re betrothed to a white man, the governor might exempt you from the removal.”
    She laughed dully. “So you’ll marry the Blue Song daughter out of duty. Well, sir, I won’t marry just to have a roof over my head. Besides, you’re addled for even thinking of marrying an Indian.” Sarcasm tinged her voice. “You want to be an important man, you want to move in important circles. Marrying an Indian would make you scandalous in polite society.”
    “Not up north. That’s where I’m heading eventually. Gonna put some Gallatin gold into New York investments.”
    “Blue Song gold,” she corrected him. “Taken from Cherokee land.”
    “You’ll never forget that,” he said grimly. “So be it. Then look at things this way—if you want to have a say in how the gold’s spent, marry me. We don’t have to tie the knot until you get accustomed to the idea.”
    “How noble of you,” she said dryly.
    “Not the least bit. And I don’t give a damn what polite society thinks of me. Never have. I just don’t want to feel like a backwoods hick when I have to deal with nabobs. You can learn me everything I need to know.”
    “Teach you.”
    “See? It’s already workin’.”
    “I’m not going to marry you.”
    “I figured you’d say that at first. You think on it, gal. You got nobody but me.”
    He stood, held out a hand, and watched her take it reluctantly. After he helped her to her feet he swept a predatory gaze around the woods. One hand came to rest on the pistol in his belt. “We best get back to town. I’ve killed my share of the trash roaming these woods. Like to avoid killing any on the day I proposed marriage to you.”
    “How very sentimental.”
    His mouth curled in annoyance. “I don’t think you want sentiment, Katie. Neither do I. But I think we could be happy together.”
    Her eyes went dead. “I would never be happy with a man who uses my rightful inheritance to hold me in bondage.”
    “You marry me, the land and the gold will practically be yours. I think I’m doin’ what your folks would want.”
    “And after you decide that you’ve soothed your conscience toward me and improved your social graces enough, you’ll send me on my way.”
    “You’ll probably worry me to death before that happens. Then you’ll be a wealthy widow.”
    “I doubt the Georgia courts would let me keep a white man’s estate.”
    Justis knew she was right. He also knew that there was no sense in talking to her anymore today about the subject of marriage. She looked exhausted and angry.
    “Enough for now,” he said as gently as he could. “I’ll walk off a little ways. You say your farewells. Say ’em good—I don’t want to bring you back here again. This part of the country will be even more dangerous when the army starts rounding up Cherokees.”
    Katherine watched him lead the horses away. Marry him? Teach him to be a gentleman and at the same time share a bed with him? Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be a gentleman in bed if being one meant that he’d have to curb the virility that had earned him a Cherokee name such as The Stud. What frightened her, what made her clench a fist against her stomach, was that she wanted him because of it.
    Slowly she turned and faced the valley. Sorrow welled up in her, pushing aside all other thoughts, making her feel half crazy with grief. This land held her family, it was part of her blood. It was all she had left.
    She made a silent, sacred promise to