Until I Really Do

Chapter Eight

Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, wide blue eyes staring back at him.

For a second, Matthew regretted his request. Not only was he not in a position to make demands, asking a complete stranger to be his wife in every sense of the word, was the most ridiculous thing he could have ever said.

Still, he didn't want to promise her celibacy for the rest of their married life; that was just not going to be feasible. Sure, they wouldn't be getting married because they loved each other, but at least they could form some sort of bond in the coming years, couldn't they? Unless of course, her plan was to run off once she had what it was she wanted from him? His gaze ran down the length of her —what did she want? Perhaps her plan was to steal from him and run off to a place she would be independent of her gambling father, and Jenkins who seemed incapable of leaving her alone?

He didn't have much money, if that was her plan. He was not only behind on the payment of his farmhands, but he was also behind on paying the complete price for the farm. If her plan was to use him and ditch him, then he might as well make it very clear to her, the futility of that plan.

“I am a farmer in debt —a lot of debt. My inheritance is the only way of coming out of it, and even then, it will barely be enough to keep my head afloat. I might be forced to marry now due to my present circumstances, but I am also in need of a strong,” His eyes drifted to her hands that hung loosely by her sides. Her fingernails might have been devoid of sand, but it was apparent to him from their jagged state, that her hands were accustomed to hard work. “Reliable woman,” he met her eyes, his brow raised. He would make it clear to her that he might be desperate, but not enough to marry a deceptive, gold hunting woman, “capable of handling the affairs of a farm, and perhaps bearing children.” He squared his jaw, also making it clear that his marriage would not be in name only.

She folded her arms, anger glistening in her eyes. “Well, mister, I will assure you right this moment that I am indeed strong —I cared for my sick mother until she passed, and have been the sole provider for my father since I was fifteen. I am also reliable —I have not touched a single dime of Mr. Hank's fortune since I came here to work for him. I have never handled the affairs of a farm in my life, but perhaps I shall not do too poorly. As for the potency of my uterus, sir, I am truly uncertain.”

Heat rapidly climbed up the side of Matthew's neck, setting his entire face on fire. Clearing his throat nervously, he glanced down briefly at his dusty shoes, embarrassed and shocked by her plain words. Perhaps he shouldn't be? He was the one who indirectly called her lazy and dishonest, while shamelessly making plain his intention to bed her.

“Will that be all?”

He raised his eyes. She stood before him, arms folded, brow raised. “W-what?”  He asked.

“Will that be all the requirements you need for a wife, or would you like to take my uterus on a test ride before taking me to the courthouse?”

Beyond embarrassed, his cheeks immediately warmed, and in that second he considered turning around and walking away from the pretty blonde head with a big mouth on her. But what choice did he have? He was stuck between marrying her, or losing his farm —and independence— forever. Even now, he could feel the letter he had written to his father that morning, admitting defeat, seated snugly in his breast pocket.

He straightened. “Rather than a test ride, how about a proper introduction?” He held out his hand to her. “I am Matthew Steiner, a pitiable excuse for a farmer.”

She stood still for several seconds, her eyes fixed on his outstretched hand. “Sharon,” She finally said, placing her hand on the tip of his fingers. “Freelance,” She withdrew her hand after only a second of touching his, “unfortunate daughter of a pitiable excuse for a father.”

“Just so we are on the same page, Blondie,” he said, choosing to use his own special name for her, rather than the name given to her by a father she was obviously ashamed of. “Will you marry me?”

She shrugged. “Yes, but I do not promise you will ever possess my heart, Matthew Steiner.”