Page 77 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“Let’s talk about this, please,” William said. His plea was directed more to her father than to Catherine, which nettled her, but his second plea was even wider off its mark. “Mrs. Martin, you can’t let her do this. People are already talking. You know what they’ll say if this engagement falls through.”

“I don’tletmy daughter do anything,” her mom replied, still teetering on that soft, unassuming razor’s edge. “And if you think she can be controlled by anything as trivial as small-town gossip, then you have no idea who she is—or what she’s capable of.”

Her father, sensing defeat, quickly ushered William out of the living room. “Come along, Lieutenant McBride.”

“But my future, sir. The posting—”

As they disappeared out of view, Catherine thought she heard herfather’s reassuring voice promising William that Moriarty was still very much in his future, should he wish for it.

Even though she knew her father was dangling the New Mexico posting as a bribe for William’s silence and capitulation, she was genuinely happy for him. Once there, he’d probably fall deep in admiration for another officer’s daughter—this time, with one who could see the value in his too-bright smile and even brighter military ambitions. For all she knew, he might even end up loving her.

A wave of relief moved over her at the thought. She sank back in her seat, ignoring the fallen copy of the housewifery book, and settled her hands on the gentle swell of her stomach. Since her father showed no signs of returning, she might have relaxed even further, but her mother’s voice stopped her short.

“Pleasetell me you aren’t going to marry that woodsman of yours,” she said.

“Mom, you make it sound like he’s the hunter in ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ or something. He’s not a woodsman. He’s a logger. Lots of men around here are loggers.”

“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.” Her mother scooped up the book and tucked it away out of Catherine’s line of sight. “It’s a hard life, honey, even for those who were born to it. Haven’t you seen the way it ages them?”

Catherine nodded. She’d seen it, all right—of course she had. Wasn’t she the one who’d guessed Jasper’s age to be a decade more than it actually was? Nowhere in that strong, gruff man was there anything that smacked of a nineteen-year-old dreamer. At least, not until she lay in the circle of his arms, cherished and protected in ways she’d never known were possible. Only then, when he spoke of the books he’d read and the things he yearned for, of the life that had been cruel to him since the day he’d been born, had she understood the truth.

He was a romantic. Possibly the most romantic person she’d ever known. His feet were planted on solid ground, but his heart roamed free.

And if she had anything to say about it, that was where it would stay.

“I’m not going to marry Jasper,” Catherine said, her hands still on her stomach. “I can’t. It would destroy him.”

“Thank goodness for that,” her mom said, but with a sideways look that said she wasn’t fully convinced. “You’d have been worn down as much as him within the space of two years.”

Catherine didn’t point out that her decision had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Jasper and the life he was forced to lead. It had been wrong of her, but she’d gone down to city hall to pump information out of Samantha, the chatty blond who worked behind the counter. The girl had plenty to say on the subject of Jasper Holmes, who she’d upheld with starry eyes as a hero who sent half his paycheck home every week without complaint or regret.

“I just want to take that poor man home and feed him a good meal, you know?” Samantha had said with a shake of her pretty curls. “They don’t make very many of them like that anymore.”

It had been on the tip of Catherine’s tongue to retort that they didn’t makeanylike him, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She had to or risk breaking out in tears. The sad truth was, no future existed that could fit all the pieces of the puzzle: Jasper, his mother, his siblings, Catherine, the baby…and all the babies she felt sure would follow. Eventually, he’d be forced to choose between them, and she had no doubt that he’d choose her.

And that, she knew, would kill him. Not at first, and not in any quantifiable way, but by the thousand proverbial cuts. Catherine might have enjoyed that kind of spectacle in the pages of a horror novel, but there was no way she’d stand by and watch a man like Jasper suffer.

So it was with a sob lodged deep in her throat that she spoke now.

“I’m not going to marry Jasper,” Catherine repeated, hoping the more she said the words, the more she’d grow accustomed to them. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why do I sense abutcoming…?”

Catherine managed a weak smile. “Because he won’t let me go easily. Not once he knows I’ve given William the slip. He’ll move heaven and earth and probably a little bit of hell to find a way to keep me.”

Her mother straightened her posture in a way that Catherine knew, feared, and admired most of all.

“I’d like to see him try and force you to do anything against your will,” her mother said tartly. “I don’t care if hedidthrow that check away instead of cashing it. We might be backed in a corner right now, but there’s still some fight left in us.”

Catherine dashed her arm out and grabbed her mother’s hand. Her mom looked surprised at the sudden demonstration of affection, but she didn’t pull away.

“Thank you, Mom, but that won’t be necessary. I already have an idea. I know of a way to get me and the baby somewhere we can be reasonably happy, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“I don’t likeanyof it, dear. That’s not the point.”

Catherine knew it wasn’t. But if her mom had any idea what she was about to propose, she wouldn’t be acting so cavalier.

“Then here goes.” Catherine took a deep, fortifying breath that didn’t fortify her at all. “We need to make Jasper believe I died in childbirth.”