Ann Major - Terms of Engagement

“So you keep telling me,” she said, pretending his words didn’t hurt.

“I just want to be honest.”

“Do we always know our own truths?”

“Darlin’,” he whispered. “Forgive me if I sounded too harsh. It’s just that … I don’t want to hurt you by raising your expectations about something I’m incapable of. Other women have become unhappy because of the way I am.”

“You’re my family’s enemy. Why would I ever want to love you?”

Wrapping her legs around him, she held him for hours, trying to comfort the boy who’d lost so much as well as the angry man who’d gained a fortune because he’d been consumed by a fierce, if misplaced, hatred.

“My father had nothing to do with your father’s death,” she whispered. “He didn’t.”

“You have your view, and I have mine,” he said. “The important thing is that I don’t hold you responsible for your father’s sins any longer.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

After that, he was silent. Soon afterward he let her go and rolled onto his side.

She lay awake for hours. Where would they go from here? He had hated her family for years. Had he really let go of all those harsh feelings? Had she deluded herself into thinking he wasn’t her enemy?

What price would she pay for sleeping with a man who probably only saw her as an instrument for revenge?

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