“To keep you safe? Of course. We’ve already spent some nights together.”
He wanted her to laugh. He ached for the lights of love and beauty to shine in her eyes at his words, but here he was, too scared to speak the truth. At no time had he spoken of love.
“Bronx—”
He fell to his knees. “Forgive my jest. Lila, I love you. I’m certain of it. I’d love to have your hand all to myself.”
She swiped new tears away. “Oh, I know. And I know I love you, too. It crept up on me, and I find it better that way. Instead of the breathlessness I found from the first with...with Emmett. And I know all your secrets. But I can’t marry you, Bronx. You don’t know mine. Not at all.”
“But I do. And I love you, anyway, because you love me, too.” The words pounded in his blood. She loved him. He brought her face to his, kissed away the last of her tears. “I know how you got disowned. How Emmett got you to stay here, I just don’t know why. Except you being a woman guided forever by true love. And you say you love me. Maybe it’s true again.”
“Of course my love is true. But here’s why I can’t marry you.” She took his hand and held it over her heart. “I can’t marry a hale, vigorous man. I was a shameful bride. No matter my affection, Emmett would have none of me.”
“Emmett would have none of you?” Something like hate coursed through Bronx at the foolishness of any man disavowing his beautiful love. “Then he wasn’t a hale, vigorous man to start.”
“Oh, he was. He could have any bride he wished, but he chose me. And I let him down.” She swallowed a sob, but her eyes were dry.
Confusion stole his thought. “You? Let him down? You’ve been keeping Gethsemane open all on your own. Saving souls and teaching about womenfolk to be strong like Esther. Feeding the hungry and tending the sick. Why, just look at Clemmons and Malina. You let nobody down, least of all yourself.”
Her face pinked. “No, I didn’t let him down like that. No. At first, I believe he respected my modesty. But later, he pushed me away again and again. He hoped the lawless environment of Leadville would help me to relax. But I know I had grown a wife’s natural desires. But I guess I didn’t know how to show it.”
Shock wrinkled his nose. “It comes natural, darlin’.”
More discomfited words gushed from her. “No, Bronx. I must speak. You must know. I even made consultation with one of the plumed ladies as how to invigorate myself to inspire my husband. She gave me much advice.” Lila’s face heated, and so did Bronx, to the marrow of his bones. “But Emmett disdained my touch.”
Bronx’s anger simmered. Hot fingers held hers. “Then he was a fool. A sickly fool. And he lied to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“A man knows if he’s unable. Beforehand. And he’s likely to blame his woman. Afterward.” He wanted to look away, but dared not, lest she be led to think such circumstances had happened to him. If they were to wed, now or later, well, spouses must be comfortable saying such things. She was already inspiring him, for sure, inside his head, and inside his trousers.
“But he was handsome. And young.”
Suddenly, a tornado of hideous green burst in from the kitchen, so fast and reckless Lila cringed against Bronx and he smacked against the hard back of the settee.
“Miss Frieda?”
“Call me a busy body, I can’t care at this moment. But you’re the daughter I never had, my darling Lila. I listened in upon that...monster. And I swear it on any Bible there is, Mr. Bronx is right. Emmett lied to you.”
More addled than ever, Bronx stepped away so Frieda could hold Lila close against her. “How on God’s green earth would you know such a thing, Miz Frieda?”
The landlady ignored him. “He lied to you, Lila. Or at best, withheld the truth. Same difference, just different words.
“I don’t know what you mean, Miss Frieda. Before we wed, his kisses were full of affection, and afterward, I tried. I really did. I was unable to inspire him...”
“Bronx is right. Mr. Emmett was unable. But until this conversation, I thought you knew.”
“No. Only that I...” Lila blushed, then looked at Bronx full on. He kissed her hand in reassurance and had never tasted anything finer than her skin.
Miss Frieda kicked at a table leg. “That scoundrel, Emmett. Some holy man he was.” She snorted. “Permitting you to think it your fault. To marry you to a deathbed vow so no other man could have you and teach you the truth.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly know what you mean, Miss Frieda.”