“We’ll show them they’re wrong.”
“Agreed,” Alethea said, forcing herself to smile at her friend. “While I appreciate your offer of help, I believe the easiest road to victory will be taken by me alone. I will play along with Mr. Titan’s game. For the next month I will pretend to be on the verge of giving in. But I will not. And when the time is up, we will expose the ploy, thereby defeating the men at their own game.”
Daisy laughed. “Yes. That’s perfect! If anyone can resist Zeke, it’s you. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Thank you.” Alethea glanced at the clock. “I’d best get to my students.”
They hugged briefly, then Alethea left. She told herself she should be happy. The plan was sound, her triumph nearly assured. But in truth, this was one time she didn’t want to win. Given the choice, she would have preferred Zeke Titan to be exactly what he had seemed. A charming, intelligent man, if a bit of a rake, who enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his.
Last night, alone in her room, she had allowed herself to imagine the possibilities, as she had not since Wesley had died. Of being in love again.
It was not to be, she told herself firmly as she walked toward the schoolhouse. In the end, she would have a home of her own. A life of which she could be proud. That would be enough. Somehow, she would make it enough.
Chapter Four
Zeke walked in through the rear door of the lending library. He meant to see Alethea alone after the reading, but he’d found himself strolling over early, curious about her ability to bring Shakespeare to the small town of Titanville.
There were thirty or so people sitting on hard wooden chairs, leaning forward and listening intently as Alethea read the lively exchange between Beatrice and Benedick. They laughed appreciatively at the stubbornness of the two players and their inability to see what was obvious to everyone else.
She finished the scene and closed the book.
“The library has two copies of this play to lend,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps some of you would like to find out what happens for yourself?”
There was a round of applause, then those attending rose. The librarian mentioned something about ice cream available next door in the mercantile.
Zeke lingered until nearly everyone had left, then joined Alethea. She saw him approach and smiled-a warm, welcoming smile he felt in his gut. It made him want to pull her close and kiss her. Even more, it made him want to continue the conversation she’d provoked with her reading.
He shook off the latter idea and moved next to her.
“I’m surprised at your selection,” he said by way of greeting. “No
“I seek to entertain and inspire,” she told him. “Better done with a comedy. People are intrigued by the possibilities books offer. They try one, then another.”
“Your goal to trap them into a life of reading?”
“I don’t see it as anything but a great pleasure.” She looked up at him, her green eyes bright with amusement. “And how do you know about Shakespeare, or reading in Greek? Was the curriculum of this school more adventurous when you were young? Am I failing my students by teaching in English?”
“I have always enjoyed books,” he admitted. “All books. When I was younger, I had plenty of time to read.” He motioned to the books on the shelves. “These are old friends.”
“You’ve read them all?”
“More than once. Some of the historical volumes were long and boring, but I persevered.”
“Impressive.”
He offered his arm. “I know.”
She laughed and allowed him to lead her out of the library, her small hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. They paused on the sidewalk and glanced toward the crowd waiting for ice cream.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to take a walk?”
“A walk would be nice.”
They turned away from the mercantile and moved toward the edge of town. The night was clear and calm, the air cool, but without a chill.
“What will your next play be?” he asked.
“A favorite of yours?”
“It is very popular with the young ladies,” she said, humor brightening her voice. “There is nothing young women enjoy so much as a tragic love story.”
“You have outgrown such things?”
“I have lived my own personal loss. I don’t need to read about it.”
Right. The dead husband. He’d forgotten.
“You still miss him?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “When I read a new book, I long to discuss it with him. Or when it’s cold and I can’t get warm.” She glanced at him from under her lashes. “There are some practical benefits to the marriage bed.”
Zeke had never been in love. He’d loved his mother dearly, but that was different. To lose a spouse was something he couldn’t comprehend. Did Alethea’s missing her late husband mean she still loved him?
“My mother wants me to marry again,” she continued. “Her anxiety to see me with another husband is one of the reasons I wanted to leave Baltimore.”
“You don’t wish to remarry?”
“I do. I had always thought I would. I long for children, and a husband is required.”
He smiled at her. “If you could achieve one without the other, would that be better?”
“No. I think a husband is a good thing. Provided he’s the right type of man.”
“What do women want in a man?” he asked.
“Different things, I suppose. For myself, I would wish for a man of good character. Someone strong enough to admit his mistakes. A excellent mind, with enough humor so that I would never know what to expect. Someone who loved me and our children. And that unexplained attraction.”
Zeke stopped and faced her. “Passion.”
The moon was nearly full. The soft light spilled onto her face, making her blush visible.
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Passion.”
“Another practical benefit of the marriage bed?”
She turned away. “Mr. Titan, this is not an appropriate subject for conversation.”
He grinned. “Perhaps not appropriate, but interesting. I have heard that some married women don’t enjoy their husband’s attentions.”
“I have heard that, as well. But we aren’t talking about some women, are we? You’re trying to find out if I enjoyed that part of my marriage.” She raised her chin slightly. “I did, sir.”
She stepped around him and headed for the hotel. Zeke fell into step beside her, aware that he’d pushed her too far.
“I’m sorry,” he said, almost meaning it. “You were right. That is not a subject for polite society.”
“Which is probably the reason you want to talk about it.”
He laughed. “True enough. I play at being a gentleman. I can say the words, use the correct fork at a fancy dinner. I’m well read and successful, but in my heart, I’m a Texan. I’d rather ride a horse than a carriage, shoot my supper than buy it, and play cards than go to ballet.”
“Have you been to the ballet?”
“No.”
“Beautiful women dancing, Mr. Titan. They’re elegant and sometimes show their legs. You’d like it.”
