Chapter 6 #2
"Let me ask you something," Neil said, his hands settling on my knees. "Is a career worth preserving if it requires you to stay small? If it means spending the rest of your life in someone's shadow, never getting credit for your own discoveries?"
The question cut straight to the heart of my professional dissatisfaction.
"When you put it that way... no. It's not worth preserving at all."
"He could try to destroy a career that was already killing you slowly. He could take away a job that never valued you. He could close doors to a world that made you miserable." His hands cupped my face. "Baby, that's not a threat. That's liberation."
"But my reputation—"
"Build a new one. Based on your work and your discoveries.
" His thumbs brushed my cheekbones. "Kim, you just found documents that could reshape our understanding of Vermont's role in the Underground Railroad.
That's your work. Your discovery. And if you document it properly, if you publish it independently, no one—not even the mighty Dr. Pemberton—can take that away from you. "
I wanted to believe him. But six years of conditioning made me protest. "He'll say I was working under his supervision. That the initial research was funded by the historical society."
"Was it? Did he send you here? Fund your travel? Direct your search?"
"No, but—"
"No buts. You came here following your own instincts. You found those documents through your own expertise. This is yours. Don't let him make you believe otherwise."
The fierce certainty in Neil's voice made me see my situation from the outside—saw how completely I'd accepted being diminished, dismissed, denied credit for my own work.
"He's going to be furious when I request extended leave," I said. The thought made my stomach clench with anxiety.
"Good. Let him be furious. Let him realize what he's lost." Neil pulled me against his chest, and I breathed in cedar and safety. "But Kim, I need you to know—if he comes here, if he tries to intimidate you or force you back, he'll have to go through me first."
"Neil, you can't fight the establishment for me."
"Watch me." The quiet promise in his voice made me shiver. "I've been alone too long. Now I have you. Anyone who tries to take you away or make you feel belittled again will learn what a mistake that is."
"My protective mountain man," I said, trying for lightness.
"Your partner," he corrected. "In research, in life, in everything. And partners protect each other."
Looking up at him, seeing the absolute conviction in him, I realized Neil saw me. The real me, not the diminished version I'd learned to perform. And he was willing to fight for that woman, even against forces he didn't fully understand.
"When I call Pemberton," I said slowly, "he's going to try to make me feel guilty. Irresponsible. Like I'm throwing away everything he's done for me."
"And what has he done for you, really?"
I thought about it. "Made me doubt every instinct. Second-guess every discovery. Feel grateful for scraps of recognition that should have been mine to begin with."
"Then maybe it's time to stop being grateful for scraps," Neil said, "and start claiming the feast you deserve. Stay with me and build something new. Something that's actually yours."
NEIL
All the years I'd been alone on this mountain, I had been convinced I'd die that way.
Building furniture for families I'd never have, watching my brothers find their women while I stayed isolated in my workshop.
Now this perfect woman was choosing me—choosing us—over everything safe and predictable.
She was staying. This brilliant, beautiful woman who'd suffered years of professional diminishment was choosing to build a life with me instead of returning to the world that had never valued her properly.
"You're sure?" I asked, needing to hear it again. Needing to know this wasn't some dream I'd wake up from alone.
"I'm terrified and excited and completely sure all at once." She stood from the chair, moving into the space between my arms like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there. "I've spent my whole life following the expected path. Maybe it's time to try following my heart instead."
Christ, she was so small against me, delicate as those historical papers she handled with such reverence. The top of her head barely reached my chest, and my hands could span her entire waist. The need to protect her, provide for her, keep her safe on my mountain forever was overwhelming.
Mine. The word pounded through my blood like a drum. This woman was mine now. Had been mine from the moment she'd stumbled into my woods, lost and nervous and so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her.
The workshop suddenly felt charged with electricity, the afternoon light casting shadows that made everything feel sacred, significant. This was my territory, my domain, and she was choosing to stay here with me.
I kissed her then, deep and claiming, pouring eight years of loneliness and a lifetime of wanting into the connection between us. She kissed me back with matching hunger, her hands fisting in my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.
Never. She'd never be rid of me now.
"I want to show you something," I said when we finally broke apart.
I led her to the far corner of the workshop, where I kept my private projects, the pieces I made for myself instead of for sale. Under a cloth tarp sat the cradle I'd started two years ago, when the loneliness had gotten so bad I'd begun fantasizing about a family I'd never have.
"What is it?" Kim traced the smooth edge with reverent fingers as I pulled away the covering.
"I started making this when I still believed I wouldn’t spend my whole life alone." I ran my hand along the smooth maple, remembering the winter nights I'd worked on it by lamplight, desperate for something to hope for. "A cradle."
Kim's breath caught as she took in the intricate carving, the flowing grain of the wood, the perfect joints that would hold secure for generations. Her eyes filled with tears, and I knew she understood what she meant to me.
"It's beautiful," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Why did you stop working on it?"
"Because making furniture for a family that didn't exist felt like torture." I pulled her against my side, marveling at how perfectly she fitted against me. How right it felt to have her tucked under my arm, protected by my body. "Now I'm thinking I should finish it."
"Neil..." She looked up at me with those dark eyes that had haunted me from the first moment. "Are you talking about children? Our children?"
The possessive way she said 'our' awakened something primal in me. My cock hardened instantly, my body already imagining her round with my baby, marked as mine in the most fundamental way possible.
"I'm talking about building a life together. A real life, with everything that includes—marriage, family, a future we create with our own hands." I couldn't stop my hands from dropping to her flat stomach, imagining it swollen with my child. "Lots of children, Kim. This cradle is just the first."
"We've known each other for four days."
"I've been waiting for you for thirty-one years." I traced the line of her jaw with one finger, felt her shiver at my touch. Good. I wanted her to always react to me like this—like I was essential to her breathing. "Two days, two years, two decades—time doesn't matter when you find your person."
"Your person," she repeated, like she was testing the words.
"My woman. My partner. The mother of my children.
" I cupped her face in both hands, letting her see the possession in my eyes.
"I want to build you a house where you can work and research and be exactly who you're meant to be.
I want to fill it with babies who have your intelligence and my stubbornness.
Five, six, as many as you'll give me. I want our kids running wild on this mountain, knowing they're loved and wanted and protected. "
The image was so clear in my mind—Kim in our kitchen, pregnant again while our other children played at her feet. Her belly round with my baby, her body marked by motherhood, proven as mine in every possible way.
"That's a beautiful dream," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"It doesn't have to be just a dream." I backed her against the workbench, caging her in with my arms. My body surrounded hers completely, and the size difference between us made my protective instincts roar. "Stay with me, Kim. Build this life with me. Let me give you everything."
"I already said yes," she breathed, rising on her toes to kiss me. "But maybe you could convince me again."
The invitation in her voice destroyed my control. I'd been her first last night—the only man to ever touch her, claim her, show her what her body was capable of. The knowledge that she was mine, only mine, would always be only mine, made me feel invincible.
I lifted her onto the workbench with one arm, settling between her thighs in a position that was becoming my favorite. The height put us closer to eye level.
"I love you in my workshop," I growled, running my hands up her bare legs beneath the flannel shirt—my shirt, marking her with my scent. "Surrounded by things I've built with my own hands, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you wherever I want."
"Touch me everywhere," she demanded, her voice already breathless with need. "I love your hands on me. I love how big they are, how strong. How gentle you are even though you could overpower me without trying."
Fuck. This woman would be the death of me.
I worked the buttons of the flannel slowly, revealing inch by inch the body that was already becoming my obsession. When the shirt fell open, exposing her completely to my hungry gaze, I had to grip the edge of the workbench to maintain control.