“What?”

“I’m going with you to New York. If you need more time for courting—or whatever the bloody hell you chose to call it, I’ll give it. But you’ll marry me in the end, and make no mistake. I won’t compromise that.”

“Compromise?” Staggered, she dragged a hand through her hair. “This is a compromise?”

“You can’t stay, so I’ll go.”

“But the farm—”

“The devil take the fucking farm. Do you think it means more to me than you? I’m good with my hands. I can get work wherever.”

“It’s not a matter of a job.”

“It’s important to me that I not live off my wife.” He shot the words at her, daring her to argue. “You can call me sexist and a fool or whatever you choose, but it doesn’t change the matter. I don’t care whether you’ve a mountain of money or none at all, or if you choose to spend it on a big house or fancy cars, miser it away or toss it off on one roll of dice. What’s an issue to me is not that I support you, but that I support myself.”

She closed her mouth for a minute and tried to calm. “I can hardly call you a fool for making a perfectly sane statement, but I can call you one for even thinking about giving up the farm.”

“Selling it. I’m not an idiot. None of my family are interested in farming, so I’ll speak with Mr. McNee, and Feeney and some of the others. It’s good land.” His gaze swept past her and for a moment held pain as it traveled over the hills. “It’s good land,” he repeated. “And they’d value it.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Her voice rose on fresh passion. “Toss away your heritage, your home. Why don’t you offer to cut out your heart while you’re at it?”

“I can’t live without you,” he said simply. “And I won’t. It’s dirt and stone.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that.” She fired up, flashed over. “It’s everything to you. Oh, you know how to make me feel small and selfish. I won’t have it.” She turned, fisting her hands as she strode from stone to stone. Then she leaned heavily against one as it struck, and struck hard that this was it. From the beginning it had been spiraling toward this.

She steadied herself and turned back so that she could see his face. Odd, she thought, that she was suddenly so calm, so sure.

“You’d give it up for me, the thing that makes you what you are.” She shook her head before he could answer. “This is funny, really funny. I searched my soul last night, and the night before. Part of it I ripped out to do that painting. And when I finally took a good long look, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.”

She saw the light come into his eyes before he carefully controlled it again. “You’re saying you’d stay, do without what you want. Is that supposed to comfort me, knowing you’re here but unhappy?”