Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

R E D E E M I N G L O V E
your father going to say about this?”
“He already knows.”
“Oh, God,” he prayed aloud, wondering when John was going to burst
in the door with a shotgun in his hand.
“Papa spent most of last night trying to talk me out of this and finally
gave up. I would have been here sooner otherwise.” Her smile hinted at mischief.
“Do you remember the Book of Ruth, Paul? In the Bible? Do you
remember what she did? Well, Boaz, here I am, at your very feet. Now, what
are you going to do about it?” She put her hand on his thigh, and he jumped
a foot.
“Don’t touch me!” he said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“I’m telling you, I want you out of here right now.”
“No, you don’t.”
“How do you know what I want?” He tried to sound angry.
“I know every time you look at me. You want me.”
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded.
“Paul,” she said very gently, “I love Michael very much. He’s like an older
brother to me, but I’m not in love with him and never will be. I’m in love
with you.”
“You don’t belong with me,” he said, anguished.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said as though speaking to a recalcitrant child.
“Of course I do.”
“Miriam—”
She put her hand against his bare shoulder, and he drew in his breath at
her touch. “I’ve always wanted to touch you,” she said, her voice soft and
husky. “That day in the field when you were plowing—”
He swallowed hard and caught her hand.
Her eyes met his. “And I’ve always wanted you to touch me.”
“Miriam,” he said hoarsely, “I’m not a saint.”
“I know that. Do you think I am?” Her eyes were shimmery with tears.
“This isn’t easy, you know, but I am a woman, Paul, not a child, and I know
what I want. I want you. As my husband. To live with for all our days.”
He was shaking. “Don’t do this to me.” He watched a tear slide down her
cheek and couldn’t help himself; he reached out to brush it away. She put
408