She had her doubts about Gage.
“Well,” she began, “my guess is that you’re, um, a very spiritual person. I thought that you might have felt peculiar about going to the courthouse to get married as opposed to…” She faltered for a moment. “Well, as opposed to having a religious ceremony.”
“And you came to those conclusions merely because I’m Indian?”
Accusation edged the question, and Jenna felt suddenly self-conscious. She hadn’t meant to offend him.
Before she could respond, he said, “You shouldn’t form opinions about Native Americans based solely on stereotypes.”
Now she felt insulted herself. “I was doing no such thing.”
The raised brows on his chiseled profile were clear evidence that he was unconvinced.
“I wasn’t,” she insisted, shifting on the seat.
“So why would you think I’d be upset that we married at the courthouse?” he pressed.
She lifted one shoulder a fraction. “Because of the things you said the day we met. You used a name…Kitan To-wet—” her tongue tripped over the foreign word “—I think it was. You spoke as if this was some great force or entity. Like fate. Or God.” Heat flushed her cheeks when she realized how this must sound to him, as if she had him figured out because of the things he’d said that day. “You said Kitan To-wet had plans for you, and that I’d messed up those plans.”
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