Of course, she preferred a thoughtful answer. However, that also meant he hadn’t given it as much thought as she had, which worried her.
“Whilst I have always known I was expected to sire a son, I confess it has been a rather hazy part of the distant future.” His eyes flashed to hers, a defiant crease between his brows. “Muchof that is because of my lack of maturity. You’ve seen me rectify that. I have nothing against having children. My only fear is knowing how to ensure their childhood is not like mine.”
Frustration at their debate fell away as he voiced her own biggest fear. “I, too, know nothing of how to care for children. I hate the way the Ton shelters girls, taking away any ability to care for themselves. Yet, I would not want my children to have to learn the skills I learned either. Where is the balance? And Luke, that is without considering the sons being heirs to an earldom.”
He leaned across the table to grasp her hand. “Belle, can you not see that you are a natural caretaker? Look at how you helped me. Then when Charlotte needed you, you added that to your tasks.”
Part of her fear about raising children had been that she’d be handling it alone. Originally that concern had been due to an incomplete picture of a husband, and Luke’s struggles had provided an excellent example of why her concerns were justified. His recent progress would put much of that worry to rest—if she were willing to entertain marriage to him. Now, if only she could believe him, Luke’s unassailable faith in her was heartwarming. However, she could not forget that they were a completely unsuitable match.
“I am simply asking you to consider it before rejecting the possibility,” he said with a squeeze of her hand. “Now I am wondering what tasks you have to accomplish today, or if we should pursue our compatibility more after breakfast.”
That sounded like an excellent idea. She’d think about the future later, after enjoying the present a bit more.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke spent thebetter part of the morning ensuring Belle viewed him in a different light than any of her previous partners. After three orgasms for her and an explosive one for himself, they both fell asleep.
He spent the afternoon making notes for his new enterprise. Getting the details correct was important to assist people in succeeding. Staffing, pursuits to alleviate boredom during one’s stay, distance from the temptation of gaming hells and men’s clubs, et cetera—but more urgently, he needed to show that he’d thought of them. He was attempting to find the bravery to propose it to The Earl to request funding.
At several points, he considered asking Belle about one aspect or another. She’d proven very helpful in the initial stages of planning. However, his ultimate goal with her was to convince her to marry him, and he wished to be seen as an equal. Intelligence and independence were his surest path to her heart if she could get past her initial impressions of him.
To her heart? Yes, that seemed right.
She’d asked about love yesterday, and he’d stepped carefully. He’d been teetering on the edge of falling for her before last night. Last night and the morning had sealed his fate. He wantedBelle, no matter what his father might say. He wanted to give her children, a home she might run or not run as she pleased, and a life of luxury. Most importantly, he wanted her to feel safe, as though she’d never have to defer to anyone again. No member of the Ton, Black Widow, or whomever.
But he feared she’d see his desires as immature or not well thought out. He needed time to show her he was more than her initial impressions had led her to believe.
After supper, he led her upstairs again, undressing her layer by layer, smoothing his fingers over each inch of skin he revealed.
His cock was raging against his trousers at the unequal count from the morning. Ignoring it, he tugged her toward the bed still in his shirt, cravat, and waistcoat.
Belle balked, straining against his movement. She frowned. “Stop. Please.”
“Of course,” he said, releasing her hand. “What is amiss?”
“Intimacy should be two ways. I appreciate your worship-like approach, but when do I get a turn?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps when we are wed.”
She growled low in her throat.
He raised his brows in question.
“Besides the obvious,” she said, swiping a hand away to dismiss the idea of marriage, “I am not willing to wait.”
“You disliked something I did? You should have said. I’ll change it. Tell me how I can make it better for you.” He thought he’d given her pleasure. Blast, he hoped she hadn’t been performing as the courtesan all this time.
She sighed and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. “That is my point. Like I said, it should be two ways. You know I admire your form. I’d like to play with you just as you play with me, but you don’t give me a chance.”
“I don’t want you to have to.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “That is what I was afraid of. ’Tis like you wish to ignore my past life and pretend it did not exist.”
He was aghast. Sitting next to her, he grabbed her hands. “No, Belle. I am sorry I made you feel that way. I wanted you to know this was different. That you didn’t have to work at it.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed an inch. “I suppose that makes sense, too. But I need to know that if I take charge or do something you haven’t experienced before, you will not freeze or be distracted or disgusted by thoughts of how I learned it.”
He smiled. She might not realize the reason for her concern, but he did. She was contemplating a future with him, despite her avowals that they did not suit. He was happy to lay her fears to rest.
