Of all that she wanted fromhim, specifically.
She wanted to matter to him, to be more than just a glorified housekeeper.
She wanted to be included in the number of ‘those I love,’ as he had just saidin his deep, raspy voice.
She wanted his secrets, his children, his heart, his very soul.
She wanted to be hiswifein every true sense.
All that yearning overflowed atop her tongue, jamming her words.
“Nothing, then?” he said when she hesitated too long.
“I . . .” she began.
Would she have the courage to say the words again? To risk his rejection by asking for a marriage in truth?
Fire scalded her cheeks.
She looked into his eyes, hoping to find the heat from earlier in the day. Unfortunately, his gaze held nothing more than simple curiosity. Had she imagined that moment in the library then?
But his hands still held her. Surely, he didn’t . . .dislike her. And he had trusted her with snippets of his deeper self. She needed to do the same in return, to risk vulnerability and rejection.
Summoning a deep breath, she opened her mouth.
She could do this.
Just ask for what ye want. Say ye want a marriage in truth.
“I . . . should like . . . a kiss?” She lost her courage at the end, truncating what she really wished for and, worse, rendering the sentence a hanging question.
“A . . . kiss?” He froze.
His brows drew down.
As if he found the idea odd . . . or, worse, repugnant.
Mortification curled in her chest.
Oh.
She must have been mistaken then. Fox still found her physically unappealing.
Sliding her arms from his waist, Leah attempted to step back. To remove her unwanted touch from his person.
“No.” He held her firm. “Please don’t pull away. The simpleness of your request merely surprised me. That is all.”
This time, she froze, her eyes riveted on his rumpled cravat, her arms once more tucked between them.
“Leah.” His cold finger nudged her chin, encouraging her to look up. She met his calm gaze, his blue eyes so crystalline clear, they made her shiver. “Why do you ask for a kiss?”
She blinked.
“Because . . .” She paused and then, rallying her courage once more, told him the truth. “Because . . . I have never been kissed. And I should like to know what it feels like, if even just the once, before I die. I cannae ask anyone else for the favor. Ye be my husband, so it must be yourself or . . . no one.”
Her words caused something to tumble in him. His shoulders slumped and his expression floundered.
Tenderness, she realized.
