“You do not want an heir?”
The thought had never concerned him before. “I have a cousin who would be more than happy to inherit, and I have no doubt he would make a far better duke than I. Marcus is an impeccable gentleman.”
Another sip of tea.
The tension in her shoulders was gradually lessening.
“Then you would have no expectations of…me,” she said stiffly.
Interesting.He thought he knew what she was after, but he also wanted to be perfectly frank with her.
“You are speaking of the marriage bed.”
A flush stole over her high cheekbones. “Yes.”
“I will not force you to share my bed, if that is what you are suggesting.” He studied her calmly, but the same rush of desire he had always felt for her remained, simmering beneath the surface. “I cannot promise I will not make every attempt to persuade you, however.”
Also truth.
He wanted her as desperately as ever. But he wanted her on her own terms, and he wanted the decision to be hers.
“Do you not already have a mistress to satisfy your desires?”
Ah. She spoke of his indecorous suggestion that he had been preoccupied by a woman the day when he had shown her Shaw’s letters.
“No,” he said honestly. “I implied I had a mistress to needle you.”
“I see.” Her flush deepened, and her hazel gaze dipped to the teacup in her hand. “You said you would attempt to persuade me. What manner of persuasion do you have in mind?”
“Not force,” he said firmly, intentionally repeating his earlier words. “I am not a monster, Pippa. You are a beautiful woman. I desired you when I first met you in Oxfordshire, and I still desire you now. That much has not changed. However, I will never expect you to share my bed merely because you are my wife. I have no wish for a bedmate who does not desire me in return.”
And he thought she did. Or at least that she could. In time.
And with the help of more kisses.
Her eyes remained upon her tea, but he did not think he mistook the tension, thick and sudden, hovering in the air between them.
“I am afraid,” she admitted softly.
So softly, he almost failed to hear her surprising confession.
“You need not be.” He settled his teacup down and slid to the edge of his seat. “Look at me, Pippa.”
She caught her lower lip in her teeth as she did what he asked. There were so many shadows and doubts in her eyes. He wished he could dispel each one.Hell, he wished he could go back to that day in Oxfordshire when they had first met and run away with her, to the devil with the badminton game and his intention of courting her properly when he returned from America. How much pain she would have avoided. How much pain theybothwould have avoided.
But that was impossible.
“I vow to you that I will do my utmost to protect both you and Charlotte,” he said, meaning every word. “You do not need to fear. All you need to do is trust me.”
Trust me as you should have done years ago, he wanted to add, but did not. No need to push her too far. To push her away.
“I do not know if I can trust you, Northwich.” Her confession was raw.
Honest.
It carved into his heart like a knife.
“You read Shaw’s letters,” he reminded her. “You know he was keeping secrets from you. The attack on you last night and the repeated invasions of your home have been because of him.”
