“Why am I not deluded?”
It wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, but it was as good a question as any. “Yes.”
“Because you are a rake, and you are obviously accustomed to taking beautiful and exotic lovers.”
He cursed and dropped his spoon into the ceramic dish, which sent an unusually loud clanking sound echoing through the room. “I am accustomed to no such thing.”
She shook her head dismissively. “How else would you describe Lady Starling?”
Chase clenched his jaw. Her estimation of him was not unwarranted as he’d perpetuated that very reputation to his own end, and it was always difficult to argue with logic.
Add to that the events that occurred in the Willoughbys’ gardens and it only made sense she’d accept his reputation as fact.
“That ended at Westerley Crossings.”
Bethany cocked a doubtful brow.
Oh, Hell. Lady Starling had been an anomaly, an unlikely holiday affair, but he could hardly explain this to his naïve and innocent wife.
She held up one hand to stop him from attempting to do just that.
“The fact remains”—she gestured to herself—“that I am neither exotic, nor am I beautiful. Furthermore, I have no idea how to go about satisfying—”
“Of course, you don’t, you’re a bleeding virgin.” And when he realized how inappropriate that sounded, he corrected himself, “A blasted virgin.” Good Lord, there was no way he could fix this gaffe.
Stormy blue eyes stared back at him in horror.
Chase inhaled a slow breath. “Forgive me. What I mean to say… What I’m trying to tell you… It doesn’t matter what I am accustomed to, or what will satisfy me.”
“Of course, it matters.”
But he was shaking his head. “No. My wants are irrelevant.” He was the protector. It was his duty to see that she was content.
She stared at him in confusion.
“What doyouwant, Bethany? I need to know what it is that you expect and want from this marriage. Would you prefer that I leave you alone? Do you want our relationship to remain as it is, or do you want more?” Chase stared at her hard as he was finally hitting his stride. “I’m not so set on an heir that I’ll force myself on you. You must never doubt that you are safe in that regard. But I’m not fool enough to imagine you’d want to forgo motherhood.” He willed her to meet his gaze with a penetrating one of his own. “But I can only know what you tell me, Bethany. I am not a mind reader.”
He had given up the right to make this decision for himself the second he threw her across his lap. Whatever she wanted, he was going to do his damndest to provide.
He hadn’t meant to bring any of this up before the ball, and yet the two of them had danced around this unanswered question long enough. The sooner they formed a plan, the sooner they could move forward—either platonically or… not. He exhaled a breath when he realized he was holding it as he awaited her answer.
“I’d given up hope of becoming a mother.”
Ridiculous. “But you’re barely twenty.”
Her eyes shifted as she stared everywhere but at him. “I’m almost three and twenty, but I’d not given up because of my age—rather due to my failure to attract a husband. I told you about my dismal attempts at flirting. No one has ever wanted me. Not for myself, anyhow.”
“That is untrue.”
She finally met his gaze with hers. “It’s not. I told you. I’d never been kissed until this afternoon and that’s only because you felt you had to.” Her expression overflowed with all kinds of remorse. “You only did it to address my anxiety.”
Chase reached across the table, taking her nearest hand in his, and wasn’t surprised to feel her fingers tapping along his palm. He squeezed them until they stilled.
“Ilikedkissing you, Beth.” Surprisingly, he had. Far more than he’d expected to.
And so he leaned forward to illustrate his point.
This time, she tasted of dessert, of berries and butter and cream.
