Page 10 of The Betrothal

“So, five is a good start.”

“You’re kidding?”

His face became a mask, impassive and cold.

“I’m not having five kids, Teddy, the requirement is two. I can have two children soon, you can still be a young dad, and I can raise them while we still have lots of energy. Then we can focus on our future.”

“Oh? And what future did you have in mind?” His tone had cooled, his hands firmly gripping me, but they had stilled in their exploration.

“I support you, naturally, and raise the children.”

He nodded.

“And I want to work, Teddy. I have my education, I can work in education myself, it’s what I always said I wanted, to work.”

Not technically a lie, I reassured myself, but also not entirely true. My education had served the purpose of learning the system, understanding the opportunities that existed within it, or now lack thereof.

“Absolutely not.” He shut me down. “You won’t be working.”

“I won’t be working?” The question came out tentative, confused.

“Isabelle.” He bristled. “I have waited fifteen years for you. We will wed, I will enjoy you.” He emphasised his words by squeezing my body. “And we will have children. Several children, over several years. I will not lose this body, my wife, to pregnancy for back-to-back years. Although I am sure you being pregnant will add another facet to the appeal.”

“My appeal.” I was a parrot.

“Correct. I have no intention of impregnating you for at least a year. That will allow us a decent honeymoon period.”

I was horrified, and he misunderstood why.

“Don’t worry, Iz. I’ll sort the doctors, help them to understand, you want my babies, but first I want your body.”

My stomach turned. I was going to throw up on him.

The pretty lies I told myself about my best-case future were being torn away, and it was agonising.

I stumbled back, yanking free of his grasp.

Teddy’s eyes immediately darkened, and it was no longer desire looking out at me.

“Isabelle.” He reached out, gripping my arm, his fingers digging in painfully as he pulled me back into his hold. “Are we going to have an issue here?”

I swallowed. Danger rippled from him, his demeanour completely shut down.

I shook my head. “No, of course. Sorry, Teddy.”

I forced my body to relax in his hold, allowing him to wrap me in his arms. He kissed me gently, his mouth now completely contrasting to the way he gripped my arms seconds before.

My mind spun, and in lieu of any decent argument, I threaded my hands around his neck, softly withdrawing from him.

Steeling myself, praying my voice held docility, appeasing him. “I think we need to get back.”

He groaned.

“But I wanted more of you.”

His hands began to rove back over my body, finding the slit in the length of the skirt of my dress and snaking inside. I held myself still as his fingers traced along my thigh, curving upwards to toy with the edge of my lace underwear.

“Next week?” I placated, the words ash on my tongue.