Page 55 of Mail-Order Viscountess

She turned at his voice. The way the soft afternoon light framed her figure made his mouth go dry. She was stunning.

His wife was stunning.

A few rich blonde strands had escaped her chignon to curl against her neck. The sight made his fingers itch to touch, to trace the line of her throat, to⁠—

He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus. “I didn’t expect you to move your things so quickly.”

“It seemed the logical step.” Her voice carried that practical edge, the one she used when she was nervous but refused to show it. “We’re married after all.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch sounded too loud in the quiet room. “I wanted to talk to you about...arrangements.”

Something flickered across her face—too quick to read. She folded her hands in front of her. Braced. Ready.

It made his chest ache.

“Kate.” He moved closer, stopping when three strides still separated them. “We don’t have to—that is, I don’t expect—” He blew out a breath. Usually words came easily. Usually he could charm his way through any awkward situation.

But this mattered too much.

Her chin lifted. “I’m aware of my duties as a wife, Thomas. You don’t need to⁠—”

“That’s not what I mean.” He held up a hand. “Kate, I’m not going to push myself on you. I won’t even ask you to share my bed until we’ve had time to know each other better.”

Her brows drew together. “But we’re married.”

“We are.” He took another step closer, searching her face for any sign she understood. “And I plan on being married to you for the rest of my life. That’s a long time. You deserve the chance to get to know me before we...” He nodded toward the bed and did his best to fight down the heat climbing up his neck. “Before we do anything more.”

Confusion flashed through her eyes. And was that…hurt? Her hands smoothed down the front of her dress. A nervous gesture, no doubt. He was making a muddle of this.

“I committed to this marriage.” That determined edge returned to her voice. “I’ll fulfill my obligations.”

Obligations. The word twisted a knot in his gut.

“Kate, I’m not asking you to fulfill obligations. I’m asking you to let this develop naturally. Without pressure. Without feeling like you owe me something just because we spoke vows.”

Her jaw tightened, and the elegant lines of her neck flexed. “You’re saying you don’t want—” She stopped as her cheeks turned pink. “You don’t want me in your bed.”

“That’s not—” He dragged a hand through his hair. Surely she didn’t actually think that. “Kate, of course I want you. That’s not what I mean.”

Her jaw tightened. “Then what else do you want?”

The question hung between them, raw and honest in a way that stripped away every easy answer he might have given.

What did he want?

He wanted her to look at him the way she had in the cave—like he was someone worth trusting.

He wanted to earn the right to touch her, to hold her, to make her his in truth.

He wanted her to choose him, not because circumstances forced her hand, but because she wanted to.

He swallowed. Could he say all that? Would it overwhelm her? Instead of taking the pressure off, would it simply add more?

He focused on the easiest part of it. “I want you willing, not dutiful. I want you to come to me because you choose to, not because you think it’s expected.”

She stared at him, her hazel eyes searching his face with an intensity that saw everything. “I don’t understand you.” Or maybe not everything.

He almost smiled, though his pulse hammered against his ribs. “That’s exactly my point. We barely know each other. You don’t understand me, and I certainly don’t understand you yet. But I’d like to. I’d like us to have the chance to build something real before we...”