He opened his mouth.
“Pfft!” She glared at him and held up a minatory finger. “I’m not finished. I can’t give you an heir because”—she took another deep breath and forced out the painful words—“I’m barren. I was married eighteen years, and I never once quickened with child.”
“But—”
“And before you suggest that maybe my husband was theone at fault, his mistress, whom he kept exclusively before and all throughout our marriage—he even died in her bed—did bear him a son.” And Thaddeus had never let her hear the end of it. “So, you see, Iwasthe one lacking.”
She sat back, weaving her shaking fingers together. Foolish that she found it so upsetting to talk about—Thaddeus had rubbed her nose in it often enough over the last eighteen years, and Almeria, too—but still, admitting it left her trembling. But at least it was out now.
He sat for a moment in silence, just looking at her. “Finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good. To start with, I don’t need an heir—I have half a dozen cousins who would be delighted to step into my shoes.”
“But—”
“Pfft!” He held up a stern finger in imitation of her earlier gesture. “My turn. Second, I don’t want children from you, Alice, though if they happened, I would, of course, be delighted. So you see, your worries are groundless. What’s more—”
“Stop, just stop.” Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them away, shaking her head in repudiation of his words. “It’s very kind of you to say so—”
“ ‘Kind’?”
“But I can’t do it. Can’t marry you, can’t marry anyone. I couldn’t bear it. I’m not the—not the sort of woman made for marriage.”
He took out his handkerchief, moved beside her on the sofa and, cupping her chin, gently blotted her tears. “Alice, my dear, I don’t know what maggot you have in your mind about marriage, but if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you’re exactly the sort of woman made for marriage.”
“Ohhh... Don’t... I’m not...” She shook her head, rejecting his words, though they pierced her very soul.
“Yes, you are.” He tilted her chin and, very gently, pressed his lips to hers.
She stilled. Cupping her face between his big, warm hands, he feathered tiny kisses over her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, as if tasting her tears. She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe.
Her mind went blank. The warmth of his body soaked into her.
Brief, fleeting, tender touches. It was like nothing she’d ever known. Almost as if she were being... cherished.
She put a tentative hand to his face, feeling the faint prickle of bristles under the firm, smoothly shaven skin, and breathed him in. The light fragrance of his cologne mingled with a darker, more masculine scent. It was addictive.
Still feathering her with kisses, he stroked along her jawline with one hand and slipped his fingers into her hair, loosening her pins and letting her hair fall out of its careful knot. One long, strong finger stroked the tender skin of her nape. Faint shivers ran down her spine, warm and enticing.
His mouth closed over hers, and she recoiled in surprise as his tongue ran along the seam of her lips, gently insistent. She pulled back, startled.
Gray eyes, dark with some unknowable emotion, met hers. “Alice?” he murmured. He leaned forward again to capture her mouth, and again she pulled away.
“I’m not... Oh, stop it.” She pushed feebly at his hands and said in a choked voice, “Don’t you see? I can’t.”
He released her at once. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” His voice was low, understanding.
“Can’t be married. Ever. Not ever.” She crushed his handkerchief in her hands and fought to regain her composure. She’d allowed him to kiss her. It was a mistake. Giving him the wrong idea.
“Not even to me?” As an attempt at lightness, it fell sadly flat.
Despairing, she shook her head. “It would only make us both miserable in the end.” Sooner than later.
“I don’t see why.”
“Perhaps you don’t, butIknow. I cannot be a wife to you, or any man.” Her voice cracked, and a few more tears trickled down her cheeks. She scrubbed at them with his handkerchief. “Marriage, for me, was... was... unbearable. So please, let us drop the subject.”
