He would be your heir. I…I cannot do that…I…” She glanced away and closed her eyes. Phoebe desperately wanted to be selfish and shout yes! repeatedly. But did he understand to what he was committing? “What if my child is a boy?”
From the early age of fourteen, her mother had started to impress upon her that she must marry well and then provide her lord with an heir and a spare expeditiously. It made no sense that he would overlook the possibility and the implication of her child being a boy.
A thumb and forefinger gently pinched her chin and lifted her face. His touch jolted Phoebe, and another fierce tremble went through her entire body. Everything he could say reflected in his eyes. They darkened with unfathomable emotions, and it was as if she could feel his promise wrapping itself around her like a tangible entity. It was quite disconcerting, his undivided attention and unwavering regard. Her chest hurt with the effort to remain unaffected.
Do you believe me? his piercing gaze seemed to ask. And she did. God help her, despite her vow to never rely on any promise from a man again, she believed the one before her. The notion felt frightening. She only needed the protection and power of his name. Never once had she dreamed of any affection, love, trust, or anything extraordinary. That was what most tonnish marriages were—a simple, civil, and tolerable union.
From his letters, she understood what he wanted from his wife. Yet here he was offering to protect and claim her child as his. His gaze was fierce and demanding, willing her to accept his promise, willing her to see and have total confidence in his honor.
“I believe you,” she whispered, then she stepped forward and hugged him fiercely.
Phoebe did not know why she did it, only knew she had to, even if now that she had acted on the impulse, it was mildly awkward. Despite her belly in between them, she still managed to wrap most of her hands high around his back and press her face into his chest.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He did not return her embrace; Phoebe gathered she had startled him too much. Finding herself flustered, she lowered her arms and stepped back. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I will never forget your kindness.” And I shall repay you however I can.
An indefinable emotion flashed in his eyes, and Phoebe admitted fainting was a possibility when his head lowered. His mouth hovered a mere breath from hers, and something elusive whispered through her heart. Do not be a fool, Phoebe. This…whatever this was had nothing to do with the heart. It was a simple bargain of convenience, and she would eventually understand how he would use her as surely as she was using him. She dearly hoped he wanted a great deal, for Phoebe could not imagine how she could ever repay his kindness.
All thoughts scattered when he kissed the corner of her mouth. It was such a soft caress, yet her lashes fluttered closed, and she savored the touch of his lips to her skin. Everything about him comforted Phoebe at this moment…his soft kiss, his scent, and the gentle yet commanding way he clasped her chin had her heart shuddering in her chest. Another press of his lips went perilously close to her mouth. Then he placed his mouth perfectly atop hers.
Oh! The softest of whimpers escaped her, and he swallowed the small noise. His mouth moved on hers, so slowly, so gently. Her belly went hot with a frightful surge of hunger, confusing her.
“I don’t…don’t understand…it is just a kiss,” she mumbled against his mouth. She’d been kissed several times before and had felt nothing akin to this desperate ache, the wonderful and unexpected heat blooming through her body.
His fingers released her chin, his thumb brushed against her cheek in a feather-light caress, and it was then she realized he traced the path of a tear. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and her breath hitched at the weakness that assailed her. Then, to her relief, he stepped away, giving her the chance to reassert her walls that had alarmingly crumbled too soon and too effortlessly. He sketched a sharp bow, spun around, and walked away, only to falter in the center of the room.
Phoebe pressed a hand to her chest as if that would have stopped the furious pounding of her heart. She waited, though she was not at all certain for what. Suddenly her