Lily Dalton - Never Desire a Duke

She sighed again. Oh, the folly of words and falling into traps laid by one’s self. Their marriage. She had thought all day on the subject in the back of her mind, while they were visiting with the Kettles, and shopping, and baking, and sledding. Oh, and while they were kissing too.

He tilted his head aside and peered at her. “I apologize if I have pressured you too greatly to accept me. I believed we were growing closer. Enjoying our time together. Clearly this afternoon I overstepped. I could sense your discomfiture when I touched you, and after all my silly talk about going over edges—”

“Claxton, I have come to a decision about our marriage.”

He blinked, then straightened, instantly serious and attentive. His expression conveyed a mixture of dread and hope. He was afraid, she realized. Afraid of what she might say. “A decision. Yes?”

“I will agree to withdraw my demand for a separation.”

“Sophia.” He leaned forward, his long legs bending between them, his larger boots planted on either side of her smaller ones, and grasped her hands in both of his. “You don’t know…I can’t explain what that means to me.” He exhaled sharply, as if suddenly unable to form words.

“You are happy with my decision?” she asked.

“Yes.” His eyes widened. “Yes. And you?”

“I am content.” She wouldn’t lie. Happy wasn’t a word she could use to describe her feelings on the matter. Since last night, she’d felt as if she were standing on the edge of a dangerous precipice—with the growing desire she felt for her husband threatening to drag her over to a place from which she could never return. She had to step back.

Making love to her husband wouldn’t be like before, when she’d given herself to him freely. It couldn’t be. Rules had to be put in place, so as to safeguard her heart. She wouldn’t be able to proceed with having a child otherwise.

“Only content?” He leaned closer and with his hand brought her face to his for a kiss.

She gave him her cheek before his lips could touch hers.

“But this should stop,” Sophia said.

He froze. “What should stop?”

“The kissing. The efforts to seduce me.”

“You’re my wife. I want to seduce you.” He reached out to touch a tendril of her hair. “More importantly, goose, you’re the only woman with whom I’ve ever sledded.”

“Don’t tease.”

“Who is teasing?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening to reveal a glimmer of temper. “I’m half out of my mind with wanting you. I want you in my bed. I want to make love to you.”

“Truly, Claxton, there is no need to say such things. I’ve agreed to remain in the marriage, and yes, to have a child, and we shall do what needs to be done—” She blushed and primly averted her gaze. “In a straightforward fashion. However many times it must be done, and hope for the best.”

He sank back against the cushion, his expression mulish. “How utterly romantic.”

“Don’t you see? That’s what I’m saying. While I had such a nice time this afternoon—” The memory of what had taken place in the kitchen between them even now made her cheeks go hot. “—and I’m glad we can enjoy each other’s company, I don’t require romance or wooing, or even kissing.” It was that degree of intimacy that terrified her. That took away her ability to reason. “A parody of falling in love, just because we happen to be married. Indeed, I don’t want it.”

“That’s what you think this is between us?” He pointed to the narrow space between them. “Even before we lost the baby, a parody?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about before.” She’d lost a baby before, and she’d lost Claxton. She couldn’t exist in a constant state of fear that she’d lose them all over again. She needed distance. Security. That was the only way she could have peace. “Let’s leave all that ugliness behind. I’m talking about now. And please don’t misconstrue my words. They aren’t intended to in any way offend.”

“You just want the baby, don’t you?” he said, his voice thick with anger.

“I’ve been very clear about wanting another baby.”

“But you don’t want me.”

Sophia’s mouth fell open. What did he want her to say? That she loved him? So that he could kiss her and make her body burn with desire…only to tell her he’d always feel fondly toward her?

She couldn’t expose herself that way. She didn’t want to hurt again. Never that deeply.

No, she couldn’t bear it.

At last, she answered, “I don’t want to confine you.”

“Or yourself, I don’t think,” Claxton muttered.

Sophia exclaimed, cheeks hot, “Don’t be cruel.”

“It is you who is being cruel,” he retorted, standing from the chair with such force the wooden legs rocked off the carpet. He strode away—then returned, making a circle around the space where she sat. He rubbed a hand over the lower half of his face for a brief moment, concealing his scowl. “Denying what happened between us today. Yesterday. And then asking me to conceive a child without passion. God, I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

“It must be possible.” She kept her tone light and her expression placid, though inside her heart pounded like a drum. “People in our situation, of our station, do it all the time.”

“So really what you’re proposing is an informal separation. Isn’t that it, Sophia? Once we have a child, we’ll go our separate ways, even if it’s just to opposite ends of the house? Without any true obligations to one other. Only to the child?”

“You make it sound so cold when really I’ve agreed to everything you want.”

His eyes widened, and he answered with a derisive curl of his upper lip. “You’re correct, I think. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done with this unpleasant business of procreating.” He bowed, his dark head low, and with a courtly bend of his arm, said, “Your Grace, I would request your company in my bed tonight for the purpose of attempting to conceive my required heir.”

“Now you’re being hurtful. You can’t be serious.”

Only moments ago, she shared her intention to remain in their marriage. Now, at the first sign of difficulty, he was already striking out to hurt her and pushing her away.

“I apologize.” He stood, his dramatic air falling away. “I don’t have a secretary presently in residence, or I’d submit my proposal for your approval in writing—” His voice rose to a thunderous volume. “And have it delivered by official courier under the duchy’s wax seal.”

“Have some respect for my concerns,” Sophia cried. “I’ve agreed to remain in our marriage, but that does not mean I’m prepared to jump straight into your bed.”

“Ah, it would be your bed, as I don’t have one.” The dark slash of his brow arched upward. He took several steps toward her, leering. “Though the settee certainly has its allure.”

Sophia answered quickly, contriving to look composed. “No, actually, I made up a bed for you this morning in the room where I found your boyhood things. You can sleep there tonight. Very nice linens and several blankets and even a bed warmer. I know you’ll be comfortable,” she babbled, attempting a return to normal conversation. To ease the intensity she saw in his eyes. “Doesn’t that sound comfortable?”

He stared at her, his body tense, his eyes hard.

“Don’t shut me out,” he said, his expression suddenly desolate. “Sophia, I don’t understand why you are doing this. What are you afraid of?”

“And I don’t understand why you’re so unhappy,” she said. “You’ve won. Why don’t you see that? There will be no separation, and we’ll have a child. I just need a bit more time to grow accustomed to the idea.”

“The idea of what?”

“The idea of you.”

“You’ve had seventeen months,” he said quietly.

“No, Claxton, I’ve had three days.”

It’s that damn list, isn’t it?” Claxton hissed through gritted teeth. “I told you once I wrote out the names, you would despise me.”

“I don’t despise you,” she said. “I don’t even dislike you.”

“Once a rake, always a rake. That’s it, isn’t it?” With a jerk of his head, Claxton’s chin rose a notch higher. “I’m soiled goods. Ruined. Too dirty from past exploits to share your snowy-white bed—”

“Claxton.” Her eyes widened, the acidity of his words like a blow.

Suddenly, he was there beside her.

“Don’t pretend to be shocked when it is exactly how you feel,” he said roughly, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. “What is it that you want? A promise that I’ll always be faithful?” He tilted his face in mock affection and brushed his fingertips along her cheek.

“Don’t be cruel,” she warned, the intensity of his ridicule stealing her breath.

“Then I’ll say the words. Lots of men do.” He pulled her close, hands gripping her hips. He ground himself against her, making her unavoidably aware of his manhood, which he wielded like a weapon between them. “One look and I knew, Sophia Bevington, you were the only woman for me. I’ll never leave you, dearest. I’ll never so much as think of another woman for as long as I live—”

“That’s not what I meant,” she cried. Cheeks flaming, she broke away, removing herself from the anger in his touch. A few more steps placed the settee between them. He was trying to provoke her, but she wouldn’t lose control of her emotions and strike back with the same bitterness—though he very much deserved a set down. She wanted a child just that much.

“Then tell me what you did mean,” he demanded.

“That I don’t expect you to change. We are who we are, Claxton, made up of hurts and memories and disappointments and desires. We can’t help what we’ve become, you and I. We can only own up to our faults and accordingly make smarter decisions and move forward.”