Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

“And if you live?” She pressed closer again and she felt his pulse speed up under her fingers against his wrist.

“What do you mean?” He slid his gaze to the far wall.

“Will I still be able to open several orphanages? It’s important to me to help people in my own right.”

“As many as you want.”

He nearly had her. He could feel it. He could always sense when he was close to closing a deal.

She pressed her lips together, a crease forming between her eyes. “And what is it you want from our union?”

His heart skipped a beat.

What did he want?

Her.

Always her.

But he didn’t want to frighten her. “Besides continued retribution against my father for making me feel so worthless?”

She gave him a soft smile. “You don’t need me to start orphanages.”

He closed his eyes. Didn’t he? “I don’t have your hands, sweetheart. They’ve got the touch.”

She leaned down then, her lips trailing along his forehead, his cheek, along his jaw. “Is that it? That’s all you want?”

How did he explain that for once in his life, he wanted someone at his side who held him with tenderness? Who’d soothe and support him? “I’d like a baby someday.” Where had that come from? “One that I love and support and give all the things in life I never had.”

“Oh,” the single word floated from her lips on a sigh.

And that was when he knew. He’d found the one thing she may very well want more than a parcel of orphans. A baby of her very own.

He should have known.

The way she touched him and held Natty, the way she cared for the other children who lived with her. It was a mother’s love. She was a natural.

And he’d meant the words. He wanted that too. He just hadn’t realized until he’d actually spoken them. “Do you want that too?

Her voice was so soft, he might have missed it. “Yes.”

“Then marry me, Clarissa. I’ll give you everything you want in this world. One way or the other.” Which was true. Even if he died, some other man would step into his place. She’d be wealthy, a countess.

But that made him ache. To think of another man holding her close.

Because he loved her. Had for a long time.

“You would be happy with me as your wife? You’re not worried that I bring bad luck?”

“Not even a little.” Letting go of her hand, he gingerly pushed himself further up in the bed. “Clarissa, will you be my wife?

She gave a tentative nod. “Yes.”

Victory sang in his blood. He’d closed another deal. And this one brought him more riches than any before it. It brought her.

Now he just had to convince her to love him as much as he did her.

Either that, or he’d have to keep getting wounded. Because the gentle stroke of her fingers was his life’s blood.