He looked up at her then. “They are dark and rather…” He paused. “A lot of men doing a lot of drinking and a fair bit of fighting because money and liquor are involved.”
“Sounds lovely.” She stepped up to the tray of tea. “Would you like a cup?”
He turned to her then, his eyes drinking her in. ?
??It is a necessity to make sure that Anne is provided for.” Then he hesitated. “And my future heir, of course. He must inherit a sustainable earldom.” Why did he grimace when he mentioned another child?
She held her breath. “You’ve considered my offer.”
He took the cup of tea she offered, his fingers brushing hers. “I have.”
She picked up her own cup and brought it to her lips, trying to hide the tremble. As an earl he had lots of options as to who he took for a bride, but for her, this might be her last chance to marry. Taking a sip, she then clamped her teeth together to keep from commenting.
“I lost my first wife during the birthing of my second child.” He turned to the window again. “He was a boy, but he didn’t survive either.”
So he’d suffered two losses, not one. And a life so small and fragile. No wonder he was so hesitant. “I’m sorry.”
He looked back at her. “My hesitation is not that you’re unsuitable in any way but you’re so small.” His gaze raked up and down her. “I worry that I’ll lose you too.”
The cup nearly slipped from her fingers as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t make you a false promise. Life is so uncertain, I can attest to that more than anyone. But even strong, healthy people die. It is part of life, I’m afraid.” But honestly, she wasn’t that worried. She didn’t wish to belittle his fears but she’d always been healthy, strong. And the women in her family birthed children exceptionally well. “But of the things that I worry about, childbirth isn’t one of them. A life without meaning, however, scares me to no end.”
He nodded, relaxing a bit. “I appreciate your perspective and I’m glad you’re not afraid. I’m a large man though, and I seem to create large babies and—” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
She set down the cup and placed a hand on his shoulder, her own heart aching. “I understand. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I thought you were going off to war.”
He looked up at her then. “You do understand. Which is why I’ve decided to marry if you you’ll accept my terms.”
She dropped her hand as her stomach started to churn with dread. “Terms?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’ve already agreed to help me raise Anne. I’ve every confidence you’ll make a good stepmother.”
That eased the ache a bit. “Of course.”
“But I only wish to have one more child.” He didn’t look at her, his expression shuddered and drawn tight.
Her brows drew together. “But what if it’s another girl?”
He shrugged. “We’ll figure that out if it comes to pass. But I won’t risk more.”
She shook her head. He wasn’t making sense. Bearing one child was as risky as having a second one and, as she’d already stated, the entire point was to have a boy. Besides, other women built like her had babies all the time. Surely, there was another reason for his wife’s devastating death. She didn’t broach the subject now. After all, he’d given her an opportunity to get married and start her own family, have her own life.
For now, this was the closest to a happily ever after she’d likely get. “I consent to the terms.” She’d figure out how to get him to move past his grief and false beliefs after they said their vows.
Sin nearly slumped forward in relief but held himself up. The truth of the matter was that he wanted Mary, desperately so. But of course, for her sake and for his, he couldn’t have her bear many children.
If he could avoid getting her pregnant all together, he would. But he felt compelled to give it one more try for the sake of the title and his duty. After that, he’d cease his physical relationship with her and focus on just being a good father and husband.
He ignored the cry of protest his body made. Impregnating her once was all the risk he could take. He shouldn’t even do that.
She tentatively slid her fingers into his. “If it makes you feel better, my mother bore two children and suffered no ill effects. I’m slightly taller than she was.”
He looked up at her, unable to hide his surprise. “You have a sibling?”
She shook her head. “Disease of the lung when he was just three.”
He made a soft sound that rumbled in his throat and echoed about the room. “You lost your entire family.” Without thought, he pulled her into his arms tucking her head under his chin. She melted into him her chest pressing to his rib cage, her softness so right against his muscles. “It’s all right,” he whispered, starting to stroke her back. “I understand.”
“We do understand each other, don’t we?” she said into his neck, her voice vibrating through him.