wasn't feeling my best."
He went to one knee before her in a quick, fluid motion. "Miss Trent, will you be my wife?" he said quickly.
She sighed. "It's a good thing I'm ruined, for that was truly a stinker. You couldn't tempt a cat from a brook with a proposal like that."
He was beginning to look impatient. "Oh, very well," she said. "I accept."
He returned to his seat, obviously thinking she was being unnecessarily tongue-in-cheek. Willa sighed. Oh well. A proposal was just a question, after all. One that he already knew the answer to at that.
She put on a cheerful manner. "So there are banns to be read and properties to apportion. When do we start?"
"We won't. When we arrive in London, I shall solicit a special license from a bishop of the church, and we can then be married immediately."
She tilted her head at him. "Men are always complicating matters. Why didn't you simply say that?"
He seemed taken aback. "I just did."
"Very well. Let me see if I have all this." She ticked off on her fingers, "You are Lord Reardon. We are not wed. You asked. I said yes. We will be wed by special license as soon as you speak to the Bishop. I must say, you have eased my mind. All of this explains why you did not want to cop—make love."
"Ah, W—"
"I suppose I am relieved. As interested as I am in natural processes, I think perhaps a bit more time to understand each other will do us both good, don't you?"
"Will—"
"There is the little matter of the jinx, however. You've managed to avoid any serious damage so far, if one does not count the knot on your temple—and I am eager to get started on little Lord Reardon—"
"Willa!"
"Yes, Nathaniel?"
"I have more to say."
"Oh dear. Do pardon me." She folded her hands in her lap and waited politely.
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes turned on the ground between them. "There won't be any little Lord Reardons. I have an heir, my cousin Basil. He isn't much of an heir, but hopefully he will marry someday and provide us all with someone a bit more… conscientious."
"Nonsense. You won't need Basil when I'm through with you." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded."
Nathaniel didn't smile. His eyes, when he turned his gaze up to her, were sad beyond measure. "We won't be having any children, Willa, because I am never, ever, going to make love to you."
Nathaniel's vow went directly through Willa's heart like an arrow. Abruptly she held up her palm to stop his words. "Wait. Simply—simply wait."
Nathaniel nodded. He sat, his hands clasped loosely, dangling between his knees, watching her.
Willa half-turned away from him and stared into the gray sky. The clouds had gathered all through the morning. There would be rain tonight, unlike the night when she had felled a strange man, then spent the night by his side.
How stupid she was. What a stupid silly idiot. As wrapped up as she had been in her worry over
her
future, it had never once occurred to her to wonder about his plans for his own.
Add selfish to the list. Selfish and very, very stupid.
"And vain. Definitely vain."
Nathaniel frowned. "What?"
Willa gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I've had many suitors who wanted me badly enough to brave certain injury to court me. Men have been trying to marry me for years. It never crossed my mind that you weren't entirely thrilled with the match."
He reached for her hands, capturing them within his large warm ones. "No, Willa, it isn't because of you. I cannot—I will not—ever wish to have a son to carry on my name. No, no daughters, either," he said firmly, apparently sensing the thought that was even then crossing her mind.
"But why?"
Nathaniel knew he couldn't put if off any longer. She wanted to know. She had an inquisitive mind and a driving will. She was going to learn it one way or another. For the first time, it occurred to Nathaniel that he hadn't been able to say the words "I'm a traitor" because he had as yet avoided
He went to one knee before her in a quick, fluid motion. "Miss Trent, will you be my wife?" he said quickly.
She sighed. "It's a good thing I'm ruined, for that was truly a stinker. You couldn't tempt a cat from a brook with a proposal like that."
He was beginning to look impatient. "Oh, very well," she said. "I accept."
He returned to his seat, obviously thinking she was being unnecessarily tongue-in-cheek. Willa sighed. Oh well. A proposal was just a question, after all. One that he already knew the answer to at that.
She put on a cheerful manner. "So there are banns to be read and properties to apportion. When do we start?"
"We won't. When we arrive in London, I shall solicit a special license from a bishop of the church, and we can then be married immediately."
She tilted her head at him. "Men are always complicating matters. Why didn't you simply say that?"
He seemed taken aback. "I just did."
"Very well. Let me see if I have all this." She ticked off on her fingers, "You are Lord Reardon. We are not wed. You asked. I said yes. We will be wed by special license as soon as you speak to the Bishop. I must say, you have eased my mind. All of this explains why you did not want to cop—make love."
"Ah, W—"
"I suppose I am relieved. As interested as I am in natural processes, I think perhaps a bit more time to understand each other will do us both good, don't you?"
"Will—"
"There is the little matter of the jinx, however. You've managed to avoid any serious damage so far, if one does not count the knot on your temple—and I am eager to get started on little Lord Reardon—"
"Willa!"
"Yes, Nathaniel?"
"I have more to say."
"Oh dear. Do pardon me." She folded her hands in her lap and waited politely.
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes turned on the ground between them. "There won't be any little Lord Reardons. I have an heir, my cousin Basil. He isn't much of an heir, but hopefully he will marry someday and provide us all with someone a bit more… conscientious."
"Nonsense. You won't need Basil when I'm through with you." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded."
Nathaniel didn't smile. His eyes, when he turned his gaze up to her, were sad beyond measure. "We won't be having any children, Willa, because I am never, ever, going to make love to you."
Nathaniel's vow went directly through Willa's heart like an arrow. Abruptly she held up her palm to stop his words. "Wait. Simply—simply wait."
Nathaniel nodded. He sat, his hands clasped loosely, dangling between his knees, watching her.
Willa half-turned away from him and stared into the gray sky. The clouds had gathered all through the morning. There would be rain tonight, unlike the night when she had felled a strange man, then spent the night by his side.
How stupid she was. What a stupid silly idiot. As wrapped up as she had been in her worry over
her
future, it had never once occurred to her to wonder about his plans for his own.
Add selfish to the list. Selfish and very, very stupid.
"And vain. Definitely vain."
Nathaniel frowned. "What?"
Willa gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I've had many suitors who wanted me badly enough to brave certain injury to court me. Men have been trying to marry me for years. It never crossed my mind that you weren't entirely thrilled with the match."
He reached for her hands, capturing them within his large warm ones. "No, Willa, it isn't because of you. I cannot—I will not—ever wish to have a son to carry on my name. No, no daughters, either," he said firmly, apparently sensing the thought that was even then crossing her mind.
"But why?"
Nathaniel knew he couldn't put if off any longer. She wanted to know. She had an inquisitive mind and a driving will. She was going to learn it one way or another. For the first time, it occurred to Nathaniel that he hadn't been able to say the words "I'm a traitor" because he had as yet avoided
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