She blinked and looked away from him. “How do I know you aren’t just saying that to get me to marry you?”
“Why should I want to marry you, if not love? You are not an heiress and even if you were, I don’t need the money. You are not from an important family. And I don’t need those connections either. There is only one thing you have to offer me . . . love. And that is all I want from you.”
Her lips trembled. “I do love you, Braden.”
“I know you do. And I understand why you’re hesitant.” He smiled up at her. “Marry me anyway, Tia,” he whispered. “Be my viscountess, the mother of my children, my lover.”
“How do I know you won’t have a mistress like Emily’s husband?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. “I am done with other women, Tia. I have had my share and several other men’s shares as well. Those encounters meant nothing to me. I want you. Only you.”
He watched the conflicting emotions on her face. He wanted to soothe her worry, but only time would prove to her that he was speaking the truth.
Finally, she whispered, “I will marry you.”
He sat up and kissed her softly. “I promise to make you happy.” He broke away as his head started to pound. He put a hand to his temple as if that would make the pain stop.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be. It’s just a headache. Why don’t you rest with me for a while?”
She smiled down at him. “Only if you promise it will be rest.”
“Agreed.”
She slipped under the covers with him and rested her head on his shoulder. Just having her this close was wreaking havoc with his body. He no longer wanted to rest. Other than a headache, he felt fine. And she felt far too good up against his body.
“What happened when you were young?” she asked softly.
So much for what he had in mind. “What do you mean?” he asked, hoping he would be able to change the topic of conversation.
“After your father died. How did you survive?”
Braden clos
ed his eyes against the memories. If not for meeting Hart, there was no telling how his life might have ended. If she were to be his wife, she should know the truth, no matter how ugly. “After my father died, I had to find work or we would have been evicted. My mother took in sewing, but that didn’t bring in enough. Unfortunately, the only kind of work I could find was far from legal.”
“Why didn’t your mother contact the viscount?” she asked.
“She was too proud. No one in my father’s family was happy to see him marry my mother. She was a woman of no means and not much family. She was the daughter of a baker.”
“He must have loved her very much if he chose to marry her.”
“No,” he said harshly. “He didn’t love her at all. She was with child.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “How sad.”
“My father’s family was certain she was attempting to wring an offer out of him. Most didn’t believe she was having his child.”
Tia pushed against him to look down at him. “Well, that is hardly fair.”
“Was it? Look at me, Tia. Do I look like Jonathon? Do I look like any of the previous viscounts?”
She glanced away. “Your coloring could have come from some ancient relative,” she said softly.
“Or it came from my real father.”
“Did she ever speak of it?”