What do you want most in life, Miss Willow?"
"For my mother to be well."
"Imagine you had that." His fingers rested on the nape of her neck. "What do you want for yourself?"
"Peace on earth?"
"Come, Miss Willow. I want a serious answer from you. Better yet, a selfish one." Though she stood inches from him, she seemed not to notice their proximity. As a grown man, he could control his base urges. He'd done so for years. He would do better by her than his father and brothers. Slowly, he lifted his fingers from the back of her neck. His palm took their place.
Head tilted, she considered him. "You'll laugh."
"Try me."
"A family. Children."
"What? Not thousands of pounds at your disposal? A mansion? Jewels to dazzle you? Servants at your beck and call?"
She rested the side of her head against the doorway and looked at him from beneath her thick red lashes. "I always thought I'd be married one day with half a dozen children at my knees." Her eyes danced again, and for a moment, the space of a breath, he was caught like a fly in a web. "I was right about the children at least, though I was sure they'd be mine."
"Are you sorry?" What soft skin she had, such a tender nape.
"That I'm not a wife and mother?"
"Mm." He imagined her with a husband, with children. His children. He saw her gravid by his doing, and him cradling an infant in his arms, the one he'd made in her. He could give her what she wanted, and, of course, he could imagine the act of making her so.
— Carolyn Jewel
#olivia #sebastian #the-spare #family
