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“Very well.” He squeezed her fingers. Not knowing how to gently ease into the subject, he blurted out, “I wanted to talk to you about children.”

She whipped her head up, her eyes rounded, her mouth slightly open, shock evident on her features. “You did?”

“Yes.” He stifled a grimace. “You see… I don’t want them.”

“You don’t want children?” she asked on a breath.

“Yes. With the trajectory our relationship is taking, I can see a lot of nights and perhaps even days spent in your arms, and I just needed to tell you that those days and nights… they won’t lead to a child. I want to be as honest with you as I can. And I know that I should have told you earlier, but I couldn't have anticipated coming to care about you and your wishes.”

She tugged her hands out of his hold and took a step back, shaking her head. “This can’t be. You are a duke. You need an heir.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t want an heir. I want my father’s line to end with me and let my cousins or whoever else take over.”

She stood speechless for a long moment before asking. “What does it mean for us? Will you never come to my bed again?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “As you know from last night, there are other ways we can enjoy each other.” When she didn’t smile or even react to his answer, he continued, “We can be a real husband and wife. There are ways to prevent offspring. I’ve had numerous lovers and am yet to sire a bastard.” He chuckled, but she didn’t seem to appreciate his poor attempt to lighten the mood. “I am sorry. That was in bad taste. Are you… Will you be content without having children?” he finally asked, now interpreting her silence in a different way. Of course, she wanted a large family; she loved her numerous siblings. Would she resent him for trapping her in a childless marriage?

She licked her lips and looked straight into his eyes. “I am already with child.”

His mind blank, Tyrone let out a chuckle of disbelief. “What we did last night, it wouldn’t result in a child. And even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to tell so quickly.”

She shook her head and held his gaze. “Not yours.”

His blood might as well have turned to ice inside his veins, so cold he felt. Frozen.

All the warmth and color sucked out of the room, he stood surrounded by the dreary silence. All he could hear was the ticking of the clock.

His mind refused to process the words, but in his heart, he already knew. She was the one who’d tricked him. She was the one who’d trapped him in this marriage for her own purposes. She was already with child when she came to beg him to marry her.

And then she’d tried to seduce him so she could pass her child as his own. Only now, knowing that her plan had failed, had she blurted out the truth.

All the thoughts still whirling around in his mind, wreaking havoc, he stalked toward the door. He needed to leave, clear his mind.

“Alec, please, don’t go!” she called behind him.

His name on his lips still made her shiver. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and said without turning to her, “It’s Tyrone.” Then he opened the door and walked away.

Chapter Nineteen

Tyrone stalked back and forth inside the walls of his bedchamber. The entire day he had tried his darndest to ignore his wife and his thoughts about her. He had pointed his mind in the direction of his work, then he had gone out on a late-night ride, but nothing had worked.

It was as if he was split in two pieces. One piece of him was angry at his duchess for her lie, admonishing himself for even daring to trust her because he’d known that women were trouble.

Another piece of him, however, screamed at him to go to his wife, to lose himself in her embrace. Now that he knew that she was already with child, they didn’t have to restrain their passion.

But then he imagined her in the arms of another man, moaning beneath him, calling him to hold her tighter, kiss her harder—

Tyrone thrust his fingers into his hair and bit his lip to muffle the sounds of his agonized growl.

He wasn’t being fair to her. He wasn’t a virgin either. He had had numerous lovers. What did it matter if she had, too?

Because she’d lied to him about it. She came to him to beg him to marry her, omitting a huge detail that would have changed everything.

She’d brought a cuckoo into his nest and expected to get away with it. If he hadn’t told her about his conviction to not have a child, she might have never confessed at all. She would have led him to believe that the babe was his.

Legally, he could not do anything about it even if he tried. The child would be deemed his and he would have to accept it. Raise it. Be its father.

A painful knot originated in his stomach, his breathing accelerating.