Page 45 of Let Me Be Your Hero
Izzie gave him a watery smile. “You would be willing to do that for me?”
He glanced at her, incredulous. “Of course. If it means having you as my wife…” He cleared his throat, looking away. “Besides, I can see your point. I would be devastated if someone told me I had to give up my engineering work just because I was married. It’s easy to understand why you would feel the same way.”
She threw her arms around his neck. Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. She was so, so lucky to be marrying this man, who thought her dreams were important, too.
“Is the wedding back on, then?” Archibald asked.
“It is.” Izzie drew back so she could give him a watery smile. “Thank youso much. It didn’t even occur to me to ask if you would be willing to do that for me.” She paused as something occurred to her. “Assuming we succeed, there will likely be gossip.”
Archibald, whose body had sagged as soon as she confirmed they were getting married, after all, opened his eyes, unconcerned. “Gossip?”
“About us,” she clarified. “If we marry, and I don’t fall pregnant in the first few years, people will probably say nasty things about us. That one or both of us are lacking in, er…fecundity.”
Izzie wasn’t sure what response she had expected to this line of thought, but it wasn’t laughter. “Izzie,” he said, shaking his head, “do you haveany ideawhat people say about me right now?”
She frowned. “What do they say?”
“They call me a blacksmith.”
She drew herself up. “What’s wrong with being a blacksmith?”
He gave her a strange look. “It’s not a very elegant profession.”
Suddenly, she felt irate on his behalf. “But you build cannons! How do they imagine our glorious navy would fare against the French without cannons?” She huffed. “I should like to see any of those pompous fools do something a tenth as useful.”
She noticed Archibald smiling as he rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just—you’re very different from anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I should hope so. I would never do something so boring and trite as being like everyone else.”
He chuckled. “Of course you wouldn’t. Please, don’t change. I like you just as you are.”
This statement caused Izzie’s heart to trip in her chest. Because she’d scarcely dared to dream she would find a man who liked her just the way she was. Men generally considered her to be shrewish, strident, and far too prone to stating her own opinions.
But not Archibald. She knew it was a foolish notion, considering they had spoken to each other for the first time just four days ago, but Archibald really did seem perfect for her…
“Come,” he said, squeezing her hand, “let’s go and get some breakfast.”
“Wait!” she cried, pulling him back down on the chaise. “Regarding those precautionary measures you mentioned earlier.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “Yes?”
“I know of one,” she said quickly. “One of our maids told me how to count the days.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to addbetween my courses, but comprehension flared in Archibald’seyes. “So, we could use that, too.” She cleared her throat. “It happens that the next few days should be safe. So, we shouldn’t have to use the… the sheath.”
“Thank God for that,” he muttered. At her quizzical look, he added, “I don’t have any sheaths lying around, and I doubt I’ll have time to go out and get one, considering the wedding’s at ten.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m going to regret saying this. But on those days when the chances of conception are high, if you would prefer to sleep apart, I mean… You’re always welcome to sleep wherever you want. I would never force myself on you, Izzie.”
Her heart melted all over again. “I appreciate that. But I don’t think it will be necessary to sleep apart.” She dropped her voice down to a whisper. “I have a plan, you see—on those days when I’m likely to conceive, we can perform unnatural acts upon each other.”
His face froze in shock. “Unnatural… Dear God, how do you evenknowabout unnatural acts?”
“My brother, Harrington, has this book he keeps hidden beneath his mattress—”
He held up a hand. “Say no more.”
“Don’t you want to know what kind of book it is?”
