Marcus closed his eyes as he could hear his wife bathing on the other side of a privacy screen. After a lot of discussions back and forth, they had agreed to both have a bath in her room. She had gone first, and he sat at the small writing desk with some correspondence retrieved from his office, trying to focus on the words in front of him with little luck.

It was impossible not to imagine his wife's lithe body in the tub of water. Her hands running a cloth along her legs. Down her chest. He swallowed. This was not working.

Waiting outside the room might have been a better idea, but it was too late now. And at least this way, he felt more in control. Last night had terrified him. To see her pale shape in the bed, her breathing shallow. He was not willing to leave her side. At least not for now.

If there were no signs of anything happening in a few days, he might task an agent from the Rose Agency with her safety. Someone to keep watch over her when he had to be elsewhere. He trusted every single one of their agents. They had worked for the agency for years now and had been thoroughly investigated when they first joined.

Returning to the letters, he tried to read one but gave up after he'd read the same sentence four times without making sense of it. Standing, he stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his back after sleeping in the uncomfortable chair. Perhaps the floor was preferable. With enough blankets, it might even be comfortable. He groaned inwardly. That might be a stretch. But doable, at least.

"Marcus?" Rain's soft voice made him look over at the screen, and he nearly sat back down as he saw her standing next to it, wrapped in a towel. Her dark hair was pulled up in a loose bun at the top of her head, and her skin still damp from the bath.

If he could have, he would have walked over to her right then and dragged her to the bed. He wanted to worship her body. Explore every inch.

With his mouth dry, he replied, "Yes?"

"Can you please give me a nightgown? I forgot to put one out. My maid usually does."

He nodded, unable to speak. Following her instructions, he found a nightgown in a chest of drawers and brought it to her. The alluring scent of violets made him want to reach for her, but he forced himself to hand over the garment. With a quick thank you, she slipped back to their impromptu bath area.

"It is odd to think I will go to bed again so soon," Rain said from behind the screen. "I only woke up an hour ago. And yet, I am exhausted."

"It has been a harrowing day. Your body went through quite an ordeal. It is not strange that you are tired." Focusing on the discussion was much better than imagining her naked as she put on her nightgown. He was beginning to question the wisdom of staying in her room when he wanted her so desperately. But the alternative was unthinkable. He did not dare leave her. He would suffer the discomfort to ensure her safety.

"The bath is all yours." She came back into the room, the simple white nightgown billowing around her. It wasn't revealing or even particularly flattering, but the knowledge that she wore nothing underneath was doing nothing for his resolve.

"Thank you." He fled behind the screen.

It might have been the quickest bath he'd ever taken, but at least he got clean. Putting on a fresh pair of trousers and a clean shirt, he rejoined his wife just in time for the supper to be served. They sat down at her writing desk, her in the comfortable chair he'd used earlier, and him on the wooden one belonging to the desk. They ate in silence at first, until Rain finally looked at him with her cornflower-blue eyes.

"Are you truly planning to sleep here tonight?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Then you may as well sleep on the bed. It seems ridiculous for me to make you sleep on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed in the room. One big enough to accommodate us both."

He stared down at his meal. "No."

"Why not?" She frowned. "We can move to your room if you prefer. I believe your bed is slightly bigger."

"It is not about the size of the bed."

Frustrated with his non-answers, she huffed. "What then? Do I smell?"

He fought back a smile. If only. "No," he said. Finally meeting her eyes, he muttered, "I made you a promise to ensure that we do not consummate this marriage. I cannot promise I can uphold my end of the bargain if we are in the same bed."

"I promise I can keep my hands off you," she said pertly as she skewered a green bean.

"It is not your hands I am worried about."

Her eyes flew back to his. Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked several times. "I see." Returning to her food, her cheeks flushed, she was silent for a moment.

"Are you saying you do not believe I could resist you?"

"You are the one who said you could not," he reminded her.

She huffed again. "That was not exactly what I said, but I see your point."

"I will sleep on the floor." He hoped that would end the discussion because he was finding it much too easy to imagine exactly what could happen if they shared a bed.

"But for how long? It will not be good for your back. Just sleep in your own room. I will be fine."

"I am not risking it."

They fell into silence as they focused on their food. He nearly smiled as he heard her mutter something about being certain she could resist him. She probably could. Attraction didn't change the fact that she hated his guts. But why risk it? He certainly struggled to resist her despite the thought of her with his brother made his stomach churn. She was the bright light in his otherwise dreary existence. The sound of her laughter could brighten even the most sombre of his moods.

During his childhood and teenage years, his father had systematically removed anything colourful from his world. Anything that brought joy. While he had courted Rain two years ago, she had slowly added splashes of colour back, little by little. Painting his grey surroundings in the colours of the rainbow with every smile, every laugh, every touch.

His reasons for choosing her as his future wife had not been honourable and true, but what he had found in her was. He had begun to care for her. Deeply. And as hurt as he was by the knowledge that she had only married him for his title, his feelings had not dimmed. He wanted her as much now as the day he first asked her to be his wife. Possibly more.

He stared into the plate of food. It was the first time he'd put his feelings about Rain into words, and he rather wished he hadn't. To feel that way about someone who had only married you for your title was rather pathetic, was it not?

"Why are you scowling at that poor potato?" she asked, startling him.

"I beg your pardon," he murmured, and pushing the plate away, he stood. He wanted a moment to himself. To hide in his office like he usually did when the world was more than he could handle, but he could not leave her. What if whoever had poisoned her returned?

She watched him as he walked across the room to sit down at the edge of her bed, a fine line between her dark brows. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No."

"Marcus?"

"It is nothing." Standing back up, he walked over to the lever on the wall and rang for a servant. He may not wish to leave her, but he could have them bring him a bottle of brandy and a glass, at least. And he would send a note to one of their agents to meet him here. He could not spend every waking moment with Rain, and he wanted someone with her at all times.

"You can sleep on the floor if that's what you are worried about."

"Thank you, but no, that was not what I was thinking of." He turned to look at her. "And it is not as if I want to sleep on the floor, Rain. I simply believe it is the most sensible option, all things considered."

Having finished her supper, she stood, and crossing the floor, she jabbed his chest with her index finger as her eyes flashed in anger. "I find it a little offensive to have you believe I cannot resist you, should you deign to touch me."

He raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. "Deign?" Did she not know how desperately he wanted to do a lot more than simply touch her?

"I may be passionate by nature, but you are not exactly irresistible."

"Quite," he said succinctly. "I do not believe anyone has ever used that descriptor when characterising me."

"If you want to sleep on the floor, do so. But do not pretend it is because I could not resist you." She jabbed his chest with her finger again.

Something sparked inside of him, and he caught her finger in his hand. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. The sweet smell of violets from her favourite soap was stronger after her bath, filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply. Shifting his grip from her hand to her arm, he swung her around, pushing her against the wall and trapping her hand above her head. With his body mere inches from hers, he leaned down, close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his face.

"I told you," he growled. "It is not you I am worried about. I worry I cannot resist you. While I would never do anything against your will, your responses to our kisses have been rather... enthusiastic. You said so yourself. Can you truly promise that you would turn me away?"

Her breathing was shallow as she stared up at him, but she did not look frightened despite his greater height and bulk. Reaching down with his free hand, he captured her other hand, linking her fingers with his as he lifted it to join the one above her head. Shifting his grip to hold them both with one, he trailed his hand down along her arm, watching her reaction. He might be trying to make a point, but he did not wish to frighten her. She watched him intently but did not attempt to move.

He continued down her arm, reaching her armpit, his knuckles brushing against the side of her unbound breast in the nightgown before following the curve of her ribcage and waist, finally stopping at her hip. The cadence of her breathing had changed, and so had his. This nearness was affecting him more than he had expected. He had never touched her this intimately before, and it was still a far cry from what he truly wanted to do.

Flexing his hand at her hip to remind himself not to pull her closer, he took a deep breath before following the same path back. As his fingers brushed against the side of her breast a second time, she let out a shuddering breath.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he had to hold back a groan as he resisted the temptation to taste her tantalising mouth. This endeavour was quickly backfiring as his body craved the nearness he had deprived it of for so long. No. It craved Rain. Only Rain. Bloody hell. What had he got himself into?

Wondering whether he was torturing himself or her more, he leaned a little closer and whispered in her ear, "Are you resisting me now?"

The anger sparked back to life in her eyes, just as he had hoped, and she tugged on her wrists in his grip. He immediately released her and was rather relieved when she angrily rammed her hands into his chest and shoved him backwards. Well, an inch.

"You oaf!" she snapped, dashing away from him to stand at a safe distance halfway across the room.

Turning around to watch her, he leaned his shoulders against the wall. She was practically crackling with indignation.

"What was that?" she asked angrily. "Some asinine attempt to prove how irresistible you are to me? Well, the joke's on you. It would appear I resisted fine!"

He did not bother to point out that she may not have had he not intentionally sparked her anger. Instead, he nodded. It mollified her somewhat, and she took a deep breath, calming herself further. Before she could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. Happy for the interruption, he walked over to speak to the footman at the door, giving him some instructions.

As he closed the door again, he found Rain still glaring at him. Her eyes narrowed. Was she onto him?

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I need a few things from my study."

"You will not even leave me for the mere minutes it would take you to fetch it yourself?"

"No."

She sat down at the edge of the bed. "If someone truly wants me dead, would that not solve your problem?"

He frowned, not liking the turn this conversation was taking. "What do you mean?"

"You are stuck with a wife who refuses to do her... wifely duties." Her cheeks flushed. "As a duke, I am certain you wish to have an heir or two. And if you were a widower, you could remarry. Find yourself a more amenable wife."

"I don't want another wife." His admission made her eyes widen. Running a hand through his hair, he groaned. "Yes, there is certainly a level of pride in me not wanting us to get an annulment. However, I also simply do not wish to have one. I... I want us to try again. If we can."

"Why?" she asked simply. "After everything that's happened between us... Why would you still want me to be your wife?"

Because I cannot imagine my life without you in it. He wanted to say the words, but the bitterness of her betrayal on their wedding night made the words clog in his throat. It wasn't in his nature to leave himself vulnerable in such a way. Not to anyone.

Fortunately, another knock on the door saved him. Receiving his bottle of brandy and a glass, as well as a few pieces of correspondence he had yet to reply to, he thanked the footman. Letting the man inside to get their dinner plates, he then put the items down on the now cleared space on the desk.

Once the servant had left them alone, he poured himself a drink. Taking a sip, he finally turned back to look at his wife. She still sat on the edge of the bed. Watching him with a calculating glint in her eyes.

"You never answered me."

He took another sip of brandy, letting his lips linger on the rim of the glass. What could he say? He didn't exactly relish the fact that he still wanted her. Still wanted the woman who had run straight from his bed to his brother's on their wedding night.

Yes, he had done something terrible in not confiding the reason he had initially pursued her, but he had never considered that it would matter, as by the time he proposed, he very much wanted her as his wife, money or not. But when he could not immediately explain himself, she had thrown him away like yesterday's news while happily climbing into another man's bed.

"I don't like change."

She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Excuse me? You don't like change?"

He nodded. It wasn't untrue. It just wasn't why he didn't want to lose her.

"Well, that is a wonderful reason to stay married." The sarcasm was practically dripping off her words. "I will immediately retract my wish of an annulment. We can't have you suffering through anything changing."

Not knowing what to say, he had another mouthful of brandy. Being in the same room as his wife was proving a lot more challenging than anticipated.

"You do realise," she continued, her brows drawn. "Very little would change to how it has been the past two years. We've barely seen each other, so you should barely notice if I wasn't there."

"Can we not talk about this, please!" He slammed the glass down on the desk, making her jump in surprise. "I do not wish to entertain the notion of you not being my wife. Whatever the reason for that being so." And most definitely not if it was because whoever had tried to poison her had succeeded.

"Fine," she muttered, but the way her eyes narrowed as she looked at him made him suspect she was not finished with the topic and would most likely bring it back up again in the future.

"I must deal with some of this correspondence," he muttered, turning his back towards her.

"Fine," she said again. "I will read a book."

He could hear her moving on the bed but refused to look. The last thing he needed right now was to see her in the middle of that bed in only her nightgown. His resolve could not take much more.

~~~~~~