Staggering up the stairs, Matthew regretted his decision to return to his room that evening knowing he would meet the door in the same state that he met it the evening before; locked. But he had had an exhausting day; first with the kiss he shared with Gretchen, then with the incidence in the tavern. He was tired and wasn't thinking straight and he certainly did not need Gretchen taking advantage of his weak state.

Why was Gretchen even here? Matthew asked himself for the umpteenth time. Why did it suddenly seem like she was interested in him once again?

He reached his bedroom door and turned the knob, shocked to find it unlocked. Holding the door still, guilt compelled him to turn around and walk back to the barn. But as quickly the thought entered his mind, he was reminded of Gretchen seated right there in the kitchen. There was no doubt in his mind that if he attempted to sleep in the barn tonight, Gretchen would see him and immediately guess something was off with his marriage, and Matthew could not afford to trust Gretchen with such an information. Not only did his coming into his inheritance depend on his false marriage, Sharon's dignity depended on it as well. It seemed unfair to expose her to such cruelty especially considering all that she had already been through with her father...

...all that she was going through with him.

Matthew wasn't stupid enough to think Sharon had married him out of her own free will, neither was he delusional enough to think she was pleased with having to stay married to him. He had seen firsthand the type of father she had and had understood even more clearly the reason for her decision to get married to him, even if theirs was a less-than favorable marriage. He imagined he had robbed her of her chances of falling in love, of being courted properly, and of a dream marriage.

It was his fault; the anger she held on to was his fault. He might have told himself he was doing the right thing when he presented the option of marriage to her, but the truth was, he had only been thinking of himself.

After encountering her father a few hours ago, Matthew knew he was as guilty as the man for ruining Sharon's life. If he really wanted to help her, he should have offered her something else, maybe even a job? It was true that he didn't exactly have the resources to continue with his farm, but surely there could have been an option much more honorable and suitable than a forced marriage!

Then there was the kiss with Gretchen, the cursed memory of the thing haunting him all day and the guilt threatening to drive him insane. Matthew could not help but think Sharon did not deserve to be disrespected in that way. She was married to him as a favor to him, and had stayed married to him —even agreeing to put up with the charade before his family— just so he could come into his inheritance.

Sighing softly, he ran his fingers through his hair and shoving the guilt he felt aside, pushed the door wide open.

The dimly lit room came into view, a still figure perched on the edge of the bed, staring back at him.

Momentarily shocked to find her awake, Matthew paused.

“Do you mind if I come in?” He managed, his fingers clawing around the doorknob.

Slowly, she nodded.

Stepping forward nervously, he silently closed the door behind him.

“I will sleep on the floors of course.” He said, desiring to put her at ease. He understood that she probably wasn't pleased by his presence but he didn't have a choice.

She rose to her feet then, her white night dress falling around her ankles. Shaking her head, she said, “It's a big bed, Matthew, I'll feel terrible if you have to sleep on the uncomfortable floors.”

“You will?!” He blurted, confused.

She nodded, her eyes falling to her hands that were clasped before her. “I didn't mean to lock you out last night, it's just... Well, it was an honest mistake.”

“Oh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to respond. He had fallen asleep in anger, believing the worst of her; truly believing that her decision to lock him out —even after he had pleaded to be allowed to sleep in the same room with her until his family was gone— was a deliberate one.

“I'm used to locking the doors, what with my father being a drunk and a gambler and having complete strangers show up on our doorstep to claim their loot,”

Shame washed over Matthew in that second; shame for what he did with Gretchen, and shame for how he had been treating her.

“When I realized what had happened, I stayed up half the morning thinking you'd return.”

“You did?” He asking, knowing she did, even before she nodded solemnly, and raised her head up once more. “Sharon, I kissed Gretchen!” He blurted before he could stop himself. Matthew wasn't sure of what it was that prompted his confession —the guilt, or the shame.

She stared at him, her expression impossible to read in the dim light.

“I—” he began when she shook her head, silencing him.

“I know.”

Her words stabbed at his heart. Shifting from one foot to the other, he glanced down.

“I also know you asked her to marry you once.” He thought he heard her choke on her words.

Raising his head up once more, he watched her shoulders droop.

Matthew opened his mouth to defend himself, to come up with something —anything— to ease the hurt he heard in her voice, but all he could say was: “That was a year ago, Sharon.”

“But you're still in love with her.”

He shook his head furiously. “I loved her, but not anymore. I asked her to marry me one year ago and she said no. I'm not sure why she refused, but I'm starting to think it was for the best.”

“You are?” She watched him.

He nodded. “It wasn't meant to be.”

“Then you're not going to get married to her once our marriage is over?”

Matthew felt a dull pain in his chest at the reminder of the impending end of their marriage, but he knew it was for the best; it was in her best interest.

“I made a poor choice this morning. I disrespected you and our marriage —as unconventional as it is. I apologize. As for when our marriage will come to an end, I'm afraid that is up to you, Sharon. I already acted selfishly when I practically forced you to marry me so I could gain my inheritance. I do not want to force you to stay married. When you decide to leave, I will not be going back to Gretchen.”

“You don't want me to go?” It was a small whisper, one he had to strain to hear.

He shook his head. “No, but I can't ask you to stay when it's clear how unhappy you are staying here.”

He thought he heard her murmur something in return, but he wasn't certain.

“Besides, I have successfully eradicated the possibility of your father gambling with the roof over both your heads.” He chuckled at the memory.

“What do you mean?!”

“I met your father at the...” He shook his head, suddenly reminded of his shameful activity that evening. He wondered if she would find his whereabouts to be displeasing, or she would simply be pleased with his interference with her father's gambling. Clearing his throat, he decided to leave the details of the tavern out. “Your father was about to exchange your home for a few bottles of liquor.”

“What?!” Horror laced her voice. “How could he?! My mother was buried on that land! And where will he live once he is thrown out?!” She clasped her hands over her mouth just as a broken sob escaped her lips.

Hurrying over to her side, Matthew placed an arm around her shoulders, a soft gasp drifting from his lips as she turned sharply to the side, her arms curling around him. Burying her face in his chest, her soft sobs began to drift to him.

His arms circled her in that second, pulling her further against himself. Her sobs tugged on the strings of his heart until he was leaning down and placing his cheek against her head, the overwhelming urge to protect her suddenly washing over him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. He was sorry for everything; for the part he played in complicating her life further.

She pulled away then, his arms suddenly feeling empty as a result. She rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. “It is not your fault.”

“It is. I should not have forced you into this marriage.”

“You didn't force me, Matthew,” settling on the bed, she heaved a breath.

“I gave you no choice.” He settled beside her.

“You did,” she turned to him, blue eyes drowning in sadness. “If you hadn't married me, I would have been stuck with Jenkins by now, or the highest bidder. My father had already run out of things to bet with. I was the only thing left; me and the house. I might even say you saved my life... Or what is left of it.”

“Stay,” the words drifted from his lips before he had the time to think them through. “Stay with me.”

He knew what he was asking of her and he knew he had no right to ask for it. But it didn't stop him from wanting it; from wanting her and their marriage.

Her gaze searched his as if searching for the slightest sign of deception. Knowing full well that he did not deserve her trust, Matthew found himself hoping that she would give it to him nonetheless.

“Why?” She finally asked.

There were so many reasons Matthew wanted Sharon to stay married to him —so he could protect her from further abuse by her father or men like Jenkins, so he could give her the quality of life she never had, so he could be the support she never had. Indeed there were several reasons, but as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers for the slightest seconds, he could only think of one.

Leaning back slightly, he watched her eyelids tear apart, his heart drumming dully in his chest as a result of the kiss they had just shared.

“Because I want to be with you,” he said.

She leaned forward, her hands settling on his cheeks as her lips settled on his once more.

Groaning, he tore his lips apart, welcoming the warmth of her mouth into his. His hand settled on her neck, nudging her forward as he tilted his head to the side so that their kiss deepened.

His eyelids flickered shut, his fingers burying himself in her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders. He combed through it, his lips exploring hers in a way that caused warmth to quickly race through his skin.

It was madness to even consider pulling away from her. Yet, it was exactly what he needed to do. He neither wanted to take advantage of her weakness, nor did he want her to feel obligated to give herself to him.

Leaning back slightly, even if he ached to pull her into his arms and ultimately his bed, Matthew offered her a smile instead.

“Your house is safe and so is your father. I took care of everything.” Wiping a stray tear off of her cheek, he could barely resist the urge to kiss her one last time that evening. “The floor is fine,” he murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead, “goodnight, Blondie.”

He rose to his feet, grabbed a pillow from the bed and settled on the floor, knowing he couldn't share a bed with her lest he gave in to the feeling that was now consuming him.