“You didn’t ask.” She continued playing, eyes on the keys. “There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Yes.” He stepped further in, his tread soft on the parquet. “I’m beginning to realise that.”
“Yet you married me regardless.”
“I’d have married you if you’d been mute, graceless, and dull as ditchwater.”
Her hands faltered on the keys. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“Because you wanted me.” She shifted to a darker tune. “But want isn’t enough, is it? Not for a lifetime.”
“It’s what we have.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m sitting—alone, I might add—it seems we don’t even have that. At least not outside your bedchamber.”
He was behind her now, close enough for his warmth to reach her back. “You’re angry.”
“Brilliant deduction.”
“You’ve every right to be.” His hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, his thumb brushing the faint mark he’d left there. “I handled this morning badly.”
“You handled it like a boor.”
Despite himself, he laughed—low, genuine. “That too.”
She stopped playing, turning to face him. He looked tired, she realised. Shadows under his eyes, tension in his shoulders.
“Why the distance, Adrian? Truly. Not your rehearsed explanations about protection and arrangements. The truth.”
He hesitated, studying her as though weighing whether she could bear it. “Because if I let myself have you completely, I’ll never let you go. And when you realise what you’ve bound yourself to—”
“You think I’ll leave.”
“I think you’ll wish to. And I won’t be able to let you.” His hand rose to her cheek, his voice roughening. “I’m not a good man, Marianne. I’m possessive, controlling—broken in ways you can’t yet see. Last night was barely a glimpse of what I want from you.”
“And if I want it too?”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Don’t I?” She stood, forcing him to step back. “You think you’re the only one with darkness? The only one who wants what the world calls improper?”
His brows drew together. “What could you possibly—”
“You,” she said simply. “I want you. All of you—the duke and the beast, the control and the chaos. But I won’t accept half-measures. Either be my husband, wholly, or tell me now that last night was all I shall ever have.”
He stared at her, conflict warring in his gaze. Then, without a word, he caught her to him, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was part apology, part possession. She answered with equal fervour, her hands sliding into his hair, meeting him with every ounce of defiance she had left.
“Tonight,” he said against her lips. “Come to my chambers tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” she whispered.
“Tomorrow...” He pulled back, his thumb tracing her swollen lips. “Tomorrow we’ll attempt breakfast together.”
It wasn’t enough. But it was a start.
Dinner that evening was formal and strained, the air thick with unspoken things. Footmen moved like shadows, pouring wine, serving courses neither of them tasted. Adrian spoke of estate matters, of tenant leases and neighbouring families, of the quiet burdens of a dukedom. But his eyes betrayed him—they promised darker pleasures, private reckonings yet to come. She found herself shifting in her seat, anticipation coiling low in her stomach.
