He suppressed a groan. “I am not ordering you about, Lucy. And I meant what I said.”
“Then why –”
“However,” he cut her off sharply, “as mentioned yesterday, we have much to discuss, you and I. If this marriage is to work in any capacity, rules and boundaries must be established. Do you not agree?” He raised his own eyebrow at her in return.
“I guess…”
“Ergo, if you would be so kind as to meet me in my office once you finish breaking your fast, we might discuss said rules and boundaries. Once we do, we can carry on with this marriage to the best of our abilities. Hopefully, without killing one another.”
She had the good grace to look embarrassed by her reaction. A bowed head, a suppressed grimace, and her shoulders sunk. “I am sorry, I should not have…”
“Should not have what?”
She snapped her head up and flashed a sarcastic smile. “I will be there shortly, if it pleases you.”
“It does.” He eyed her a moment more, feeling a need to assert himself, to show her that he was not affected by her sullen temper. “Good,” he said with finality, turning then and striding from the room.
As he walked away, he felt her watch him.
Was Marcus one to do so, he might have chuckled at her cheek. She was so determined to establish her authority, and to prove to him that he did not own her, that she had completely lost her head and common sense.
While he was certain that would fade once they had the coming discussion, he knew too how hopeful that was.
As effortless as I wish for this marriage to be, all evidence implies the opposite will be true. Let us just pray that this conversation goes well… that both of us can keep our cool.
It was one hour later when Lucy appeared in the doorway.
Marcus started when he saw her… just because she looked so different to how she had at breakfast. Her red hair was combed, full, and it flowed down her back like a waterfall made of fire. Her green eyes were piercing in the dim light of his office, wideset, and determined as if she was already on the offensive. And while she wore simple half-dress, the pure white of her muslin blended with her milky skin, clung to her body, and reminded Marcus of how stunning his wife could be when she wished it.
In fact, he stared at her for a moment longer than he intended, his mind once more returning to the previous day and those dreams he’d had about her…
“You wished to see me?” she said with bite.
“What?” Marcus shook his head and cleared his thoughts. “Yes, thank you.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk.
She hesitated with nervous energy. This made Marcus smirk, glad to see that despite her desire to assert herself, she was not nearly as confident and assured as she wanted him to think.
She exhaled deeply, set her jaw, and strode into his office.
“How was breakfast?” he asked as she pulled out her seat and sat down across from him. “If it was not to standard, I can speak to the cook for you?”
“It was fine.” She shifted in her chair; her hands folded on her lap, then by her side, then on her lap again. “And I am capable of speaking to them myself.”
Marcus looked right at her, a raised eyebrow.
“But thank you…” She grimaced with guilt.
She is so defensive. Untrusting. It is as if she wants me to have lied to her, proof that I am not what I said, that her worst fears are real.
“I guess we should get right to it.” Marcus folded his hands on the desk and looked right at her. Then he smiled when she tried to meet his eyes, only to look away under the intensity of his gaze. “First thing is first, the reason that we married. Rather, the reason that I asked for us to marry.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“The child,” she said.
“That’s right. I think…” His stomach twisted as if with guilt. “It is time that the two of you met.”
“We already have,” she said quickly.
Marcus balked. “You… you have?”
