"Demelza, my sweetness:"

Ross couldn't even read what it followed. A wave of anger roused from his stomach heating his face and the rest of his body. 'Demelza!' He screamed, the calm composure that he had forced himself to maintain suddenly broken.

He had waited patiently for nearly three weeks now, after the night he came back from Plymouth and find her packing ready to leave him, after his declaration and the tender kisses they shared looking at the sea standing on an edge that could have ended their marriage, he waited for her to came back to him, for her to love him again unrestrained like she used to do, like he wanted to love her and only her. But Demelza was not ready yet, he could see it in her eyes every time he caught her looking at him oddly, measuring him, he suspected that she was still waiting for him to return to Trenwith despite the words spoken, so he tried to be at home the most time possible and be patient and polite to her. He still slept on the little cot in the library, Demelza had not yet invited him back to her bed and he didn't want to force himself on her. Every night they stayed up after dinner, him with his work from the mine, her reading a book or sewing, sometimes she even allow Jeremy to stay with them after his supper and the three of them played with his blocks on the floor near the fireplace or one of them would read a book to the child until he fell asleep. He had changed his working place from the library to the parlour just to be with her when everyone in the house had gone to bed and they could talk.

The conversation was amicable, generally about the mine or Jeremy endless silliness, or the household and the things it needs it, or about the laziness of their servants, and it was good for him to have this sort of normality back, to spend time with his friend Demelza, his partner and the mother of his children, but he couldn't help but feeling that she acted with him the same way that she would around anyone, with the same kindness that she usually show for example to Dwight, or with the alike familiarity she treated Prudie or Jinny. She didn't show him any special care, not like before nor even she fought with him anymore. She was kind and friendly and every time he went away to the mine or on business she offered her cheek gleefully for him to kiss, but not her mouth. In his head that was probably his fault, during the first days after their reconciliation he was still so fearful that she may go away that he didn't even dare to touch her, and the first time he had to get out of the house he only managed to find courage to kissed her on her chubby cheek and she seemed pleased by it, a flush of pink coloring her face, so he did it again when he came back, and now there he was, craving for the touch of her lips in his and not wanting to scare her away.

That's until the letter came.

The official envelope caught his eye as he checked the correspondence, it was addressed to Mrs. Demelza from Nampara and it didn't have the name of the sender. He couldn't stop himself, before he knew it he was opening it, then he just read the first line and the last, "Yours, Malcom." And he called for Demelza.

She heard him from outside, she was working in her garden, she had neglected it for so long that wasn't sure if she could make it bloom again. She washed her hands in a bucket of water and came into the parlour drying her hands in her apron to find her husband squashing a piece of paper in his hand.

'What's this?' He asked her in a higher tone than he used to these days waving some sort of letter in front of her.

'I don't know Ross, what is it? A letter, did you receive bad news?' She answered ignoring his mood.

'You tell me.' He couldn't help the growl coming out of his throat. Demelza looked at him without understanding what he was talking about. The only time he used that tone with her was that fateful night in May, so many months ago, when he went to Trenwith and he also was holding a letter on his hand. 'This came for you.'

Demelza looked at the paper he was holding, she realized it was coming from the army, surely he wouldn't… he would not write her again, she was very clear in the letter she sent him. McNeil had written to her a few months ago, just a little while after his departure for France Demelza hear word from him, he apologized and asked to see her again. She burnt the letter after just one look at it and replied asking him to never contact her again. This was even before the reconciliation with Ross was even possible to think of and she had forgotten all about it. Why he had wrote back she have no idea and less idea she have of why Ross was acting this way, especially when he didn't seem to care that much about what she did or to be honest with herself, he didn't seem to want her anymore.

He put the crumpled paper in her hands, 'Are you going to leave with him?'. 'I beg your pardon?', it was then when she noticed that the letter was open, she turned the paper around and saw that it didn't have the name of McNeil on the remittent, and that the letter was addressed to her. 'Did you open this?' A glimpse of guilt crossed through his eyes, but it was just a second, hardness and reproach was all she could see and she felt it wasn't fair, he didn't have that right, he couldn't claim possession of her when he didn't even try to actually be with her like husband and wife in all this time, when he didn't even kiss her. Every night she waited busying herself with something, some book or patching a shirt until her eyes were no longer held open expecting him to come close to her, to accompany her to their bedchamber, to caress her and hold her but he never did. Sometimes she couldn't help but stare at him, studied him while he worked, he was just the same, he looked the same way as the man she'd married all those years ago though the scar was slowly fading and he seem even more handsome with each year it passed. Perhaps that was it, maybe she was not aging so gracefully, maybe she didn't attract him in the sense she used to and maybe after Elizabeth… no. She promised never let that woman come between them again, she promised never to doubt herself because of her, she had enough in her hands with her own actions.

'Did you open this Ross?' She repeated, a little bit harsher than she intended. 'Yes. And glad I did, when were you going to tell me? Or were you waiting for him to fetch you so I could wave you good bye from the threshold?' He wasn't thinking clearly and words came out of him without processing what he was saying. Demelza remained silent, the frustration she had inside her rebuilding and overpowering her calm attitude of the last few weeks with every word he spoke. 'All this time… this is what you been expecting? A word from him? Tell me… since when?'

'Ross…'

'Since when you have been planning this behind my back…' With every word that he spoke he came closer, corralling her while her eyes fill with tears but he couldn't stop, he felt his hands shaking and had to clench his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms to control them. 'Since the ball? Or no, before? Demelza…'

'Ross…' Demelza was trying to gather her thoughts and transforming them into words, it took her by surprise, his anger, who did he think he was? Certainly he had no right…

'Do you love him?!... It doesn't matter, you will not leave this house!'

It shocked her. Before she could notice he was on her, his lips pressing violently to her mouth, both of his hands holding her head in place so he could devour her. She never had seen him like this, so out of control, out of himself. Never in their life he had force her… she managed to put her hands between them and push against his chest, his mouth broke contact with her skin. 'You will not leave me.' He said and tried to kissed her again.

'No! Ross… get off of me! Ross no!'. The struggle ended quickly after she slapped his face. She was standing next to the table somehow and had to hold on to it to not faint. Seeing her wife in distress was the equivalent to a bucket of cold water to Ross and he was immediately next to her again trying to hold her on her feet. She pushed him back again.

'No Ross. Leave me… do not touch me!' She raised a hand to him to keep him at a distance. 'Is that what you think of me?' she whispered. 'So little you know me?' It was him now who was taken aback by her reaction. When he saw the letter he did not see any other explanation other than his wife was now besotted by that stupid soldier and that fit into reason on why she wasn't paying any attention to him, but now he could see the hurt in her eyes, again, and it was his fault, again. Even if she did plan to runaway with McNeil, what right did he have to blame her?

'My love I'm…'

'Oh Ross don't you dare…' she realized she was still holding the letter, she unwrinkled it and read it, Ross standing a few feet away from her. 'Did you even read this?' She said in disbelief after she finished, 'Did you?'.

'I didn't have to, it was enough with the beginning…'. Demelza extended his arm to him and offered him the piece of paper.

'Here, read it. Take it Ross, read it.' She insisted when he did not move. He slowly took the note and started to read it.

Demelza, my sweetness:

I received your reply with great joy, only to be heartbroken when I actually read it. I knew what your answer would be, you told me that night, so I kept your letter with me without open it and pretended to have hope in your response. A soldier need to have hope, something to hold onto in this difficult time, so I held your letter near my heart, in a pocket on my red coat. But it couldn't last in there forever and today I read it and it was worse than I imagined it would be.

But even then, I thank you my angel, because for a while you gave me hope and now I will replace that with the yearning of seen you again someday even when that could only happen in my dreams.

Yours, Malcom.

Stupid. How more stupid could he be? Why didn't he read it before? How did he let this anger to take control of him? Anger? It was not anger, it was jealousy. Plain jealousy. The thought of Demelza in other man's arms, the thought of her heart belonging to another. Jealousy of this scoundrel calling his wife "my sweetness" or "my angel", he would murder him, if he ever see him again he would.

'He send me a letter a long while ago apologizing and asking me to see him again or something like that, I can't honestly remember. I wrote him back requesting him not to contact to me again, saying that I'm a married woman and have not or ever had interest in him once or ever. What happened that night, at the Bodrugan's party, it was a mistake and I regretted it… I will regret it all my life.' Her voice broke at the end, and Ross was once again at her side, his hands softly stroking her arms, comforting her.

'Demelza… I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry my love. I shouldn't have opened that letter. I should have given it to you and ask you…'

'Yes, you should.' She took a step back to escape from his embrace. 'As a matter of fact I think you should stop and think every time you will do something in the future, like what you just did, assault me like that, who do you think I am? Do you think I'm her?'

'No! Demelza…' He tried to explain but she didn't hush. 'You take notice of another man paying attention to a woman you neglected and suddenly you decide to mark your territory, when in all these weeks you did nothing to be close to me? Is that what it takes? I see how clever she was now, how well does she know you, perhaps you should…'

'Stop it!' And he nearly shouted, 'This got nothing to do with her, you promised, we both did, she is in the past and has nothing to do with this! I'm sorry if I misinterpreted this letter but what am I supposed to think when other man calls my wife his "sweetness"? Why does he call you that?'

'Tis my name' Demelza said shyly, suddenly images of that night and her behavior coming to her mind. 'What… what do you mean?'

'My name, Demelza, that's what it means, thy sweetness.'

'Why did you never told me that?'

'Well, you never asked.' Again Ross was annoyed but not with her anymore, with that soldier, for knowing something about his wife that he didn't know and especially with himself for not knowing not just the meaning of her name but for what he just did or almost do. 'What else does he know that I don't?'

She sighed and then she stood straight facing him. 'Only that I'm bound to you.' She was looking at him directly in his eyes, she was still a bit shaking from their struggle and tears clouded her greeny eyes, and yet she was as beautiful as the day they married, more if that was possible, even when she was mad at him, when she was fierce and feisty and particularly when she declared her love for him, why did that always surprised him? Maybe because he thought he didn't deserve her, how could he? 'Ross, why did you not come back to our room after that night?', he heard her ask. Because he was terrified that she didn't want him. 'Because I'm scared.'

'Scare of what?'

'Of you… of you rejecting me…' he said timidly. 'Ross… I sat there night after night waiting for you to…'

He had his lips on hers again but this time his hands held her lightly by the waist and after a moment of hesitation she responded back, opening her mouth to give permission to his tongue to caress hers. She put her arms around his neck to bring him closer, his hands lifting her until her feet didn't touch the floor, she moaned and stifle a laugh against his mouth. 'Demelza,' he said when he broke the kiss for air, 'I love you and I want you, only you. I hankered for you for so long, I feared that you'd never allow me to be with you again.'

'Don't be silly Ross. You know there's no one else for me, there's never have been. And I'd never cast you out… well maybe I did once but you deserved it, but I never wanted to do it…'

'I know, I forced your hand…'

'And I don't want that now. I miss you Ross, dear Ross, the bed is cold without you.'

'Lord. Demelza…' he kissed her ardently again, 'I love you.'

Even though it was the middle of the day they reached the master bedroom embracing each other, he had not been there in three weeks and the last time he was there he saw her going through the doorway with a bag and ready to leave. Demelza closed the door behind them and after a brief moment of doubt and awkwardness he pulled her to him once more, brushing her lips with his.

Gently he explored her face with his fingers as a blind man might, as if he had never seen it before and might never see it again. So long he dreamt with this moment that now it felt surreal, he needed to touch her just to make sure she was there with him. She smoothed a damp curl from his temple and in doing that he could see a shadow crossing her face. 'You sure of this Demel…' She stopped his lips with a quick, clinging kiss that scattered his troubled thoughts. 'Yes Ross, are you?'

'I'm never been more sure of anything in my life love.'

Demelza wanted to touch and kiss and hold him since that day on the cliffs, no, even before that. She wanted him to burn for her, just as she wanted him to set her ablaze. He was pulling her skirt up, over her hips. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and he tossed it away, she grasped the edges of his shirtfront and fiercely pulled it out of his breeches, his hands fell from her hip. In her haste she tore the shirt cuff away, and he chuckled a laugh. 'I know you like to be undressed,' she said.

'Yes.' he gasped, and shifted back to give her access to the other, useless arm. She was no more gentle with that sleeve. She ripped it off and off was the shirt. He quickly worked in her garments like unfolding a present, the most valuable gift life have given him. When he was over he pulled her against him, pressing her bared breasts to the powerful chest she'd exposed. His heart beating next to hers to the same frenetic rhythm. He grasped the back of her head and crushed her mouth to his and drove them to the bed, their hands became tangled, tearing at his trouser buttons. Wool ripped and buttons tore from the cloth.

He pushed her legs apart with his knee. She felt the hard shaft throbbing hotly against her thigh while her own heat pulsed against his questing hand. He found the place where he belonged to be and sweetly tormented her again after so many months, until she cried out and her body spilled its feminine tears of desire. She clanged her legs around him, shaking and desperate, and 'Please' she begged. 'Please Ross.' And the sound of his name in her raspy voice was his undoing.

Ross woke up after a few hours in his old bedroom wrapped in his wife's long arms. The night hadn't come yet and he could hear the sound of life in the household, Garrick was barking outside, Jeremy was giggling about something, probably about Prudy's yells to Jud, a bird was singing near the window and Demelza was asleep next to him. He quietly got out of her embrace carefully to not awake her, he got dress and went to his study to find a quill and a piece of paper.

Dear Captain McNeil:

I believe my wife was very clear in her last letter about you not contacting her again. Now, in case you did not understand her meaning, let me clarify what I mean: You will not send her any other letter, you will not call her or try to arrange a meeting with her, in fact you will not be back to Cornwall ever again nor you'd even dare to think about her again.

Like we are both gentlemen, I think is not necessary to say what will I do if I found out you didn't comply my wishes.

Best regards, Ross Poldark.

AN: I don't know why I always go back to McNeil, and to jealous Ross... I can't wait to actually see him jealous in S3... Some of the last scenes I adapted from Lord of Scoundrels. Thanks for reading and sorry for any grammar mistake, remember is not my native language ;)