First draft so I apologise for any mistakes. Not sure if this premise is going to work...

Ruth woke up feeling very happy. She stretched out and then turned to Harry, who had his eyes glued to her. "Good morning," he whispered, lips kissing hers in a soft embrace.

"Mm, morning," she whispered back, the second her lips were free. She smiled as his hand skimmed her thigh, over her hip, across the dip of her waist and up her ribcage, eventually resting on her shoulder. She adored the way he touched her, like she was completely his and always would be. It felt wonderful. Just as things were beginning to heat up the doorbell rang. Ruth sighed. "Who's house are we in?" she asked, distracted by his touches, unable to remember.

"Yours I'm afraid," Harry said, watching her get out of bed and wrap her dressing gown around her. "I get to stay in bed, a little while longer."

Ruth was too tired to think of anything to say to that, so she hurried downstairs as the doorbell rang again. "I'm coming," she called, unlocking the door. Her smile froze on her face as she instantly recognised the face staring at her. A short man in his late thirties with dark hair stood on her doorstep, staring at her with a horrible smile on his face.

"What are you doing here? How the hell did you find me?" she asked in quick succession once the shock had vanished a little, her face showing pure horror towards this stranger.

"Just the reaction I was hoping for," he said sarcastically. "Are you going to let me in?"

"No," she said simply. "Leave."

"I can't leave Ruth, do you have any idea how long it took to get your address?" Ruth was about to reply when she heard footsteps from inside the house.

"Please go," she begged, suddenly desperate, not wanting Harry to get involved in this.

"I can't," he said. "You know I need to talk to you."

"You've waited ten years, why now?" Ruth said with barely disguised venom just as Harry came in earshot.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked over her shoulder, staring with hatred at this man. Without knowing anything about him, he could see that Ruth was uncomfortable and edgy.

"I'll be fine as soon as this idiot leaves me alone," Ruth said as she felt Harry's supporting weight behind her.

"I think you should do as she says and leave," Harry said in a quiet but deadly voice. Ruth felt relived that he was doing this for her, she didn't know how she would have coped otherwise.

"Fine, I'll go," the stranger said, his eyes taking in the way Harry protectively wasn't moving a step away from Ruth. "Bye then." He turned and left and Ruth waited until he turned the corner of her street and was out of sight. She sighed and closed the door hurriedly locking it.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, I just didn't think I'd see him again, that's all." She walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. "It was a bit of a shock."

"Who is he?" Harry asked.

"Mark Kitcher," Ruth said quietly.

"And he is?" Harry asked, needing to know who could make her look this pale and nervous. She sighed and looked up at him, her blue eyes boring into his amber ones. She didn't want to say this but knew that she had no choice but the truth.

"He's my husband."

Does anyone want more?