A/N: As someone mentioned, there's bit a lot of 'bleh' drama lately and not enough romance (my words, not theirs!), so I want to make up for that in these final chapters because I keep trying to insert steamy scenes in other stories where they clearly don't belong...(face palm) So, after some more plot resolution at the beginning of this chapter, the heat starts to kick up :3

Chapter Sixteen, Charm

Anzu looked up from the letter she had been attempting to write for an hour now. Bakura had been out dutifully checking on the estate and the tenants, meeting with farmers and checking their concerns for the past week. In the meantime, Anzu had been given time to relax and lounge without fear of any visitors calling at the manor. While the visitors could not come, the letters had been forwarded from their town home to the country. The one she received from her father had been long, invasive, and overly detailed. She had been trying to construct a way in which to respond without offending him and giving it the response it deserved. She had tried multiple different letters, some to the effect of, It's none of your business how I conduct my personal affairs while others were less confrontational in a tone of, I appreciate your concern, but I really am okay. Others she had written were bold-faced lies of, What you have read in the paper is false and Bakura has been a charming husband.

Charming.

It was the last word she would have used to describe Bakura either in their courtship or their marriage. It begged the question, then, why she was so undeniably attracted to him. She could have spend a whole evening talking about annoying, aggravating, and obnoxiously hard-headed Bakura was and nobody would have bat an eye. The things she could not explain to people was how much she enjoyed his possessiveness, the way he looked at her when they were alone, or how personal he could be in the small moments at breakfast or dinner. That was a side of Bakura that few people could see and she doubted going into detail about that with her father would help in convincing him of Bakura's character.

Sighing, she pushed aside the paper and leaned back in the divan, gazing up at the ceiling. There was nothing she could tell her father that would convince him that she was in a happy, domesticated relationship. All he saw was a couple flitting from party to party, drinking far too much, and manipulating each other with lovers in public.

And that is all we have become lately, she reminded herself. It feels like such a long party that we had until we came to the country. Now, it's just...quiet.

Rising to her feet, she strode out of the drawing room to find some other means of distraction from the problem of her family back in London.

Making her way up the staircase, she knocked on the study door and paused a beat before opening it, poking her head in. Inside, it was empty. Her mouth twisting with disappointment, she looked around as she stepped in. There was the usual bookcases and straight-backed chairs that was customary in men's studies, but the sprawl of papers and ledgers on the desk were specific to Bakura and his organized disorganization. Rounding the table, she picked up a letter and smiled at the familiar scrawl of his cursive.

...the numbers should be increasing while we are out in the country. Send me the ledgers for last week so I can review them, the letter read at the bottom. It was clear that he had not yet completed his letter to Marik.

Turning away from the desk, she went to the window and leaned her hip against the ledge, her shoulder resting against the cool window pane. Outside, clouds were beginning to gather and she could see very little past the copse of trees that lined that estate. As much as she loathed to admit it with how poorly Bakura had been acting in town, she missed his company. She could not forgive him for his behavior before he had gotten in a fistfight with Jounouchi, but he acted more like himself ever since they had come to the country.

"You seem lost in thought." She jumped, startled when the subject of her thoughts stepped into the study. He closed the door behind him as she turned to face him. He gestured towards the desk with a half-smile. "Going through my letters to see which lovers I have in London?"

"It seems you're hiding them well," Anzu replied sarcastically. He chuckled and tossed the leather book he had in his hands on the desk. Turning back to stare out the window, she added, "I don't like to think about that."

"What? Letters?"

She hesitated, then quietly said, "No...you with lovers."

The room lapsed into silence and she felt the tenseness in her back at the admission. She had, for the longest time, been unwilling to admit to herself how jealous she had felt at the thought of him with other women, but since he had told her he wanted her with no other man, she felt it was safer now to tell him than before. She heard him move behind her and his hands slid along her hips, pulling her against him securely.

"I have none," he murmured in her ear.

She turned slightly to survey him over her shoulder. For once, there was no mocking expression on his face, no light of temper, just a simple neutrality. She should have left it at that, should have accepted his answer, but found the one question she had edging into her mind, sowing a seed of doubt.

"And Lady Catarina?"

He sighed, pulling away and moving to the chair at the desk, pulling it out and settling into it. She watched him rub his face and then dropped his hands as he leaned back into the chair. "Fine," he grunted in resignation. "If you must know, Malik and Marik wanted me to go her soiree to find a lover. It's what we used to do." He shot her a glance. "Satisfied?"

Anzu blinked, confused. "I don't understand...why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?"

"It was none of your business." He picked up the leather book, began to open it and then sighed again, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. "No. Forget what I said. It is your business, but you were already involved in enough scandal. I wasn't trying to pull you into their damn woman-hunting schemes. I wasn't trying to get any girl in my bed, so I felt no reason to tell you. An error of judgement on my part. But no, Lady Catarina was never a lover of mine and I had never singled her out. I've lost my taste for that type of game recently."

Anzu said nothing, watching him open the book and begin to flip through the pages. She could tell that it had taken a good deal of effort for him to admit to his own lack of communication or to even admit that he had no right for not telling her aside from something petty game that the three men had been playing between each other.

We fight, we make up, and it's like nothing ever happened, but there's always been something there causing the cycle to restart, Anzu mused as he read through some pages in the notebook. Maybe I am foolish for doing this, but I can't keep playing these games with him anymore.

"Bakura," she spoke up quietly, clasping her hands in front of her.

"What?" He frowned, turning to look at her.

She took a deep breath, her hands tightening around each other a bit more. "Would you please grant me a divorce?"

"Is this because of the letter your father sent you?"

"You saw that?"

"No, I saw the letters you didn't finish in the drawing room."

"Then you can understand my position."

He drummed his fingers over the desk, studying her with his intense, dark gaze. For a moment, she thought he was going to agree to the terms, but instead he asked her, "Is that what you want? I know," he continued blithely before she was given a chance to respond, "you've mentioned it before, but is that what you want?"

No, I want you. Even as the words rang in her mind, she smiled brightly at him, saying, "I think so. Marriage doesn't suit me just like I thought."

Bakura chuckled darkly, shaking his head and looking away. She saw his eyes drop to the pages as if he would have preferred to lose himself in the numbers and text written upon them. She knew this was likely not the conversation he had expected when he had returned to the manor. After several moments had passed, he asked quietly, "And what if I don't want that?"

"You've given me no earthly reason why you would want to stay married to me. I mean, we make each other miserable." She gestured between them.

"Actually, no," Bakura corrected with a casual air. "You know who makes me miserable? Malik sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. I have no problem with you, but you keep going along with his petty ass games to please himself."

"He's just poking fun, Bakura," Anzu said in exasperation. "It's not as if he has any real ulterior motive."

"That's what pisses me off." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the edge of the desk. "Just who the hell do you think tipped your father off to the types of things going on between us?"

"He doesn't need to be tipped off! It's all over the papers."

"Not enough for him to demand you divorce considering how much more damaging that is to your reputation. People in our station don't divorce. They get lovers, they stay married, and they die living that way. That's how people in your father's age group think. He wouldn't ask for a divorce unless some concerned do-gooder came to him feeding him information."

Anzu's brow puckered, unable to disagree with Bakura's assessment. She had heard her father preach about the sins of divorce enough times to know that, indeed, he would have rather seen her live a long, miserable life with a list of lovers rather than be shamed by a divorce, especially so soon after her wedding. She had seen Malik's cunning in play enough times and while she could not see him waltzing up into her family's house and laying out all the sordid details of her marriage, she could see him approaching her father in his club and making enough sly comments to cause him concern.

"So, what do I tell him?" she asked uncertainly.

"Nothing." Bakura straightened, shrugging. "Anything you say is going to be inflammatory in his eyes. If you want him off your back, we're going to have to play the happy couple when we get into town and go to a lot of family dinners." He grimaced, clearly not thrilled by such a venture. She could not help but laugh at his expression. "Damn it, it's not funny! I always get fucking interrogated every time I go there."

"And you do a lovely job of handling it." Anzu unclasped her hands and stepped forward, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his mouth. When she pulled back, she said, "You're not the worst person to be married to, you know."

"Happy to hear," was his sarcastic reply, but as she left the study, he flashed his familiar, arrogant smirk towards her.


A week passed and Anzu did not reply to her father's letter. She was unsure of Bakura's own internal stressors, but after he had admitted to his discomfort with discussing Lady Catarina, she felt more at ease with him than she had in weeks. She understood his reasoning after he had explained it and while she thought he could have easily revealed those details earlier, she saw too much of Bakura's pride in his reluctance to let her into his personal conversations that happened behind closed doors. It was much like him to lash out and have a temper when he was trying to do something kind.

He's awful at being a nice person, she reflected presently as she stepped into the drawing room, shutting the door behind her. Bakura was sprawled on the divan, looking relaxed and comfortable as he gazed towards the fire. His shirt was negligently buttoned, baring his throat and some of his chest and his hair was mussed, his hand caught in some of the ragged strands as he read through a letter from town that he had received that afternoon. His lounging position appeared, to her, as a delightful invitation.

Smoothing her hands over her gown, Anzu considered herself thoughtfully. One of the benefits of being in the country without entertaining guests was that she was not expected to dress in all the layers a female required during the Season. She had not bothered with any sort of undergarments that evening, opting for only her thigh-high stockings beneath her thin, gray gown that buttoned down the front. She was comfortable and, as no servant had cast her a side-eye, clearly no one was the wiser.

"Anything interesting?" Anzu asked as she approached the divan. Bakura glanced up at her and sighed, sitting up, tossing the letter aside and taking a drink of what appeared to be brandy in his glass.

"Business letters," he grumbled, "and Marik bitching at me about our ledgers. They are looking better, so he should stop complaining already."

Anzu shifted to sit down and glanced at him. His mind was on business and her mind was on seduction.

It felt like a long time ago since she had attempted to seduce Bakura. There had been so much tension and quick, intense sessions after a night out that she had forgotten the skills she had developed while with him. Even though it had not been long since she had lain with him, she felt herself blushing at thinking of initiating. Every time recently in the past few months, he had often been the one to initiate and she certainly had not practiced the art since before their marriage. If anything, she had been learning the art of manipulation and ballroom games during her marriage.

Stop that, she scolded herself. You're not a virgin! It's not as though you don't know what to do.

The issue, she found, was that it had seemed far easier to use skills built by confidence in the bedroom to snag a husband than to use said skills on her husband, especially after she had developed feelings for him.

This is ridiculous. I don't have any reason to be shy. It's Bakura for goodness sake! He's not an entirely different man.

"You've been working all day," Anzu spoke up, smiling at him. She reached out, taking his hand. "You'll have plenty of time to deal with business once we get back to London. Let me help take your mind off things."

She massaged his hand, her thumb pressing into the sinew of his palm, her head bent over it. After a few moments, she raised his hand to her cheek, pressing her face into it. She turned her head, kissing it and then the tip of her tongue dipped out, tracing up one finger until her lips closed over the tip. Her tongue ran along his finger, simulating another action, and then her lips pulled away from it as she turned her face back so his palm was cupping her cheek again.

"Or are you too busy?" she added in a murmur, raising her eyelashes to look at him. His attention had diverted from whatever business problem he had been reading in his letter and was now entirely focused on her.

"Busy?" he repeated, as if he were having trouble with the word. It looked as though it were jangling in his head until it stuck. "No." He dropped his hand from her face to her thigh and leaned forward, the trek of his hand pulling the thin fabric up to her waist, above the end of her stockings. She felt him cup her thigh, his fingers stroking the silken skin there, teasing her with the presence of his fingers so near her.

When he bent his head to kiss her, she reached down, using nimble fingers to unbutton his breeches, sliding a hand inside and freeing his length. She felt his body tense as she stroked him, slowly, deliberately, and when his fingers might have moved to touch her, she drew away. His eyes narrowed on her, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. With a hand, she pushed him onto the divan, saying in a somewhat shy tone, "Let me...practice."

He laughed softly then, his eyes melting into amusement. "My dear, how could I deny you anything?" he asked with a dry twist of his lips.

She could not but help to return a smile and when she knelt between his legs, lowering her moist lips to the head, she mimicked how she had been around his finger, her tongue darting out and around him. She heard him groan softly, encouraging her to move her lips over him, bringing more of him into her mouth. She had done this once before, experimentally, but had not had the leisure to take her time, to practice and hone such a useful skill. As she moved her mouth up and down his length slowly, suctioning her mouth around him, she heard him draw in a sharp breath and felt his fingers in her hair, bunching around her locks.

She felt his hips rise beneath her hands and obligingly pulled him deeper into her mouth, holding him briefly in her throat, feeling tears of effort leak from behind her lids. She heard him murmur her name and she pulled back, breathing deeply through her nose before she began a steady rhythm of pulling him into her throat, pausing, and then pulling away to tease him with the sensation. She could feel him trembling beneath her and knew by how he throbbed in her mouth that he would be close to his peak. When she sensed him nearly lose control, she pulled her lips from him, licking the head as a final treat before she raised herself up.

"You did that on purpose," he said accusingly, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Did I?" she replied coyly. She climbed over him, her knees on either side of him.

He laughed at her expression and sat up slightly, forcing her to brace her hands on his shoulders. His hands had scooped up her gown, pushing it above her waist, and he had cupped the swells of her bare buttocks. As he did, his mouth landed on her throat, sucking below her ear before finding his way to the sensitive juncture between her neck and shoulder. "You can't play innocent with me, Anzu," he murmured in his low, rasping voice. "I corrupted you, if you remember."

She released a shaky breath and put pressure on his shoulders, pushing him back slightly. "You know," she said softly, guiding herself onto him, her damp heat stretching for his erect length as she lowered herself down, "you can't corrupt the willing."

She felt his hands tense on her buttocks and he pressed his face into her neck, groaning as he filled her. She uttered a tiny gasp as he lifted her, causing her to raise herself along him and then back down. Her breath became hitched as she followed his motion, riding him slowly and then a bit faster as she found her rhythm.

Bakura swore softly under his breath and pulled away from her, stilling her. "I think you've had your fun with me," he growled, and with a swift gesture, he pulled her off him.

"Wh-what?" she spluttered, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear," he purred, planting a kiss on her mouth, "we're not finished. Let's 'practice' something new, hmm?"

Before Anzu was given a chance to reply, he had guided her so she was propped on her knees, leaning against the arm of the divan. Her cheeks warmed at the sudden exposure and she felt his hands slide from her hips, down to her back, pushing the fabric of her gown to just above her ribcage. When he entered her from behind, her arms buckled against the arm of the divan and she had to stifle a pleasured whimper into her arm. "Oh...Bakura."

She felt each thrust of him deeper, as if he were hitting a more sensitive point inside her and she could feel her thighs shaking with the effort of bracing herself against the divan. His hands took her waist and he pulled her up so her back was against his chest, slipping his hands beneath the gown to her breasts. "Bakura," she murmured, "please..."

"Yes," he whispered in her ear. "You're so close, Anzu..."

She released a small cry as she felt the delicate muscles clamp around him, contracting and causing a wave of inexplicable pleasure to wash over her. Following not too long after, Bakura drew out of her and she felt the warm liquid on her back, though she took no notice of it as she slumped breathlessly over the arm of the divan, her body weak.

It took several moments for them both to collect themselves and clean themselves as well as they could in case the servants, startled by the noise, came rushing into the divan. Anzu's gown was horrifically rumpled and Bakura's shirt was coated in sweat, making it quite apparent what had occurred in the drawing room.

But no servant came running and the room, along with the manor, was blissfully silent afterward.

When a silence had stretched with Anzu sprawled on top of Bakura, her cheek resting against his chest, he said slyly, "If you keep practicing on me this way, you might find that we'll have little reason to go outside the town home when we get back."

"I could use some more...instruction."

"Then it looks like we need to start from scratch again."

She raised her head, her eyes glittering with humor. "Maybe we should."

TBC