Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! One reader said this should be in Original section, which I'm trying to find where that is.

I learned last week that publishers require potential new authors to have a blog (a proven reader following maybe?). I did a lot of research about setting up a blog, but I don't know what I'd blog about. If anyone has ideas or experience, please PM me. So many Fanfiction readers are saying that they'd buy my books that I want to try soon to see if a publisher would take one of my manuscripts. :) First, I have to get a strong blog going.


She entered the bedchamber in her nightclothes, her belly straining the nightgown in the most innocent way. The woman's cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and she didn't glance his way but climbed in bed, as if shy.

He got in bed and some form of insanity swept over, causing him to lay a hand on her belly. Her bump was warm and soft with only the thin fabric as a barrier.

She smiled self-consciously. "I need new nightclothes too."

A raging urge to cradle her and the babe in his arms swept up. Before there was even time to fight it, he laid her back and his tongue dipped into her mouth. Dear heaven, she tasted hot and sweet. Her belly pressed to his, the swell of her creating an ache in his chest. His hand slipped down to stroke the babe. Her pregnant body intoxicated in ways it shouldn't have. When his fingers brushed over her breast, a soft whimper of pain shocked him out of the spell. He pulled back and sat up.

"It's just sore," she answered with red cheeks, flushing ten shades deeper when she glanced at his bare chest.

He frowned and sat up. Another minute and he would've... Clenching his teeth, he growled. "Let me see. If it's bothering you that much, it needs to be checked." He unbuttoned her nightgown without waiting for a response. Laying his fingers against her flesh, he scowled. "This is hot. How have you been treating it?"

"Hot compresses." She tried to sit up.

He pressed her down by the shoulder and massaged the tender flesh. "There's no need for embarrassment. I had to teach new mothers how to do this several times a month, so it's not shocking to me. It's not that different than milking a cow."

She snorted. "Moo."

"I didn't mean it like that," he huffed.

"I know." Dear heaven, if this wasn't embarrassing.

When he glanced up, her heart skipped a beat. His gaze locked and the world shifted. Everything faded away as his eyes pulled her in like he could see into her soul. Then his hand slowed and he leaned in closer, his warm breath sweeping over her lips. The moment his other hand drifted up and he cradled her cheek, it was like coming home. All the nightmares and hunger and cold and pain in life faded away, replaced with his fierce protection and tenderness that nested beneath the scaly armor. That beautiful blue gaze was like floating in the coolest lake on a hot summer day. As he leaned in closer, her eyes fluttered shut. This kiss might lead to something more tonight, but that was alright because he'd be gentle and safe.

"I think the blockage moved." His breath whispered against her lips.

"Hm?" She blinked as his words sank in.

He sat back and palpated, his gaze dropping down. "The tiny lump is gone."

It did feel a little better. Straightening, she pulled her nightgown shut and turned away to button it. "Thanks," she mumbled. Of all the stupid things, she'd been naive enough to think he wanted to be affectionate. That he might've even made her his, erasing all the terrible memories of being claimed by a monster six months ago. She presented her back to him as she laid down.

"Is everything alright?"

"Fine," she bit out.

"If you didn't want me to touch - "

"No, you made it clear from the start what you were going to do," she snapped. It was her stupid heart that thought he'd ever want her. Shooting up, she straightened her nightgown. "I think I'll sleep better in my room, actually," she declared in a whirlwind to the door.

He sat up calmly. "I was married long enough to know that's a female way of saying you're angry with me."

Of all the times for him to be calm, now was not one of them! Whirling around, she glared. "No, I'm not!" The irritating man's eyebrows rose in surprise. She dropped her head in her hands. "I'm angry with me," she muttered.

"If you feel safer in your own room - "

Ugh, he sounded perplexed! The desire to pull out her hair swirled up. "Mark, you don't want a wife, so stop doing these things! Ignore me!" She flung out her hands.

"I thought you got angry because I was ignoring you!" he barked.

"I was!"

"Then what the hell?!"

"Just pretend I'm not here! Go to work all day! Stay in your own bed even if I scream from nightmares!" she cried.

"Jesus, I'm not a monster!" he snapped. "Make up your mind what you want!"

"I want you to move out!"

"You begged me to stay!" he shouted in frustration.

"Now I'm begging you to go and forget about me and the babe!" she shouted back tearfully.

"Why?!"

"Because I'm falling in love with you!" Oh god. Her hands flew over her mouth in horror.

The man stared.

"I have to go." She ran to her chambers and slept in there all night.


The woman hid in the library the next morning and either pretended to keep reading or didn't hear his entrance on the crutches. He crossed the room. "We need to talk about last night."

She closed her book and got up from the settee without meeting his eyes. "You made the rules clear when we wed." The woman brushed past to the bookshelf and put the book away. "I have to arrange for the sale of my father's house - I completely forgot about it. I'll be gone for a week or two - "

"I have everything settled. If you wish to sell it, the papers are ready. If you wish to keep it, the papers are waiting when you're ready."

Her head whipped around and she looked at him with wide eyes. "You've been paying the taxes on it?"

He shrugged. "You haven't been in a position to decide what you want to do. There's no harm in letting it sit a bit longer."

She turned back to the bookshelf. "It's a dump. Sell it, tear it down, I don't care what you want to do with it," she snapped.

"It was your home for twenty-seven years." He frowned. Perhaps her father's words hurt yet and she resented the house. Perhaps it reminded her of the assault. Or maybe she just wanted to avoid him.

"And it's now your property, not mine," she retorted.

"It's all you have for inheritance. It's not mine to decide what to do with; I signed documemts returning ownership to you."

"Tear the hell hole down." Then she stormed to the door.

"Do not walk away from me before we discuss last night." He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath to keep calm.

She stopped at the door and turned, her face stone cold as she met his eyes. "There is nothing to discuss."

His brow furrowed and he stepped closer. "There is a great deal to discuss. If I have led you to believe - "

"You explained the rules repeatedly," she cut in. "I let my emotions from the babe overrule my judgement. I won't overstep my bounds again. As you said, I should look elsewhere for discreet companionship - "

His heart stopped. "I want to modify our agreement." Where had that come from? But, the words couldn't be truer.

This time, she was speechless.

"My knee hurts - let's sit." He led her to the settee and eased down beside her, setting the crutches to the side. "I'll be very frank. I like your company, but I don't love you and won't."

"I know," she cut in. "I know you love Anna."

Perhaps best to avoid that comment. "Honestly, I am doubtful that your feelings for me are what you think. You aren't used to someone watching out for you, and perhaps I'm coming across stronger than I mean."

"Mark, don't placate me. You think it's a schoolgirl crush." Her cheeks burned red and she held up her hands. "I won't overstep - "

"Tanya." He eased her hand down. "I'm not downplaying your emotions. You're confusing them for affection. I'm brash and uncouth and quite unpleasant - you'd be daft to have feelings for someone like that."

She nodded. "I think you're right."

He sighed through his nose. The woman seemed willing to say anything to retract her confession last night. "I have a proposition for you to consider. I like having you around and the space that we give each other. I would request that we sleep in the same bedchamber..." Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked away for a moment. "You know I find you attractive."

"You do?" The chit smiled, the blush in her cheeks so becoming.

A grunt served as the reply and he cleared his throat. The damn woman made him entirely too soft. "You're not finding companionship somewhere else," he growled.

Her eyebrows rose. "I wasn't planning on it, but I thought you said those were your terms."

"If you aren't happy with us adhering to our vows, then I'll leave for the country estate in the morning," he huffed.

She smiled. "Yes, Mark." And then she turned ten shades of red as it seemed to dawn. "Wait, what are you saying?"

Clearing his throat, he scowled to keep away a flush of embarrassment. "Needs are to be satisfied within the marriage eventually," he barked.

"Oh." Those big brown eyes blinked.

'Oh'? A blush or even a shocked look would've been better than 'oh.' The damn chit should've been pleased. He pressed his lips together. "I'm not demanding an heir."

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't think you were."

So that hadn't been the reason behind the 'oh.' Great. That was a wonderful ego boost. "We'd take multiple precautions to ensure there isn't a babe. But I do demand that you don't terminate any pregnancy if there is an accident. I wouldn't shirk my responsibilities as a father," he snapped.

"I wouldn't terminate a pregnancy."

"This would be a physical relationship," he huffed. "I'm not vowing love or sush nonsense. If you reject this proposal, things stand as they are." He rested his hands on his thighs and sat up straight.

She smiled. "Yes, Mark."

The damn chit wasn't supposed to be grinning. "And we're to keep sharing meals too," he barked.

"Of course, Mark."

"Don't call me that," he growled. She had this way of making his name roll off her tongue like a wife.

"Yes, dear." She folded her hands over her belly, looking so perfectly sweet.

"Or that!" Goddammit, he wasn't supposed to be the one blushing during this conversation!

"Then what should I call you? You've ruled out your name, 'my lord' and 'dear.' Should I call you 'my dragon'? You certainly breathe fire but have a soft underbelly like a dragon." Her eyes twinkled.

"No! Don't call me anything!" He snatched his crutches.

But her smile didn't leave. "What changed your mind about this?"

"Because you hold up to my temper, goddammit, woman!" he bellowed and stomped the crutches.

She giggled in that fairy-like way. "It's cute when you get frustrated with me."

His jaw dropped. What the hell?!

A knock interrupted.

"Come in!" He roared and heaved to his feet, eager for an interruption from this blasted woman.

Brigands poked his head in. "My lord, MR. Wixom to see you. Shall I show him to the study, sir?"

"Yes."

The man bowed and left.

He turned to the blasted woman. "I have to take this call about the bank. I'll see you at dinner," he snapped.

She stood, set a hand on his shoulder and raised onto her toes. He found himself lowering his head for the chit and accepting a peck on the cheek. "Don't be too long or I'll miss you."

A pang hit deep inside. His eyes followed as she walked to the door. Such a short time apart and he'd be missed. A warmth blossomed in his chest.

At the doorway, she looked over her shoulder. And smiled like she expected him to still be staring. Then she slipped out.

God bless it! The blasted woman never failed to leave him as speechless as a village idiot! With a growl of frustration, he stomped a crutch.


The stairs felt like an eternity by nine o'clock after the grueling meeting. Tanya must be in bed because the lights were all out downstairs. The woman likely would stay in her chambers for a few days or weeks after the proposition this morning. The goddamn sleepless nights would be back. Sharing a bed a couple times made him too damn dependent on the chit to sleep. He banged his bedroom door open, muttering under his breath. And stopped in his tracks.

Tanya sat in bed reading by candlelight in a white nightgown with her hair loose...thick hair that cascaded over her shoulders and begged to have fingers run through the silky locks. The tresses led right down to where her belly swelled and fit the homely scene perfectly. His side of the bed had been turned down and his nightclothes had been lain out. "Hello," he said dumbly. Christ, she looked too beautiful to be real. Heat rushed between his legs. He snapped his jaw shut and cleared his throat. And scowled at the chit. Now instead of not sleeping all night, he'd be not sleeping and uncomfortable.

She smiled and set down the book on the nightstand, apparently not at all startled by the interruption. "You look tired." She got up.

He hobbled over to his side of the bed and eased onto the edge, stretching his bad knee across the sheets to calm the throbbing. Why the hell was she in here? He ran a hand over his face. It was exhaustion causing hallucinations. The crutches pulled out of his grasp.

She set them aside and then unlaced his shoe. Like a damn wife.

Swinging his leg down, he growled, "I'll see to it."

But the chit only smiled. "You should not be stretching your leg that much yet. Behave and let me do it. I promise not to ravish you." She sat on the bed with his foot in her lap.

Dear god, if only she would to get this insanity out of his system. The nightgown outlined the roundness of her belly perfectly. He stared at her belly so close to his leg. A woman with child wasn't supposed to set a man's blood on fire. Stripping off her nightclothes would be like Christmas - unwrapping to discover luscious curves enhanced by the babe influencing her body. He crushed handfuls of the sheets. The urge to tear off her clothes and sink into her burned hotter.

"Mark?"

His eyes flew to her face.

"I'm teasing about ravishing you. You don't have to look so tense." Her eyes twinkled.

The chit was laughing at him! Clenching his teeth, he glared. Just bed the chit. God knows his loins screamed for it.

"How was your meeting?" She got up and took his shoes to set near the door.

Yes, take her now. He turned to grab the crutches. She'd set them just out of reach. Pushing himself up, he stood to grab them.

"No, you stay in bed. Your knee is swollen." A small hand tugged his sleeve.

Gladly. He plunked onto the bed and reached for her.

She caught his hands and frowned. Then she dropped them to feel his forehead. "You're flushed. Do you have a fever?" Then she felt his hands again.

"No!" The word barked out and he reached for her.

But she leaned down and unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh, I hope you don't have influenza. Dr. Englewood said it's that season again." Then she pressed her cool hand against his bare chest. "Goodness, your heart is beating fast. Lie down and get some rest?" She pulled off his shirt.

"What? No! Goddammit - "

"You shouldn't swear so much. And that word is a sin." The chit swung his legs up on the bed.

What the hell? It wasn't influenza, it was needing to bed a woman! "If - " His words cut off when she stripped off his pantaloons, the brush over his manhood wonderful agony. A groan escaped.

"See? You're achy. Oh dear." She stopped and looked at where he throbbed painfully hard.

The chit sounded disappointed. His eyes flew to her. There was nothing for her to be disappointed about! He was well endowed!

"I heard that when men come down with a fever it makes swelling."

What?!

She pulled up the sheets and tucked him in. "I'll be right back." Then she swept out of the room in a whirlwind.

His head still spun when she came back with rags and some ice.

"Here, this will help, you poor thing." In the blink of an eye, she whipped back the sheets and plunked the ice between his legs.

A yelp and curse didn't stop her from then laying cold rags on his chest, knee and forehead. "You go to sleep. I'll come check on you in a bit." Then she left.

"What the hell?!" he roared in frustration and flung the rags and ice to the floor. Surging to his feet, he grabbed the crutches and stormed into the hall.

She hurried back, a hand supporting her belly as the nightgown floated behind her. "What's wrong? Did you call for me?" Worry tinted her eyes.

The moment she got within arm's reach, he grabbed her arm and tugged her against him. His mouth crushed down on hers as his fingers buried in her hair at the back of her head. The other hand swept over the swell of her belly that prevented pulling her fully against his body. The fire lapped hotter into smoldering flames. He pressed her up against the wall, her soft gasp as his hands stroked her belly and caressed her breasts made the last coherent thoughts fly out the window.

"Mark?"

The slight tremor in her voice doused the flames. He leaned his hands against the wall on each side of her, at some point having dropped the crutches. Bowing his head, his chest heaved yet. She was frightened. And he was being a beast accosting her in the hall like some trumpet. The woman feared intimacy because of the assault and didn't deserve this.

"Are you hallucinating from the fever? I'm not Anna." Confusion and concern etched her voice.

That knife in the back was one of his own making. Guilt mounted. Somewhere along the line, he'd reinforced the lies of others that she wasn't desirable. And then came the guilt of wanting another woman after Anna. "I know you're not Anna," he growled and pushed away from the wall, snatching up the crutches.

"I don't understand."

"Go to bed," he ordered.

"Should I come check on you?" She wrapped her arms around herself.

For some reason, being responsible for her feeling that vulnerable and uncertain that she had to hug herself made his heart ache. With each beat. "No." He turned away.

SIlence.

He turned just as she turned the corner of the hall, her head down and her arms still hugging herself. Her nightgown fluttered out of sight. Moments ago she'd looked like a beautiful angel come to offer salvation. Now she looked like an angel struck down.

He didn't want to think about what had made him follow her out to the hall naked and on crutches like an ass. Or what kept his feet rooted to the ground staring after her for a long time.


She walked past his office the next day after some men left. He dropped his head on the desk. Stepping in the doorway, she hesitated for a moment. He'd been ill last night - that's probably all that had been about. He hadn't meant to use her as a way to take out his grief of not having Anna around to take care of him when he was sick. Today could be a fresh start. "Mark? Are you alright?"

He sat up and ran his hands over his handsome face. "That was the worst negotiation I've ever had."

The man seemed willing to talk, so she walked in and sat in a chair across his desk. "What kind of negotiation?"

"The worst sort - I had to convince him, a major founder, that it will be most profitable to him to not raise the loan interest rates at the bank."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You are the one who has been keeping the rates low?"

"My accountants give me the statistics. I just make it happen what we think is best for the people."

"Mark, your bank is known for its superb rates, service, lucrativity...I thought you had a board who determined all of this. It's you?"

"The job is twenty-four-seven a week. Well, twenty-eight if that was possible - it certainly feels like I work more than not. With the babe coming, I think it's best to sell out. It's too hard and an uphill battle competing with the King's banks. I've fought the fight for years, and I'm tired."

"But you can't quit! Mark, your bank gives loans to people like m! People who have two shillings but need a home - "

He met her eyes. "Yes, I know, Mr. Samuel Hartwig."

Her blood ran cold. He knew about the forgery loan. A crime punishable by death.

"Do you think I don't know every client who comes into my bank?"

Oh god. "We paid every last pence back. Father ruined us with his drinking and the collectors were going to take the house. I paid interest to the bank. I was only twenty-three - "

He held up a hand. "I know. I found it odd that a son had suddenly appeared and took out a loan to pay his father's debt. I looked into your loan when it crossed my desk. I figured out what was going on three days after you came in asking for the loan. You never defaulted on payments, so I let it slide. You realize that you could've been hanged for fraud if I would've reported you," he said in all seriousness.

She looked away, the shame swimming up. "I worked three jobs and it didn't come close to Papa's debt. I was desperate. I had tried the poorhouse, but they knew of my heritage and wouldn't help," she said quietly. "The guise at the bank was my last hope."

He leaned forward. "Samuel Hartwig never stepped foot in my bank. I never authorized a loan because he never existed, understood? I burned the files the minute you made the final payment. I also committed fraud handing a loan to a men with no birth record or identification."

Her eyes widened. "Mr. Black," she whispered. The memory slammed. The accountant had asked for identification at the time of the loan when she had returned to pick up the loan. Of course there had been none for 'Samuel,' so he had called in for 'Mr. Black,' whom she had thought would come arrest her. She'd kept her head down to hide her face and had not seen Mr Black, but the voice was familiar now.

"'Mr. Black' is code for fraudulent applicant. I was intrigued and let you walk out with the money." She must've still looked distraught because he held her eyes. "I'm not going to send you to the gallows. Even if I did, I'd be dancing next to you."

"I meant no harm - "

"I know. And because this woman walked into my bank, willing to risk everything because of the straights she was in, I decided to keep chugging along at the bank on the chance I could make a difference to more people. It's just becoming exhausting and more impossible each day." He sighed and sat back.

Strain did etch his face. "It would be nice to actually have you home when you're home. What did you do with the twelve hours I was in meetings yesterday?"

She shrugged. "It was a quiet day. I read another chapter of your statistics book from university, but then my head hurt so I gave up."

The man actually cracked a smile. "My head hurt having a professor explain it to me."

"Liar. You have calculus and a dozen other books that I couldn't understand."

The man actually blushed. "It's far easier to understand at university with professors teaching it."

Perhaps switching to another topic would be best. "Did you do your knee exercises last night?"

"It's none of your concern." He shifted.

A smile tugged. "Come, you won't get better if you don't strengthen your leg. I'll help you." The man, however, grunted. "Are you shy?"

"No." He folded his arms over his chest. Like a pout.

"You are! The infamous marquess who argues with the King himself in Parliament - "

"Who said that?" He huffed in outrage.

She giggled. "I scanned years of newspapers, Mark. I ran across an article or two about how you're the only man without fear of the King. And rumor says he respects you for it. If you can argue him, you can certainly do exercises in front of me."

"You're just going to be an irritating nag around my neck if I don't, aren't you?" he snapped.

With a grin, she tested her hands over her belly.

The man huffed in indignation and pushed his chair back. "I don't know why the hell I took a wife. A damn nuisance and irritation is what a woman is." He grabbed the crutches to go upstairs.

But she just smiled and walked around the desk. "You have it so rough having a woman who is trying to help you heal." Then she set a hand on his back and walked beside him. She walked up the steps ahead and held the railing. Then she fell into step again at the top of the stairs. The man didn't seem inclined to offer any conversation. By the time of reaching the bedroom, she couldn't keep quiet. "I don't know how you carried me. Or how you walked, for that matter."

He growled. "I don't know either - you weigh a ton."

She stopped and blinked. A smile tugged at his lips. "Oh, you have a sense of humor." She smiled. "It's a good thing you're balanced well on your crutches."

"Why?" He frowned. And got a pillow in the face.

A giggle bubbled up. The man stood there with a shocked expression and the pillow at his feet beside the bed. A scream of surprise tore out when two pillows flew at her.

"I always won snowball fights."

She laughed and dug out of the pile. "You're in for a run for your money. I throw pretty well myself."

"Yes, but you're a girl." He shrugged.

Her mouth fell open in offense. And then the man threw back his head and let out this unfamiliar sound. It took a moment to realize he was belly laughing. She smiled at the beautiful warm sound.

"As soon as I'm off these crutches, you are in a run for your money." He smiled, years lifting from his face and his eyes twinked with happiness. He looked so different...so carefree. And all she could do was stare at the amazing metamorphosis. But sadness swept over him and his smile faded. "It's been a long time since I've had reason to laugh," he said quietly. Pain and loneliness returned to his eyes.

She walked over and cupped his cheek. He needed compassion and human contact right this moment with his walls down. "You'll find a woman one day who will take away the pain and loneliness. You'll be happy again one day." As he pulled her into his arms and she laid her head on his chest to offer comfort, heartache beat stronger. If only she could've been that woman.

He needed to rest his leg for a few minutes after the exercises, so he remained lying on the bed. She laid down on her side without touching. "Mark?"

The man grunted.

"That proposition...when would it start?"

He shifted and sighed. "Being monogamous would start immediately. The other part would come in its own time."

She rolled over to face him, and his head turned to her. "I think I will take your proposition. I have one condition. This is a marriage of convenience and honor, so I will keep the boundaries you set. My condition is you can't fall in love with me."

"Yes, madam."

"I'm serious." He would be more emotional than he expected the first time making love after Anna. She wouldn't accept false declarations made in the moment. He'd made it more than clear that he wouldn't love another woman.

He snorted a smothered laugh. "I promise not to fall in love with you."

"And one more condition." She yawned.

He cocked an eyebrow.

"The bed is free ground."

"Hm?"

Draping a leg over his and a hand on his chest, she cuddled up to him.

He tensed. "What are you doing?" he growled.

"I didn't sleep well without you. Just a nap for ten minutes." She yawned again.

"Only because the babe may act up again if you don't have sufficient rest," he grumbled.

"Yes, Mark." She smiled and closed her eyes.

"And not for long," he growled.

"No, Mark," she sighed in a dreamy state, already relaxing.

His hand rested over the babe.

She smiled. This was better. This was so safe and warm for a nap.