MA

by itsbiz

for

1. Chapter 1

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/967918.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Series:

Part 1 of torturous electricity between both of us

Stats:

Published: 2013-09-15 Completed: 2013-09-18 Chapters: 2/2 Words:

27463

torturous electricity between both of us

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

"As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

Notes

Based on the myth of Hades and Persephone, set in the Regency era. Story title from Landfill by Daughter and chapter title from Blinding by Florence and the Machine.

all around the world was waking, I never could go back

Just as she had done at home when living with her parents, Alex rises with the sun, even before the birds begin to sing, though she no longer has anywhere to go or any chores to be done. Instead, she slips from bed and into her dressing gown – the most expensive dressing gown she's ever owned in her life – and crosses the room in her bare feet, wincing as the cold floor chills her down to her very bones. Stifling a yawn, she curls up like a child on the window seat overlooking the moors, resting her forehead against the frosted glass wearily.

The view never changes. It is nothing but dead trees and grass and the damnable fog. The only thing that seems to have any life is the pomegranate tree outside her window, just beginning to bud with the coming spring. She sighs heavily, her breath clouding the glass as she blinks away tears. She misses home, with its open fields of green and the grove of trees she always liked to linger in, hiding from her mother, who always trying to introduce her to this farmer or that butcher, as if any of them would have wanted a woman like her – in her forties and unable to have children. Her mother had never been able to face the fact that her daughter was an old maid, well past her prime. No one wanted her.

Except him.

Alex scowls at the mere thought of the brute no doubt lurking in his study, planning new ways to make her miserable. She has no idea why he even keeps her except for perhaps the entertainment value. She rarely leaves her room and when she does, it's only to try getting away from him, which so far, hasn't worked. The last time she'd gotten lost on the moors and had to wait huddled beneath her cloak as night fell for one of his underlings to find her and bring her back.

A soft knock on the door draws her attention across the room and Alex hugs her knees, frowning. "Who's there?"

"Only Parker, Mistress."

She softens a little at the boy's voice outside the door. For some reason, her husband is rather fond of having teenagers and children – orphans – in his employ, and she can't deny she's grown rather fond of most of them, especially eleven year old Parker. She rests her chin on her knees. "What is it, Parker?"

"The Master wants to know if you'll be joining him for breakfast."

She scowls. "You can tell your master I'll be taking my breakfast in my room, as always."

Parker sighs and she hears the dull thud of his forehead resting against her bedroom door. "He won't like that, Mistress."

"Then he can come and tell me himself," she sniffs, and promptly turns her attention back to the window, waiting for the sound of Parker's retreating footsteps. Just as she'd expected, the sound of heavier approaching steps catch her attention only minutes later and unlike Parker, this visitor does not knock and hope to be invited in. He opens the locked door with his key and steps inside, slamming it behind him. Alex doesn't turn to look at him or flinch at the loud noise, keeping her stare resolutely toward the window, but she can see his reflection in the glass – the tall, gangly figure dressed all in black, the aura of darkness and all-consuming power very nearly pervading the air around him. She swallows hard; feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach as she purposefully ignores him.

"You can't stay in here forever."

"Watch me," she snaps, and suppresses a shudder at the low, silky voice that had drawn her in before she ever saw his face.

He sighs. "What have I done to make you hate me so? It was your choice to be here with me, remember?"

Alex scoffs bitterly. "Hardly a choice when there was but one option."

"Two options," he says, his voice cold and hard. "But your selflessness would only allow you to choose me. Hardly my fault, Alexandra." She says nothing, glaring out the window at the fog, and hears him step closer, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floorboards as he moves. "I have done all that you asked of me. Your parents are living in peace in the home you allowed them to keep -"

"Not that I'm permitted to see them."

"Perhaps I would let you leave if I knew you would return," he snaps, and she flinches at the harsh tone despite herself. "You ruined your chances of that when you tried to escape out the window on our wedding night, dear heart."

She whirls on him finally, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue but it dies the moment her eyes land on him. It's the first time she's looked at him in days and the sight of him always renders her a bit tongue-tied. She may loathe the man entirely but she cannot deny he is quite something to look at. He's a young man compared to her, easily in his late twenties and his countenance is strange but absolutely fascinating – eyes dark and deeply set in a youthful face, his cheekbones alarmingly sharp, his mouth red and twisted in an odd little smirk as he studies her in return, no doubt taking in her wild hair like a cloud around her face flushed in anger and the dressing gown that he'd had sent for her from London – the latest fashion. Swallowing hard, she averts her eyes from him and manages to locate a less biting reply in her rattled mind.

"And you ruined your chances of any civil relationship the moment you decided to throw me in here and lock the door because I wouldn't lie with a complete stranger."

"Your husband," he snarls. "Stranger or not I am your husband now, Alexandra and you will get used to it." Her eyes well with tears and he softens instantly, the harsh line of his mouth thinning into something she might consider contrite, were he not the devil incarnate. "And if you'll recall, I never said I wanted to consummate our marriage that night. I merely wanted you beside me in our bed. As if I would touch a woman scared to death of me."

She gapes at him, mind racing.

At her intense scrutiny, he schools his expression into something impossibly blank and she cannot read him for the life of her. "Now, I've had enough of you hiding away like a petulant child. You will have breakfast with me in the dining room and then we shall spend the day together. Is that understood?"

"Fine," she mutters bitterly, knowing that he is merely asking to be polite. She will spend the day with him if he has to lead her about on a leash like a dog.

"Good." He nods crisply, tugging at his black leather gloves with cool detachment. "I'll send someone in to help you dress."

"I can dress myself," she bites out.

"Yes dear," he says mockingly, and slams the door to her bed chambers shut behind him.

Oh, she hates him.

Breakfast is an awkward affair, to say the least. He's already seated when she arrives, in the middle of taking his tea, and when she enters the room in one of the gowns he'd bought for her, he rises from his chair until she takes her seat across the vastness of the imported mahogany dining table.

An attendant - a young girl of about sixteen – pours her tea for her and offers her a plate of delicacies to soothe her empty stomach. Alex accepts both graciously with a murmur of thanks, and feels the eyes of her husband on her from the other end of the table. She glances up with a barely restrained huff and guarded eyes to find him observing her over his plate, eyes hooded beneath the lock of hair eternally falling over his forehead.

"Confinement doesn't suit you," he says, and she prepares herself for a snippy remark about her complexion. "But that dress does."

She blinks at him in surprise. "Thank you, Lord Smith."

He flinches at the title like she'd struck him. "Hardly the thing for a wife to call her husband, is it?"

She pushes listlessly at her eggs. "As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

The lack of an angry response from him is maddening, which is probably why he hadn't risen to the bait. Alex scowls into her tea, hating that he can make her feel like an immature child. "And what shall I call you in the mythical instance when I am not cross with you?"

His eyes meet hers from the other end of the table and even from a distance, the feel of his gaze on her burns. "Matthew."

She sips at her tea and pretends to be unaffected, all the while wondering if she'll ever say his name without venom. "How disappointingly common."

"We weren't all blessed with a name like Alexandra," he replies in the same good humor he has been showing her throughout breakfast. It's nothing like the man she'd married two weeks ago – god, has it really been so short a time as that? It seems an eternity ago – when he'd been cold, distant and taking her away from her family.

"Since we're discussing names," she begins, "I'd prefer Alex."

He nods, watching her in amusement. "Very well. So long as you never, ever call me Matthew. I prefer Matt."

Prodding at a bread roll with her knife, she says, "Fine. I shall save Matthew for when I'm cross."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Special occasions," she says with false cheer. "Darling."

After breakfast, they take a turn about the grounds, Alex with a hooded cloak to protect her from the damp, and her arm hooked through Lord – Matt's. Calling him something so informal will take getting used to after weeks of referring to him out loud by his title and in her head as Satan himself. It's also strange being so close to him when all she does is try to keep her distance. She hasn't been quite so near him since their wedding, when they joined hands in front of a minister in a private ceremony, only her parents as witnesses. He'd been wearing his gloves then just as he is now, but she imagines his touch must be as cold as ice beneath the leather exterior.

The grounds around his manor are a wretched, unsightly place. It is damp, chilly, permeated with thick fog and without the slightest hint of pretty foliage like the grounds of her childhood home. Further out on the moors, the ground is more fertile and green, the trees budding with life, but for some reason, the Smith manor is an ugly, barren place with a miserable wind that rattles the glass panes of the house at all hours. Alex prefers to imagine this is a sign that Lord Smith – Matt – has cursed the very ground he walks on.

As they pass a grove of dead trees at the end of his property, Matt finally speaks. "I know this is not a marriage you entered into for love -"

"Neither did you," she counters, glancing at him with a frown.

He hesitates. "No, I didn't. I had hoped for companionship, if nothing else." Turning his head, he looks at her pointedly. "Which you've provided little of since your arrival."

Alex glances away again, biting her lip.

"Like it or not, we are married, Alex." He speaks softly, says her name like a light caress, and she fights the urge to shiver. "For better or worse, we're going to be spending our lives together. We should make an effort to get along and at least be civil." He clears his throat uncomfortably under her surprised stare, and it's the first time she's seen the ever-in-control Lord of the house uneasy. "I want you to be happy here."

Stunned, she can only stare at the side of his face for a long moment, letting him lead her through the long grass in the midst of the tree grove as she struggles to find the appropriate response. It's the most genuine thing he – or any other man, for that matter – has ever said to her and after weeks of antagonism and shouting, it's entirely unexpected. The idea of being happy here with him seems unimaginable but continuing to live out her life this way is equally undesirable and she finds herself nodding in agreement.

"Okay," she says finally, mind still reeling. "I'll play nice if you will."

He visibly relaxes at her acquiescence, his grip on her arm loosening. "We'll both have to strive to be on our best behavior then."

"And my parents?" She asks hesitantly, not wanting to ruin their brand new and tentative truce by asking for too much too quickly. "When can I see them?"

"In time." He leads her back in the direction of the manor and her heart sinks a little at the vague reply. As if sensing it, he glances at her and sighs. "When you've proven to me that you'll come back. Perhaps a few weeks without an escape attempt."

"Why do you care if I do?" She glares at the ground as they walk, the hem of her fine dress

covered in mud. "I'm only your payment."

"Yes," he bites out impatiently, grip on her arm tight once more and his expression dark. "You are mine. And I like my things returned to me."

Alex bristles at the implication that she is nothing but his possession and the rest of the walk back to the manor is spent in stony silence on both ends, their frail truce already brittle and cracking. She doesn't know why they're even trying. They are simply not well matched, and their life together will be nothing but constant rows punctuated by deliberate silences and the slamming of doors.

When they reach the house, an unfamiliar carriage is in the drive but it isn't unusual for Matt to have strange visitors at all hours. Alex has no idea what he does to earn all the money and power he has, but whatever it is, she knows it must be a shady business indeed. At the sight of the carriage, his expression tightens and he says quietly, "To your chambers, Alex. I have business to attend to."

She frowns, despite the giddiness that fills her at the thought of the sanctuary of her bedroom. "I thought we were spending the day together?"

"And we shall." He releases her with the brush of his hand down her arm, like a faint caress, and her eyes widen. "But first I must get rid of our guest."

"Why can't I wait for you in the parlor?"

"Because I said you can't."

"You can't just order me about because -"

"I think you'll find I can." He raises a thin brow at her. "Now go. I'll send Parker to fetch you when I'm through."

With a rather undignified huff of annoyance, Alex turns on her heel and stalks into the house, leaving Matt to stare after her, smirking with amusement.

Two days later, Alex wakes well past breakfast and realizes Matt did not send for her like he usually does. They've been eating all of their meals together lately and though there are times they barely speak at all, it has still been nice to have the company, however taciturn. Pushing away the pang of disappointment, she sits up slowly and runs a hand through her hair, frowning.

She knows exactly why her darling husband hadn't sent for her. He's obviously still stewing over their row last night, when he'd tried to order her out of the library so he could conduct a business meeting and she'd thrown a book at his head. Granted, she might have been overreacting a bit but it had been no excuse for him to drag her through the house with a biting grip on her wrist and hurl her into her bedchamber like the insufferable man he is. Perhaps if he asked her to do things politely rather than ordering her about like she's another one of his henchman than she would be more inclined to comply.

Alex snorts softly to her empty room. The man doesn't have a polite bone in his body.

The rumbling of her stomach reminds her that it is well past breakfast and she groans, pulling herself out of bed to dress, hoping when she gets to the kitchen there will still something left over from this morning to tide her over. The selection of gowns she has to choose from is absolutely outrageous – Matt had spared no expense when preparing for his bride and somehow he'd known her measurements without ever asking her. Everything fits beautifully, and he has impeccable, expensive taste. Not that she'll ever tell him so.

She runs her fingers over the elegant fabrics and hums thoughtfully for a moment before finally selecting a silk green gown and holding it up against her in the mirror. It matches her eyes rather well and she finds herself wondering if Matt had chosen it for especially that reason. Quickly chiding herself for the fanciful thought, Alex scowls and carefully lays her dress aside, walking quickly toward her bedroom door. She doubts he even knows what color her eyes are.

Opening her door quickly, she finds a young girl stationed outside like she'd known there would be and bites her lip anxiously at the child leaning against the wall and lazily braiding her long dark hair. "Hello."

The girl glances up and smiles shyly. "Hello, Mistress. Can I fetch you something? You missed breakfast."

"Actually," Alex fiddles with her shift uncertainly. "I was hoping you could help me with my corset. I thought I might go down to the kitchens myself, if that's alright."

The girl nods eagerly and follows Alex into her bedroom with a skip in her step, as if happy just to have something to do. At first, she had been a little wary about her husband's use of children as servants but none of them seem unhappy here and as orphans, she supposes they have nowhere else to go but a workhouse. Holding onto the bedpost as the girl behind her laces up her corset tightly, Alex sucks in a pained breath, remembering exactly why she never wore the damn things when she lived at home with her parents. "What's your name?" She asks softly, trying to distract herself from her increasing inability to breathe properly.

The girl pauses. "Iris, ma'am."

"Pretty name," Alex murmurs. "Was your master still angry with me this morning?"

Iris shrugs. "He took breakfast in his study, ma'am. Only Parker's seen him all morning." She ties off the lacing at the bottom and steps back with a proud smile. "There you are. Would you like help with your dress too?"

Smiling fondly, Alex shakes her head. "I've got it from here. Thank you, honey."

Blushing a little, Iris curtsies and exits the room hurriedly, no doubt returning to her post. Alex finishes dressing quickly, looking in the mirror with a mouthful of hairpins as she pulls her curls into a simple updo she can manage on her own. Feeling presentable enough for the kitchens at least, Alex slips from her room and down the corridor to the staircase, winding through the dark hallways of the first floor until she finds herself standing in a warm kitchen, filled with wonderful, mouth-watering scents.

Another girl stands over a boiling pot of something or other and Alex recognizes her as the same girl who has served her breakfast in the dining room every morning. She turns at the sound of Alex's approaching footsteps, tucking short, choppy blonde hair behind her ears and smiling brightly. "Good morning, Mistress."

"Morning," Alex greets, and a name comes to her instantly as she remembers Matt asking the girl for more tea just yesterday. "Hobbs, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl turns back to the pot boiling over and stirs, frowning into it. "Are you hungry? The master made sure I kept your breakfast warm until you woke."

"He did?" Alex glances in surprise to the plate of steaming food Hobbs presents her with.

"Of course he did." Hobbs laughs at her. "Doesn't want his wife eating cold food now, does he? I can take it into the dining room for you, ma'am."

Alex hesitates. "Actually, I'd prefer to eat in here, if I won't be in your way."

When she married Matt, she'd expected to be unhappy, but she hadn't expected to feel quite so lonely. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Alex was dining in the kitchen with a teenage servant girl.

Hobbs looks startled by the request but shrugs and ushers her toward a seat at the table in the middle of the room. "I'd be honored to have your company, ma'am." She purses her lips, pouring Alex a cup of tea. "Though, I'm sure the master would be as well."

Chewing a mouthful of eggs, Alex frowns at her.

Hobbs puts down her tea and waves a hand. "Never mind that. None of my business."

Swallowing, Alex gulps at her tea and winces when it burns her tongue. "No, what? Please."

Fiddling with her apron, Hobbs sighs. "It's just, he was in a right state last night, ma'am. You upset him something awful."

The tea settles oddly in her stomach and Alex resists the urge to glare at her plate. "He started it," she mumbles, sounding like a petulant child rather than the forty-seven year old mistress of the house. She sighs angrily through her nose and glances beseechingly up at the young girl watching her anxiously. "He drives me absolutely mad. If he could just be polite for one minute and treat me like a person, like his wife, rather than another of his bloody servants he can boss about -"

Hobbs lays a warm hand on her shoulder while Alex stares blankly down at her plate, her jaw set in anger. "He's trying, ma'am, truly he is. I know he's not an easy man to get along with, but you've got to try too. He's a good man, underneath. You have to understand he just isn't used to compromising. He's been alone all his life."

Alex bites her lip, pushing away her plate of food as her appetite disappears. "That doesn't mean he can treat me like a ruddy possession," she says, but she can already feel herself softening against the bully.

"I suppose not." Hobbs nudges her with a grin. "And I shall never forgot the look on his face when Dante's Inferno hit the side of his head."

Giggling into her hand, Alex blushes guiltily. "Was he alright?"

"No harm done, Mistress." Hobbs hesitates. "Well, perhaps to his pride."

She doesn't stay in the kitchen much longer, letting Hobbs ply her with a couple of freshly baked biscuits to finish her tea with before slipping away to roam the big old house on her own. She isn't quite sure where Matt's study is located but she figures she can use the time spent searching for it to figure out what on earth she's going to say to him. Last night had been largely her own fault and she would prefer to be an adult about the whole thing and make peace now rather than later. Besides, she's been enjoying the tentative concord between them. Matt is still absolutely insufferable but his company is better than staying in her chambers all day and his good temper is better than having him snarl at her. And he was right before – they need to learn to live together civilly.

She wanders the gloomy halls aimlessly, trailing her fingers along the walls and admiring the paintings and the expensive furniture probably imported from Paris, the Persian rugs and the heavy drapes. The house reminds her of something out of a Radcliffe novel, full of dark secrets, and any moment now, she expects to hear a rumble of thunder or see a flash of lightening through rain-lashed windows. The first floor is a labyrinth of never-ending hallways and doors, and just as Alex is beginning to doubt her ability to find her way back to the kitchen, let alone find Matt's study, she stumbles into a new corridor and sees Parker standing outside of a heavy wooden door, his arms crossed and a little cap tilted over his eyes.

She clears her throat pointedly and he stands to attention at once, yanking his cap from his face, fisting it in one hand while he reaches up with the other to smooth back his ruffled dark hair. He's quite an adorable little lad, though with his olive skin and big brown eyes, he looks like he belongs with a band of gypsies rather than in a pale Englishman's service. "Mistress," he says, sounding surprised. "I was just – uh -"

"Napping?" Alex laughs softly. "It's alright, dear. It's our little secret."

He beams at her.

Jerking her thumb in the direction of the door behind him, she asks, "Is this his study then?" When Parker nods, she smiles. "Can I go in?"

He hesitates. "I should ask him first, my lady." Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Parker continues, "He was in a right mood earlier on account of -"

Alex nods, wincing. "Yes, I know. Ask if he'll see me, would you?"

Without further ado, Parker turns and opens the door to Matt's study, poking his head in. "The mistress is here to see you, sir. Shall I let her in?"

Alex can't hear Matt's reply but Parker steps aside with a smile to let her pass by, so she ruffles his hair in thanks and steps inside, allowing him to shut the door behind her. Seated behind a large desk in the middle of the room, Matt doesn't even look up and she lingers by the door uncertainly, taking everything in for a moment. The room smells of pomegranates and cigar smoke and fresh bottles of ink. The light in here is soft and the fire roaring in the fireplace on the other side of the room lends an inviting feel to the small space. It isn't quite what she'd expected for the devil's lair.

"Come to observe me in my natural habitat?"

She glances up and finds Matt peering at her over a few leafs of paper, frowning. He's obviously still sore about last night and she decides to tread carefully, shrugging lightly. "I knew you weren't taking any visitors at the moment and I thought you might like some company. That is what I'm here for isn't it?"

He eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you were here for target practice."

Sighing, she smoothes a hand over her dress and steps forward, approaching his desk with the feeling of a girl in the head master's office. There are two plush leather chairs in front of his desk that he probably keeps there for his appointments with the various strangers who come to call but she doesn't want him looking at her like another person he can just give orders to and send away. She steps around the chairs and perches on his desk, looking down at him. He stares up at her in surprise and it's this close that she finally sees the cut on his temple, just peeking out from beneath his hair. Gasping softly, she reaches out before she can stop herself but when his gaze hardens, she freezes, her hand halted in mid-air. "Is that -" She swallows uneasily. "Is that from last night?"

Matt leans back in his chair, further away from her, and clenches his jaw.

She worries her lip between her teeth guiltily, bringing her hand back to her lap. "I'm sorry, Matt. I shouldn't have done that, no matter how furious you make me."

He smoothes a hand over his cravat and drops his gaze to the papers on his desk, and Alex is sure he's about to dismiss her from his study without any acknowledgement of her apology whatsoever, but finally, he asks softly, "And your wrist?"

Fleetingly thinking of his iron grip on her last night as he dragged her through the halls and into her room, Alex flexes her fingers and shrugs. "A little sore. It's fine."

"Good," he murmurs, clearing his throat, and she knows that's the last they'll speak of it. "Have you eaten?"

She nods, watching him stack his papers and tuck them away in a drawer where she can't see them. "Hobbs was very accommodating."

Matt rises from his seat and moves to the table in the corner, where a decanter of red liquor and a few glasses sit. Pouring himself a drink, he eyes her from across the room, still perched on his desk, and she fights the urge to fidget under his gaze. "I like the dress," he comments idly, and sips his drink. "It brings out your eyes. I knew it would."

Alex stares at him in surprise, feeling her face flush despite herself.

"However, the hair won't do at all."

She frowns, reaching up a hand to brush her fingers self-consciously over her updo. "What's wrong with it?"

"I can't see it." He strolls toward her slowly, something unmistakably predatory in his eyes that makes her stomach tighten. "I much prefer it down, my dear."

"It's improper for a woman my age." She waits for him to reach her before snaking out a hand and nicking his glass. He doesn't try to take it back, watching her with raised brows, so she lifts the

glass to her lips and drinks under his watchful stare, the taste of pomegranates bursting on her tongue. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Certainly not," he murmurs humorously, and takes back his drink before she can protest. Setting it aside, he steps in closer to her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body against her side and smell the scent of leather, pomegranates and damp earth – a dizzying, heady combination that renders her speechless. Slowly, as if waiting for her to strike out and push him away, he slips long, elegant fingers into her hair and begins plucking out the pins holding her hair in place one by one.

Alex sits frozen, barely daring to breathe as his every exhalation stirs the hair at the top of her head. When he slides out the last pin and tosses it onto his desk, he tangles his fingers in her hair and untwists it from its simple knot at the back of her head until her hair tumbles over her shoulders in wild blonde ringlets.

His hot mouth brushes her ear and she fights back a full-bodied shudder, letting him twine his hands in newly freed curls as he demands quietly, "Leave it down."

She nods hurriedly and when he finally steps back and drops into his seat behind his desk, glass of red liquor in hand, she is gasping for air, her lungs burning and her heart pounding. "Another demand then?" She asks hoarsely, silently scolding herself for being so affected by a simple touch

– and by him, no less.

He smiles blithely. "A helpful suggestion, if you like."

She rolls her eyes.

A soft knock on the door has them both turning around as Parker pokes his head inside and says, "Mr. Clement is here to see you, sir."

Matt stiffens, his almost playful mood dropping instantly. "Thank you, Parker. Please escort your mistress back to her rooms."

Alex glances back at him with a scowl. "I was going to have a look around, actually. I do live here, after all."

"After Clement leaves. Go." He sighs when she glares at him. "Please."

At the magic word she's been complaining he never uses, Alex softens instantly, nodding with reluctance. "Fine. But as soon as he's gone -"

"I'll show you around myself," he promises tersely. "Now, for god's sake, get out of my sight, you brandy-swilling hellion."

She stalks out of his study, past the man waiting outside and down the hall without a backward glance, letting Parker lead her back to her chambers and wondering if it would actually kill Matt to be polite for more than a second. She amuses herself on the walk back by imagining her darling husband keeling over in the middle of dinner – cause of death too many please's and thank you's.

But when she joins him in the dining room that night, she wears her hair down – only because she likes it better that way too.

Usually after having dinner with Matt, she retires to her chambers for the remainder of the evening but one night about a week after Mr. Clement's visit, she accompanies her husband to the library instead. It's been raining heavily all day, pouring from the skies with a vengeance and making the already damp grounds even worse. She's been stuck inside and the boredom of staring out the window and watching rain pool in the marshy ground is slowly killing her. Exploring the library more thoroughly sounds perfect and the extra time spent with Matt will please him as well.

He wanders into the cavernous room with her trailing behind him, his footsteps echoing as he makes his way toward the leather armchair in the corner next to a table with clustering of lit candles, a newspaper tucked under his arm. "Help yourself to whatever you like," he says, waving a hand flippantly around the room as he sinks into his chair, flips open his paper and proceeds to ignore her entirely.

Alex stands in the middle of the room, gazing around at the rows and rows of books, heavy shelves stretching all the way up to the ceiling. Never in her life has seen so many books in one place. There's a fireplace on one side of the room, a fire crackling invitingly in it. A thick, plush rug is laid out in front of it, a sofa and several armchairs situated around the rug, and Alex decides once she selects a book, she'll stretch out on the sofa to read until the fire lulls her to sleep.

Walking to the shelf nearest her, she skips her index finger lightly over the spines, tilting her head to read the titles. After a moment of skimming, her brow furrows and she glances up, turning to

Matt and finding him already watching her. The moment he notices her looking back, he drops his gaze back to his newspaper once more, frowning deeply. Alex smirks. "Why do you have an entire shelf of children's books and romances? A little late night reading?" She pauses, horrified by her next thought. "Do you have children?"

Startled, he raises his head to look at her with a scowl. "Yes, the ones in my employ. They may not be the brightest in the bunch but they do know how to read, Alex."

"Sorry," she says, feeling chastised. "I just didn't realize you kept books for them. That's… very kind of you."

Kind. Matt.

Her head feels fuzzy.

He shrugs carelessly. "Reading keeps them out of trouble and out of my hair."

Ah. The world has been restored to its rightful order.

She plucks a romance from the shelf and flips open the cover, instantly spotting the name 'Hobbs' scrawled in rather awful penmanship. She runs her fingers fondly over the etching and silently hopes the girl won't mind sharing – Alex could use a little romance in her life, and the fictional kind is just going to have to do. Carrying her treasure with her to the cozy sofa by the fire, she sits timidly on the edge of it, hugging her book to her chest and watching Matt across the room, glaring at his newspaper.

"Are you going to sit over there all night?"

He pauses, slowly lifting his eyes to hers. "Pardon?"

She sighs. "You said you married me because you wanted the company. I can't provide you with much companionship if you're all the way over there by your lonesome, can I?"

His mouth twitches and his eyes soften as he looks at her and Alex feels something in her chest tighten painfully. "I suppose not."

She offers a small smile and pats the sofa. "Come on then. It's warmer over here anyway."

He stands almost hesitantly and Alex watches as he walks toward her, noting not for the first time just how incredibly tall and long-limbed he is. When they're standing next to each other, he towers over her. In the beginning, his height was one of many menacing things about him but now she studies that lanky gait with – not quite fondness… he just doesn't seem as forbidding and devilish now as he had only a few weeks ago. He settles onto the other end of the sofa, a good distance away from her, and she frowns wonderingly at the vague feeling of disappointment. "What now?"

She blinks. "Now?"

He stretches out his long legs, the heels of his boots digging into the expensive rug under his feet as he crooks an eyebrow at her. "You were going to provide me with companionship."

Stifling an amused smile, she shakes her head. "Sometimes companionship is just sitting quietly and enjoying one another's nearness."

He gives a most ungentlemanly snort. "I could have done that from my chair over there."

Curling her legs up beneath her skirts, Alex leans back against the sofa cushions and drapes an arm over the back of it, leaning her head into her open palm. "So you don't have any children then?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you want children?"

He levels her with an exasperated look. "If I did I wouldn't have married you."

Recoiling as if he'd slapped her, Alex swallows painfully and drops her suddenly watery eyes back to her book. "Right," she whispers. "Sorry."

Matt sighs. "Stop that."

She keeps her eyes focused on the cover of her book resolutely, blinking hard. "Stop what?"

Making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, he snaps, "Stop making me feel awful for stating the obvious."

"I'm not doing anything," she bites back in reply, raising her head to glare at him tearfully. "If you're feeling guilty it's only because of what you've said, not what I'm doing, you bully."

He gapes at her in outrage. "Bully?! I only meant I knew when I married you that you were -"

"What? Damaged?"

"Barren." He frowns. "And it didn't matter to me. My life is not meant for children – not unless they work for me. And I'm not a bully."

She ignores him, sniffling. "You like them, don't you?"

"Who?"

"The children, of course."

He hesitates, glancing away into the fire for a long moment, and she watches the way the light from the flames dances across his face, sharpening his cheekbones and making him look almost hollow. "I… have a soft spot for them. They're alone in this world." He frowns. "Like I am."

Her heart climbs into her throat and she resists the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm, to comfort her husband and jailer somehow, nonsensical though it may be. "Like you were."

"Hmm?"

"You were alone," she corrects softly, and he turns his dark, intent gaze on her. "But you have me now."

His mouth twitches again and she realizes it's the closest thing to a smile she's ever seen from him. "Yes," he admits quietly, eyes raking over her face. "I suppose I do."

They go back to their respective readings after that, sitting in companionable silence with the fire crackling in the background. Alex loses herself in the tale about a dark, handsome and brooding hero who must rescue a girl from her terrible captors and before she knows it, the warmth of the fire, the words on the page and the knowledge of Matt's presence so near lulls her into a state of half-sleep, her eyes sliding shut as her head falls to rest on the back of the sofa.

She jolts awake suddenly when Matt tries to rouse her, his dark form bending over her with a gentle hand on her arm and his quiet voice entreating her to wake up. "Come along, my dear. Go to bed – it's quite late."

Nodding sleepily, Alex climbs to her feet a bit clumsily and Matt hovers near her anxiously, as if expecting her to need him for balance. She straightens, blinking bleary eyes at him, and offers him a mumbled, "Goodnight then."

He reaches out a hand, as if to touch her arm again, but then thinks better of it, curling his hand into a fist at his side. Nodding once, he clears his throat and averts his glower to the floor. "Yes. Goodnight, Alex."

Thankfully, even in her half-asleep state, she manages to find her way back to her chambers with relative ease. She might actually be getting used to this drafty old place. She undresses in the dark and topples into bed in her shift, sliding beneath the blankets that have already been turned down for her – probably by Iris. As soon as her head hits her pillow, she's asleep.

Alex dreams of a man on a dark horse riding to her rescue – she can't see his face but he holds the reins of his steed with black leather gloves that look strikingly familiar. In the morning, she remembers nothing.

Sitting at the window seat in her chambers and staring glumly out at the landscape has become a pastime of hers. Not a particularly entertaining pastime, but she lacks something substantial to do in this house. The servants do all the work she normally helped her mother with at home, Matt is

in his study most hours of the day doing whatever it is he does, and more often than not, she finds herself wandering the halls aimlessly or staring out her window, slowly going mad for lack of anything to occupy her.

"Are you telling me you'd like to scrub floors with Hobbs then?" Matt smirks at her over dinner one night when she complains about her boredom – again. "Because the answer is absolutely not."

"Why not?" She frowns at him. "Maybe not the floors but I could help with something! What about the cooking?"

"Hobbs does that too. You can't take the servants' jobs away from them, Alex." He swirls the wine in his cup around for a moment, then takes a slow sip. "They won't thank you for it. You'll be taking their wages."

"Why can't you just pay them the same as usual?"

"For doing less work?" He scoffs and looks at her like she's terribly naïve and precious, which infuriates her. "Hardly."

Alex breathes out quietly through her nose, jaw set as she glares at him from across the table. "I need to do something. Anything."

"We have servants so that you don't have to do anything," he says with a sigh. "Most women love that, you know."

She ignores him. "What about your job?"

He tenses. "What about it?"

"Well you're always in your study all day, I hardly ever see you." She brightens, growing more excited as an idea forms. "If you want to spend more time with me, perhaps I could help you with whatever you do in there. I could sort papers or answer letters or -" But Matt is already shaking his head and she huffs angrily. "Why not?"

"I don't need you in there." He gulps at his wine and sets the cup down with more force than necessary. "My business is no place for you."

"Well then where is my place?" She snaps. "Here at the table so you can look at me with your wine? In my chambers so you know your newest possession is safe and sound?"

"Precisely," he murmurs, still not looking at her.

Tightening her grip around her knife so she doesn't hurl it across the table at him, Alex says through gritted teeth and with infinite patience, "The other night, you said you life wasn't meant for children. What did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like I meant, I imagine." Matt cuts his meat with an air of calm but she can see by the set of his shoulders that he's tense and listening.

"Did you mean your job then? Because it's too dangerous?" She rolls her eyes when he doesn't respond. "What do you do?"

"What I have to." He chews slowly, watching her with that burning gaze she feels through layers of silk and petticoats and whalebone. "To give my wife fine things and pay our servants and feed our horses."

Alex sighs heavily, leaning forward a bit and looking at him pleadingly, eyes wide and begging. "Shouldn't I know what my husband does for a living?"

"I tell you what you need to know," he answers calmly.

Throwing her knife down on her plate with a loud clatter, Alex snaps, "You've told me nothing!"

"Then I suppose that means you don't need to know anything," he barks in reply.

Alex crosses her arms over her chest and glowers at him in silence for the remainder of dinner.

She keeps up her silence for days, refusing to speak to him at meals or join him in the library after dinner. She keeps mostly to her chambers, staring out the window at the dreary sky, missing her mum and dad and home. It's just such an afternoon, nearly a week after her latest row with Matt, that he barges into her chambers dressed in a dark tailcoat, trousers, his usual black boots and a top hat. Before Alex can so much as grumble about him never knocking, he moves to her wardrobe and throws open the doors, swinging his walking stick as he goes.

"What are you doing?" She asks, frowning. "Tired of your own clothes?"

He scans the dresses for a moment, mumbling under his breath, before finally selecting a deep red one and plucking it from the wardrobe. "Put this on," he says, tossing it onto the bed. "I'm leaving in fifteen minutes and if you aren't ready, you're staying here with Benson."

"Benson?" She sputters. "The stable hand? What on earth for?"

"Because he's the only grown man I have in my employ who can look after you while I'm gone." Matt snaps his fingers impatiently. "But I'd prefer not leaving you at all. So get dressed."

Hurrying to the dress on her bed – not because he's being demanding but because it sounds like she might actually get to leave this godforsaken house and its godforsaken gloom for a while – Alex snatches it up and asks, "Where are we going?"

Walking toward the door, Matt leans his head out of the doorway and waves a hand. Moments later Iris comes scurrying in to help her with her corset. He doesn't grant Alex the privacy of leaving so she leaves on the shift she slept in, holding tightly to a bedpost while Iris laces her corset tightly.

Leaning against the doorframe, Matt watches her from beneath his fringe, eyes hooded. "I have business in town," he finally answers her.

She stares at him in surprise, barely even feeling the breath slowly being squeezed from her lungs as Iris works quickly behind her. "And you're letting me come with you?"

"I don't like the idea of leaving you here unsupervised," he explains loftily. "And I'm only collecting payment today, nothing exciting. You are to keep quiet and not ask questions. Understood?"

Alex nods quickly as Iris ties the laces of her corset and steps back. He could have asked her to stand by quietly while he threw a bag of kittens in the river and she would have done it gladly for the chance to go to a place with people. Iris helps her into her petticoats with Matt's eyes still on her but she's determined not to be affected by his gaze, letting Iris help her into her dress and do up the tiny buttons made out of shining gems in the back.

"There," she says, smoothing out the skirts with a grin. "Ready."

"You look ravishing, wife." He smirks at her and she flushes, inordinately pleased. "But your hair has to be put up before we go. Hurry up, you've got five minutes."

She frowns. "But I thought you wanted it down?" Iris is already behind her, hairpins in her mouth as she gathers Alex's curls in her hands and begins to twist her hair into some sort of elaborate updo. "You said -"

"Yes, I do want it down," he explains in that low, patient voice that never fails to make her stop whatever she's doing and listen. "For me. Not for anyone else."

The possessiveness of his words sends a strange heat to her belly she can't explain and Alex can only watch wordlessly as Matt turns on his heel and begins marching down the hall, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be waiting by the carriage."

When Iris has tucked the last pin into her curls, leaving just a few framing her face, Alex has two minutes to spare and she uses them to hitch up her skirts and hurry down the hall and the stairs, rushing into the foyer and out the door. Matt leans against the carriage door waiting for her, and the coachman and Parker are already seated on the box together.

He nods in approval at her hair as she approaches. "Much better. Actually, it's bloody awful but perfectly acceptable for the rest of society, I suppose."

She curtsies mockingly and he huffs, opening the carriage door for her. When she moves to step up, he startles her by wrapping his hand around hers to help her in, the leather of his glove smooth and supple against her palm. She settles into the carriage and watches him climb in after her, mouth dry and hand tingling.

Matt sits opposite her on the other side of the carriage, taking off his top hat and tossing it on the seat next to him along with his walking stick. The carriage takes off at once, rattling down the drive and toward the nearest town, which is still miles and miles away from Alex's parents, but

she has to ask. "Could I see my mum and dad? Just to let them know I'm alright?"

He shakes his head, as she'd known he would. "That's a journey of several days, Alex. Not today."

She bites her lip against any protest and merely nods, turning her head to look out the carriage window at the passing landscape.

"Perhaps when the whether improves and spring is here, we can take the journey together," he says, obviously trying to appease her. "How does that sound?"

"Lovely," she murmurs, because she knows he really is trying, in his own way. She hasn't the heart to tell him her mother would probably refuse to even let him in the house. "So whom are you collecting your payment from?"

Long fingers tapping restlessly against his knee, Matt glances out the carriage window, face tilted up to admire the canopy of tree branches above them. "You've seen him before. A man by the name of Clement."

She thinks back for a moment and shakes her head. "I recall the name, but not the man."

He tips his head back down and smirks at her, hazel eyes twinkling with unusual mirth. "You wouldn't. You were too busy making a dramatic exit to let me know how cross you were with me."

Refusing to laugh, Alex purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest, silently hating the way he can make her feel like a ridiculous child when he's the one so much younger than she is. Honestly, she can only imagine the scandal her marriage to such a young man caused in town – not that any of them would think to mention it to her face if she ever saw them. Matt's reputation as a dark and dangerous man would make sure of it. She sniffs and tips up her chin. "I'm sure I had a very good reason."

"Not at all." His smirk turns into a genuine grin and she can only stare in wonder at seeing it for the first time, white teeth gleaming against his thin red mouth. "I was being my usual charming self."

Shaking herself quickly and forcing herself to stop staring at his mouth, Alex snorts. "I'm sure."

Outside the carriage, she can hear the coachman and Parker singing a catchy little ditty to amuse themselves and she bobs her foot along for a moment, enjoying the sound of little Parker's laughter. "Why did he come with us?"

"We needed someone to drive us into town, dearest."

She sighs. "Parker, not the coachman."

"Parker likes town." Matt fiddles with a button on his tailcoat. "And he's a bit like my footman. He accompanies me everywhere."

"Poor thing," she murmurs, and smiles when Matt glares at her.

They make the rest of the journey into town in companionable silence, Matt staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face and Alex too afraid to ruin the peaceful atmosphere between them by speaking again. When they arrive in the town square, Matt places his hat back on his head, snatches up his walking stick and steps from the carriage, holding out a hand to help her down. Fingers wrapped around his gloved ones, she steps out and into the bustle of a quaint little town with actual people. It's been weeks since she's been in the company of anyone but Matt and the servants and she beams at her surroundings happily, allowing Matt to tuck her arm through his and lead her along.

"It's just up here," he says, swinging his walking stick with his other hand. "I thought you might like to walk the rest of the way."

She nods, drinking in the sights and sounds of civilization. It's a whole world away from the wild moors and she revels in the change. She nods and smiles at people who pass by and though Matt isn't quite gentlemanly enough to amiably tip his hat, she doesn't mind, too pleased that he'd even allowed her to come at all to fuss about something so small. They pass dressmaker shops and candy stores overcrowded with children, a bookshop and a hat shop but her face only lights up when she sees the jeweler's.

With a gasp of delight, she tugs on Matt's arm and glances at him pleadingly. "Just a peek?" He lets her pull him to the store window with an indulgent smile, watching her peer inside. She and her mother used to stare into the jeweler's window in her own town, both of them unable to afford anything but staring in delight anyway at all the pretty trinkets. Spotting a pearl necklace with a diamond clasp, she points to it almost out of habit and says, "Oh, look at that one. It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

Peering into the window along with her, Matt murmurs, "It's passable. The wearer, however, would make it stunning."

Flushing horribly and hating herself for it, Alex bites her lip and glances away, tucking her arm almost shyly back into his. "Come on then. You have payments to collect and poor men with families to terrorize."

"I don't terrorize," he says, leading her away as they begin to stroll down the street once more. "Must you insist on speaking of me like some sort of brute?"

"You are a brute," she says through a smile at a woman passing by with her baby.

"No," he corrects patiently. "I'm a man who takes what's owed him using any means necessary."

"Yes, darling husband," she says dryly. "That's a brute."

Sighing as they stop in front of an ill-kept townhouse, Matt says nothing and tugs her up the steps with him, rapping loudly on the door with the end of his walking stick.

"Why do you carry that thing?" She asks, slipping her arm from his and smoothing a hand over her dress. "You don't have a limp and you don't seem the type to be overly ostentatious."

Matt grimaces. "A necessary evil, I'm afraid."

Before she can ask him what he means, the door swings open and Clement stands there in muddy breeches and a nightshirt. He's a burly man but quite short in stature, with dark beady eyes and too little hair on his balding head. He pales at the mere sight of Matt on his doorstep.

Matt swings his walking stick over his shoulder and offers Clement a cheerful smile that under the surface is anything but. It's strange, how striking the difference is between the cold smile he has on now and the crooked grin he'd bestowed her with in the carriage. "Hello, my dear Clement. Guess what day it is?"

Clement swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. "Look, I don't have it yet. I just need another week,

maybe two and then -"

Feigned smile dropping instantly, Matt tuts disapprovingly and says, "I'm afraid that won't do at all, poor fellow. We had a deal."

Clement trembles a bit.

Stepping in closer, Matt gazes into the shorter man's eyes and lowers his voice to the silky tone that seems to entrance whoever might be listening. "I've been very fair, wouldn't you say, dear Clement? You came to me for a loan and I gave it to you when no one else would. You appreciated that very much, didn't you, Clement?" He waits patiently for Clement to nod, wide-eyed. "And all I asked in return was that you pay me back with a bit of interest the very next month. That isn't such an extraordinary request, is it? Don't you think I've been quite reasonable, Clement?"

With a gulp, Clement nods and when Matt steps back out of his personal space, he slumps and draws in a relieved lungful of air. "I'm sorry, Lord Smith. I just don't have your money yet," he babbles nervously. "If I could just have a bit more time-"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Matt purses his lips, clearly displeased. "If you don't have the money, I'll have to exact another form of payment. Your pocket watch, for instance. The one you were so terribly proud of when you showed it to me in my study last month." Clement's eyes widen and Matt tilts his head, his gaze so frightfully manic that Alex takes a step back and nearly trips down the stairs. "You remember, the one with the diamond studded face worth more than a year of your wages?"

"You can't do that!" Clement sputters. "That watch belonged to my great grandfather!"

"I think you'll find I can do as I please," Matt says glibly, unfazed.

Timid, nervous Clement turns furious and red-faced at once, those beady eyes of his glowing with startling ferocity. Without thinking, Alex edges closer to Matt's side because for once, he seems like the lesser of two evils. His hand drops instantly to the small of her back, a soothing touch meant to calm her.

"Enough now, Clement. You're frightening my wife."

Beady eyes turn on her immediately and there is something almost calculating in that gaze that unnerves Alex but she refuses to let the man know it, lifting her chin and staring back unblinkingly. "Wife, hmm? You can make him see how unreasonable he's being, can't you?" He asks her desperately. "It was my -"

Before Clement can utter another word to her, Matt takes the end of his walking stick and jams it into his ribs, effectively cutting him off as the man doubles over and gasps for air, wheezing. "You do not address her," Matt snarls. "You do not look at her, you do not so much as breathe in her direction, do you understand me, you miserable little vermin?"

Clement coughs.

Matt raises his walking stick and Alex finally snaps out of her startled stupor in just enough time to grasp his arm tightly and hiss, "Stop it, Matthew."

He blinks at her in surprise, glances down at her white-knuckled grip on his bicep, and slowly lowers his walking stick. Instead, he pushes the stick into Alex's hand and steps closer to Clement. He fists his shirt in his hand and shoves the shorter man up against the door of his home, keeping him in place as he uses his other hand to fish through his pockets. Alex watches nervously, clutching Matt's walking stick to her chest and wondering silently exactly what sort of man she'd entered a sacred union with until finally, Matt slips his hand out of Clement's pocket with a triumphant hum, holding aloft a gold pocket watch.

Tucking his find into his tailcoat pocket, Matt steps back, takes his stick back from her and offers a wink she assumes is supposed to calm her nerves. "I think that will do nicely. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Clement."

Clement watches in wounded, resentful silence as Matt turns on his heel and offers Alex his arm. She takes it without protest, still stunned, and allows him to lead her down the staircase and away from Clement's townhouse. When they're far enough away, he says, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I wasn't expecting him be quite so uncooperative."

Feeling his gloved fingers stroking at the inside of her elbow soothingly, Alex shakes her head. "Was that really necessary? Couldn't you have given him an extra week?"

"I don't extend my deadlines," he says decisively, and is apparently in a good enough mood to tip his hat at passersby now, with his new bounty in his pocket. "I'm quite firm about it but everyone I deal with knows this up front."

She frowns. "But that doesn't make any sense. You gave my parents an extra month to try and get their payment for you. Why not him?"

Matt sighs, looking aggrieved at having to explain himself. "My leniency with your parents had very little to do with kindness toward them, if you must know."

Alex gapes at him in comprehension, and if it weren't for the look in Matt's eyes as he gazes down at her, she would have been sure she was hearing things. He favored her long before she was ever his wife, it seems. And she'd barely even known his name until the moment he came to their home and declared her parents were going to lose the house and land or their daughter.

Before she can make sense of what to do with this new information, Matt stops in the middle of the street and waves his walking stick, and she glances up to see Parker striding toward them, munching on sweets. His pockets are bulging a bit and she imagines there must be more candy squirreled away there for later. "Parker, my good man." Matt ruffles the boy's hair and eyes him almost anxiously. "Everything alright?"

Parker nods proudly. "Well, sir."

"Good." Matt squeezes his shoulder. "Escort your mistress back to the carriage then."

Alex relinquishes his arm and steps up to Parker, who offers her a grubby hand that she takes willingly. "What about you?"

"I have another errand," he says, already walking away. "I'll be along in a moment."

With a sigh, she allows Parker to lead her along back to the waiting carriage. "Did you have fun, dear? Matt told me how much you like town."

Parker nods, grinning as he offers her a sweet from his little bag. "Have one, ma'am?"

With a fond smile, Alex politely declines and steps up into the carriage, waiting for Matt to return. True to his word, he doesn't take long at all, hopping into the carriage only moments later with a velvet box in hand. He settles into the seat across from her, depositing his top hat and walking stick next to him.

"What were you doing?" She asks warily as the carriage starts to move.

He surprises her with another, smaller but equally genuine smile, and tosses the velvet box at her. It lands in her lap and she casts him a suspicious glance before picking it up. "It's not going to bite," he says with a snort. "Open the bloody thing."

The box creaks as she opens it and she drops her eyes from Matt to look down into it, gasping quietly at the pearl necklace nestled inside, the diamond clasp glittering even in the relative darkness of the carriage. "Matt," she breathes quietly, glancing up with wet eyes. "You didn't have to – I didn't expect you to buy this for me just because I liked it. You -"

"I know you didn't expect it," he says with a soft laugh. "That is precisely what made buying it so delightful, pet." He hesitates, watching her touch her fingertips reverently to one lone pearl. "It's also an apology… for today. And I hope you can understand now, that I don't tell you about my work not to drive you mad, but for your own safety. People can get quite angry with me at times, and I don't want you associated with what I do for your protection. Do you understand?"

She nods, feeling a strange sort of warmth fill her chest as he looks at her earnestly. "Thank you," she says softly. "For trying to explain it to me. And for this." She looks down at the necklace again with a smile. "It's lovely."

He watches her with mild amusement, his eyes soft. "Aren't you going to put it on?"

"Oh, yes, of course." She lifts the necklace from its box and wraps it around her neck, fiddling with the clasp. "I can't quite -"

"Turn around," Matt orders quietly, and when she does, she feels his bare fingers against her own, taking the clasp from her. She suppresses a quiet gasp, startled by the warmth of his touch. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be a warm-blooded male like all the others. She shuts her eyes at the light touch of his fingers at the nape of her neck and when the clasp finally snaps into place, she lifts a hand to the hollow of her throat to feel the pearls warming against her skin. She can't be sure but before Matt slips away back to his side of the carriage, she could swear she feels the faintest press of lips against the back of her neck but then he's back in his own seat and looking out the window. Frowning, Alex decides she must have been imagining things.

"I am not a child, you know. I don't need a bloody escort everywhere I go!"

Calmly watching her from his desk as Alex stands in the middle of his study, red-faced and furious, Matt steeples his fingers. "You may not look like a child, but you're currently doing a rather marvelous impression of one."

Alex smothers the urge to stomp her foot and prove his point. "I am a grown woman," she seethes. "And if I want to walk about the grounds of my own home without being followed by a minder then I should damn well be able to."

"Such language from a lady," he tuts, and she gets the distinct feeling he enjoys seeing her so riled.

"Such ill manners from a gentleman," she snips, and he grins jovially in reply. "Why can't I go out on my own? I haven't tried to run away in weeks!"

"Yes, but the last time you went out on your own, you got lost, remember?" He arches an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sending Benson out to look for you again because you're silly enough to wander too far. Now you can go with Parker or Iris or bloody hell, takes Hobbs for all I care. Just take someone so I know you'll be returned to me safely. Or you can't go at all."

"'Returned to you safely?'" She gapes at him in outrage. "I am not a bloody possession to be loaned out to your servants!"

Matt taps his quill against his chin, entirely unmoved. "Your parents, Alexandra, owed me a debt, and you agreed to be my payment, which in turn, makes you mine." He smirks at the tight line of her mouth. "And I like to keep the things that belong to me safe, whether you like it or not."

With a growl of fury, Alex grabs the nearest object to her, which happens to be a paperweight, and tosses it at her husband. She's too angry to aim properly and she misses, but as it falls to the floor with a thud behind Matt's head, he jumps to his feet with a thunderous look on his face that usually means trouble.

"I hate you," she snaps, and glares at him one last time before turning swiftly on her heel. She storms out, slamming the door behind her as she goes, and as she stalks down the corridor away from him, she fully expects his study door to open and to hear his footsteps behind her. Surely he won't let her get away with throwing a bloody paperweight at him like that.

However, by the time she reaches the staircase and he still hasn't come after her, she allows herself a quiet exhale of relief before she climbs the stairs to her chambers. She slams that door too, just for good measure, and proceeds to pace the length of her room, hands balled into fists as she tries to calm her breathing and tell herself that she shouldn't let that horrible man make her so agitated. It's only that she has spent her whole life being her own person with no one to answer to and while she hated that the reason for that was because no one wanted a woman who couldn't produce an heir, she grew to love her freedom. Having it snatched away by Matt is suffocating.

It's only moments after she finally collapses onto her bed to stare tearfully up at the ceiling that she hears the sharp click of Matt's boots on the floor outside her room. She sighs, mentally preparing herself for another battle, and listens to him open the door. It shuts behind him but she doesn't hear his footsteps approaching and he doesn't speak, so she huffs and lifts her head to glower at him. "What do you want?"

Standing by her bedroom door and watching her warily, he says, "I'm not apologizing."

"Fine." She drops her head and shuts her eyes. "I'm not apologizing either."

"However," he begins, sounding almost hesitant. "I'm going for a ride this afternoon, since the weather is tolerable. I wondered if you might join me."

Intrigued despite herself, she sits up with a frown. "Can I have my own horse?"

Matt snorts. "You just threw a paperweight at my head and shouted that you hated me. Of course you can't."

Her frown deepens but she nods once. "Alright."

He blinks at her in surprise. "Right. Good. You can't go like that, of course." He gestures to her gown with a flippant hand. "I'm sure I can find a pair of trousers that will fit you."

Her breath catches. "Trousers? Really?"

His mouth twitches at the excitement in her voice and he nods. "Of course. No wife of mine is riding side saddle."

The urge to run across the room and hug him is overpowering but Alex suppresses it, smiling brightly as he excuses himself to find her something to wear. He sends Iris back in with a pair of his riding trousers, an undershirt and riding boots, and Alex beams with delight at the sight of it all. She dresses quickly, tucking the billowing shirt into the trousers that are too long in the legs, but that her curves fill out nicely everywhere else. She slips into the riding boots, leaves her hair down around her shoulders the way she prefers it – and all right, Matt too – and very nearly skips down the stairs and out of the house to join him in the stables.

Matt is petting the muzzle of a huge black horse already saddled up and ready for their ride, holding the reins in his hand and letting the horse nuzzle into his palm. The moment he sees her, his eyes widen and he stops petting the horse to give her his full attention. He can't seem to take his eyes off her and by the time she reaches his side, she's flushed pink, reaching up to pet the horse to avoid his gaze. His hand settles on the small of her back and she hears him breathe out quietly, as if to steady himself. "Such a shame," he murmurs woefully.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "What is?"

"That you have to hide all of that under those damnable skirts all the time." He raises his brows at her and she giggles, nudging him away from her.

"Stop it," she says, feeling her face heat up once more. "Honestly, you're incorrigible."

He snorts, stepping away from her and climbing gracefully into the saddle. "You haven't seen incorrigible, pet." He holds out a hand to her, eyes burning. "I've made an effort to be quite gentlemanly with you."

She swallows at the implication, wondering even as she takes his hand and allows him to help her swing into the saddle behind him what it would be like if he didn't make an effort. He already makes it quite difficult to concentrate at times with that dark gaze on her and those long fingers, the power and allure in that low, silky voice.

"You might want to hold on," he says over his shoulder.

Slowly, she wraps her arms loosely around his waist from behind.

He laughs softly. "Tighter than that or you're going to fall off."

She tightens her arms around him and buries her face in his back, suddenly enveloped in the unique scent of him, that smell of wet earth and leather and his favorite blood red liquor. She inhales again greedily before she can stop herself and she doesn't know what it is about this man that can all at once drive her mad and make her dizzy with some unnamed feeling that sets her stomach churning but she's grown almost fond of him and his brutish ways.

He doesn't start the horse off at a trot or even a canter, and Alex yelps in surprise into his shoulder as the great beast beneath them takes off at a gallop instantly, Matt spurring him on with the press of his heels into the horse's sides. As they race down the drive and out into the wild moors, Alex lifts her head from his back and lets the damp air hit her in the face, blowing her hair back from her shoulders. All the other times she has been permitted to ride a horse at home, she had to wear a dress and ride side saddle, trotting along at a dull pace in order to be a proper lady but this is something else entirely. This is – exhilarating. It feels like a small slice of freedom amidst her life of imprisonment and she laughs in delight.

"Having fun then?" He asks over the pounding of the horse's hooves.

Grinning, she presses her cheek into his warm shoulder and shouts, "Faster!"

After their ride through the moors, Matt introduces her properly to the stable hand, and allows her to go out to the stables whenever Benson is present to help him look after the horses. When he tells her she can keep his pair of trousers and undershirt to work in, Alex cannot hold herself back any longer – she leaps into his arms and throws hers around his neck, hugging him tightly and murmuring her thanks into his throat. Matt stands stunned for only a moment before his arms wrap around her in turn, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes, "You're welcome."

Things are almost better after that. With something to occupy her during the day while Matt is busy, Alex's mood improves considerably. She feels accomplished at the end of each day, having Iris draw her a bath as she comes in every evening sweaty and smelling of horse. It's magnificent. And the happier she is, the happier Matt seems to be. They talk more at dinner, teasing each other lightly and retiring to the library together after. They stroll the grounds around the manor together more often and when he isn't trying to boss her about, Matt can be quite charming and gentle. She grows fonder of him every day.

That isn't to say they don't argue, of course. She still rails against his insistence that she have some sort of escort whenever she leaves the house, because it means she never has a moment alone unless she's in her chambers, but Matt is adamant about it and won't even let her go riding unless he or Benson accompanies her. It's easy to get lost on the moors, he says, and he doesn't like her out on her own for some other reasons she can't begin to fathom. Matt is awfully paranoid for one so young.

It's a typical gloomy morning on the moors when Matt goes into town on horseback, insisting she stay because he won't be gone more than two hours. Alex promises not to wander off and actually means it, spending her morning with Benson, who isn't much of a conversation partner, but who lets her brush out the horses manes and doesn't scold her when she braids them too for her own amusement.

She carries out apples from the manor, slipping them from her pockets to feed to them when Benson isn't looking, laughing when they nuzzle her in thanks. Her favorite horse is a black steed just like all the others, but there's something different about this one. He's quite wild, absolutely huge and formidable but as she quickly found out, he was also the gentlest creature she's ever encountered. Cerberus won't let anyone near him but Matt and herself, and Alex would refuse to admit it if anyone would ask, but she always gives him extra sugar cubes and brushes him twice as long as any of the other horses.

It's about two and a half hours after Matt had left and she's in the middle of plying Cerberus with apples to get him to stand still for the intricate braid she's tying in his mane when she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance. She glances up with a smile, expecting to see Matt galloping into the stables with a smirk, a triumphant return from collecting another payment and beating another poor soul with his walking stick. However, as his horse trots into view, she sees the slumped form in the saddle and the smile drops from her face instantly.

"Matt?" She calls out, stepping away from Cerberus, her heart pounding.

His horse slows to a stop in front of her, neighing softly, and Alex hears a pained groan from her husband. He lifts his head and she barely has time to notice how pale he is before he reaches out a hand, which she takes without hesitation. Gripping her hand tightly, he slides limply from his horse with a muttered, pained string of profanity, right into her arms.

Panicking, Alex calls out for Benson and tries to hold Matt up on her own. "Matt, darling, what happened? Are you alright?"

He nods weakly as Benson reaches them. "Fine. Sore."

She looks at Benson. "Help me get him into the house."

With Benson's assistance, they manage to carry Matt between them through the stables and up to the manor, into the house and up the stairs to Matt's chambers, all the while with him grumbling that he's fine and they're being ridiculous. When he's reclining on the bed, clutching his ribs and

gritting his teeth, Alex sends Benson away and shuts the door behind him, climbing onto the bed next to Matt and hurriedly undoing the buttons of his riding coat.

"Much as I've been waiting for this," he says weakly. "I don't think I can right now, pet."

She blushes and glares at him. "I need to see what you've done to yourself, you idiot."

He sighs, winces, and leans back to let her work. Quickly unbuttoning his jacket, she pushes it aside and yanks his shirt from his trousers, refusing to think about anything at all except that Matt is hurt and she needs to know how badly. She pushes his shirt up around his chest and takes in the sight of smooth, pale skin. "Where does it hurt?" She asks softly, and glances up to find him watching her. "Just your ribs?"

He nods slowly.

She brushes her fingertips lightly over his skin and he shudders beneath her. Yanking her hand back, she bites her lip. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

Jaw clenched, Matt shakes his head. "No, pet. It's-" He breathes out steadily through his nose. "It's fine." She tries again, feeling along his ribs for any fractures and watching his face closely for any sign of pain. He seems perfectly fine until she presses a little harder, and he winces, batting her hand away with a muttered, "Buggering hell. Hurts like a sodding bastard."

Oddly amused by the colorful language, Alex smoothes her fingers over his skin once more, gently this time, and says, "I think your ribs are just bruised. What on earth happened?"

Laying back and letting her pull his shirt back over his stomach, Matt sighs. "Had an encounter with a man who wasn't pleased that his deadline was up. Sometimes I'm met with a little more resistance than usual." He coughs, then curses loudly again when it aggravates his ribs.

"Unfortunately for him, he underestimated me. I got my payment anyway and he, the unlucky fellow, is dealing with much worse than bruised ribs."

At his proud smirk, she rolls her eyes. "It isn't funny, Matt. You could have been seriously hurt. One day someone might be angry enough to kill you, for heaven's sake."

"Comes with the job, dearest," he mumbles, adjusting himself stiffly into a more comfortable position. "I can take care of myself, you know."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well I'm coming with you next time."

He guffaws, then grimaces at the pain it causes him. "Like bloody hell you will. What are you going to do? Stamp your foot until they leave me alone?"

"I don't stamp my foot," she grumbles. "And perhaps if I was there, they would think twice before harming you. Surely they wouldn't resort to violence in front of a lady."

"God, how can you be so much older than me and still so naïve, pet?" He sighs, shutting his eyes. "The types of men I deal with would harm you just to get to me and I won't have that sort of weakness."

She bristles, frowning down at the deep, rich red blanket on his bed and the equally lavish sheets. It occurs to her for the first time that she's in his bedchamber and sitting on his bed, and she feels her heart leap into her throat. "Fine," she says, and if her voice comes out a little higher than usual, Matt doesn't mention it. "If you refuse to let me come with you then you'll have to take someone else. A bit of muscle, perhaps. Either way, I won't have you going out on your own anymore."

Matt opens his eyes slowly and smirks at her. "You're being frightfully domineering, dearest. I quite like it."

She bites back a smile, shaking her head.

"Were you worried about me then?"

Straightening her shoulders, she traces her fingers over his patterned blanket to avoid his gaze and says stiffly, "Yes, if you must know. I do, on occasion, worry about you." She risks a glance at Matt and finds him staring at her in surprise. "What? Is that so difficult to believe?"

He ignores her, a long finger reaching out to prod the knee of her trousers. "You called me darling. And meant it."

Averting her eyes again with a flush, Alex clears her throat uncomfortably, remembering her panic at seeing him slumped over on his horse, unutterably terrified that something awful had happened

to him. "As I said, I was worried." She busies herself with sliding from his bed and tugging his blanket over him. "Now get some rest."

"Stay with me until I'm asleep," he says, and then, as if realizing he'd given an order, adds a soft, "Please?"

With a small nod and a flutter in her chest, Alex settles back on his bed and watches over him until sleep claims him. And if she lingers after for a while just to gaze at him, Matt is too lost in dreams to point it out.

my fingers in creases of distant dark places

Chapter Summary

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Set Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol.

Despite her insistence that he needs to rest, Matt is determined to get out of bed and back to work the following evening, and after they have dinner together, he stands from the dining room table, trails a strangely tender hand down the side of her face, and disappears into his study. Alex watches him go with a puzzled smile, finishes her wine, and decides that she'll spend the rest of her evening in the library without him.

The moment she rounds the corner and starts up the staircase, she finds Parker on the landing, sifting through a small sack, holding up a diamond necklace to the light. "Parker?" He glances up with a start. "Is that mine?"

His brown eyes widen in panic. "Oh no, Mistress. I would never, I promise. I found this one, I did!"

Alex climbs the stairs to join him on the landing. "You found it?"

He nods. "In town, Missus."

"Where on earth did you find a diamond necklace in town, Parker?" She holds out a hand, her expression stern, and he places his small sack into her palm. "The necklace too."

He sighs and hands it over.

Glancing into the bag and spotting a wallet, a watch on a chain, a pair of gold cufflinks and an emerald brooch, Alex gasps. "Oh my god, Parker, did you steal all of this?"

He looks at his shoes guiltily, biting his lip.

Thinking back to that trip into town she'd taken with Matt, she remembers seeing Parker with stuffed pockets, thinking that he'd loaded them down with sweets for the journey back. Matt had been right – she has been so utterly naïve. Breathing out quietly, Alex rubs her fingers at her temple and says, "Run along, Parker. We'll discuss this later, alright?"

He scurries away without further encouragement, disappearing upstairs, and Alex rises to her feet slowly, her jaw set as she walks back down the stairs and toward Matt's study. With every step, she feels her fury grow. How dare he. Using innocent, orphaned children with no place else to go as his little thieves to get what he wants. She feels ill at the very thought, hating herself for believing all his talk about giving them somewhere to stay because they were alone like he'd been. He'd probably been laughing on the inside at her stupidity for falling for it.

She walks into his study without knocking, slamming the door behind her, and finds Matt standing in the corner, pouring himself a glass of brandy, floppy hair falling into his eyes. He glances up at her entrance, takes one look at her face and sighs. "What have I done now?"

She holds the sack of trinkets up between her thumb and forefinger. "I've discovered your little thief."

"You mean Parker?" He sips his drink and blinks at her calmly.

Gaping at him, she says, "You're not even going to try to deny it?"

"Why should I? I know all about the little scoundrel's sticky fingers." He waves the decanter at her. "You look like you could use a drink, dearest."

She glares at him, clenching the bag in her fist. "Am I to understand that you feel absolutely no remorse for taking in orphans and making them steal for your own bloody gain?"

Matt gapes at her, setting the bottle down with a thud. "I what?"

"I can't believe I fell for it!" She laughs hollowly, shaking her head. "I actually thought you were being honest with me, you know? I thought you were opening up and trying to tell me something about yourself."

"What are you going on about, you ridiculous loon?" He asks, scowling at her.

"You and your bloody silver tongue, you bloody minion of Satan," she shouts, and tosses Parker's bag at him, only enraged further when she misses. "I thought you actually had a heart, taking in those children, but of course it was all about you and your sodding money -"

Before she can utter another word, Matt stalks across the room with a livid expression on his face and Alex doesn't even have the chance to think about fleeing before he has her by the hips, his fingers digging into her flesh through layers of silk and petticoats as he shoves her roughly against the door behind her. "Shut up," he snarls, and then he bends his head and kisses her.

Alex lets out a surprised squeak before the shock of his mouth against hers overtakes all else and her eyes flutter shut despite herself. She melts against the door, pressing her lips back against his and hearing him groan softly in reply. His tongue brushes against the seam of her lips and when she whimpers, he plunges inside to taste her, his hands moving from her hips to frame her face.

His hot tongue twines with her own and she reaches up without even thinking, fisting his shirt in her hands as she tastes pomegranates and warmth and Matt. He devours her, pressing her hard against the door as he plunders her mouth as if it is his for the taking. Heat licks at her insides like the flames of a roaring fire and Alex moans softly, her body flush against his and her chest heaving as she allows him to consume her.

When he finally pulls away, her mouth feels swollen and her lungs burn from lack of air. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up into the dark gaze of her husband, feeling dizzy. Sure that she's listening now; he rasps out, "Parker does not steal for me. Parker steals because he's a ruddy thief. He and the other children share whatever he brings home and I don't interfere." He traces his hand over her face, those long fingers caressing her skin tenderly. "Whatever you might think, I do care about those kids. Do you know what workhouses are like? I'm keeping them safe, giving them a place to sleep and freedom to do as they wish."

Struggling to think through a mind clouded with nothing but the taste of his mouth on hers, Alex manages, "You shouldn't let them steal, darling. It's wrong -"

"Shh," he whispers, and she obeys instantly, her eyes dropping to his mouth. When he bends his head again, she raises her own to meet his lips eagerly, humming softly the moment his mouth crushes her own.

This time, his hands slide into her curls and he fists them tightly as she slides her own arms around his neck, keeping him close to her. He brushes his mouth over her jaw, down her neck, nips at her collarbone. Alex pants against him, her nails digging into his shoulders. His teeth scrape against her skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touches. The heavy weight of him, of a man, against her is new and thrilling, but knowing that it's him – this man she had hated for so long and has grown to feel so much for in so short a time – it's even better.

"So gorgeous when you're angry with me, Alex," he breathes, and she whimpers when one of his hands leaves her hair to yank up her skirt and petticoats. "The fire in your eyes, the way your chest heaves and your cheeks flush, oh I love to watch you. Magnificent."

Panting, she whispers, "please", though she isn't quite sure what she's begging for. She only knows that she wants more – more of his hands on her, more of that velvet voice in her ear, just more of him. "Please, Matt."

He brushes his lips over hers again, his fingers skating up her bare thighs and finding the intimate place between her legs. Alex lets out a shocked gasp, her head dropping back against the door behind her with a thud. "I've been waiting so long to hear you beg me – to make you feel like this."

She throbs under his touch, surprised at the slickness of her sex and ache of being… unfilled. "Matt," she whinges, and he grunts, a soft, possessive noise into her neck. He strokes her with long, skilled fingers and she can't breathe or think or do anything but blink away the colored lights dancing in front of her eyes.

"So wet, Alex," he says with an appreciative groan. "I think you like being angry with me too." He laughs softly, pressing a little harder against her, and Alex makes a strangled noise in her throat, her hips jerking against her will.

Those elegant fingers know exactly what to do and where to touch to make unimaginable heat flood through her and when he strokes the hyper-sensitive spot at the top of her sex, Alex claws at his shirt uselessly and sobs, "I – oh god." Without thought, she rocks her hips against his hand, silently demanding more of that sparking, sputtering pleasure flaring low in her belly.

"That's it," Matt whispers, his dark eyes watching her intently. "Just like that." She grinds down on his hand and sees stars behind her eyes, her lips parting on a breathy gasp. "Such a good girl, yes, there you are."

His hand is tireless against her, rubbing the slick heat between her thighs expertly, his low voice in her ear whispering all manner of filthy things that shouldn't thrill her the way they do. She moves frantically against him, a tightly coiled pressure in her belly making her cry out, begging him for some sort of release.

"Matt," she whimpers, clutching at him, tears pricking her eyes. "I can't."

"Sshh, I know," he says soothingly, his other hand threading through her hair. "Don't fight it, pet. Just let go, let it take you." She turns her face up to his and he kisses her hungrily, angling his hand just so and something inside her snaps. Like a dam breaking, she is flooded by the most intense, all-consuming bliss, her sex fluttering wildly against Matt's fingers. She lets out a keening cry, her head thumping against the door behind her as she tosses it back, leaving Matt to suckle at the skin of her throat as his hand continues to move, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from her.

She trembles in the wake of her euphoria, leaning weakly against Matt, who presses soft kisses to her throat and pets her hair, murmuring endearments entirely unlike him. As the shaking stops and the feeling in her legs returns to her, Alex is left stunned by what she just allowed to happen.

"You alright?" Matt asks, pulling back to look at her with soft eyes.

She nods shakily, swallowing hard. "I – I should go."

Eyes pained, he reaches out to touch her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "Alex -"

"I'm sorry, Matt." She pushes his hand away gently, squeezing his fingers briefly. "That was – that was wonderful, darling. I've never felt -" She pauses, tears filling her eyes. "I just need to think, alright? I'll see you at dinner and we'll talk."

He nods, eyes shuttered and his mouth a thin line. "Very well."

Even with her head a mess, she can't leave him like this. Not after what they just did. Reaching out hastily, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him and wishing she had something reassuring to say. Nothing comes to mind, so she turns on her heel and opens the door to his study, slipping out quietly.

She walks down the hall and out of the house numbly, still feeling a little unsteady on her legs.

She doesn't allow herself to think until she has walked a substantial distance away from the manor, traipsing through the fog and the marshy ground mindlessly. She doesn't think about where she's going, she only walks, her mind entirely elsewhere.

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed. Matt has slowly turned from the taciturn, bad-tempered and brooding stranger to a man who read aloud to her from the newspaper as they sat by the fire in the library, who did his best to make her happy unless it meant putting her in any sort of danger, who had just made her fall apart in his arms with the touch of his tender hands.

The most she ever thought she would receive from her marriage was a roof over her head, fine things to wear and perhaps eventually a peaceful coexistence, but never had it occurred to her that she might fall in love with the dark, gentle, sweetly awkward man she married. And she shouldn't love him. He took her away from her family, and treated her like a servant he could order about as he wished. He is little more than a loan shark – a bloodsucker – who beats people with his walking stick when they don't have the money to pay him back. How can she love a man like him?

But she does.

And yes, he is all of those terrible things but he's also kind and gentle. He takes care of the orphans in his employ, giving them a place to stay away from the cruelty of workhouses, and he takes care of her. He has never pushed her into any sort of physical relationship though most men would have forced her by now, considering it her duty as a wife to please them. Matt wouldn't have touched her back there in his study if she'd protested, if she hadn't melted into his kiss with embarrassing ease. He has a temper, just as she does, but he has never hurt her, not even when she lobbed things at his head and shouted abuse at him. He cares for her. And Alex loves him.

She beams at the realization, stopping right in the middle of a field and laughing in delight. Not even when she was a young girl had she ever hoped to love the man she married. Most matches were not entered into for love, but for mutual benefit. Knowing even as a child that she would never have her own children, the idea of having a husband at all had been something longed for. She had wished for merely respect and kindness from her future husband, but not love – and certainly not the love she feels for Matt, the kind that makes her stomach flutter and tighten, that makes her long for another kiss, another touch of his hand against hers.

Imagine, falling for the devil. It isn't so bad, she thinks. In fact, it's rather wonderful.

With a grin, Alex decides to head back to the manor, hoping to catch Matt before dinner and tell him. Perhaps if she perches on his desk and he isn't too cross with her for leaving, she'll get

another of those toe-curling kisses. And he'd made her feel so incredible. She has no experience in matters of the bedroom but she'd like to return the favor. Except, when she turns to walk back, she realizes she can't see the manor anymore.

Around her, the sky is darkening with the coming night. She gazes around with a worried frown, realizing she must have walked further and for longer than she thought. She wraps her arms around her torso, shivering a little. Nightfall on the moors is always frightfully cold and she'd been in such a stupor as she left the house she hadn't thought to bring her cloak.

Oh, Matt will be furious when he realizes she'd gone out on her own. This is exactly the sort of thing he frets about and she's gone and done it without even meaning to. She'd been so rattled when she left the house that bringing someone with her for her walk hadn't really occurred to her. The time alone had done her good but now she's a bit hopelessly lost.

With a sigh, she starts walking in the direction she thinks the house is in, hoping that Matt will notice she's missing and send someone to search for her. Her breath clouds in the air, mixing with the thick fog laying like a blanket over the land, and Alex shivers, wishing she'd at least been clear-headed enough to remember her cloak. She thinks of the lovely, fur-lined beauty from Paris Matt had bought for her with a moan of longing, traipsing along in her thin dress. She isn't sure how long she walks or how far, but by the time she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance, she is freezing, tired, and hungry.

"About time," she calls out with a grin of relief. "I thought you'd never find me!"

A horse appears through the fog and she waves her arm teasingly to catch Benson's attention, but as the rider draws near, she realizes it isn't Benson or Matt or anyone else she recognizes. She drops her arm, suddenly uncertain. Who would be out on the moors at this time in the evening? No one lives near here but Matt.

The horse slows to a halt in front of her and she glimpses a pale, broad face beneath the hood of the rider's cloak. "Lost, miss?"

"No," she says, almost on instinct. "I was taking a walk and I thought you were someone else. We don't see many strangers in this area, sir."

The rider drops his hood, revealing a man with dark cropped hair, piercing blue eyes and a permanent frown on his face. Alex eyes the cut on his lip and his swollen, bruised jaw with unease. "Sorry to have startled you, miss."

"Missus," she corrects with a frown.

He nods his head at her in deference but she isn't oblivious to the calculation in his eyes as his gaze roves over her. She fights back a disgusted shiver, wishing desperately for Matt or Benson or even Parker to be with her. Slowly, he swings his leg over the side of his horse and drops down from his saddle, and as his cloak flaps in the wind, she notices that one of his arms is in a makeshift sling. The sight of it eases her mind somewhat, knowing that if she has to, she can surely get away from a one-armed man, however determined he might be.

"I'm looking for someone," he says, and her heart drops before he continues, "A man."

"Oh?" She asks, inching backward as he takes a step toward her.

"Goes by the name Smith." The rather revolting stranger turns his head and spits, oblivious to Alex's wrinkled nose. "Heard of him?"

She swallows, nodding. "I have. He's my husband."

His eyes widen a little, his gaze suddenly more interested than ever as he looks her up and down, grinning as well as he can with a split lip. "So you're the little tart he trapped into marriage. No offense, love, but I was expecting someone a bit younger. I suppose you'll do anyway." Before she can ask what he means or perhaps kick him for his insolence, the man reaches out with lightening speed and wraps a meaty hand around her arm, dragging her into him. She yelps in surprise, struggling against his hold on her, but even with only one arm, he's stronger than he looks.

"Let go of me," she shouts, squirming in his grasp. "I swear to god I'll -"

"Scream all you like, love," he says. "There's no one around for miles. You've wandered a bit too far from home." His breath smells of pork and cheap ale, and Alex gags, turning her head away. "Quite a wild thing, aren't you? I can see why he might be interested, the cad. But I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me." Alex struggles harder, her heart pounding wildly but he pays her no mind, stroking a lock of her hair. "Your husband needs to be taught he can't just take whatever he wants. I have a feeling losing you might hurt more than those ribs of his, don't you?"

Oh god. It's him. It's the man who tried to hurt Matt and now he's come back, just like Matt had been afraid someone might one day – the very reason he tries so hard to make sure she's never alone and she always has someone near who can protect her if the need arises. She is his

weakness, and she has left herself as vulnerable as he feared she might. Panicking inwardly, she snaps, "You are even more ignorant than you look if you think that horrible man cares about anyone but himself. I'm nothing to him! Please, just let me go."

He huffs out a puff of laughter against her face and she stops breathing. "I think you underestimate yourself, Lady Smith."

She can't let this man take her away. No one knows where she is and they'll have no idea where to find her. And Matt. Matt will think she ran away again, that she hates him and what happened in his study meant nothing. She can't bear the mere thought. So she fights, kicking his shins and scratching at his face as the man starts dragging her toward his horse, screaming for help at the top of her lungs and fully believing no one will hear her.

But someone does.

Just as the man shoves her against his horse and backhands her to shut her up, Alex stifles a cry and hears the sound of horses in the distance. She nearly cries in relief as two riders emerge from the fog, recognizing one of them instantly as Matt. The stranger obviously recognizes him as well because the moment he sees him, he swears under his breath and shoves her away, sending her stumbling forward. He mounts his horse with impressive speed, considering one of his arms is in a sling, and begins to gallop away just as Matt and Benson reach her.

At a nod from Matt, Benson is off after him at top speed, the fog instantly swallowing up both riders into the night. Alex barely notices; too busy shivering violently from the cold and the adrenaline, knowing that if Matt had been only a few minutes later, she probably never would have seen him again.

Matt jumps from Cerberus and reaches her in moments, the line of his mouth hard and grim, but his eyes panicked. Tears fill her eyes the moment he lays a hand on her arm and she collapses into his chest, clinging to him tightly and trying to reign in the urge to just sob with the shock of it all. "I'm sorry," she babbles. "I didn't mean to leave on my own, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to go so far or -"

"Shhh," he breathes, gathering her into his arms and holding her tightly, his face pressed into her hair. "It's alright, Alex. I've got you. You're fine, pet." He smoothes a hand over her back soothingly, clutching her to him as if he'd been the one lost and terrified. "Did he hurt you? Let me see, come here." He pulls back, holding her face in his hands and scanning her quickly, eyes intent. He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, clenching his jaw at the red mark on her skin. "If Benson doesn't kill him, I certainly will."

She nuzzles into his palm, shivering.

He softens instantly, pulling her back into him with gentle hands and leading her toward his horse. "Come on then. Let's get you warmed up." He yanks her fur-lined cloak from the saddle – the very same one she'd been longing for – and wraps it around her shoulders.

She snuggles into it gratefully, letting him help her onto Cerberus after he climbs up. He settles her in front of him rather than behind, as if he can't bear to have her out of his sight for a moment. In her dress, she's forced to ride sidesaddle but for once she doesn't mind because it means she can still see his face. His arms wrap around her to reach the reins and she's suddenly hyper aware of his closeness. "How did you find me?"

"You missed dinner, pet." He digs his heel into the horse's side and clicks his tongue, leading the animal into a canter back in the direction of the manor. "And then I realized everyone was accounted for but you, meaning you were out on your own." She bites her lip, thinking of the panic he must have felt as she leans into his chest, delighting in the feel of his chin resting on her shoulder. He nuzzles his face into the side of her neck, pressing his lips to her hair. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear you scream and be unable to see you or get to you? What if I couldn't find you, Alex? You gave me the bloody fright of my life!"

"I'm sorry," she whispers, hand resting on his thigh. "I just wanted to think, darling."

"Next time you need to think," he says dryly. "Perhaps you could retire to your chambers for a bloody nap."

"Is that an order?"

His mouth twitches. "A helpful suggestion."

When the lights of the manor come into view, Alex has never seen a more inviting sight in her life. She hadn't realized until now just how much she has grown to love the drafty old place. She loves its creaking floors and its winding corridors, loves the fog and the wet ground, she even loves the rattling windowpanes in the howling wind. It's home.

Matt puts Cerberus in the stable, helps her down from the saddle and once she's on the ground, he lifts her off her feet and carries her into the manor, one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. Wrapped in her cloak, her head resting on his shoulder, Alex feels a bit like a child, but his arms are warm and strong, safety personified. She's too tired and comfortable to

protest. He carries her up the stairs and down the hall, and she says nothing when he passes by her bedchambers and continues on, her breath catching when she realizes he's taking her to his chambers instead. He glances down at her indrawn breath, brow furrowed as if to ask if she has any objections. Alex curls her hands into his coat collar and snuggles further into his embrace, content. His arms tighten around her, his lips brushing her forehead.

Shutting the door to his chambers with his boot, he carries her to his large, four-poster bed and deposits her on it. She shifts to sit up, dropping the cloak from her shoulders, instantly warmer thanks to the fire crackling in the fireplace on one wall. "You need to get out of those damp clothes," he says. "You could catch your death out there, Alex. You should have at least brought your cloak instead of fleeing the house like a madwoman."

Still too content to even frown at him, Alex only says, "I hadn't the presence of mind to think about a cloak," and sighs at the smug look he gives her. She stands on shaky legs and lets him help her undress. He undoes the tiny row of buttons on the back of her gown, her stomach lurches at every brush of his fingers, but she resolutely ignores it, maneuvering her arms out of her dress and letting it drop to the floor before kicking it away. In silence, he works on her corset next, each little bit he unlaces giving her more and more room to breathe until finally she feels like a free woman again. He tosses it aside carelessly and steps back, and she instantly misses the warmth of having him near.

Shedding her petticoats, she leaves all of her finery as a silken puddle in the middle of his bedroom floor and climbs back onto the bed in just her shift. She might have felt a little more self-conscious if he wasn't so insistent on never knocking before he barged into her bedroom. She can't even count the number of times he's seen her in only her thin chemise.

He leans against one of his bedposts, watching her intently, his hair dipping into his eyes. "Why did you need to think?"

She takes a deep breath and decides to be honest. "Because I never meant to feel anything for the man I married to pay a debt."

Matt nods slowly, ducking his head. "But you do. Feel something, I mean."

He says it like a question and her heart swells as she looks at him. "I decided on my walk that I don't hate you."

Chuckling, he lifts his head and regards her fondly. "You're sweeping me off my feet, pet."

She pats the bed and he obeys her silent request, climbing up to sit next to her. She leans into his side and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into him. Resting her head in the crook of his arm, she presses her face into his coat and breathes in his scent, shutting her eyes. "I'm glad I'm here. With you."

"As opposed to the man who tried to carry you off a few minutes ago?"

She sighs patiently. "No. Just in general."

Fingers curling around her shoulder, Matt hums thoughtfully. "I thought I took you away from your family and everything you love to live with me in hell?" He snorts. "Isn't that what you said on our wedding night?"

Alex flinches at her own words come back to haunt her, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, darling," she says, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I didn't – I was angry and scared. But I'm not now." She swallows, turning to look at him properly, cupping his cheek in her hand and making him look at her. "This is my home, here with you and your thieving little orphans." She laughs, a choked, watery sound. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

Hazel eyes, softer than she's ever seen them, shine as they look down into her own. "Are you saying you're alright with being married to Satan?"

She giggles, her hands stroking his cheeks tenderly. "Call me the queen of hell," she murmurs.

Matt surges forward without another moment's hesitation and captures her mouth with his own, but she feels his crooked grin against her lips and it makes her smile. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arches into him with a contented sigh. Kissing Matt is already her favorite thing in the world. His mouth is hot and slick, his tongue strokes against hers with an eagerness that makes her toes curl. Freed from her constraining corset, her breasts brush against his chest as she presses herself close to him and Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving to grab her hips, tugging her into him.

She crawls into his lap and feels his hands slide down over her thighs to the hem of her shift, dragging it slowly up her legs. He pauses when he reaches her waist, his mouth stopping its movement against her own, as if he's waiting for her permission to continue. The thought of being bare before him, of having those large, tender hands on her naked skin, is enough to make her dizzy and Alex whimpers, nodding hurriedly.

Matt nips at her bottom lip before pulling away, dragging her shift up over her head and tossing it aside. For a moment, he only stares at her with dark eyes, his cheeks flushed and his breathing short and sharp. Sitting astride his lap with absolutely nothing to cover herself with, Alex should feel self-conscious, but it's difficult when he's looking at her like that – with such awe and wonder, like he can't believe he's allowed to be near something so precious.

His hand trembles as he trails it down her jaw, over her throat and across her collarbones before dipping between her breasts. Her breath catches in her throat but she keeps her eyes on his face. He watches his hands move over her body, such careful intent in his gaze, as if he has never done anything more important in his life and he wants to get it just right. It makes her heart swell in her chest and she knows that despite her inexperience, she trusts him. She is safe in his care – and wouldn't the very thought of that have been amusing to her mere months ago?

Cupping her breasts in his palms, he squeezes softly, as if to test the weight of them, and she can't help but notice how perfectly she fits in his hands, as if she had been made for the very purpose of filling his palms. His thumbs brush her nipples and she gasps quietly, arching into the touch. He squeezes harder, leaning forward to lick and suck the soft flesh. Alex curls her fingers into his hair to hold him in place, making small, encouraging noises in the back of her throat as he wraps his mouth around her nipple, laving and sucking until the sensitive bud hardens beneath his attention.

That same familiar fire from before is licking at her insides again, more intense than ever. Alex tries to think through the haze in her mind, and when she slides a hand from his hair to grasp at his collar, she realizes something. "You're still dressed," she whispers, and Matt laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Hardly fair, darling."

"My apologies," he murmurs, and as he turns his attention to undoing his cravat, Alex takes the opportunity to explore his jaw and neck with her tongue and teeth. She tries to be as thorough as he'd been and his stubble scratches at her mouth and chin, which she finds strangely delightful.

She hums her appreciation, hands stroking over his biceps as she finds his adam's apple and nips with her teeth. Matt flings his cravat aside and swears, threading a hand through her hair and yanking her head up to kiss her roughly.

She holds his face in her hands and responds with equal passion, shifting impatiently in his lap. It's now that she feels a hardness beneath her, pressing against her thigh through Matt's trousers. Still kissing him, she shifts again and presses down a little harder. Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving from her hair to slide slowly down her naked back. He cups her bottom and yanks her into him, and the delicious friction of that clothed bulge rubbing against her bare sex is sinful and delicious. Alex tosses her head back with a gasp and he nips at her throat, murmuring, "My precious little minx. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

She moves on top of him once more, sliding the wet hot slickness between her thighs against the bulge in his trousers again, whimpering as she listens to Matt groan and swear, his fingers digging into her bum. "Show me," she whispers, pressing her lips to his temple. "Show me what I do to

you, darling."

Holding her hips, Matt moves quickly, and Alex yelps as he presses her into the mattress, suddenly hovering over her. "Don't move," he says, and she shivers at the quietly spoken order, nodding. He slips from the bed to undress in the firelight and she watches him lift his shirt over his head and reveal the pale, lightly muscled chest and flat stomach she'd glimpsed only a day ago, inspecting his bruised ribs in this very room.

"Are you alright?" She asks, suddenly unsure. "I mean, your ribs, darling -"

He laughs quietly, shaking his head as he begins to unlace his trousers. "There is nothing in the world that could stop me from making love to you tonight, pet. Least of all a couple of bruised ribs."

She might have pressed the issue but Matt is stepping out of his trousers, tossing them aside and straightening. She gets her first glimpse of him completely naked and her eyes widen. "You're -" She licks her lips, staring unashamedly. She's never seen a naked man before and now, faced with the man she loves standing before her, she feels at a loss and entirely out of her depth. She wants to please him, wants to make him feel as good as he makes her feel, but she's frustratingly clueless about exactly how.

Matt climbs onto the bed to join her, pressing kisses to her stomach and chest as he slides up to lay alongside her. "Come here," he says softly, and tugs her into him. She complies instantly, allowing him to direct her until she's straddling his thighs and looking down at him anxiously. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just touch me."

At first, her mind is a blank as she looks down at him, but she quickly remembers the way he'd kissed her neck and chest, how he'd used his teeth to scrape against her skin and how very much she'd liked it. Surely he must like the same. She leans forward, careful of his ribs as she balances herself over him, and begins to kiss his chest. Matt sighs beneath her, and encouraged, she becomes a little bolder, snaking out her tongue to taste his skin. She circles his nipples with her thumbs, flicking with her nail until he squirms beneath her, a little flushed.

She scoots forward to get a better angle and her sensitive sex rubs against him again, this time with no barrier between them. They both gasp, clutching at each other in pleasure. She scrambles backward quickly, sitting on his knees and looking down at the hard, flushed red length of him, an unspeakable longing stirring in her belly. "Can I -"

"Please," Matt hisses, his hips lifting off the bed a little. "That's what you do to me, do you see?"

She wraps her hand around him, marveling at the velvet soft feel of something so very hard. It's delightfully contradictory. She strokes him gently, and when Matt groans low in his throat, she increases the pressure of her fist around him, swiping her thumb curiously over the tip, which only seems to make him writhe more beneath her. Watching his pleasure is like a pleasure all its own for her and the ache between her legs is starting to border on uncomfortable. Her thighs feel sticky and damp, but she tries to ignore it, exploring Matt further.

Curiosity gets the better of her and when she bends her head to discover what he tastes like, running her tongue over the tip of his hardness to lick up the wetness there – salty, strange, but not entirely unpleasant – Matt loses any self control he'd been clinging to. Gripping her by the shoulders, he yanks her up to him and kisses her, his hands roaming her body frantically. She responds in kind, moaning softly into his mouth, and letting him flip them over so he can press her into his bed.

"Darling, please," she breathes against his lips, her hands slipping down between them to touch him again. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, his face pressed into her hair. "I need you." Her whole body feels taut with unexplainable tension, stronger even than what she felt in his study earlier, and she wants the same release he'd given her then, wants to feel her body snap and flood with pleasure more powerful than she's ever known.

"It's alright," he soothes, his hands traversing her sides, stroking the indent of her waist. "I'll take care of you."

She smoothes his hair from his face tenderly, her smile soft. "I know."

Sliding one hand down her waist and between her legs, he finds her throbbing and strokes the fire into a roaring inferno. His long fingers slip through her wetness, drawing more of it out until the musky scent fills the air around them. And then he does something unexpected. He slips a finger inside her and Alex feels her eyes roll back in her head as her body shudders. "Oh. Oh god. That's -" He crooks his finger inside her and presses with the heel of his palm against the sensitive bud at the top of her sex, and all words evaporate from her throat and her mind, leaving nothing but a desperate, keening cry.

Matt chuckles softly, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. "I think you're ready for me, pet."

She nods mindlessly, clutching at his shoulders so hard her fingers ache.

He slides his finger from within her and she feels emptier for the loss of it, unsatisfied and wanting. He shushes her whinge of protest with a kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he shifts above her, and she only has time to feel a faint twinge of surprise at the blunt hardness against the entrance of her sex before Matt kisses her harder and she loses her train of thought. She moans into his mouth, losing herself in the press of his soft lips, the stroke of his tongue and the taste of his evening brandy. His kisses are her own evening brandy, she decides. No day will be complete without his mouth on hers.

With her sufficiently distracted, Matt surges forward, sliding smoothly inside her. Alex tosses her head back in shock, gasping up at the ceiling and feeling tears prick her eyes as pain replaces the pleasurable ache between her thighs. "Sshh," he whispers softly, his hands stroking her face as he rocks into her, filling her up so completely. "I know, pet. I know. It's all right; it'll pass. I promise."

He presses sweet kisses to her hairline as her body stretches to accommodate the hard girth of him inside her. The feeling of being so unutterably full is foreign to her, and Alex blinks away her tears, trying to focus on that rather than the pain that is already starting to fade. They are joined in every way now, their marriage finally consummated. Matt strokes his hands over her sides, ducks his head to suck at her nipples, and under his attentions, it isn't long before the throbbing desire returns with a vengeance, making her shift impatiently beneath him, grasping his shoulders.

"Matt," she whimpers, and rocks her hips against him. They both moan as he slides further within her, fully sheathed, and Matt raises himself up over her, his forearms by her head as he shifts his hips, slowly sliding out of her only to drive back in. She cries out beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Again," she breathes.

He smiles down at her, and his hazel eyes are so full of tenderness that she can't remember why she ever thought this man was anything other than wonderful. He pulls out and pushes back in again, and the increasing slickness of her sex makes the friction so perfectly slippery. "So tight, pet," he says through gritted teeth. "You have no idea how good you feel."

She wraps her legs around his waist as Matt starts a slow, hard rhythm inside her, lifting her hips at every inward thrust to let the head of his length press against some unknown, positively wanton place inside her that makes her see stars every time he strokes against it. She clings to him as he murmurs endearments and filth all intermingled, making her head spin, capable only of asking for more as her nails rake down his back.

It isn't long before every stroke of him inside her makes her scream, their skin slick with sweat as they move frantically against each other. Matt's pace is fast and hard now, his stuttering hips losing their rhythm as he pumps into her erratically, his sweat-damp hair falling into his burning eyes as he looks down at her, that sinful mouth never stopping the litany of encouragement and smut. "You're mine," he whispers with a possessive growl. He grinds against her, his abdomen rubbing against that swollen little button between her legs. "Tell me, Alex. Tell me you're mine."

Alex cries out, nodding. "Yours, darling. I'm yours."

That exquisite flood of pleasure is eminent, tingling all through her limbs and at the base of her spine as her sex tightens around Matt more and more with every uneven thrust. "Mine," he says again, softer now. "And I am yours, my precious girl."

With a full heart and one last shout of ecstasy, Alex throws her head back on her pillow and lets the tide of pleasure pull her under, shaking beneath Matt as her body pulses and shudders with the intensity of it all. Matt moves his hips with renewed fervor as her sex clutches around him, burying his face in her hair and just clinging to her. Alex runs her small hands over his back and whispers, "Yours, yours, always yours." He lets out a sharp cry, his grip on her bruising, and she feels a flood of warmth between her thighs.

He pants into her neck, limp on top of her, and Alex stretches out beneath him, utterly content as he catches his breath. She likes feeling his skin against hers, likes the way his weight constricts her breathing like the best kind of corset. She feels colder when he lifts himself off of her and rolls over onto his back, and she turns instantly to curl herself into his side, her head on his chest. It's hard to believe there was a time when she hated even being in the same room with him, and now she can't seem to get close enough.

"I love you," she confesses softly.

Burying one hand in her curls and wrapping his other arm around her waist, Matt drops a kiss to the top of her head. "And I you, pet. You have no idea how much."

She moves into his chambers after that night and it's everything she never let herself hope her marriage would be. He holds her in the night, wakes her in the morning with sleepy kisses and his hands sneaking beneath the hem of her shift. She sits next to him at breakfast rather than across from him, and sometimes, when she's in the middle of sipping her tea, he'll take her hand and kiss her knuckles, the look in his eyes enough to make her cheeks heat up and her mind wander to very unladylike places.

When he retreats to his study, she still goes to the stables but there are often times when she accompanies him instead, perching on his desk and distracting him from his work. She likes to make him blush because it's such a rarity, sitting on his desk and taking his hands, sliding them beneath her petticoats with that needy little whimper that drives him absolutely mad. He gets much

less work done with her around, but he never complains.

That isn't to say they never argue anymore. Their rows, when they happen, are just as explosive as ever, and Alex still tends to throw things when he infuriates her, but now they have a release for their anger and she isn't ashamed to admit that sometimes she just pretends to be cross because of how rough Matt always is with her in their bed after.

It's just such a morning after a particularly wonderful night of making up that Alex wakes later than she'd intended, opening her eyes to rumpled sheets and an empty room, the gloomy morning light filtering in through the drapes. She stretches languidly and sits up, a little stiff and bruised, no but worse for wear. Spotting Matt's dressing gown draped at the foot of the bed, Alex slips it on over her naked frame and runs a hand through her disheveled curls.

It takes quite a bit of stealth to sneak down to Matt's study so scantily clothed without being spotted by any of the children but she makes it without incident, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. Scowling deeply at a pile of papers in front of him, her husband glances up at the sound of the door closing, sees her in his dressing gown tied loosely at the waist, and groans. "Bloody hell, you're insatiable."

"Like you're much better," she says, rounding his desk and settling on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You didn't wake me for breakfast."

"You needed the rest," he says, hands already sliding up her thighs.

She hums, shifting to let her thighs fall open. "You did keep me up awfully late."

"I certainly didn't hear you complaining, dearest," he rumbles, mouthing at her collarbone.

She laughs low in her throat, eyes fluttering at the touch of those slender fingers. "And you never will, darling."

And then those fingers are dipping inside her and stroking her walls, driving her to heights so pleasurable that when she comes apart, she has to bite his shoulder to stifle her cries, her hips stuttering against the hand working inside her. Matt kisses her forehead and cheeks, the tip of her nose, waiting patiently for her to catch her breath. When she kisses him in thanks and tries to unlace his trousers, he stops her with a gentle hand and looks at her thoughtfully.

"What?" She asks, stroking the bulge prodding at her thigh. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he chokes, red-faced as he pushes her hands away. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

She laughs. "Now?"

"If we wait until after, I don't think I'll be remember much but your name, pet." He smirks at her and she sighs. "Remember when you asked me for something to do weeks ago? To keep you occupied during the day?"

"Yes," she says slowly. "And you let me work in the stables."

He nods, tapping his fingers against his chin. "I did. But how would you like something else to do? I'm sure you've noticed how frankly depressing the gardens are here, and I know you miss the flowers you had at your home. I was considering hiring a gardener but -"

She gasps, her eyes lighting up. "Oh darling, no, not a gardener! Can I do it, please?"

"You can't do it all on your own," he says. "It's a lot of land, Alex. But I'm putting the whole matter entirely in your hands. Order the plants and flowers you like, hire whoever you want to help you. You're in charge, pet."

With a squeal of happiness, she crashes her mouth against his hungrily, mumbling her thanks between every kiss. Already making plans and mentally arranging her gardens, she fumbles between them once more to unlace his trousers. She knows just how to thank him properly.

"Perhaps they aren't home, darling."

"Trust me, they're here." Matt beats his walking stick against the wood of the Halpenny's home, scowling at the doorknocker as if it personally offends him. "Bloody cowards are too frightened of me to open the damn door."

She raises an eyebrow. "I can't imagine why."

He huffs at her, grumbling under his breath.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'?" She tugs at her white gloves with a sigh as he bangs on the door again. "Perhaps you should try it."

"I don't want to catch flies, I want money," he snaps, and then raises his voice to be heard by those inside the house, "the money I'm bloody well owed, thank you!"

Alex rolls her eyes.

Glancing at her, he scratches at his cheek. "You can't be nice to these people, Alex. It gets you absolutely nowhere."

"Whereas banging on their door with a stick and shouting at them is working beautifully," she replies tartly.

His mouth twitches. "You think you can do better, pet?"

"Step aside, darling," she says, and pushes him away gently. He allows her his spot by the door, watching her with raised brows, tapping his walking stick against the ground impatiently. "I'll show you how civilized people behave."

He snorts.

Alex lifts the doorknocker and raps it gently against the door. "Hello?" She calls out, using her friendliest voice. "Anybody home?"

After a moment of silence from inside the house, the door creaks open and a petite blonde woman peeks out, her face pale and her eyes wide.

Alex smiles at her kindly. "Are you Mrs. Halpenny?"

The woman nods tentatively.

"I believe your husband owes mine a bit of money," Alex begins primly. "Is he at home?"

Spotting Matt lurking like a dark bird of prey behind Alex, Mrs. Halpenny gasps quietly and tries to shut the door again but Alex sticks her foot out delicately and stops her. "That wasn't very nice," she chides patiently. "We're only trying to collect what's owed us, dear."

Mrs. Halpenny bursts into tears.

Alex glances back at Matt in confusion but the sight of a crying woman is not something he's used to dealing with in any sort of helpful way and he takes a step back, shaking his head and looking a bit ill. With a sigh, Alex turns back to Mrs. Halpenny, shushing her quietly and gathering the small woman into her arms. "It's alright, dear. Hush now."

Between hiccupping sobs, Mrs. Halpenny confesses that her husband, lacking the means to pay Matt back what he borrowed – including the rather illegally high interest Matt charges – had fled yesterday evening and she hasn't seen him since.

"Oh, you poor thing," Alex coos, patting the woman's back. "What a horrible man."

Behind her, she hears Matt mutter under his breath, but she pays him no mind until he says louder, "Be that as it may, I still need my payment."

Mrs. Halpenny sobs.

Alex throws Matt a scolding look over her shoulder and he shrugs carelessly. "I apologize for my brutish husband," she says, ignoring his glare of outrage. "Such a temper, but what can you do? Here, dry your eyes now." She pulls away to reach into the bosom of her dress and produce a white handkerchief. "There you are, that's better." She beams at Mrs. Halpenny, who smiles hesitantly in return. "Now, could you possibly spare a little something in payment, you poor thing? Just a trinket, I promise."

Minutes later, when they're walking toward the carriage with Mrs. Halpenny's garnet brooch and

every pair of Mr. Halpenny's diamond studded cufflinks and expensive leather gloves as payment; Alex hooks her arms through Matt's and sighs happily. "I think that worked out quite well."

"Smugness doesn't suit you," Matt says, but he's grinning at her anyway and she can tell beneath the thin veil of petulance, he's actually quite impressed. He proves her right only minutes later, the moment they're alone and out of sight inside their carriage. He's on her instantly, kissing her until she can't breathe, his hands sliding greedily over her bodice as he growls into her ear, "You were brilliant."

She tugs him onto her seat with her, panting as he licks and nips at her throat, his hands working to rip out the pins holding her hair up. "And smug?"

"Love it when you're smug," he rumbles, and the moment her hair is free, he sinks to his knees in front of her. She parts her legs willingly as he works her skirt and petticoats up her legs and out of the way, grinning breathlessly at him. He bites his way up her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to muffle a moan, not wanting the coachman to hear.

"Does this mean I can help you?" She asks, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he breathes hotly against her sex. Her breath stutters and she wriggles impatiently, her whole body on fire. "W-with your work?"

"We'll see," he mutters distractedly, but it's more than enough for her as he opens his mouth to devour her.

By the time they arrive back at the manor, her dress has been righted and her hair arranged but the flush on the apples of her cheeks is impossible to hide. Matt doesn't even bother to smother his arrogant grin, lending her his arm to help her from the carriage and lead her inside. Parker is waiting for them in the foyer, holding an envelope and bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently.

"Letter for you, Mistress," he says the moment he sees her, rushing forward with it.

Alex takes it from him with a fond ruffle of his hair, turning to read the envelope. "It's from my father," she says with a frown. She'd written to her mother two weeks ago, finally at a place in her married life where she felt she could tell her mother she was happy and safe without lying. Why would her father reply to her mother's letter?

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Matt says, "I'll leave you to it."

She glances up at him, slightly panicked.

He softens. "I'll be in my study if you need me."

When he and Parker disappear down the hall, Alex sits on the staircase, her hands shaking as she tears the envelope and unfolds the letter. She scans the words quickly, her mind trying to process mother and ill and wants to see you and please come home. She isn't sure how long she sits there, staring blankly at the letter, but eventually, Matt comes to find her and she glances up tearfully at his approach.

"My mother is ill," she whispers. "She's asking to see me."

Matt swallows hard, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her. "Then you must go home."

She nods numbly, sniffling. "We'll have to pack."

"I'm not coming with you, pet," he says softly.

Glancing up in surprise, she stares at him. "What? No, you have to. I need you with me."

"Your mother won't want to see me." He sighs, ducking his head, and his hair flops into his eyes. "And I can't leave. You know I can't."

Hugging her torso, Alex nods reluctantly and shuts her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. He has his work to take care of and he can't leave the children on their own, she knows all of that. But she doesn't want to go home alone and face her sick mother – she isn't strong enough to deal with that on her own and more than anything she just wants Matt's hand to hold.

"You'll take the carriage," he says quietly, his voice almost raw. "I'll send Benson with you, if you like." She hears him swallow audibly and opens her eyes to look at him. He still hasn't raised his eyes from the floor and he looks so far from the formidable man she thought she married. "Just promise me."

"Anything, darling," she says.

"Promise me you'll come back."

Her chest tightens at the softly spoken words and she nods, not trusting herself to speak. Standing on shaky legs, she stumbles into his arms and shuts her eyes as he holds her close. "Of course I'll come back," she finally says, voice wobbling dangerously. "You're here."

May 1817

Darling,

I arrived safe and sound, despite your fears that not having Benson with me would mean my imminent demise. Though I'm sorry to say my old home is terribly dull in comparison to the manor. I spend most of my days either sitting by my mother's bedside or making sure my father eats. He's worried himself sick about her but I have faith that she will recover in time. Already her fever has lessened, and I think it gave her strength just to see me again.

They were both so glad to be reunited, and it did my heart good to be near them again and to let them see how happy you've made me. I think they feared you'd locked me away in a tower somewhere and they would never see me again. I promised them both that when mother is well again, they could visit us at the manor and see for themselves that I'm hardly a prisoner, but neither of them seems particularly keen on it. I'm sure it isn't to do with you, my love. They hate fog.

It's strange to be back in my old bedroom and nothing feels quite right anymore. I spent such a long time wishing I could go back before I fell in love with you, and now that I'm here, it has only confirmed what I already knew. Home is not where I grew up; home is wherever you are. I miss you terribly. I miss your arms around me; I miss your irritating smirk and your silly hair. I miss your hands and your kisses. Sometimes my body aches with the absence of yours and I lie in my bed at night and touch myself as you taught me. It's nothing compared to your hands on me, but it lessens the ache, if only for a little while.

Please write to let me know you aren't wasting away with missing me and that you're perfectly

well – terrorizing the poor and beating innocent doors into submission with your walking stick.

Yours,

Alex

June 1817

My darling,

I'm so glad to hear you are well and that the children are behaving for you. Please make sure Parker does not become too lofty in his ambitions. I'm afraid if he steals from a viscount who demands he be thrown into a workhouse, there isn't much even you could do to stop him.

However, I'm quite sure you are lying to me, darling husband, and they do indeed miss me. I cannot begin to fathom how they survived so long in only your company. You are a good man, of course, but you were quite lacking in displays of affection before I came along. If it wouldn't pain you greatly, give them all hugs for me and tell them to be good and mind their manners – especially Parker.

Mother isn't well enough to leave her bed yet, but she is well enough to sit up and I pass most of my afternoons entertaining her with stories of the manor – like the time you caught me braiding Cerberus' mane and refused to speak to me all through dinner out of sheer petulance, or the time Parker and Hobbs stole all of Benson's trousers and hid them in Nyctaeus' stable. Most often, I find myself talking of you and unable to keep the love and fondness from leaking through into my voice, effusing my tales of you with warmth. Mother always looks at me skeptically, and before I leave her to rest, she always grabs my hand and warns me that you are not a man, but a monster, and that I should not let you deceive me. I only tell you this so that you know, my love, it is those who don't truly know you as I do who have been deceived.

Do you remember that night – nearly a fortnight after our marriage was consummated? You told me the story of a young boy who grew up in a workhouse, starved and abused daily. I think of it so often now that I'm away from you. I feel this pain in my heart and wish I could go scoop up that little boy, hold him to my chest. But if I did, you would not be the man I love now. And I do love you, darling, exactly as you are. I only wish I were not the first.

Your letter is creased and worn from my frequent reading, and I scan the words on the page

without even truly seeing them anymore. Instead, I examine your handwriting and imagine your fingers curled around your quill, imagine the set of your mouth as you studied the page and chose your words carefully. I imagine the ache in your chest when you think of me is the same as mine when I think of you.

Do you lie awake at night missing me as I miss you? Are you sleeping? I keep having terrible imaginings that you aren't looking after yourself in my absence, that you aren't eating or taking a moment away from your work to rest. Don't you dare waste away without me, Matthew, or I shall be very cross when I get home.

Always, always yours,

Alex

July 1817

Insufferable husband,

I'm glad to hear you aren't starving yourself for want of me but must you be quite so scathing about it? Anyway, I have a feeling you aren't being truthful so I've already sent along another letter to Hobbs to make sure she looks after you. I can't very well ravish you to within an inch of your life the moment I return if you're all skin and bones, can I? Oh, darling. If you knew how often I think about you. I fill the hours not taking care of my mother or doing her chores contemplating new ways to make you writhe beneath me.

It's more than that, though. I miss the way you lay your head in my lap and let me read Hobbs' romances aloud to you and I miss your derisive commentary on said romances, though it entirely ruins the mood, darling. I miss the way your mouth twitches when you find me amusing but don't wish for me to know it. I miss being able to walk to your study at any time during the day and find you sitting behind your desk, scowling at your papers and plotting who will next feel your terrible wrath.

And do you know what else I miss? My garden. I only just planted those seeds before my father called me away and now I'm missing the blossoming of all those lovely flowers. I'm glad at least you're there to enjoy them. Look at them and think of me. Are they flourishing? Are they beautiful? Describe them to me, my love.

Mother is still bed-ridden and I don't know when she'll be well enough for me to return. Just trust

that in time, I will.

Your terribly patient wife,

Alex

August 1817

Darling,

I'm so pleased to hear my flowers are well. I've been amusing myself with thinking of you strolling among them in your dark suit with your dour expression, trying your best not to enjoy them without me. Next summer, I think I shall tuck narcissus flowers behind your ears and into your lapels until you are positively sick of them.

I went into town today just to have a break from looking after mother and all those damnable chores. I quite miss having the choice to only do the chores I like doing, such as working in the stables and my garden. It's a luxury I never realized I would miss until I returned here. You've spoiled me terribly. And do you know, the sun seems to shine perpetually here. Is it strange to miss gloom and fog?

Anyway, I thought walking into town and taking in a bit of fresh air might be good for me, but I kept running into people I knew before I left, old friends who were sure they would never see me again. They all seemed to be operating under the assumption that you were a terrible beast who had locked me away in the dark, only to be let out for your pleasure. Honestly darling, I don't know what it is about you that makes everyone think such awful things, but perhaps you should stop beating people with that stick.

Those who didn't talk to me just stared, as if I were part of a sideshow act in the circus. I felt like whispers followed me wherever I went and sometimes people didn't even bother to whisper, talking as if I wasn't even there. If they weren't talking about the scandal of such a young man marrying an old maid like me when I have nothing to offer you – not even the possibility of an heir – they were talking of how tainted with darkness I must be, just by associating with you. I felt so angry that I couldn't help wishing for you. If your glower didn't scare them away, I'm sure a smack across the head with your stick would certainly have done the job. In any case, I don't think I'll be going into town again.

Tell me news of home. I miss you more than I miss clouds and rain.

Your Alex

September 1817

My darling,

Honestly, when I wrote to you about what happened in town, I wasn't asking you to send me your walking stick so I could hit them all myself. Still, I appreciate the gesture, my love. I tucked it into a corner of my bedroom to remind me of you. Sometimes I wrap my fingers around the handle and imagine I can still feel the warmth of your grip there.

Mother improves daily, I'm happy to say. I have high hopes that I will be home again with you by November at the very latest. I'm so impatient for it that it's all I can speak of sometimes, and Mother always frowns at me and says I've quite lost my head. If I have, it's entirely your fault.

I'm glad to hear the children are well and that Mr. Mercer dropped the charges against Parker, but really, my love, you should stop taking him into town with you if he can't control his urge to pilfer pockets. I know you're fond of having him with you, but it just isn't worth the trouble he causes.

Father decided to take care of Mother on his own today to give me a few hours to myself, and even with your gift, I wasn't about to walk back into town. I made the trek to our neighbor's house just down the road instead and slipped unnoticed into their stables, just to be around the horses for a while. I miss our horses – sleek and gorgeous and black, all of them. They look like such great, terrifying beasts – especially Cerberus – but every single one of them is nothing more than a gentle giant. They remind me of you, in a way.

Have I mentioned yet that I miss you?

Alex

October 1817

Darling,

I'm pleased to report my mother is much better and is even walking about slowly on her own, with only a bit of Father's support. I don't think it will be long at all before I can leave and return to you. I miss you so much I can't stand it. You haven't forgotten about me in my absence, have you? If you have, I shall be home soon to remind you.

Do you know what I realized today? We were all sitting down to breakfast at the table, talking pleasantly with one another and asking politely to pass this dish or that dish, and it hit me suddenly that I miss rowing with you. No one here can rile me the way you can or incite such passion within me. I haven't had the urge to throw anything at anybody's head for weeks and I'm almost embarrassed to say that I miss it. You drive me absolutely mad sometimes but I think I would be quite lost if you didn't.

I love the way you get so angry with me you'll shove me against a wall and kiss me until I can't breathe, just to silence me for a moment. I love the darkening of your eyes and way your touch burns like fire, the rough way you push up my skirts and lift me off my feet. As much as I miss your tenderness, my love, I think I miss your fury just as much. Even before I fell in love with you, arguing with you always made my stomach tighten and flutter, always made me throb deep down inside, but I didn't understand that it was desire. I desired you, darling, even that early on.

Whether you're making me furious enough to throw things or happy enough to cry, you never fail to make me feel something.

Your Alex

Matt,

It's November, my love. I'm coming home.

Alex

He's waiting for her when she steps out of the carriage, looking a little pale and tired, but otherwise just the same as when she left him. She laughs in delight at the sight of his familiar, ridiculous face and that grin she knows is meant for her alone, throwing herself into his arms and trusting him to catch her.

He does of course, clinging to her tightly and spinning her around until she shrieks in his ear. Setting her on her feet once more, he takes her face in his hands and finds her mouth with his own. It's a deep, fervent kiss filled with longing and the relief of finally being together again. Alex threads her fingers through his hair, tasting the wildness of the moors and the tang of pomegranates on his tongue.

"I missed you," she breathes, her hands stroking his face. "I missed you, I missed you-"

He kisses her again, grinning against her mouth. "You know, from your letters I never would have guessed."

"Oh shut up and take me to bed," she laughs, nipping at his chin.

She'd left her hair down for the journey home and he runs his fingers through her curls now like a man starved, rumbling, "I think you've gotten even more demanding since you've been gone. God, I've missed you and all this bloody hair."

"Show me," she says, and he picks her up and carries her into the house.

They barely make it to their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them and stumbling toward the bed. They both know they aren't going to last long this first time – it's been six months since they've had each other and release is what they need. Careful kisses and caresses will have to follow later, when the first wave of desire has been sated. Alex straddles his lap hurriedly, yanking at the laces on his trousers with trembling fingers while Matt strokes her thighs beneath her dress, hissing through clenched teeth, "Come on, come on -"

She frees him from the confines of his trousers, pausing briefly to stroke her hand over the hard length of him, relishing the feel of soft velvet skin against her palm once more. Matt digs his fingers into her thighs, swearing under his breath, and Alex laughs, strangely delighted by the way she can still reduce him to nothing better than a salty-mouthed sailor when she touches him. She guides him to the slick hollow of her sex and rocks down, taking him slowly inside of her, her eyes glued to his face to watch the fluttering of his dark eyes and the parting of his lips as he breathes out steadily, struggling to maintain his control.

Alex moans softly as he fills her, circling her hips and drawing a strangled groan from her husband. "Oh yes, that's it. You feel so good, pet."

She shudders, her head falling back. It has been so long and she has missed that low, silky voice and those pet names that fill her heart with tender affection. She raises herself up over him and sinks back down again, and Matt grabs at her breast roughly, his hips lifting to meet hers and pushing himself harder into her. She cries out, repeating the move again and again, reveling in the way her folds part for the thick length of him, taking him inside and fitting him snugly, trembling around him.

He is dark and perfect and terrible and glorious and most importantly he is hers, just as she is his. She moves steadily above him, her breasts bouncing as she rides him, and Matt clings to her and grunts, twisting his hips to drive himself deeper inside her. He slips his hands over her thighs and hips, lavishing her with burning touches, dipping between their joined bodies to stroke her.

"Matt," she whimpers, gasping as he brushes his thumb over that sensitive, tender spot. "Please, darling -"

"I've got you," he murmurs lowly, his eyes dark and intent on her face as he rubs harder, faster. "And you are never, ever leaving me for so long again."

Thighs tight around his hips and her hair wild and damp with sweat, Alex utters a sobbing cry of his name and gives herself over to the tide of pleasure tingling all through her. As she clenches around him, Matt whispers his love and she feels the flood of warm liquid between her thighs signaling his own release. She collapses against his chest as they fight to catch their breath, curling up in his arms and shutting her eyes. It's been six months since she fell asleep entwined with her husband and right now seems as good a time as any to remedy that. Later, she decides, they'll have dinner and she'll get to see the children and perhaps change into her riding trousers and walk out to the stables to greet Benson and the horses.

She sighs happily. It's so good to be home.

Matt fiddles with her curls silently for a while, separating the strands with his fingers and toying with them, and Alex is moments from sleep when he speaks softly into the quiet bedroom, "Part of me refused to believe you would really come back until the moment you stepped out of that carriage." Her eyes fly open but Alex says nothing, letting him finish before she corrects his ridiculous notions. "I was so sure you wouldn't want to return here – not after you went back to your home. I thought surely you would be happier there with people who loved you, rather than here in this hellish place."

"I have people who love me here too," she says, kissing his chest. "And I like this hellish place, thank you. It's home. I love my parents, but it's you and your orphaned minions I want to be with."

He laughs softly, and when she tilts her face up to look at him, he cups her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing her skin tenderly. "Lady Alexandra Smith," he whispers. "Queen of hell and my heart."

With a giggle and a beaming grin, Alex leans down, her hair framing his face, and kisses the devil sleepy-eyed.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!