She knocked on his door that night, once Celeste was asleep.

"Please come in."

He was at his desk, naturally. She wanted to feel only love for him. She wanted this moment, this first step of theirs, to be beautiful and filled only with warm feelings. When she and George had confessed their feelings for each other she had felt only affection and attraction.

Her love for Philip was a different beast.

Seeing him sitting there working away as usual, she was reminded that once again she was the one coming to him. He never reached out to her; he only waited for her. She loved him, but she was frustrated with him.

"Philip if we are going to be a proper married couple, we need to make some changes in our life."

He blinked up at her. "Um… yes, I suppose so." His hair was disheveled and he was in his shirt sleeves and she realized that she had just walked into his room at night – when they had just that afternoon confessed their feelings for each other – and she had started with a list of demands. She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face.

"What have you made me into?" she muttered. She looked at him again and tried to let her love for him take over. "I'm sorry, let me start again. I want… I want to talk about today, about what we said in the kitchen after dinner."

Philip stood up and nodded. "Yes, of course. But please," he gestured to the seats by his fireplace, "Tell me what changes you think we need. I want to hear what you think."

She took a seat and he sat opposite, elbows on his knees, looking intently at her, waiting for her to list her demands. She smiled wryly. "Of course you want to hear my demands. Business first always."

He smiled in return, though he looked a little confused. "Is this business? I thought you wanted to talk about our relationship?" He sat back a little. "That… What did you want to talk about?"

Marina leaned forward and took his hand before he could retreat too far. "Yes, I want to talk about our relationship," she said. "I was only joking."

His face broke into such a relieved smile that her heart leapt despite her irritation. His smiling face was so beautiful to her now – the narrow lines of his dear, plain face were so sweet to her eyes. "Oh good! I had a moment – I thought perhaps I had dreamed it!" He took her hand in his. "But it was real? You do have feelings for me?"

She looked down at his hands over hers, feeling his thumb caress her lightly, and she was ready to forgive him for everything. For this small gesture of his, because he was finally reaching out for her, she loved him all over again.

He noticed her staring at their hands and his cheeks turned red. He started to apologize, to pull away, "I'm sorry, am I being too forward?" but she put her other hand on top of his to hold him there. He stopped moving, and stared down at her bandaged hand in alarm.

"No, you're not being too forward." She looked up at him and smiled. "This is one of the changes I want – I want more touch, more physical comfort from you."

His breath caught and his pupils dilated with desire, and Marina leaned forward to kiss him, dropping his hand to caress his cheek. He leaned in at first, and she opened her mouth, running her tongue along his lip, finally tasting him. He tasted of strong black tea, and somehow, of ink, and she wanted more. Her body grew hot, the restrained desire of months surging forward, ready for release. She wanted to taste all of him.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, suddenly pushing her back, and she let out a small growl of frustration before she could catch herself.

"What now?" she asked. His hands were warm on her shoulders, and he was breathing erratically, and she wanted nothing more than to drag him back to her lips, to push him down and taste him again. She forced herself to lean away, to let him say what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry, I… As I said, I don't have experience with women-"

"And you never will, if you don't let me close," Marina muttered under her breath.

"And I… I want… Shouldn't I court you?" he asked.

Marina stared at him, flabbergasted. "We've been married for years!"

"Yes, I know, but our marriage was arranged for propriety. I never had a chance to properly woo you," he said, the words sounding awkward in his mouth. Marina fought back a laugh.

"Will you write me bad poetry?" she asked. "Shall we go for chaperoned walks? Who should be our chaperone? Your mother? Our daughter?"

"Well, she's not…"

"Or do you just want to see my teeth?" Marina was joking, but Philip looked perturbed. She took pity on him and held his hands. "Most couples don't have a chance to fall in love before marriage," she assured him. She touched his cheek again, marveling at being able to do so. It had been so long since she had touched someone like this, since she had felt a man's warm skin under her palm. "Many couples don't even fall in love after marriage. We are lucky, don't you think?"

He took her hand in his and kissed it, her lips soft against her knuckles. "I am so lucky," he said huskily. "It makes no sense…"

"We don't have to rush things, if it makes you uncomfortable," she said. "Though it hardly feels rushed, given that we have been married for years…"

He laughed and squeezed her hands. "Thank you. And I'm sorry. I can't… I'm not good at love. I can't write you poetry – not even bad poetry. I won't be able to speak eloquently of love to you, to profess my feelings…" He looked into her eyes. "But I do love you. I know I am awkward, and rude, and I have hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Marina laughed, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "I'm sure I hurt you too," she said. "I will probably hurt you again."

"I've been such a fool."

She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. "You have been a safe harbor for me, when the world was not," she said. She wanted to kiss him again, but she restrained herself. "I love you Philip Crane. I don't need poetry or roses or dances. I want you, and our daughter, and our home."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes. So tell me what you need from me – what changes do we need to make?"

Marina laughed abruptly. She found it annoying sometimes, how he always insisted she tell him what to do, but she realized it was this that had made her first start to love him. Because he really cared about what she thought and wanted. Because he would actually listen to what she had to say, no matter what else was going on.

"Very well, let us talk," she said. "Only, can I keep holding your hands?" He nodded, and she held his palm in her lap, tracing the lines of his hand with her fingers. "I want this to change," she said. "I want to be able to touch you – I want you to touch me. I don't mean kissing and…" She saw his ears go bright red and couldn't help grinning. "…and those sorts of things. I mean, like this, holding hands at least. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "I will try."

She held his gaze. "I want you to. I don't want to be the only one initiating intimacy. It makes me feel that you don't really want me, that I am forcing myself on you."

He looked shocked. "Oh! I hadn't thought of it like that. Of course – I'm sorry."

She smiled. "I know you don't feel comfortable with too much - with displays of affection. But please think about how I feel as well."

"Yes, I will. What else?"

"Well I… If we're to go slowly, then some other things will have to wait I suppose." She enjoyed watching him blush. "Can we spend more time together at home? Just… eating dinner, talking together? Will you come sit with me in the garden?"

"I'd like that."

"What about you? What do you want to change?"

He stared at her for a long time in silence. "The world…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's still so new – I never thought – can I think about it?"

She nodded, letting out a little sigh. Really, she had expected as much.

He reached a hand out to touch her cheek, but hesitated still. "May I…?" Marina nodded and leaned into his touch. He trailed his fingers softly down her cheek, his thumb caressing her lower lip. Her skin grew hot and she held his other hand tighter, massaging circles in his palm, as his touch feathered down her chin, her neck. He traced a passage down to her shoulder, and she accidentally let out a small, animal noise of pleasure, and snapped her eyes open.

He was staring at his hand on her shoulder. She could see he was fascinated by her skin, by the feel of her shoulder under his hand, and she sensed that she could push him at that moment, that he would say yes if she asked him…

She got to her feet, snapping him out of his reverie. He blinked and stood as well, seeming to realize what he had been about to do. "I should get to sleep," she said. "There's much to do tomorrow – we should both rest."

"Rest, yes," he agreed, and they stood for a moment looking at each other. She leaned in to kiss his cheek goodnight at the same time he decided to do the same, and they danced awkwardly around each other for a moment. Finally she put her hand on his shoulder to hold him still while she kissed his cheek, and then turned her face so he could do the same. Even that dry peck on her cheek was almost too much for her willpower – she took a quick little step away from him so she wouldn't push him onto the bed.

"Goodnight Philip."

"Goodnight Marina."

She did not rest well that night.