Rain smiled gratefully at the maid as she curtsied after bringing another set of teacups and a second plate of biscuits. Marcus sat quietly with his tea, watching her with his usual unreadable expression on his face. It was unnerving.

"You're staring," she muttered as she poured herself a cup. "What are you thinking of? How soon you can be rid of me?"

He pulled back, sitting up straighter. "I believe you are the one hoping to be rid of me."

"True." Taking a biscuit, she popped it into her mouth as she looked after her sister and Mr Winter, who had gone for a stroll down the garden, leaving her alone with her husband. Traitors.

"And I was thinking many things," he admitted, surprising her by actually answering a question.

"Such as?"

She nearly jumped as he leaned closer, but he only picked something out of her hair. Holding it out to her, she smiled. A rose petal. She had been tending to the roses before her sister arrived. Looking up, she met Marcus's hazel eyes. They were burning with an intense fire as he leaned a little closer again.

"I was thinking about how much—despite everything—I want to kiss you again," he mumbled, his dark voice making her insides flutter.

Without thinking, she leaned in towards him, the fire in his eyes pulling her closer like a moth to a flame. She wanted him to kiss her, and she hated that she did. He didn't care for her. He never had. To him, she was nothing but the money he needed and he already got that, so why should they continue this farce of a marriage?

The raw wound of his betrayal made her pull back, the spell broken. "Why?" she asked, and he straightened, a look of confusion crossing his handsome features.

"Why?"

"Why do you want to kiss me again?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Is it to scratch another kiss off your list?"

The twitch of a muscle in his jaw was the only response to her question as he stared at her, his face emotionless.

"What do you think this deal will bring?" she continued, his silence fuelling her anger further. "You will kiss me ten times and suddenly I will no longer want an annulment? Are your kisses truly that good?"

She laughed, but it was a hollow sound even to her ears. Especially since judging from the kiss the other night, they very well might be. If a marriage could be built entirely on attraction, they might have stood a chance. A burst of laughter from Mr Winter made her look over to where he stood with Nick. They looked lovely together, blond heads close together as they conversed. She hoped her sister would find the happiness that had been denied her.

Taking a sip of tea, her gaze returned to her husband, who sat quietly staring at his own cup. It didn't surprise her he had not answered her questions. He wasn't exactly the most accommodating man in the world.

"I had hoped we could remain civil," he finally said slowly, and she nearly threw her cup at his big, thick head.

"I am," she hissed. "You are the one not answering my questions. I shouldn't be surprised. You never do."

"That is blatantly untrue. I answer a great many questions." The muscle in his jaw was twitching again.

She set her teacup down before she could no longer resist the urge to use it as a projectile. Plastering a sweet smile on her face, she looked at him. "Is that so? You never told me why you pursued me two years ago."

He met her gaze straight on. "I did, but you did not appreciate the answer."

"Oh, that is right. That you pursued me since you needed my dowry." Her tone could have frozen the tea in their cups as she added, "And let's not forget the impressive winnings from the betting books at White's. I am so pleased I could help you. And to find out on our wedding day, no less."

"I had no other recourse, I—"

"There is always another recourse," she cut him off. "You simply did not wish to look for one."

"You were only too happy to marry a duke," he said coldly. "We both got what we wanted."

"We did?" She let out an incredulous laugh. "You think this is what I wanted? A loveless marriage to a man who cannot stand to be in the same room?"

"I moved out because I assumed it is what you wished for," he bit off. "You made it quite clear you never wanted to see me again."

She stood, nearly knocking over the teacups in the process. "I was hurting! I had only just found out our entire courtship and marriage was a sham!"

He stood as well, towering over her, forcing her to crane her neck. "And the first thing you did was run into another man's arms. On our wedding night, Miranda. On our wedding night."

Deciding to ignore the intonation of the words, she lifted her chin defiantly. "I don't see how it would matter to you, seeing as I was only ever a prize for you to win. Once we were married, it hardly mattered what I did."

His mouth opened, then closed as he shook his head. Anger bubbled inside her, mixed with the hurt from his actions two years ago. The turbulent emotions threatened to overwhelm her and as she felt the familiar burning behind her eyes, she turned on her heel and stalked inside. She would not allow him to see her cry. Not now. Not ever.

She sat curled up in a comfortable chair in the upstairs parlour the following evening, reading a book in the light of an oil lamp as Marcus entered the room. She hadn't seen him since their argument in the garden, and she wasn't sure she was ready to now either. He was usually impeccably dressed, but in a concession to the late hour, he had divested himself of his coat and cravat, leaving him in a white shirt and a dove-grey waistcoat.

The waistcoat somehow made his large shoulders appear even wider. He was an impressive man. No one could argue that. His long legs were clad in dark grey breeches and a pair of Hessian boots. His hands hung loosely by his thighs, a brandy snifter cradled in one, and his hair looked ruffled as if he'd run his hands through it.

Leaving a note to remember her place, she closed the book and put it on the table next to her, but remained in her chair, waiting to find out why he had sought her out. He hovered in the doorway for several moments, his expression unreadable as he watched her.

"May I come in?" he finally asked.

"It's your house."

The response brought the twitch in his jaw back and his upper lip curled as if he'd smelled something foul. "Our house," he muttered. "It's our house."

When she said nothing further, he moved into the parlour, his eyes moving around the room to take in the changes she'd made since moving in. He stayed in the house when she wasn't in London, but she suspected he spent most of his time in the library or his study. The room's walls had changed from a drab beige to a light blue, and there were now always freshly cut flowers on the sideboard. Flowers she often cut herself in the garden.

Having him in a space she had somewhat considered hers felt like an intrusion, his presence not one that could easily be ignored, making her fidget in her chair. The movement brought his attention back to her, and she wished she had been fully dressed. She had taken a bath earlier and was now dressed in only a white nightgown and her blue dressing gown. Her long hair had been prepared for the night, falling over her shoulder in a heavy braid.

"Did you want something?" she asked testily, his silence grating on her.

Without taking his eyes off her, he took a sip of his drink. "I wanted to apologise."

She straightened in her seat, not sure she had heard him correctly.

"I wish for us to be able to converse," he continued. "And I would like for us to give this marriage a try."

Her eyes narrowed. "So you can avoid the public humiliation of admitting you're impotent?"

"I am not impotent," he grit out before pressing his lips together and taking a deep breath through his nose. Exhaling slowly through his mouth, he gave a curt nod. "Yes, I suppose. But think about this. A spectacle such as that would not leave either of us in a good light. We would both struggle to find a new spouse. Or is whoever you met willing to take on someone who has been subjected to such a humiliating event?"

Not meeting his eyes, she shrugged. "I expect it is more humiliating for you than me."

"Absolutely, but our peers are always happy to gossip. Neither of us would come out well in a scenario such as that. Still," he pressed on when she opened her mouth to speak again. "I would like the chance to convince you to stay."

"The ten kisses?" she queried. "Is that what you hope they will achieve?"

He nodded. "I hope we can find common ground."

"Attraction is not enough."

"It's a start."

They stared at each other. He was halfway across the room, and still, she could have sworn she felt the heat he exuded. Attraction was definitely not the issue. She hated him for what he had done. For how much he had hurt her. But no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she was still attracted to him.

"I'd rather take the annulment," she muttered. Standing up, she pulled her dressing gown closer around her, intending to go to her bedroom. As she passed him, he put a hand on her arm, halting her exit.

"Miranda." His voice was deceptively soft as he looked down at her. "I'm sorry, but I won't let you have the annulment. Not without following through on our deal."

His hand on her arm was warm and his grip loose. She could leave if she wanted to. Her eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you hoping someone will see us kiss, making it harder to be granted an annulment?"

"We can have every kiss in the privacy of our own home if that is what you wish."

"I cannot see what it is you are hoping to achieve with our deal." He must have an ulterior motive. Or was the risk of social disgrace such a powerful motivator for him?

He lifted his massive shoulders in a shrug. "It has been two years. Realistically, we cannot continue as we have been."

Her hand tingled as he moved his down her arm to lightly trail his fingertips over the sensitive skin of her palm. "I know." Why did she sound breathless? "It is why I suggested an annulment."

He took another sip of his drink, then he leaned a little closer, enough that she could smell the brandy on his breath and see the determined glint in his eyes. "And I will consider your request after we share ten kisses."

The stubborn set of his jaw sparked her anger back to life. She was hot-tempered, just like her older brother, and it had led her to make poor decisions many times. Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him down towards her, placing a rapid succession of kisses on his mouth.

"Eight, nine," she muttered before adding one more. "Ten."

As she pulled back after the last one, Marcus stared at her. She opened her mouth to tell him their deal was complete but was interrupted by his mouth capturing hers in a searing kiss that instantly ignited a fire in her blood. When his tongue stole across her lips to deepen the kiss, she thought she might combust.

He had never kissed her like this. During their courtship, he had remained respectful, at most giving her a soft, gentle kiss that had been sweet and loving. She never would have thought him capable of the passion with which he kissed her, every stroke of his tongue fuelling her flame.

His hand buried into the hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her head to receive his passionate onslaught. Her grip on his collar tightened as heat pooled between her thighs. A low moan escaped her as her knees grew weak. Warring emotions surged through her. She wanted more. She wanted to stop. She shouldn't feel like this. Not with him.

He lifted his head, his eyes hooded as he stared down at her, his breathing laboured. "No," he said. "This makes two."

Releasing her tight hold of his collar, she stepped back from him, hoping he couldn't hear the wild beating of her heart. "Two?"

"We need to set some ground rules. Only one kiss per encounter will count."

"You could have told me that sooner," she grumbled.

He quirked a dark eyebrow. "I did not realise I needed to."

Her face heated, and she looked away. "Fine. Then I have an additional rule."

When she didn't immediately elaborate, he cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"I'm obviously... weak..." Her cheeks burned even hotter. "Where you're concerned. So to ensure we still have a chance at an annulment, I want you to promise that we will not consummate our marriage."

A line appeared between his brows. "I do not like this rule."

Forcing herself to face him, she lifted her chin defiantly. "Accept this stipulation or I won't agree."

The muscle in his jaw twitched. "Fine. Ten kisses. No consummation of our marriage."

"Not even if I beg for it."

His eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. He closed it again and swallowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Embarrassed, and rather wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole, she pressed on. She needed him to swear on this. "As you must be aware, I have a hot temper and I sometimes make rash decisions. I—" She cleared her throat. "I am also very passionate, and I fear that in the heat of the moment I might make the same rash decisions I do when angry. So I would like you to promise me you will ensure we uphold this rule."

He drew in a deep breath. "You expect me to stay levelheaded while we kiss?"

"You're always levelheaded."

"I think you confuse an ability to mask my emotions with not having any," he muttered. Flexing his fingers, he sighed. "Very well. I will uphold this rule to the best of my ability."

"That is too vague. Swear to me." She did not trust herself with him. Not after that kiss. Not for eight more.

"Rain," he said softly, surprising her with the use of her nickname. "Despite what you may believe, I am not made of stone. I am not unaffected by our kisses."

"Promise me," she urged again. "Or the deal is off."

He pulled himself up to his full height. "Calling off the deal would mean no annulment. You gain nothing if you walk away now."

She cursed under her breath. He was right. Hell and damnation! "I could have my brother go to the courts on my behalf to ask for the annulment," she said, grasping at straws in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

"I would still have to agree to the annulment proceedings and examination."

Examination? She didn't have time to dwell on the details, so she pushed the query away in favour of nudging him where she needed him to go. "Of course," she agreed. "But surely it would humiliate you to have your impotence questioned by your wife's brother? I'm certain I could convince Nathaniel to do it. He is not exactly pleased with our situation."

"Fine," Marcus bit off. "You have my word that we will not consummate our marriage before the tenth kiss."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Bringing his glass to his lips, he took a sip of brandy. She could not believe he had been holding onto that their entire encounter. While she'd barely been able to stay upright, he'd been holding onto a glass. She scoffed inwardly. He should have no problems keeping his promise.

Pulling her dressing gown tighter around her, she left him alone in the parlour. She wasn't looking forward to the next eight kisses. No. That was a lie. She was. And that terrified her.

~~~~~~