"Is there anyone in London who doesn't owe you a favour?" Amelia asked, shaking her head. They moved to their new cottage in a week. The cottage was completely refurbished; all of Antony's plants were relocated to the garden, a beautiful path and a floating deck were constructed over the pond. The Advents and the Paulens joined them for a feast that evening.

"I have set up a shooting course, we can have a friendly match after lunch?" asked Antony.

"Darling, you are not planning to compete are you?" Marcus Paulen asked his wife Frances.

"Of course, it's been so long since I held a pistol," she replied beaming. How she missed the plea in Marcus' voice to not participate was a mystery to Amelia.

"Count me out," said Marcus gloomily.

"Why!?" Antony asked.

"You will find out soon."

Marcus started planning an archery contest for the rest who didn't join the shooting contest. They had a lovely afternoon. Frances flatted every competitor by not missing a single target. Marcus wore a told-you-no-point-competing-with-my-wife look.

"I am exhausted," sighed Amelia as she fell onto the bed.

Antony just chuckled and went to take a bath. Amelia turned red when she saw him return from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

"Aww! My eyes. Why are you not dressing in the bathroom?" Amelia complained.

"I forgot to bring my shirt. I am sorry, I thought you were not bothered by the scars."

"It's not the scars," Amelia mumbled in a low voice so that Antony wouldn't hear.

"Then, why do you look flushed! You look like a tomato."

"Is that so? For an intelligent man you are remarkably foolish sometimes."

Amelia gave a sly smile as she slowly walked toward him and ran her hands on his chest in the pretence of examining his scar.

"Amelia... stop," groaned Antony.

"Well, who looks like a tomato now?" She burst out laughing as Antony turned bright-red.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" Antony spun her and caged her between the wall and him. Now it was Amelia's turn to blush. "Now that I have you, what should I do?" Antony threatened.

Antony slowly bent but stopped midway. Amelia looked at his pained expression. She held on to him tightly, preventing him from pulling away from her.

"Antony, don't pull away." She hated that it sounded like a plea.

"Amelia, do you want this? Do you want me?" he asked in a harsh whisper, his voice breaking.

Amelia looked at him, seeing his fear. She wanted to answer him honestly. Did she want him? She loved his honesty, his bravery. She loved the way they bickered for every small thing. She loved the way he smiled. She has fallen in love with him. Yes, she wanted him, she wanted all of him and to be his wife not just in name. Amelia pressed her lips against his, answering his question.

Before she could blink, she was lifted off her feet. He kissed her like his life depended on it. All she could do was moan as he shoved his tongue into her, tasting every corner. She didn't know when or how he managed to get her off her dress. He loved her thoroughly as though he was trying to memorise every single curve of her body.

Antony never knew being with Amelia would be like this, it was pure bliss. To think he had wasted so much time with her, worrying rejection. He had to exercise great control over his needs not to hurt her.

But his resolve broke, as his body moved to the primal need. He pounced on her like a starving man. She must have liked it too as she moaned and pushed matching his fervour.

Amelia didn't have the strength even to lift a finger, but Antony showed no signs of relenting as he pounced on her again and again. There was faint light of early morning when Antony finally relented and let her rest her sour body.

Amelia groaned as she woke up. Every muscle in her body ached. Her arms and legs refused to support her as she tried to stand. Antony immediately rushed to help her.

The infuriating man was standing in his crisply pressed shirt looking fresh as an apple. It was even more infuriating to look at her in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen and bruised. He had marked every inch of her.

"I was too rough, I am sorry," said Antony.

"No, you are not!" she snapped. She wanted to smack the content smile off his face, which said he was anything but sorry. "I understand, for a late bloomer like you-"

"Late bloomer?" his eyes turned dark as he leaned hotly over her. "Yes, should I tell you what a late bloomer does?" he threatened hotly.

Amelia tensed, though she loved the night's rage, she was aching all over. She couldn't take anymore from him, not today.

She gasped as he carried her bridal style. "Relax, I am just helping you to the bathroom."

She groaned audibly as he lowered her into the bathtub, the hot water was exceedingly soothing.

"I will send your handmaid to help you get dressed," Antony said and pressed a soft kiss on her hair before leaving.

Amelia couldn't look her handmaid in the eye as she got dressed. The handmaid was rather giggly as she brushed Amelia's hair.

"Sir ordered us not to do any work as we might disturb your sleep. He also instructed the cook at least ten times on how exactly to prepare your milk. I wish I could find a husband who loves me just as much as Sir loves you, Madam."